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I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
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123 AC, King's Landing
Aegon Targaryen never wanted to be King.
He had never made a secret of that fact to his family, even if most of the wider nobility did not know. For most of his life, he had thought that the world was hollow, that that emptiness inside him would always be there. He always wondered if the mistake was within him, but his family did not show him anything that would convince him that he was mistaken, for they were hollow as well. Everyone was.
It seemed like a fundamental truth that the world was only filled with people trying to stave off the emptiness within them with anything that they could, either through some imagined honour, faith, duty, or some delusion of a destiny entailing them.
Aegon knew that nothing, not even a crown, could stave off that darkness, could fill in the emptiness within him. He had known that for years, yet no one seemed to listen. Everyone sought it out, creating an impossible goal to stave off the emptiness, but it would achieve very little in the end, wouldn't it?
As for Aegon, it wasn't as if anyone planned on him becoming King either way. Aegon was not trained in statecraft, never attended Small Council meetings, and never sent to war to fight in his father's name. He had tried to fill in that void with his wine and whores.
He had thought himself to be mistaken, but it was only after he returned from Dragonstone that he realised that everyone did the same.
His father, the King, tried to fill the void inside him with duty and an illusion of destiny. His mother tried to do it with her love for her father and her children. Aemond, much like Daemon, only had his rage always brewing inside him, constantly stirring to explore. Daeron filled it with dreams of knighthood that he will likely never achieve. Helaena… Helaena was different. He hadn't been able to put his finger on it, not quite right.
Rhaenyra, ironically, had been the most similar to him. She tried to fill that void with pleasure and haziness. He hadn't realised what he had been doing for some time. It was instinct born of the recognition of his own darkness, of his own emptiness. Or perhaps it was only because he stopped being constantly drunk.
Or perhaps it was the realisation that this emptiness only existed because he allowed it to, that one's life should be about giving it purpose beyond simply existing, and Aegon found that his children would be all he needed.
He had loved the past few moons. The urge to drink and bed whores was gone, replaced by a growing warmth for Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. They were akin to a light in the darkness, a gift from the gods themselves, and he spent hours every day simply watching them, whether they were asleep or awake, whether they were calm or crying. He loved every moment of being a father, and he instinctively knew that this was what he wished in life. He would be a father to them, a true father. He would teach them what he knew. He would raise them with warmth and love. He would help them become better than him.
The world had become brighter when he came to that realisation, and it was, without a doubt, one of the greatest days of his life. If only everyone weren't so keen on taking it all away from him for the sake of a crown.
Aegon had no desire to rot away on that throne as his father had. He had no desire to be as distant with his children as Viserys had been with him. He had no desire to entertain the useless desires of whiny courtiers for no reason.
Alas, Rhaenyra had decided, for some reason, to implicate herself in an attack on the Capital by foreign sorcerers, killed his grandfather, and tried to kill Helaena.
Oh, Aegon wasn't particularly sad about Otto Hightower's death; the man was likely to push Aegon to take the crown from his half-sister, something that he wished to avoid. Queen Alicent, however, was horrified at her father's death and had barely spent a day outside of her room mourning, barely leaving her room. According to Helaena and any other witnesses, the man had put himself between Aegon's mother and Rhaenyra's strange sorcery, sacrificing himself for his daughter.
The man had always been cold and callous, and Aegon would admit that this act of noble sacrifice surprised the young prince very much, likely as much as Alicent herself, given her devastation. The man was now remembered as a hero, as the perfect example of nobility and knightly conduct, despite his great age, a great symbol of defiance against the enemies of the Iron Throne. History would likely remember him as a far better man than he ever was, but for saving Aegon's mother's life, the prince could live with that.
What truly threatened to return his black rage, the darkness within him, was the fact that Helaena had almost died. No, worse, she had been chased like some kind of animal throughout the Red Keep by Rhaenyra, who had, in her madness, collapsed half of the secret tunnels in the fortress, which his sister kept hiding in, without a care that it could have possibly resulted in the possible collapse of the entire fortress.
She had tried to kill Helaena before the entire realm, before some 'act of the gods' had saved his wife, though Aegon thought that it might have been a gift from the Potters. It did sound like their magics, if he said so himself. It was only Helaena's reassurances that slowly allowed the fire inside him to simmer down instead of exploding, though he expected that his father would try to alleviate his sister's punishment, for she was his heir.
Of course, what he did not consider was for the King to all but disinherit her. It was extreme, even for him. Then again, he had not been this wroth even during the mess in Driftmark, nor had he when she married Daemon without his permission. Though his love for her had not faded away in the slightest, for he had called the Great Council, summoned most of the Lords of the Realm, only to ensure that he would not proclaim her children as the bastards that they were. Even Borros Baratheon seemed aware of this, and Aegon was sure that the oaf could barely even read.
Nevertheless, that changed very little. It seemed that Aegon would ascend to the throne.
He really did not wish to be king.
If Rhaenyra's line was out of the question, then perhaps another of his siblings could take his place. Aemond was not a good fit; his rage would keep burning forever, and it would take the realm with him, but perhaps Daeron could. There was no reason why they could not push him to be a candidate in the Great Council. Hadn't Father said that all who were of his blood could be candidates in the Great Council?
Daeron was a good boy and was acclaimed for stopping the witch who had been responsible for the Shadowbinder's attack, or something. He was something of a heroic figure amongst the squires in the city, something that would likely spread beyond. What better candidate could there be?
The more he thought about it, the more the idea seemed promising. He would have spoken with his youngest brother first, but the boy was busy with Lord Ormund Hightower, talking with the King about some issue regarding stolen books or something just as boring. He hadn't paid any attention to the matter, truthfully.
And so, he would need to speak with the person who could help the most in this situation, his mother. As he made his way into her chambers, Aegon hoped that she was having a good day. The Queen's mood tended to alternate over the days, shifting between her grief for her father's death and rage over Rhaenyra's deeds. He sincerely hoped for the former.
A few minutes later, he stood before her chambers' door, which had one of the Cargyll brothers guarding it, a post that had often belonged to Ser Criston. It truly was a shame what happened to the man, resigning in disgrace to join the. Night's Watch, but what did he expect when he fled from the shadow monsters instead of protecting the king? To think that he once looked up to the man…
The Kingsguard nodded to him and opened the door, letting Aegon brace himself, expecting his mother's mood. She was kneeling, her hands folded, before a row of lit candles and small statues depicting each of the seven gods. She whispered to herself, almost ignoring him, and when he decided to return at a later date so as not to interrupt her prayers, the Queen spoke up loudly, "It used to give me comfort."
Aegon froze and spoke up, "Mother?"
"With every prayer I made to the Seven, I felt a sense of comfort, of warmth. It used to remind me of my own mother and the days we spent together in the Starry Sept back home. It was such an easy thing back then, but now, I have spent hours kneeling, praying, and yet, I have… nothing. Why have the gods forsaken me so?"
The young prince felt a headache building, "The gods have not forsaken you, Mother."
"They have," she answered with complete certainty, "This city is such a rotten thing, is it not? It spreads inside everyone who lives in it eventually, a truly Godless land. How else would you explain all of this? Rot and death, that is all there is in this place."
"Mother, I know that you grieve Grandfather's death still, but…" Aegon started.
Only for the Queen to interrupt him with anger in her tone, "My father was murdered by that whore's hand, dying in my stead. He was a great man, perhaps one of the greatest ones in the world. He always wished to help me, even if he was cold with it. I see now that he loved me, but his heart grew cold with my mother's death, and I returned that love with betrayal, thinking to myself that it was strength, that I was growing as a Queen. I have failed him. We have failed him, but we do not need to continue doing so. He has given us one last gift, though I wish nothing more than he would have lived to see it."
Aegon was not sure if his mother was seeing things clearly about his grandfather's actions. Daeron's words were not complementary to the situation. He was not sure if the man was under a sorceress's spell, as his last letter proclaimed, but he was sure that his mind was just as sharp, and that he had invited the Red Priestess to the Capital with the goal of killing Harry Potter, the sorcerer of Dragonstone, while also knowing that Helaena would be targeted in some way.
Daeron claimed that the man argued with the sorceress and was easily defeated, and that the witch had used Daeron's blood to aid Rhaenyra in hunting down their sister.
Truthfully, if the man were not already dead, Aegon would have ensured that he would not remain around him or his children. The only reason he would not have killed him was that he was his grandfather, and he would not stoop so low as to commit Kinslaying.
Deciding not to show his mother his opinion of the former Hand, he spoke up, "About the Great Council…"
For the first time in some time, his mother smiled, "I know… The day is finally coming. You will regain what should have always been yours, Aegon, and finally become the King's heir. My father dedicated his life and now his death for this, and now, we will finally see his dreams unfold…"
When Aegon looked at his mother's smile, he noticed that it was trembling at the edges. It was also too bright, and if he were honest, it unsettled him more than when she was weeping and raging against Rhaenyra in the days since the attack.
"Yes…" Aegon murmured, forcing a smile of his own. "Yes, about that. I only meant to say that… that perhaps there are other paths the realm might consider. Father did say any of his blood could be chosen, and I did hear whispers that many of the lords are far more impressed with Aemond and Daeron. I thought…"
His words barely left his mouth before the Queen's head snapped toward him, her eyes widened and yet sharp, "Daeron? Aemond? Why do you say these words, Aegon? You were meant to be king. You were always meant to be king. Has someone whispered treachery in your ear? Is it Rhaenyra? Daemon? Have they already begun undermining you? Undermining us? Are they planning on having our family fight one another so that they can salvage what was never theirs and get the throne? Is that what this is?"
"Mother, no…" Aegon quickly protested, his throat tight. He had never seen her like this, and it was far more terrifying than he would ever admit. He softly raised his hand in surrender, "It was only a thought that I shared with you because I knew that I could trust you with it. Nothing more. Truly."
For a moment, Queen Alicent stared at him, searching his face for any sign of misdirection, before she relaxed and returned her gaze towards the candles, "Good. That is good. I could not bear to think my father died for nothing, that you or your brother would become rivals to the throne and let Rhaenyra steal it from you."
She did not say anything else and continued her prayers. He looked at her, thinking to broach the subject once more, only to shake his head. She would not react to it well, that was for sure, and with it, the last hope he felt at avoiding that cursed throne disappeared, leaving him nought but the weights of expectations.
He walked out of his mother's chambers and found himself moving towards his children. Perhaps seeing Jaehaerys and Jaehaera would calm him down slightly. Their presence always made him feel strangely unburdened.
Aegon entered and did not need to dismiss their nursemaids, as they had long since gotten used to his presence. He gave them a thankful smile and looked down at his children. They were so beautiful, small, with their silver hair and purple eyes. Immediately, he felt the weight on his shoulder slowly disappear, and the peace settled in once more, though it was a burdened one.
He did not hear the door open behind him when he noticed Helaena standing at his side. She did not speak, merely stood there, with her eyes also fixed on their children. Aegon did not know when it was that he started finding her presence so comforting, only that he did. It must have been during their time at Dragonstone, likely after his conversation with Harry Potter.
It mattered very little when it happened or how, only that it did. And when he looked up into her eyes, the words spilt from his mouth before he could stop them.
"I do not want to be king," he whispered, the truth he had been carrying since the Great Council was first announced, the truth he had not dared speak aloud to anyone.
"I know," Helaena said with certainty in her voice.
He… He had not expected this, not expected anyone to even believe him. Everyone ached for that wretched throne, and yet, no one even thought about the costs that sitting on that thing would entail.
And yet, Helaena gave him that small, knowing smile that cut through her normally absentminded expression, as if that had always been obvious to her, and it probably was.
Her smile turned soft, and she grabbed his hands in comfort, "Don't worry, Aegon. Everything will be alright."
Aegon knew that she was probably only saying it for his sake, but for some reason that he could not name, he found himself believing her.
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The Ages of Faith and Reason in the Seven Kingdoms
By Archmaester Aemon of King's Landing
Far before Aegon the Conqueror set his sights on these shores, Faith had remained a critical fragment of Westeros's history and traditions. From the First Men's Old Gods, the Ironborn's Drowned Gods, and the Andals' Seven Who Are One, the divine have often had great motivations in conflicts whose consequences we still feel to this day.
Alas, while Faith remains a critical part of our society today, it lacks the weight it had during previous years, enough that a few poetic historians call the age after the Citadel of Oldtown's dissolution in 164 AC, the Age of Reason. Of course, that is nought but an exaggeration, certainly built on a critical point in our history, but one must consider it odd that various faiths in the Seven Kingdoms have declined so drastically in only a few decades, at least compared to the thousands of years during which they had been unchanging.
In my quest to find an answer to this baffling mystery, I found myself tracing down events that involve each faith, starting with the most obscure one, being the Drowned God. Not much is known about the faith itself, as it had been one spread from word to mouth, with very little in terms of written words, but it was quite prevalent in the Iron Islands before its informal colonisation from the Westerlands. In fact, it was rumours of this god's death, as well as the end of the Greyjoy line, that sparked the civil war in 123 AC that ended with the Lannisters intervening to ensure that the region would not fall into chaos, in the name of the Iron Throne, of course.
Of course, there were superstations and tales of the God manifesting himself in Pyke, and dying, while destroying the seat of House Greyjoy, which had been governed by a boy at the time, but such tales are very outlandish, to say the least. Most believe that it was a natural disaster that occurred in Pyke, and that the Ironborn, known to have been quite uneducated at the time, interpreted it in a rather destructive manner. In the end, faith in the Drowned God had dwindled into nothing, with very few even knowing of its existence aside from historians and curious amateurs.
A large contrast would be the Faith in the Old Gods, which had remained largely unchanged for thousands of years in the North. To this day, Heart Trees and Weirwoods are often considered sacred, enough that cutting them down became a crime in all of the realm, especially after some pressure from the part of House Stark to the Crown. Though the Faith itself does not demand much, many Northerners attribute the sudden prosperity of the Kingdoms to the Old Gods and House Stark's service of them, with the infamous White Wolf, Cregan Stark, becoming something of a mythical figure in the North, claiming that he fought Winter and came out victorious, changing the very seasons in the world.
This was an explanation as good as any regarding the sudden change in the durations of seasons, for there were no doubts in the world that Winters and Summers often lasted for years at a time, something that I confess, could not imagine. Some attributed this to some kind of spell having been unravelled, but any Archmage of the Higher Mysteries would confidently say that no form of magic could have ever achieved such magic that could have affected the world on such a scale. To this day, it remains one of the most debated mysteries in the world.
Now, finally, to the Faith of the Seven. The Faith had spread since the coming of the Andals and had been very well-adopted by the locals over the years, especially since House Hightower accepted them so long ago. Alas, in 123 AC, anti-Faith sentiment grew at once, anger from the smallfolk at the time towards the disparity of wealth and privilege between them and the priests, who often preached quite the opposite of the acts that they, themselves, committed.
Most historians ponder how that never occurred sooner, and most theories suggest that it was the abolishment of the Faith Militant by King Jaehaerys that started this, though most believe that there must have been a reason stopping the smallfolk from rebelling for the decades that followed until they did in 123 AC. Though the rebellions were squashed, the Faith had lost much of its influence in only a single year, until it became officially sponsored by the Crown in 154 AC, something that had been quite controversial at the time. Nowadays, the Faith of the Seven remains prevalent, but merely a shadow of what it once was.
It is likewise impossible to ignore the curious recurrence of the year 123 AC throughout these accounts. Again and again, in matters of faith both great and small, this date presents itself as a point of fracture: the collapse of the Drowned God's worship following the turmoil of the Iron Islands, the unrest that shook the Faith of the Seven, and even the first serious challenges to long-held assumptions regarding the nature of seasons and providence.
Whether this convergence is a mere coincidence or the mark of a deeper event is not known, yet the frequency with which it appears in the annals of the realm demands acknowledgement.
It would be folly, however, to claim that reason supplanted faith entirely. Men still pray before battle, mothers still whisper to the gods over cradles, and kings still invoke the divine when it suits their rule. The so-called Age of Reason is therefore not an age without gods, but one in which belief must now share its throne with inquiry. Whether this balance shall endure, or whether faith shall again rise to primacy in some future age of fire or winter, is a question best left to those yet unborn.
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AN: Phew, that chapter got away from me a bit. It's a bit of a slow chapter, but I realised that I didn't really show anything about Aegon or Alicent since the attack on King's Landing, so I thought to do it here. The idea was to have Aegon not want to be King, and Alicent losing herself a bit in her grief over her father, his sacrifice messing her up a bit, especially since they were not on good terms before that. If you remember, Alicent had asked Viserys to send Otto away from the Capital for almost getting Aemond killed. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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If you want to support me, check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.