Aenys and his mother, Queen Rhaenys, arrived at Dragonstone riding their dragons.
At the foot of Dragonmont, Aegon, Visenya, and Maegor were there to greet them. After the golden-eyed, silver-armored Meraxes and Quicksilver returned to their roost, Rhaenys and Aenys descended from the mountain.
"Big brother!" Maegor shouted and ran toward Aenys with excitement.
Aenys smiled and opened his arms for a hug.
But the bear-like Maegor lunged at him with a crushing embrace, making Aenys cry out in pain. His little brother squeezed so tightly it felt like his ribs were about to snap.
"Ow—easy! Easy! Maegor, you're going to kill me!" Aenys yelled.
"Hahaha!!" Maegor wasn't much shorter than Aenys, but he was nearly twice as broad.
He lifted Aenys right off the ground and spun him around twice before setting him down.
Aenys sighed and straightened the wrinkles on his bishop's robe. "I knew it. The moment you saw me, you'd pull something. I even brought you a gift... but now I don't feel like giving it anymore."
"What gift? Gimme, gimme!" Maegor bounced around, begging like a child.
Aenys chuckled and shook his head as he watched his cheerful little brother. Then, his gaze fell on the Dark Sister at Maegor's waist. His smile faltered briefly, but he quickly recovered.
Visenya stood with her arms crossed, head tilted slightly upward as she took in the ornate white-platinum bishop's robe Aenys wore.
Aegon walked over to his sister and planted an affectionate kiss on Rhaenys's cheek, murmuring softly to her.
Aenys removed a silver cross necklace from around his neck and said with solemn care, "This is a replica of the sacred artifact belonging to Su, a god from ancient Valyrian myth—one Father once mentioned. Many elements of the New Testament of the Seven I compiled were inspired by Su's legends. This cross represents love and redemption."
He fastened the cross pendant around Maegor's neck, adjusted it carefully, then smiled. "Well? Do you like it?"
"If it's from you, of course I do, haha! But today we're definitely having a rematch—we haven't sparred in forever." Maegor glanced casually at the necklace, finding nothing special about it, then grinned mischievously.
"If you can recite nine mathematical functions, I'll spar with you—promise," Aenys replied, striking directly at Maegor's weakness, still smiling.
Maegor shuddered at the thought, quickly waved his hands, and sighed, "Forget it, forget it. You always use this trick to get rid of me. Come on, I'll take you to see my dragon. It's huge—and fierce!"
Aegon let the boys run off to play. It was a rare moment to enjoy some peace and intimacy with his sisters.
They strolled leisurely along the beach at the base of Dragonmont, chatting idly.
"I saw a few hatchlings playing on Dragonmont earlier," Rhaenys said, breaking the silence. "Dragon breeding has gone quite smoothly these past two years."
Aegon nodded. "According to the mages of the Dragon Tower at the New Citadel, the tides of magic have started surging again lately."
"After a century since Valyria's fall, could magic be returning? Do you think House Targaryen will one day see the skies filled with a hundred dragons again?" Visenya asked dreamily.
"More than a hundred might be a stretch," Aegon replied with a smile, "but dozens flying together? That's definitely possible."
"Good thing you issued the Dragon Training Act. Otherwise, dragon tamers would be everywhere," Rhaenys added with a smirk. "I've heard a lot of noble families are secretly sending their daughters to the palace at Highgarden, hoping you'll pay them a visit. Didn't you sneak off there the day before yesterday?"
As she spoke, she made a playful grab for Aegon's collar, but he dodged her effortlessly.
"Just relaxing a little. It's been decades—don't you know me by now? At home, I've only ever loved the two of you," Aegon said with a smile.
"So once you leave home, that love disappears, huh?" Visenya immediately caught the flaw in his words.
The three of them strolled and joked freely along the beach. Overhead, Cannibal's massive silhouette streaked through the clouds, leaving a long vapor trail in its wake. Maegor was racing his older brother Aenys to see whose dragon was faster. The black and silver dragons circled Dragonstone three times, and naturally, the much larger Cannibal came out on top.
When Aenys dismounted from Quicksilver's saddle, his legs nearly gave out beneath him.
His body simply couldn't handle the strain of a dragon's full-speed dash. The faster a King-tier Dragon flew, the more intense the physical load it placed on its rider.
Aenys braced his hands against his knees, gasping for air like a broken bellows.
Meanwhile, Maegor looked completely unfazed. He hadn't even brought Cannibal down yet and continued flying high above, letting the beast perform high-speed flips and aerial maneuvers. He clearly enjoyed the weightless thrill, shouting joyfully as he soared through the sky.
Aenys watched his unruly younger brother fly carefree alongside his dragon, and his throat tightened.
He thought to himself, I wish I could fly like that—let Quicksilver soar at full speed, play without restraint.
Why was I born so weak, while he's as strong as a dragon?
Why, gods, did you rob me of good health?
Why did Father put me through so much darkness in childhood, while Maegor lived in light?
Why does he favor Maegor so openly?
Is it because I was born frail that I deserve all this suffering?
Day after day, countless worshippers confess their sins to me. Why does mankind commit such senseless, depraved acts…
Suddenly—smack! A broad palm landed on Aenys's shoulder, making him flinch hard in surprise.
"What's got you so lost in thought? I've been standing behind you, and you didn't even notice," Aegon said.
Aenys patted his chest, still shaken. "I was thinking… I wish I had a body as healthy as Maegor's."
Both of them looked up at Cannibal still performing flips in the sky.
Aegon shook his head gently and sighed. "Trust me—in a few years, you won't envy his body anymore."
Aenys glanced at his father's profile, frowning slightly. "What do you mean? Is something wrong with Maegor?"
Aegon met his eyes, gave a faint nod, and said, "Come. It's time we talked—about your future, and about the Church."
He turned and began climbing the steps leading to the summit of Dragonmont. Aenys followed, his mind racing.
...
They arrived at a cliff beside Balerion's nesting ground, the highest peak on Dragonmont. The sea breeze blew softly against the rocks, carrying the salt of the ocean.
Facing east, toward the open sea, Aegon said, "You've steadily solidified the Church's adoption of the New Covenant. That's excellent. You've also matured a great deal. It's time to prepare for the war to conquer the Free Cities."
"How long until then?" Aenys asked calmly.
There was no trace of childishness in his tone. Though only ten years old, Aenys had experienced much: he'd witnessed the end of the Dorne War, traveled the realm alongside Aegon, handled governance on his own from a young age, helped suppress the devouts' uprisings, and endured countless rejections in spreading the New Covenant... all that, and more.
"Five years," Aegon replied.
"So soon? Maegor will only be ten by then," said Aenys.
Aegon explained, "The war with the Nine Free Cities won't be won quickly—we'll have to sustain it through war itself. And Maegor is tougher than you think. By ten, he'll already be a capable warrior."
Aenys was silent for a moment before asking again, "What is the Church's mission?"
"The Church's primary task is to eliminate all nobles in the Crownlands except for a few loyal vassals. Starting this year, begin assembling the Church's crusader army," Aegon said.
Aenys's loosely clenched hand tightened slightly. He responded in a low voice, "Understood."
Aegon gave a weary sigh, turned to look at his eldest son, and asked, "Do you think it's unfair? That you bear so much, while Maegor gets to live carefree?"
Aenys didn't reply. He simply stared out over the sea.
Aegon patted his shoulder gently, then turned and began walking back down the mountain. With his back to Aenys, he said, "There's little fairness in this world. If anything is fair, it's only death."
Aenys remained where he stood, staring at the ocean, murmuring to himself, "Is death really fair? Even death comes early for some and late for others... Death isn't fair either, Father."
He thought to himself—when had he begun to fear his father?
He recalled.
It must've been when he completed the New Testament of the Seven.
That was when Aenys realized he was nothing more than a puppet on a string. The scripture, on the surface, seemed like a tool to help him secure his claim as heir. But in truth, it had been crafted to serve his father's endless hunger for conquest.
After Aegon had finished conquering Westeros, the people no longer had any real desire to expand eastward into Essos. The so-called "Great Conquest" his father bragged about to his vassals was nothing more than grandiose fantasy.
The Dornish War alone had proven how absurd that dream was.
Take House Bolton, for example. Their ancestral seat at the Dreadfort lay thousands of miles from the newly granted Hellholt in the southern deserts. After receiving the new lands, the Boltons found it impossible to manage both holdings due to the vast distance. The family head had no choice but to send a younger son to govern the new territory—effectively splitting the family and weakening their northern stronghold. It was a loss that outweighed any gain.
Now, Aegon's plan to conquer Essos would face the same problem.
The Narrow Sea divided the continents—and it was no calm channel. Storms were frequent, waves violent, and even ravens struggled to cross it safely.
If Westerosi lords were granted lands in Essos, they would inevitably split their houses just like the Boltons had, weakening their existing seats of power. The conquest would be costly and unrewarding.
That was why the lords of Westeros had little appetite for war across the sea.
So Aegon ordered the creation of the New Testament, using the Faith of the Seven to launch a holy war and rally the masses to pursue a dream of conquest they never truly wanted.
Aenys realized then that he was being used. And from that moment on, a rift grew in his heart—a barrier between him and his father.
He had once heard historians speak of the Dragonlords of old Valyria: proud, paranoid, obsessed with control.
Aenys believed that his father, Aegon, was no different—deeply paranoid, driven by a mental affliction rooted in a relentless need for dominance.
That hunger to control had pushed Aegon to dream of endless conquest, to enact bizarre policies, to send agents to monitor noble taxes, to inspect the inner workings of their lands. And now, he was sending Aenys to lead a holy war that would eliminate Crownland nobility itself.
Such madness—such blind obsession with centralizing power—was, in Aenys's eyes, the clearest sign of his father's sickness.
And if it was a sickness, it needed to be cured.
But Aenys wasn't a healer of the mind. All he could do was prepare—build a wall of defense, protect himself and his mother for the day his father finally lost all reason.
That was why, under the guise of religious service, he had adopted orphans from the Faith and trained a loyal guard of fanatical protectors. Not to wage war, but to survive.
Aegon's lust for control terrified him.
It was after completing the New Testament that everything changed.
Once, Aenys had pursued the title of heir to meet his mother's expectations, to live up to his father's teachings.
But now—he would become heir to correct the wrongs of the world.
To end his father Aegon's tyranny.
...
[Upto 20 chapters ahead for now]
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