Chapter 25: The King and the Immortal: A Century's Reflection
The years turned into decades, and the decades into a golden age. King Jaehaerys I, the Conciliator, ruled Westeros for over half a century, an unprecedented reign of peace and prosperity. The wounds of Maegor's tyranny healed, roads were built, laws codified, and the realm flourished. His wisdom was legendary, his justice unwavering, and his reign a stark contrast to the brutal chaos that preceded him.
From the Grand Castle of Leywin, we watched. Reynold and Tesia, now well over fifty years of age but appearing no older than vibrant adults in their prime, had become adept at observing the subtleties of Westerosi politics. Sylvie, a magnificent, colossal dragon, often soared above the Leywin lands, her presence a silent, awe-inspiring testament to the ancient power that guarded the Riverlands.
"He built a good realm, Papa," Sylvie mused to me one afternoon, her mental voice resonant, as she watched the bustling activity of a distant market town within Jaehaerys's dominion. "Much better than the squabbling kings before him."
"Indeed, little one," I agreed, my gaze following her. "He understood the needs of his people, and the weight of his crown."
The Heir Chosen (101 AC)
As Jaehaerys I grew old, his strength fading with the passage of the century, the inevitable question of succession arose. He had outlived many of his children. In 101 AC, the Great Council was called at Harrenhal—a poignant choice, given its history—to decide the next heir to the Iron Throne. After much deliberation, Viserys Targaryen, Prince Baelon's son (and thus Jaehaerys's grandson), was chosen over Laenor Velaryon, who represented the strong claim of his mother, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. The decision, though debated, was a testament to Jaehaerys's influence and the stability he had cultivated.
The Old Man and the Ageless One
Shortly after the Great Council, as his long life neared its end, King Jaehaerys sent a personal request. Not for counsel on the realm, nor for aid in a crisis, but for a private meeting with the Immortal Lord. He sought a final conversation, a reflection on a life lived, with the only being in Westeros who truly understood the passage of eons.
I granted his request. The meeting was arranged not at court, but in a secluded, ancient grove within the Leywin lands, where the air hummed with primal magic and the whispers of the Old Gods were almost audible.
Jaehaerys arrived, a man truly at the end of his long road. His silver hair was thin and wispy, his body frail, bent with the weight of decades. His eyes, however, still held a keen, intelligent spark, betraying the enduring wisdom that had guided a realm for fifty-five years. He leaned heavily on a gnarled walking stick, looking every bit the old man that had seen his years.
I stood before him, my Asuran form unchanged, my golden, cat-like slit eyes holding the depth of countless millennia. I was the oldest man in the world, a living relic of forgotten ages, observing the ebb and flow of mortal tides.
Jaehaerys offered a slight, respectful bow, then eased himself onto a moss-covered stone. "Lord Leywin," he rasped, his voice soft, almost a whisper. "Thank you for granting this old man his final curiosity."
"King Jaehaerys," I replied, my voice a deep resonance that seemed to calm the very air around us. "It is my honor. You have ruled well. You have built a legacy worthy of remembrance."
A faint smile touched Jaehaerys's lips. "A legacy… what is a legacy to a man who has seen empires rise and fall before my ancestors even learned to light a fire?" He sighed, a tired sound. "I have sought to bring peace, to bring justice. I have tried to heal the wounds my forefathers inflicted. But it is so fleeting, isn't it? One generation builds, the next tears down. My Viserys, my grandson… he is a good man, but not a strong one. And the whispers of my other grandson, Daemon... I fear for what will come."
"The cycles of mortals are indeed relentless," I acknowledged, my gaze sweeping over the ancient trees. "Ambition, passion, vengeance – they are woven into your very being. But so too are love, loyalty, and the desire for peace. You chose the latter, Jaehaerys. You built a time of peace, not just a fragile truce. That is no small feat in a world destined for conflict."
"You spoke of a greater darkness," Jaehaerys continued, his eyes fixed on mine. "The prophecy my grandfather saw. Has my reign done enough to prepare this realm?"
"Your reign has done much to unite the realm, Jaehaerys," I affirmed, my gaze softening. "It has provided a foundation, a time of respite. The true threat does not care for crowns or castles, but for the living. And your unity, however temporary, strengthens their resolve. When the time comes, they will need every ounce of that unity." I did not need to explicitly say what would come; he understood.
Jaehaerys nodded slowly, a deep weariness settling upon him. "I have done what I could. I have lived my life. To know that the realm will have its guardian when the true night falls… that brings a strange comfort." He pushed himself up, his old bones creaking. "Thank you, Lord Leywin. For your watch, for your wisdom, for your silent protection. And for the peace you allowed my reign to achieve."
With a final, knowing nod, Jaehaerys turned and slowly, painfully, made his way out of the grove, leaving me alone with the ancient whispers of the trees. He would pass from this world shortly after, leaving behind a realm on the cusp of another great transition. The Age of Dragons had truly begun, but the true Age of Immortals had never ceased.