"Smack!" A crisp sound rang out as a small hand slapped Aenys on the shoulder.
Aenys jolted in shock, his heart nearly leaping out of his throat. He spun around, and when he saw it was his younger brother Maegor, he couldn't help but roar, "Why do you copy everything Father does?!
I'm standing on the edge of a cliff—you could've scared me into falling!"
Maegor's mischievous grin froze on his face. It was the first time he'd seen his usually gentle older brother so angry. This was completely different from the humble and approachable brother he remembered.
Maegor subconsciously thought to himself, 'Could it be... Mother was right? Has Big Brother just been putting on an act all along?'
Aenys quickly realized he had lost his composure.
He had just been deep in thought, silently criticizing his father's dictatorial rule, and the sudden slap on his back made him feel as if he'd been caught doing something wrong.
Seeing Maegor's reaction, Aenys hurried to embrace him and explain.
But Maegor's mouth was slightly open, his eyes cautious, and he instinctively took a step back.
"Maegor, I was just... thinking about something. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you." Aenys quickly returned to his usual gentle, humble demeanor as he tried to explain.
Maegor stared blankly at Aenys, then spoke solemnly, "Can you tell me what you were thinking?
Mother says you've become more withdrawn and overthinking lately. Maybe you shouldn't keep everything bottled up. Father told me..."
As he spoke, Maegor gripped Aenys's hand tightly, his gaze firm. "The royal family might be cold and ruthless in how we deal with things, but our hearts are still warm.
I'll always be your brother. Maybe I can help you carry some of that burden."
Aenys felt the warmth from his brother's hand. He opened his mouth, but couldn't find the words to express his worries.
Maegor was just like he had been as a child—idolizing their father as a hero, even a god. Could he really reveal their father's true nature to him? The thought made him instinctively avert his eyes, slowly lowering his head to the ground.
Seeing how hard it was for Aenys to speak, Maegor seemed to understand. He said softly, "Is it because of the position of heir?
I don't want to be king. I just want our family to be happy.
Big Brother, you're better suited to rule than I am. I just want to ride dragons and travel around, hehe."
With that, Maegor gave Aenys a radiant smile.
Aenys pressed his lips together, shook his head slightly, then pulled Maegor into a hug, gently kissing his forehead.
"Don't overthink things... or you'll end up like me, haunted by worries every day."
...
Fifteen years after the Conquest.
The Holy Son of the Faith of the Seven, Aenys, raised his arm and called on all followers to fulfill the new covenant with the Seven. Thus, the Faith began preparing for a holy war.
The church's military was reassembled and named the Holy Crusaders.
The name came from the High Septon's new order, the Covenant of the Cross. With Aenys's fervent preaching, the cross became the sacred symbol of the Father among the Seven.
In Aenys's divine dream, it was the Father who formed a new covenant with him, the savior—thus the Holy Crusaders were born.
The Targaryen royal court opened wide the gates for the Faith to raise a new army.
There were three reasons:
First, the Faith of the Seven was already under royal control.
Second, the Faith had been the first to break the moral treaty signed by Aegon, giving him an excuse to implement a harem-based court system.
Third, Aegon's war of conquest against the continent of Westeros's far eastern neighbor, Essos, as Aenys had predicted, drew little interest from Westerosi nobles.
The Targaryens had only a small standing army, which also had to maintain order in the Crownlands.
The Crownlands had many new immigrants, especially a large number of Dornish, and any gap in military presence could easily lead to unrest. Aegon had no choice but to rely on the Faith's holy war to mobilize the common folk in the conquest of Essos.
At the Sept of the Seven, Holy Son Aenys declared to all Westerosi: anyone who joined the expedition to Essos would have their sins forgiven and ascend to heaven upon death.
Starting from the fifteenth year after the Conquest, Aenys gradually replaced High Septon Aegon as the central figure in the Faith of the Seven, becoming the spiritual leader of countless followers.
Bishops and devout believers were ecstatic about the impending holy war. They projected their fear of the Seven Gods' wrath and their yearning for salvation entirely onto the crusade led by Aenys.
Whether disillusioned with society or driven by ambition, many flocked to the Holy Crusaders, vowing to fight for the Seven in Essos.
By the sixteenth year after the Conquest, the Holy Crusaders had taken shape. Most of its officers came from knights and brave commoners.
For these impoverished men, participating in the Church's holy war offered the chance to earn land in Essos through military merit—and rise to nobility.
Across Westeros, all idealistic and ambitious young men, regardless of their faith, joined the Holy Crusaders in droves. The movement snowballed in size and strength.
The Crusaders weren't just supported by the poor and knightly classes; many wealthy merchants from the Crownlands also sent their sons to join the ranks.
The Nine Free Cities imposed heavy tariffs on goods from the Targaryen Dynasty, causing profits from cross-border trade to plummet for major merchants.
This was a case of the Free Cities mimicking the Targaryen tariff system—a move that hurt themselves nearly as much as it harmed their rival.
While the Targaryen Dynasty's official goods remained unaffected, the major merchants suffered significant losses.
To restore profitability, these merchants pinned their hopes on the Faith of the Seven's holy war, hoping it would dismantle trade barriers across the Nine Free Cities.
As a result, many large merchants and trade guilds within the Targaryen Dynasty offered varying degrees of support and funding to the Holy Crusade.
The Holy Crusade of the Faith of the Seven grew like a massive snowball—its military force expanding rapidly, its momentum thunderous and unstoppable.
Visenya could only watch helplessly as Aenys' power ballooned with each passing day.
She understood clearly that the modest forces loyal to her alone were no match for Aenys, who had rallied believers from across the entirety of Westeros. Any hope she had for her son Maegor to compete for the title of heir had already vanished.
The struggle for succession had yet to begin, and Maegor was already destined to lose.
Aenys seemed poised to replace his father, Aegon, as the prophesied figure of the age. His reputation was at its peak, and his influence across Westeros unmatched—even the dukes of the Seven Kingdoms treated him with deference.
Yet not everyone welcomed the holy war Aenys had launched in the name of the Seven.
The nobles of Westeros were deeply discontent. Their serfs, once obedient and hard-working—planting crops and digging potatoes—were now fleeing in droves to the Crownlands.
Inspired by Aenys' call, they chased dreams of glory and joined the Holy Crusade without hesitation.
Powerless to stop the exodus, the nobles turned to the king's closest advisers, attempting to pressure King Aegon into halting his son's crusade.
What they didn't realize was that the true mastermind behind the holy war was Aegon himself.
Why would Aegon heed their complaints? In the royal palace, he laughed and scoffed, "Weren't you the ones unwilling to conquer Essos? Now someone's doing it for you, and you're still unhappy? Tsk, tsk, tsk."
When it became clear that Aegon wouldn't be swayed, the nobles who opposed the war against Essos had no choice but to band together and seek an audience with Aenys, the Faith's Holy Son.
They expected the same cold shoulder they'd received at the royal palace—or perhaps a righteous scolding from Aenys himself.
To their surprise, the savior who had initiated the holy war agreed to meet them in person.
Aenys discreetly arranged for the lords to visit the Sept of the Seven late at night. There, in the confessional chamber, he would meet them alongside his Twelve Disciples to discuss a way to bring the holy war to an end.
That night...
Aenys sat at a long table in the confessional, eating plain bread.
His Twelve Disciples sat silently on either side of him, quietly partaking in the simple Holy Communion.
Aenys favored austerity—eschewing lavish meals and establishing a strict code of conduct for his followers. These included praying to the Father before breakfast. His disciples reverently called these rules the [Ten Commandments] and spread them among all followers of the Seven.
As he sat, Aenys tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table—a habit he'd picked up from watching his father Aegon during moments of deep thought.
He frowned slightly and muttered, "It's past the appointed hour... Why haven't those nobles arrived yet?"
The Twelve Disciples exchanged puzzled glances, none of them knowing the reason.
Then Aenys slowly raised his head, his expression blank as he declared, "One of you has betrayed me."
The words stunned the room. The Twelve Disciples each reacted differently, their faces revealing a range of emotions.
Nearly all of them rushed toward Aenys, urgently pleading their loyalty and innocence.
Only one quietly edged toward the door.
Aenys sighed and raised his hand, silencing the rest. His eyes locked onto the eleventh disciple and he said, "Yuri, take me to see my father. Perhaps it's time we spoke openly."
All eyes turned to the disciple. With an awkward twitch of his lips, the eleventh disciple bowed respectfully and said, "As you command, Holy Son."
Aenys and Yuri left the confessional, only to discover that the Sept of the Seven had been silently surrounded by Septon guards.
Aenys sighed again, climbed into a carriage with Yuri, and departed for the Red Keep.
The carriage pulled up outside Aegon Hall, in the outer court of the Red Keep.
Step by step, Aenys ascended the staircase leading to the hall.
His father's message was clear—by receiving him in the outer court, Aegon had cast aside any pretense of familial affection. What mattered now was not kinship, but state affairs.
Aenys looked up at the towering grandeur of Aegon Hall, thoughts swirling in his mind: I need to know... Father, have you truly lost your mind?
He stepped into the great hall, where candlelight flickered in the dim air.
At the far end of the room sat a figure as imposing as a mountain or the sea—the ruler of the Targaryen Dynasty, King Aegon.
Aenys summoned his courage, raised his eyes to meet the tall, commanding figure before him, and walked steadily toward the throne.
"Kneel!"
Aegon's voice thundered from above, veins bulging on his forehead.
In his view, if Aenys didn't kneel and confess his fault, it meant he had no sense of repentance. How dare he secretly conspire with the realm's great lords and attempt to obstruct the western campaign? What was he trying to do—commit treason?
Aenys returned to his senses, said nothing, and silently knelt.
The attendants and guards in the hall were visibly shaken. Seeing the king in a fury, they too fell to their knees, bowing their heads to the floor, terrified and trembling.
Aegon slowly approached Aenys step by step, as if containing a fury that could erupt at any moment.
He stopped in front of his son, staring down at him with a cold, piercing gaze. Then he stretched out his right hand and barked, "Whip!"
Aenys couldn't help but feel a jolt of anxiety. Standing before him was the supreme ruler of Westeros, the Conqueror of the Seven Kingdoms, the realm's strongest warrior, the visionary behind the New Citadel...
The attendants wasted no time and quickly brought forth a whip.
With the whip in hand, Aegon commanded, "Turn around."
Aenys slowly lifted his head and locked eyes with Aegon.
"Turn around!" Aegon roared again.
Aenys lowered his head and turned his back to him.
As he looked at his son's back, Aegon's hand trembled slightly on the whip.
Since Aenys was born, he had cherished him dearly, even carried a hidden guilt toward him. He had barely ever scolded him, let alone raised a hand against him.
That affection had once run deep.
But how had it come to this? Aenys had conspired with the realm's lords and outsiders, defying the king's commands. Now he held the fanatical army of the Holy Crusade under his banner. Aegon could hardly imagine what chaos might erupt if things spiraled out of control.
Would it become a "King's Landing Spring," like Seoul's uprising in faraway lands?
Aenys stood, tense, unsure when the first lash would fall. The suspense, the dread—it crushed him.
Smack! A sharp crack split the air as the whip lashed across Aenys's back.
A blinding pain surged through him—heart-piercing agony!
He bit down hard, refusing to cry out, cold sweat beading on his brow.
Aegon saw him grit through the pain and hesitated—but to him, Aenys's silence was defiance, not repentance. His fury reignited, his voice thundered with righteous anger:
"As crown prince, you conspire and scheme, harbor assassins! Do you even know right from wrong? Have all my years of teaching you been in vain?!"
Smack! Another fierce blow landed on Aenys's back.
He clenched his teeth, refusing to utter a sound.
Seeing this, Aegon struck again.
This time, the lash landed directly on the previous wound—sending agony far worse than before tearing through him.
Aenys could no longer stay upright. He collapsed onto the cold floor.
Aegon, consumed by rage, flung the whip aside. The more he cursed, the angrier he grew.
Those three lashes didn't just shatter Aenys's pride—they crushed his dignity.
As crown prince, Holy Son of the Faith of the Seven, and the Targaryen savior, he had never endured such a beating.
Even his mother, Rhaenys, had never scolded him—not once.
That thought struck Aenys like lightning. He suddenly turned around, his eyes like ice, and stared directly at Aegon. Through clenched teeth, he asked, "Father... have you truly gone mad?"
Aegon froze at the accusation, stunned. A voice echoed in his mind: Have I gone mad? Since when?
He raised a trembling finger and pointed at Aenys.
"What nonsense are you spouting!"
Aenys gave a cold laugh and shot back, "You tried to leave your vassals without heirs, seize lands passed down for millennia, and used me to launch a holy war against Essos through the Faith of the Seven.
This is an unjust war!
Do you even understand how many lives such a war could claim across the world?"
Aegon's fingers quivered with rage as he pointed at Aenys, his face filled with disbelief.
"When did you turn into such a sanctimonious fool?!
I'm doing this for the glory of the royal bloodline—for the future of the Targaryen Dynasty—"
"Ha!" Aenys abruptly cut him off, raising his voice into mocking laughter. "Hahahaha! I've never heard anything so ridiculous.
Essos lies across the Narrow Sea from Westeros—it takes a month or two just to send a letter. It's ungovernable. Even if you conquer it, it would remain de facto independent.
You're not doing this for anyone. Not for our house, not for the kingdom!
You're doing it to feed that bottomless hunger for conquest burning inside you. You send officials to trample through noble lands just to feed your lust for control. And now the Crownlands are drowning in resentment!
Stop this, Father!"
Aegon stood frozen, like a statue. Then, he let out a dry, bitter laugh at Aenys's naïveté and muttered, "Humans truly have an innate, uncontrollable urge to judge... before they understand."
...
[Upto 20 chapters ahead for now]
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