Targaryen Madness

Aerion cast aside some magic vitality to heal Artos' wounds and moved on.

"Wow..." Artos felt a feeling of bliss as his wounds faded. As soon as his attention turned back to Aerion, he was no longer there. "Where did he go?"

"Away from you, clearly."

"Hmph." Artos turned to Jocelyn, remembering their conflict from earlier. "Why would you go out of your way to protect the person who imprisoned you?"

"Well, that's because... I was not a prisoner. I gained greater freedom than I ever had here. I learned plenty, too, and saw places that I could've never had hoped to see otherwise."

"... Nonsense." Artos turned around and walked away.

~10th moon of 296 AC

After a month had passed, King's Landing and its people had begun to grow accustomed to the rule of the Rightful King. The raging conflict between the Ironborn and King Robert had long since drawn to a halt as both became aware of Aerion's presence. The balance of the Realm began to shift in favour of the Targaryen loyalists as they drastically began to grow in number and rally in King's Landing. Some of the more neutral lords had already begun to see Robert as a weak King in comparison to Aerion, who had yet to lose a single battle. Could he, a King who struggled with the Ironborn, shield them from the terror that was the Dragon Emperor... the Stormcaller who had crushed all nine Free Cities beneath his feet?

The lords who valued their lives knew the answer to this question all too well. However, there was just one issue for a select few of these lords... some of them were already tied to King Robert's army. Deserting Robert's host and joining Aerion would be very, very, difficult. A majority of the greater lords under his banner remained especially loyal to him such as Jon Arryn, Eddard Stark and the ill Hoster Tully (who is now represented by his son, Edmure). This meant that they would likely either be mistaken for Robert's men in a battle, killed for attempting to escape or somehow (rather unlikely) manage to reach him. It was not a position one would envy.

...

Aerion walked into the Great Sept of Baelor to admire its architecture and settle a certain matter only to find Artos praying before a statue of the Warrior. He was not the only one present, of course. There was the High Septon along with a few other priests.

Aerion's steps were long yet noble as he made his way towards the Warrior.

"Praying for a God that doesn't exist... I truly pity you."

He remarked before turning to the High Septon. He was a fat man who could give the cheesemonger a run for his money in terms of both greed and size. The only attractive feature he had was the radiant crystal crown atop his head... which was quite dazzling to most eyes, especially thieves. However, due to his position, no one would dare attack the High Septon in broad daylight.

Ignore Aerion's previous statement, the High Septon spoke first. "What brings you here on this fine day, Your Grace?"

"I have come to admire the works of my ancestors," Aerion replied rather bluntly.

"Ah, I see." The High Septon chuckled. "Indeed, this whole sept was built under the orders of Baelor the Blessed. Even till this day, it remains one of the most remarkable landmarks in all of the Seven Kingdoms."

Aerion smiled slightly. "High Septon, I'd like to know your opinion on this... was the reign of Robert Baratheon a mistake?"

"Why, of course! The Realm had been divided because of Usurper's reign and could never be truly whole again. But now... with your return, all Seven Kingdoms will surely be united as one again and rise to even greater heights than ever thought possible."

Artos frowned at the High Septon who seemed to have completely switched sides. Before, he would only sing praises of House Baratheon and his father... but now, he was doing the exact opposite.

"You weren't saying that when my father was here!"

"Oh... dear child, I had to keep my mouth shut in regards to that. If I had spoken in favour of House Targaryen then the Usurper would have had me replaced, or worse, had me hanged."

'This city reeks of corruption and lies. I suppose that Robert was too drunk to care... but I am well awake.'

Aerion sighed.

"Did I say something wrong, Your Grace?"

"No, everything you said was correct. It seems that Artos here still has much to learn..."

"Indeed, the young lord has yet to fully understand the world around him. Your Grace, why don't you join this prayer? It would be wonderful to have-"

"I'd rather not. In truth, I wish for all of you to leave."

"Ah... I see." The High Septon nodded, swiftly (well as swiftly as he could) rising to his feet and leaving along with the other septons and septa's.

"Except for you, of course." Aerion looked at Artos with a somewhat warm expression.

"Why me?"

"Do you see now, how easily one may change their allegiance? Thirteen years ago... it was no different to this. Suddenly, the majority had become Robert's supporters and House Targaryen, the very dynasty that had united this realm and held it together for nearly three hundred years, was frowned upon."

"Why do you think this is the case?"

"Because my father took the Iron Throne and was crowned King. Your grandfather was the Mad King as well... and a lot of the Targaryens before him were too. The people stopped believing in House Targaryen because of that."

"Hmm... indeed. Madness runs in my blood." Aerion stroked his chin. "On that note, do you believe that I'm mad like my grandfather?"

Artos sat in silence for a moment, caught off-guard by the question. He began to question his own views after a whole month of being around each other from time to time. He didn't seem mad... not at all. He was quite outgoing personality-wise and could very easily turn people to his side. Unlike his father, Aerion put forward his best efforts as the ruler of King's Landing and rarely ever slacked off. Perhaps he was mad... in terms of being over-diligent.

Then again, he had yet to see the Stormcaller.

"Maybe that question was a little too difficult for you... well, it is what it is." Aerion shrugged after a prolonged period. "Targaryen madness is a subject that interests me greatly. Hmm, I'm sure you know of Baelor the Blessed?"

"The King who built this sept?"

"He is the prime example of the saying 'madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin'. He was very faithful in the Seven, to the point of being mad and yet... he accomplished many great things. The smallfolk loved him at that time, especially men of great faith. This shows that madness and greatness are not exclusive to each other."

"Before the Rebellion, before I was even born and before the Defiance of Duskendale, the Mad King Aerys didn't exist. There was only King Aerys, the Second of His Name. It is said that, yes, he was quick to anger, vain and jealous... but he was not mad, not until he had been imprisoned for six whole months by the rebellious Lord Denys. As a matter of fact, most 'mad' Targaryens emerged because of their circumstances. There were very few who had been born mad... such as Aerion Brightflame."

"The one who drank wildfire, believing that it would make him a dragon?" Artos inquired.

"Indeed... you've been reading up on him?"

"Perhaps."

"Anyway, aligning all of these threads together, Targaryen madness is not quite as terrible as some people believe it is. The Blood of the Dragon has proven to produce many great Targaryens at the cost of a few mediocre and, usually not inherently, mad ones who can still manage to be great in their own way. Of course, it isn't a good trait to potentially have... but I believe that the benefits outweigh the detriments by a good degree." Aerion chuckled. "Though, as a Targaryen myself, I might be a little biased in regards to this matter..."

'If I discover the way to eternal life, Targaryen madness will no longer be an issue for the Realm. That is... unless I become mad myself.'

Aerion glanced at the statue of the Warrior, wondering if he would one day outlast the Faith of the Seven. This eventually led him to wonder whether he would become a different person (for better or for worse) by then or not. It was a rather mysterious and eerie thought, one that he did not linger in for too long.

"Now I see what Jocelyn meant when she said that you'd make a great maester. Have you considered working in the citadel?"

Aerion smiled. "They wouldn't like me... oh, not at all. Though, I don't like them either. Most of those fools refuse to accept the truth that magic is the future of this world."

"Anyway... I should be going now. I've seen all I needed to see."

Before leaving the Great Sept of Baelor, Aerion made sure to see the High Septon and grab his shoulder for a moment. "Continue doing what you do, High Septon. You are an inspiration to us all."

"Why thank you, Your Grace."

A very small crimson-red mark had appeared on his shoulder only for a moment, something that no one, not even himself had noticed.

~

The following night.

The High Septon retired in his bedchamber just as he would've any other day. That is until the blood in his body began to gather at one single point... the heart. Rapidly, more streams of blood gathered until it was too much to handle.

While his body was on the verge of exploding from the inside, the High Septon was confused yet desperate to live. He grabbed a goblet of clear water and drank it all within moments, all for nought. Just as he was about to plead for help, it was all too late.

His heart exploded along with the arteries near it, ending his life immediately after.

...

Not soon after the travesty that was seen as an unfortunate heart attack, a new High Septon was chosen by Aerion. One that would work in his best interests. Although the Most Devout were sceptical, they did not object the will of the new King.

~

As the weeks passed, more lords bent their knees before Aerion and the Iron Throne. By the first day of 297 AC, lords from across all Seven Kingdoms (except the Iron Islands) had gathered around King's Landing both for and against Aerion. It was this day that would decide the fate of the Realm.

The morale of Robert's army was shaky, to say the least, while Aerion's forces had never been so confident. With the relatively fresh armies of the Reach, Westerlands, Dorne and Targaryen loyalists who did not partake in the second Greyjoy Rebellion, Aerion's host outnumbered Robert's by a sizeable amount. That was not even factoring his undead forces that had been growing over time... nor his magic in general.

Lord Tywin hadn't had the chance to swear fealty in person, however, as he had yet to be allowed into the city, unlike every other lord. This was quite insulting to a man as prideful as Lord Tywin but he stayed his tongue and remained among the loyalist camp.

Aerion woke up early in the morning and prepared for what was to come. The suppressed urge for vengeance had never been stronger as the people he had despised greatly were all gathered so close to him. All of the heavy shadows who looked down at him for over a decade and pressured him to stay put... they were all here.

Now, unlike before, he was the ominous shadow that overlooked them all.

'So... this day has come.'