Beneath the towering Red Keep, Balerion's massive wings quivered as Aerea and Rhaella slipped lightly down from his back.
Rhaena's eyes filled with joy and excitement as she hurried forward, pulling both daughters tightly into her arms. Their embrace seemed to pour out more than six years of longing and sorrow all at once. Tears welled and blurred their vision, yet they warmed each other's hearts in that long-awaited reunion.
Aegon stood nearby, watching the touching scene with a gentle smile.
After a brief moment of tenderness, Aerea and Rhaella turned almost in unison, darting into their elder brother's arms like playful fawns. The once-timid maidens had blossomed into graceful young women, their figures poised, their presence radiant.
The sight stirred a pang of bitterness in Queen Alysanne's heart.
According to the traditions of House Targaryen, had Aerea and Rhaella not awakened, Emperor Aegon would have taken his sisters to wife, as was custom. Yet now, before her very eyes, they showed unrestrained intimacy with him. Their affectionate display carried a faint air of defiance, even challenge.
But Queen Alysanne would not yield so easily.
She gracefully took her two children by the hand, stepping forward with a gentle smile.
"Jaehaerys, Daenerys, these are your aunts. This is your elder aunt Aerea, and this is your younger aunt Rhaella. Greet them properly."
The children blinked wide eyes in curiosity, studying the sisters before calling out sweetly in clear, melodic voices.
Feeling the weight of Alysanne's gaze and meeting the innocent stares of their niece and nephew, Aerea and Rhaella set aside their closeness with Aegon. Instead, they drew from their robes a pair of jade-green seeds, each handing one to the prince and princess.
Aerea gently ruffled Jaehaerys's hair and said softly, "This fruit comes from the Heart Tree of Old Valyria. It's very delicious."
Aegon added with a smile, "Take it. This Heart Tree is bound to one who will soon become a greenseer."
"Thank you, Auntie!" the children chimed happily, faces bright with delight.
Aegon looked to his sisters, his gaze warm with concern. "You must be weary from your journey. To celebrate your return, I've prepared a feast for tonight. Rest now in the palace until then."
The Targaryen courtiers standing nearby watched silently, careful not to intrude upon the royal family's reunion. But all understood: with Aerea and Rhaella's return, the dynasty's strength would soar.
Balerion's fearsome power was already legend, yet even setting him aside, the sisters themselves possessed might beyond ordinary dragonborn. Both had fully awakened long ago, and in Old Valyria had received the blessing of a mysterious elder. Their strength now rivaled that of heroes.
And the emperor's children, too, were nearing the age of strength. Though they had failed to hatch dragons in infancy, if they were to tame grown beasts, they would soon become formidable in their own right.
...
As night fell, the Red Keep blazed with light, its brilliance washing over the castle. Joy filled every hall, laughter echoing through the chambers, as though the walls themselves celebrated this reunion and newfound hope.
Years always bring both hardship and bounty. Yet under the rule of Emperor Aegon and his queen, the blessings of life far outweighed the sorrows. Storms, disasters, and winters would always come—but when people looked back, they would remember the reign of Aegon II as a long, verdant summer, warm and bright.
Still, when the bells of King's Landing rang in the fifty-seventh year of the Conquest, the wounds of the cruel "Year of the Stranger" still throbbed raw in every heart.
Even so, the emperor, queen, and Small Council looked to the future with confidence.
At the year's dawn, Princess Rhaella tamed the dragon Grey Ghost, raising the number of Targaryen dragonriders to four—each one powerful and gifted.
Meanwhile, the Battle Aura Warning System, developed by the New Citadel, was completed and put to use. Devices were installed in the Red Keep and other crowded places, and every cleric within Targaryen lands was required to register or be arrested as an outlaw.
Aegon also secretly shared the prophecy of the Many-Faced God, delivered by the Faceless Men, with the Seven Great Lords. He explained that the gods might summon the Long Night because dragonborn power had spread too far.
The lords responded in different ways. Baratheon, Gardener, and Arryn drew closer to the crown, welcoming imperial officials into their lands and cooperating eagerly with governance. The other four dismissed the matter, continuing to scorn the emperor's envoys with arrogant disdain.
And within the household of Queen Regent Rhaena, new tales began to unfold.
The elder sister, Aerea, clung to the emperor constantly, vying openly and subtly with Queen Alysanne for his favor—her words often edged with barbed wit.
Unlike her sister, Princess Rhaella did feel affection for her elder brother, yet deep down she longed for a life of adventure.
After taming the dragon Grey Ghost, she often rode him across the vast territories of the Targaryen dynasty.
Throughout the fifty-seventh year of the Conquest, Princess Rhaella seldom returned to the Red Keep. Aegon could only follow her movements through letters sent from distant castles.
She was frequently seen visiting the strongholds of the Seven Kingdoms, and many lords considered it an honor to host so powerful, beautiful, and charming a princess.
Many noble dragonborn, confident in their strength and high station, sought to win her heart.
But Rhaella set two harsh conditions: they had to defeat her in combat, and they needed the blessing of her imperial brother.
Countless suitors challenged her, but all were defeated. Rhaella remained unbeaten, her record untouched.
This alone was proof of the royal house's unmatched strength. If a single princess could stand unrivaled across Westeros, then the power of the emperor himself was beyond imagining.
Across the land, bards now sang that the Targaryen dynasty sheltered, besides its mighty dragons, an elder of Old Valyria greater than any hero—a mystery that made their power seem deeper still.
When not resting briefly in her castle, Princess Rhaella preferred to roam the wilds.
From the Barrowlands and the Fever River in the north, to the Red Mountains of Dorne and the canyons of the Torrentine in the south, sightings of Grey Ghost were scattered far and wide. She had flown to the Fingers, the Mountains of the Moon, the misty and green Cape Wrath, even the Shield Islands and the Arbor.
At times she avoided the cheering crowds altogether, choosing instead desolate places: windswept wastes, grass-covered plains, dark marshes, and towering cliffs became her haunts.
In her own way, Rhaella's wanderings contributed to her brother's project of unifying the realm.
...
Within the towering Red Keep at King's Landing, Aegon was carefully instructing his eldest son, young Jaehaerys, in swordsmanship.
Having received his father's right eye, the boy who had once been frail was steadily growing stronger, the divine essence within that eye now working its wonders.
This time, Aegon taught his child with greater care. Unlike in his previous life, he did not force lessons of philosophy on him at so young an age. Instead, he wanted Jaehaerys to form his own understanding of the world through experience and thought, to learn from nature itself.
After all, Aegon now bore a hero-tier body infused with divine essence. His life would span more than three centuries. With such time ahead, he felt no need to rush succession. He would rather see his son grow freely and naturally.
At present, father and son were practicing the Valyrian Royal Swordsmanship—refined by Aegon himself over countless revisions.
Jaehaerys only needed to watch a technique once to remember it perfectly and reproduce it without flaw.
Aegon studied his son's right eye, its purple shade darker than his left, and fell into thought.
Fused with his divine eye, Jaehaerys had gained a gift—[Targaryen's Eye].
It allowed him to observe, analyze, and then replicate whatever he saw with that eye.
For Aegon, the system's powers had long gone unused. Its achievements were tied to difficulty, and with his unmatched authority as emperor and his demigod's body, fewer and fewer deeds could still trigger it.
Like the demigods and heroes of the Age of Heroes, only the most perilous challenges—slaying legendary beasts or defying gods—might still earn him such rewards.
At that moment, Septon Barth entered quietly from the corridor. He stood respectfully aside, not disturbing the father and son.
Aegon soon noticed him.
Barth was one of the few within the faith whom Aegon truly valued. He even intended to raise him as a Septon of the Crownlands.
"Practice this once on your own. Remember, don't always rely on your eyes. The path from clumsy to mastery in swordsmanship requires you to feel it with your heart. Without that, you'll never achieve true accomplishment in the art."
Aegon patted his eldest son's shoulder, his words heavy with earnest advice.
"Yes, Father," Jaehaerys replied with a smile.
To him, the sword techniques his father taught were not especially difficult. Even without the aid of his right eye, he felt confident he could master them quickly. Yet the young prince still obediently followed his father's instructions, practicing the forms again and again.
He knew that swordsmanship gained through simple replication remained, at its core, someone else's. Only by adapting it into something truly his own could he reach the final goal of his training.
Aegon walked to the edge of the training yard, washed his hands in the fresh water a maid had brought, and asked,
"What is it?"
"Lord Dustin of the North has slain your resident tax collector," Brother Barth reported respectfully.
Aegon nodded slightly, his voice calm. "Proceed according to precedent. Order Lord Dustin to abdicate, and let his eldest son inherit his title as punishment."
It was not the first time one of his tax collectors had been slain by reckless nobles. Aegon had gathered no small amount of experience in dealing with such matters. With the work of extending royal authority still only beginning, he could accept some friction and conflict along the way.
"That should make ten tax collectors dead by now. Fortunately, the New Citadel has plenty of Maesters from the mathematics faction…" Aegon said as he made his way toward Rhaenys's Palace.
"Yes, Your Grace," Brother Barth answered dutifully at his side.
"Add another rule, then. If a tax collector is slain a second time within the same domain, I shall exercise my royal authority to strip that house of its noble title." Aegon's tone remained even, but carried the weight of command.
"But… isn't that too harsh?"
Brother Barth hesitated, then ventured, "Unspoken threats are often the most effective. If you want those proud lords to obey, you must not use such insulting measures. To strip a title inherited for a thousand years will only inflame them and drive them further from the crown."
Aegon stopped, slowly turning to face him. "Have I insulted them?" he asked.
"They must understand even a god's patience has limits. House Targaryen will not endure a second offense. The Conqueror once said, 'Repeat the crime, and nine generations shall perish.' I have taken only their honor, not their lives."
"As you command, Your Grace," Brother Barth bowed his head.
Soon after, Grand Maester Bennifer sent countless ravens across the realm to deliver the emperor's decree:
—Any noble house that killed another royal official would be stripped of its titles and reduced to commoners.
The announcement stirred murmurs among the lords of Westeros, and unflattering words about the emperor began to spread. Yet not a single lord dared to openly defy the command.
For all knew well: the majesty of House Targaryen, the majesty of Aegon himself, was not to be offended or provoked.
Even the strength of the emperor's household alone could match the power of the entire continent. And beyond that, House Targaryen still commanded the ultimate weapon—the dragons.
These terrifying beasts had once razed Harrenhal to the ground and, in the famed Battle of the Field of Fire, slain a king.
Their terrible legacy still filled men's hearts with fear to this day.