"What did I say that was wrong? And now you're blaming me?" Visenya pouted in annoyance, her tone full of displeasure.
"The Faith of the Seven has its historical purpose. Now that Maegor has successfully tamed the dragons, Aenys and Rhaenys will surely come to celebrate with him. We can talk more about it then," Aegon replied with a helpless sigh.
He wrapped his arm around Visenya's waist and walked toward the Windwyrm Tower, taking their youngest son along.
Maegor walked ahead of them, stepping backward, his little face glowing with excitement. Grinning at Aegon, he said, "Haha! Ever since I beat big brother at Harrenhal, he's been avoiding me. This time, I'm definitely going to have a proper duel with him!"
As he spoke, he spun the Dark Sisters around in a flurry of strikes, alternating inward and outward swings like a spinning silver disk. His movements were fluid and practiced.
Aegon watched him and couldn't help but be impressed by his youngest son's talent. Maegor seemed born for battle—any martial technique he picked up, he mastered instantly.
He remembered how, back when Maegor had just turned three and first picked up a sword, he challenged Aenys. Even though they were five years apart, it was the three-year-old Maegor who ended up victorious. Of course, Aenys's frail body played a role, but it still proved how exceptional Maegor's physical gifts were.
"Don't wear him out. Your brother's talents don't lie in martial arts," Aegon said, glancing meaningfully at Maegor. "You should ask him to teach you math. He's a master of it."
Maegor, still walking backward, nearly tripped when he heard that. He hated numbers and literature—just the sight of arithmetic or multiplication tables gave him a headache.
He quickly sheathed his sword, waved his hands, and forced a smile. "No thanks. In House Targaryen, big brother focuses on literary studies, I ride into battle, and you hold the center, Father. That's the perfect balance, hehehe."
Visenya shot him a glare, clearly displeased. "Being a general doesn't mean you'll make a good king. You should learn from Aenys and stick close to your father to study governance. Your brother used to be a weakling, but after your father guided him for a few years, he's grown much more composed. You should do the same—sharpen that impulsive temper of yours!"
Aegon slapped Visenya lightly on the rear and scolded, "'Weakling' and 'composed'—those aren't the right words. You shouldn't talk about your nephew like that. If Rhaenys hears it, she'll blow up again."
"What's wrong with how I put it? Do you know who's funding those bards in King's Landing who slander Maegor? They say my son is cruel and heartless—he's only three or four years old! How cruel could he possibly be?" Visenya said through clenched teeth.
Aegon frowned slightly. Was the conflict between the two sisters in the harem getting out of hand? The hostility between them had grown so deep—it seemed almost inevitable that they'd turn against each other someday.
He thought of the fratricidal struggles in ancient Chinese royal families and felt a chill. Maybe it was time to intervene.
"Mother, big brother is actually really nice to me," Maegor said, trying to ease the tension. "Every holiday, he secretly has someone send me gifts. Please don't argue with Aunt Rhaenys anymore."
Aegon felt slightly comforted hearing that. This boy wasn't just physically mature—he was emotionally sharp, too. In every way, Maegor seemed to outshine Aenys.
They arrived at the dining hall of Windwyrm Tower. The attendants helped the royal family remove their coats and offered hot, damp towels to wash their hands.
Visenya tapped her son's forehead with a finger and said disapprovingly, "You're too naive. If Aenys ever sold you, you'd probably help him count the golden dragons. Did it ever occur to you that he might be pretending—putting on an act to win your affection?"
Maegor gave a careless smile. "How could that be? We're all Pureborn, with the same blood. How could brothers scheme against each other? Father taught us to respect our elders and be kind to our younger siblings. Since my brother treats me so humbly, of course I should return the respect."
The moment Visenya said the word "pretending," Aegon's expression stiffened. Because only he knew the truth—Aenys really was acting. Not just pretending to be a good brother to Maegor, but also putting on a show as the dutiful heir in front of him…
"It's all my fault… I ruined Aenys." Aegon silently blamed himself.
Over the past two years, he had watched his eldest son's personality swing from one extreme to another, and guilt gnawed at him. He couldn't help but wonder if he had overcorrected back then.
In his efforts to mold Aenys into a worthy heir, Aegon had exposed him to the harsh realities of politics when he was only three or four years old, forcing him to confront morally fraught decisions. Medieval politics and theocracy were steeped in darkness. Its inhumanities had shaken Aenys's soul time and again, slowly dragging his already sensitive and fragile nature into a world of suspicion and paranoia.
Now, Aegon suspected that Aenys might be suffering from a mild psychological disorder—but he was at a loss. People suffering from mental illness rarely see it in themselves, and Aegon was no trained healer of the mind.
That's why, with his younger son Maegor, Aegon took a hard stance. He was adamant that Maegor not be drawn into politics too early. He opposed Visenya's attempts to involve the boy in court affairs and instead emphasized the importance of brotherhood and family bonds.
Aegon did everything he could to show Maegor fatherly love, not the detached authority of a king or pontiff. He made time for meals with Maegor, spent holidays with him—even during times of indulgence, he always made sure to be there.
If someone in the royal household fell ill, Aegon would visit, fretting and exhausting himself. These efforts created vastly different relationships with his sons, shaped by their upbringings and his contrasting parenting styles.
Aenys felt more respect for Aegon, but that respect came tinged with fear—even dread. He had seen Aegon's cold, ruthless, and decisive side firsthand.
Maegor, by contrast, adored his father. Their bond was close. To him, Aegon wasn't a king—he was his dad. Aegon was always the image of a strict but loving parent in Maegor's eyes.
"Maegor, I'm truly glad to hear you say that," Aegon said, lifting Maegor's sturdy little body into his lap. He looked down at his son and said gently, "We're not trees or stones. How could we be cold and heartless toward our own kin?
But as Pureborn, our status comes at a heavy price. Your identity, your power, your position—all of it means that love will come at a greater cost for you than for ordinary people. The slightest misstep could cost you dearly.
In other words, if you could cast off emotion and treat everyone equally, like a god looking down on mortals, seeing all life as dust... Maegor, you might become a remarkable king.
But in the end, we are not gods. We are human—and humans have feelings."
...
Visenya stared blankly at Aegon's heartfelt guidance to Maegor, lost in thought.
Aegon was indeed teaching Maegor as his heir, but what he taught was the path of a king. She had hoped Aegon would teach him domination. In a world where the strong devour the weak, brute strength and power often worked better than kingly virtue and dignity.
Aegon took Maegor's hand in his and continued, "As a king, you must be cold and ruthless—like Valyrian steel. But your palm must still remain warm. There are no absolutes in this world. As your father, I urge you: as a ruler, you must be unyielding. But as a man—especially when facing your family—you must never be heartless."
Maegor pursed his lips, then looked up at his father and said, "That's too hard… Can I not be king?"
"Maegor! What nonsense is that?!" Visenya quickly interrupted. She got up and snatched Maegor from Aegon's lap, glaring reproachfully at her husband. She turned to her son and said, "My sweet boy, yes, being king is hard—but you were born into royalty. If you don't become king, someone else will.
And when someone else becomes king, they'll hold your life and death in their hands. Do you want your mother's life to be at another man's mercy?"
There was deep fear in her words—fear of Aenys.
Maegor didn't respond to his mother. Instead, he turned to look at Aegon.
Aegon gave him a gentle smile and said, "Don't reject your destiny. Live it. In the journey of becoming a king, you'll find your own reason to rule."
Maegor nodded firmly. "I don't know why I want to be king yet—but if I have to be, then I'll be the strongest king! The greatest king!!"
Aegon laughed. "The strongest king? Then you'd have to be emperor."
Maegor's eyes widened as he savored the word—"emperor."
Visenya lowered her head and gently kissed her son's forehead. She sighed and said, "We have nowhere left to retreat, child. Promise me—become king for your mother, will you?"
Maegor finally looked into her eyes. Under Visenya's expectant gaze, he raised one hand high, pointing it diagonally at the ceiling, and shouted, "For your happiness, I'll become emperor!!"
"Haha, good boy." Visenya chuckled and pinched his chubby cheeks.
Aegon rubbed his forehead helplessly. Watching Visenya use this sort of emotionally coercive education, he couldn't help but feel reminded of how his parents in a past life had pressured him into exam prep with the same kind of stubborn resolve.
Just then, a maid pushed in a feast carefully prepared by the chef of Windwyrm Tower. Aegon sat down to enjoy lunch with his wife and son.
...
Inside the Sevenstar Sept of King's Landing.
Aenys stood at the head of the hall, dressed in a grand, flowing robe of silver and gold. His expression was solemn as he led hundreds of worshippers in prayer.
At that moment, Queen Rhaenys entered through the doors and stood quietly in a corner. Arms folded across her chest, she watched as her son recited verses from the New Testament of the Seven with practiced ease.
Rhaenys was deeply satisfied with the change in Aenys's temperament.
Back when he was a child, he used to cower behind her at the sight of strangers. Now, he could stand before a crowd of hundreds and lead a service with calm composure—it was simply astonishing. She couldn't help but wonder how Aegon had managed to instill such transformation in him.
A short while later, the worship concluded. All the believers rose in unison, their movements orderly and silent, adding to the sacred solemnity of the hall.
Aenys lowered his gaze slightly, sweeping the crowd with eyes full of compassion.
The worshippers lined up instinctively, one after another stepping forward to receive his blessing. It was said that the blessings of the Holy Son Aenys could cure illness and drive away evil. Having worked hard for a chance to attend a service led by Aenys himself, no one wanted to leave without receiving his grace.
To each worshipper who came forward to kiss his toes, Aenys either sprinkled holy water or dabbed their foreheads with sacred oil. There wasn't the slightest impatience on his face. He had performed this repetitive task countless times, and this closeness to the faithful had earned him their unwavering devotion.
When the last of the followers had received their blessings and quietly exited, Rhaenys finally approached gracefully, smiling as she said, "I ask for your blessing, Holy Son."
Aenys stepped down from the altar-like platform, stretching his stiff legs with a smile. "Mother, don't tease me. Since when did you start talking like a follower? Did you come here today because something important happened?"
Rhaenys's smile faded as she replied gravely, "Maegor tamed a dragon today on Dragonstone—a fierce, fully-grown adult dragon."
Unfazed, Aenys pulled over a chair for her and replied calmly, "I heard about it before you did. It's just a vicious beast. My little brother is only four. By the time he grows up, I'll already have conquered Essos."
Rhaenys frowned, though she still sat in the chair he offered.
"You've placed spies on Dragonstone? Won't that make your father unhappy? I don't want there to be any rift between you two."
Aenys stood behind her and began massaging her shoulders, speaking with steady ease. "Father has always known. Nothing I do escapes his eyes. Haven't you noticed the sparrow perched on the dome of the Sept?"
Startled, Rhaenys looked up—and sure enough, a sparrow was quietly watching them. It didn't fly away when she met its gaze. Instead, it boldly looked back and even tilted its head playfully.
"That… that's Garth!" Rhaenys whispered, disbelief written across her face. "You're only nine, and he's already this wary of you?!"
Aenys remained composed. "Father once told me—the world's most powerful weapon isn't the King-tier Dragon."
He tapped his head. "The strongest weapon is the mind. In the new Citadel at Harrenhal, there are dozens of philosophical schools. But Father has confined them all. None are allowed to leave.
What I'm doing now is no different from those schools of thought. So naturally, I'll be treated just like them."
Rhaenys shot to her feet in anger. "That tyrant! To treat his own son like this… Come, let's go to Dragonstone. We'll confront that cold-blooded brute!"
Outside the Sept, Meraxes let out a deafening roar. The King-tier Dragon had sensed her master's rage and thundered in response.
But Aenys only smiled. "Mother, there's no need to be so angry.
If I were king, I would do the same. These ideas that twist the minds of the people… they're too dangerous. Only when you experience them yourself will you understand just how mad—and terrifying—faith truly is."
He gently patted her hand. "Let's go. Father said he wants to discuss the future mission of the church with me. It's also a good chance to go celebrate my brother's success taming his dragon."
Rhaenys looked at her son's calm face, worry clouding her own. "Aren't you even the slightest bit worried Maegor might threaten your claim to the throne? He's so gifted—and your aunt holds tremendous power at court. Your odds really don't look good."
Aenys slowly shook his head. "You don't understand. The moment I completed the New Covenant of the Seven, the position of heir was already mine. The conquest of the Nine Free Cities will be my stage alone. My brother... is nothing more than a stepping stone."
...
[Upto 20 chapters ahead for now]
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