Chapter 24: The Tyrant's Reckoning and the Conciliator's Peace
The early 40s AC saw the fragile peace of Westeros shatter. King Aenys I, meek and indecisive, proved utterly unsuited for the challenges of his reign. The growing audacity of the Faith Militant, refusing to accept Targaryen customs, plunged the realm into civil strife. In 42 AC, Aenys fled King's Landing, a broken man, and eventually died on Dragonstone, heartbroken and powerless.
The Rise of Maegor the Cruel
With Aenys dead, the realm descended into chaos. The rightful heir was Aenys's eldest son, Prince Aegon, a dragonrider in his own right. But Visenya Targaryen, ever the pragmatist and fiercely devoted to her own bloodline, flew to Pentos to retrieve her son, Maegor Targaryen. A brutal, terrifying figure, astride the monstrous Balerion, Maegor landed in Westeros and swiftly crowned himself king.
Maegor I's reign, from 42 AC to 48 AC, was a period of unparalleled cruelty and bloodshed. He waged a brutal war against the Faith, massacring their armed orders, burning their septs, and ruling with an iron fist that crushed any dissent. His name became synonymous with terror, his actions painting a dark stain on the Targaryen crown. He married numerous wives, often against their will, and subjected the realm to his volatile, sadistic whims.
Asylum and the Unbroken Pact (48 AC)
As Maegor's tyranny reached its zenith, his cruelty turned inwards, threatening the very continuation of the Targaryen line. His elder brother Aenys's children, now growing into capable young adults, became targets. Prince Jaehaerys, though only fourteen, and his sister-wife Alysanne, twelve, found themselves in mortal peril. They represented a direct challenge to Maegor's usurped throne, and he would not hesitate to eliminate them.
Knowing the ancient pact, understanding that their very lives depended on it, Jaehaerys and Alysanne sought asylum. Under the cloak of night, aided by loyalists, they journeyed in desperation, not towards the safety of a loyal house, but directly to the heart of the Riverlands, to the Grand Castle of Leywin.
I observed their flight, their fear, their desperate hope. Ceara, her bright red eyes filled with a quiet intensity, watched them arrive, their young faces etched with exhaustion and terror.
"They invoke the pact, Arthur," she stated, her voice soft but firm. "The sanctuary of the blood of the dragon."
I nodded. "They are welcome. And they are safe."
My children, Reynold and Tesia, now well into their forties and mature in their power, watched the young Targaryens with quiet solemnity. Sylvie, fully grown and magnificent, her iridescent scales shimmering, descended from the sky to observe the new arrivals, her presence radiating a calm, ancient power that seemed to soothe the terrified prince and princess.
Maegor's Audacity and the Reality Check
Maegor the Cruel, however, was not a man to accept limits. Upon learning of his niece and nephew's flight, his rage was incandescent. He would not tolerate a challenge, especially one protected by a power he could not comprehend. He knew of the Immortal Lord, but his arrogance, fueled by Balerion's might, convinced him he could force the issue.
With Balerion, the Black Dread, soaring overhead, Maegor flew directly to the borders of the Leywin lands, intent on breaching the inviolable pact. He landed Balerion on the very edge of my domain, the great dragon's roar shaking the earth, melting stone with his breath.
"IMMORTAL LORD!" Maegor's voice boomed, amplified by his dragon's thunder. "I DEMAND THE PRINCESS ALYSANNE AND THE USURPER JAEHAERYS! DELIVER THEM TO ME, OR I WILL UNLEASH BALERION UPON YOUR UNCONQUERED LANDS!"
I stood on the battlements of the Grand Castle of Leywin, bathed in the glow of my aetheric runes. Beside me, Sylvie, in her true draconic form, unfurled her wings, her scales rippling with primordial energy, her eyes burning with an inner, star-like fire that dwarfed the mere ferocity of Balerion. Her presence alone made Balerion instinctively recoil, a low whimper rumbling in his throat.
Maegor's eyes, fixed on Sylvie, widened in pure, unadulterated terror. He had never seen such a creature, a dragon of pure, unadulterated power, radiating an aura that spoke of creation and destruction on a cosmic scale. His arrogance withered.
I stepped forward, my voice resonating with ancient power, vibrating through the very air, reaching Maegor's mind directly, crushing his will. "You speak of conquering, Maegor Targaryen? You speak of unleashing your oversized lizard upon my domain?" My golden, cat-like slit eyes burned with ancient fury. "I told your father, Aegon, that I have walked this world since his ancestors were mere shepherds. I told him I would be here until the end of time. And I told him that if his dragons ever came to my lands, they would see a real dragon."
Sylvie let out a low, resonant growl, a sound that shook Balerion to his very core, sending tremors of primal fear through the ancient dragon. Balerion whimpered again, recoiling further, his scales dulling, his immense body trembling.
"You are Maegor the Cruel to mortals," I continued, my voice cold as the grave. "But here, you are nothing. You are a child playing with fire. The pact made by your father was clear. Any Targaryen who seeks asylum within my domain is under my absolute protection. Breach this pact, and your ambition, your bloodline, your very existence, will be erased from history." I exerted a minute fraction of my Aetheric intent, enough to make Maegor feel the cold grip of absolute annihilation, a sensation that froze him to the bone, robbing him of breath and will.
Maegor, the Butcher, the Cruel, the King who broke men, stood utterly paralyzed, his face ashen, his mighty dragon Balerion trembling uncontrollably beneath him. He had faced armies, rebellion, and death without flinching. But this was different. This was a force that defied understanding, a being who could erase him from existence with a thought. It was a terrifying, absolute reality check. He had truly met his match, and found himself utterly lacking.
He remained frozen for a long moment, then slowly, painstakingly, forced Balerion to turn. Without another word, without a backward glance, he flew away, a shattered king, his terror a palpable thing even from this distance.
The Death of a Tyrant and the Conciliator's Reign
Maegor the Cruel would not reign long after that encounter. His reign crumbled as the realm finally rose against him. In 48 AC, abandoned by his few remaining allies and despised by his own Kingsguard, he was found dead on the Iron Throne, a fitting end for a tyrant.
With Maegor gone, Jaehaerys Targaryen, having come of age under the silent protection of House Leywin, was crowned King in 48 AC. His sister-wife, Alysanne, became his Queen. Together, they would usher in an era known as the Golden Age of Westeros, the longest and most peaceful reign the Seven Kingdoms would ever know.
From the Grand Castle of Leywin, we watched Jaehaerys and Alysanne rule. They were wise, just, and remembered the debt they owed. They never once challenged the sovereignty of Leywin, respecting the borders and the ancient pact. It was a time of rebuilding, of roads being forged, of laws being codified, and of the Faith being reconciled (though its military orders were forever disbanded).
Reynold and Tesia often observed the realm's growth, understanding that the relative peace was partly due to the stability provided by my existence and the deterrent effect I presented. Sylvie, now a fully mature dragon, would sometimes venture out, her presence a silent, awe-inspiring sight to those few who glimpsed her, a living testament to the true power that lay dormant in the heart of the Riverlands.
The world seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The drums of war had quieted. But I knew, and my family knew, that the true darkness still waited beyond the Wall, a patient, cold enemy, biding its time. And for that, we would always be ready.