Chapter 22: The Dragon's Fury and The Emerald Legacy
Time: 2 BC - Early 1 AC
POV: Kaelen Silvanor
The year 2 BC dawned not with the usual serenity of Ael'tharion, but with distant echoes of a storm brewing far across the Narrow Sea. Messengers from our trade outposts, their voices laced with a mixture of awe and fear, brought word of Aegon Targaryen's landing at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush. He had come with his two sister-wives, Visenya and Rhaenys, and their three mighty dragons, Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes, to forge a single kingdom from the fractured realms of Westeros. The Conquest had begun.
The news dominated the discussions within the Emerald Council. Lord Maekar Belaerys, now fully integrated and serving as a crucial voice for the human territories of the Silvanar Empire, observed the unfolding events with a complex blend of ancient pride and strategic calculation. His Valyrian kin, particularly the younger dragonriders who still dreamt of their ancestors' lost glory, watched with a visceral excitement as their distant cousins, the Targaryens, unleashed the power that had once ruled the world. Their hushed conversations in the halls of Ael'tharion revolved around the Targaryens' audacious strikes – the burning of Harrenhal, the Field of Fire, the submission of kings.
"He moves with a speed and ferocity that even Old Valyria would commend," Lord Maekar stated during one council session, his silver head bent over a map of Westeros, his finger tracing Aegon's rapid advance from the landing to the utter devastation of Harrenhal. "The old kings fall like dominoes. The Storm King, the Gardener King, the King of the Rock… their ancient lines are extinguished by dragonfire. The sheer audacity is breathtaking, a true display of what can be wrought by dragons and singular will."
Eldrin, the Guardian of Lore, responded with his usual calm, his voice like the steady flow of a deep river. "Their methods are... direct. Efficient, for mortals. But such rapid conquest often leaves embers that smolder for generations, seeds of resentment that can lie dormant for centuries before igniting anew. True peace, true dominion, Emperor, is built on more than fear and ashes. It is cultivated through trust, shared prosperity, and the weaving of hearts, not merely the bending of knees." His ancient gaze flickered towards me, a subtle affirmation of our Empire's very different foundation.
Lyra, the Master of Currents, ever pragmatic and focused on the intricate web of our global trade, was more concerned with the tangible impacts. "Trade routes are disrupted, Emperor. The fear of dragonfire, even distant, makes merchants wary. Ships are delayed, goods spoil, and goods once abundant now command exorbitant prices. The prices of iron and grain fluctuate wildly, and the instability threatens our established networks. Westeros is a significant market for our exotic goods and a source of vital raw materials."
My own thoughts spanned not merely decades, but millennia. Aegon's ambition was grand, his use of dragons masterful, yet his vision was ultimately constrained by the brevity of a mortal life. His "thousand-year dynasty" would still be but a blink in the eye of the Ael'athar. My primary concern was not the dominion of Westeros itself, but the unwavering stability of the trade networks that were the very lifeblood of my Empire, and the steadfast protection of my people, our burgeoning influence, and the new territories gained through the Belaerys alliance. We had cultivated peace and prosperity through patience and foresight; I would not see it jeopardized by another's fiery ambition.
When the Council turned to me for guidance, my decree was firm and unwavering, reflecting a policy of long-term strategic patience, yet underscored by undeniable strength.
"We will not interfere with them," I stated, my voice echoing through the grand, spiraling council chamber, resonating with a quiet authority that always seemed to settle the room, drawing all attention. "Aegon Targaryen seeks to unite a continent that has long been divided by petty lords and warring crowns. His actions, while violent and rooted in the brutal ways of mortals, are confined to Westeros. He is forging his own kingdom in fire and blood, a path we choose not to walk. The internal squabbles and conquests of Westeros are not our direct concern, provided they do not spill over into our domains or fundamentally disrupt our way of life and our vital trade."
My gaze swept over each councilor, lingering on Lord Maekar Belaerys, whose expression was already understanding, nodding in quiet agreement. He, more than any other mortal, understood the vastness of our perspective. "However," I continued, my voice gaining a subtle edge, a hint of the deep power that lay beneath the surface of the Silvanar, "let this be known throughout all our trade networks and to any who would listen: If they interfere with our trade, if they threaten our vessels, or if their ambition seeks to extend its reach into our established territories or the newly integrated Dukedom of the Sunstone Isles, we will answer. Not with a conqueror's fury, for we have no need of their lands, but with the full, undeniable might of the Silvanar Empire. Our prosperity is our strength, and we will defend it with every resource at our command, including the dragons now pledged to our banner and the ancient magic of our very being."
This policy, carefully articulated, was swiftly disseminated through our vast network of outposts, merchant guilds, and diplomatic channels. It was a quiet but firm warning, a testament to immense power held in reserve, without ostentatious display. For the next two years, we watched as Aegon finished his conquest, burning castles, accepting oaths of fealty, and eventually, receiving the crown from the High Septon in Oldtown and having the swords of his vanquished enemies forged into the monument known as the Iron Throne. Westeros was united, a single realm under a single king, a formidable new power now emerging on the world stage.
Early 1 AC: The Aftermath of Conquest
The literal and metaphorical dust of Aegon's Conquest had barely settled when a Silvanar delegation arrived, unannounced yet expected, at the newly established Red Keep in King's Landing. The city itself was still a bustling, chaotic construction site, a testament to Aegon's ambition. The delegation was led by Lyra, the Master of Currents, her elegant Silvanar robes contrasting sharply with the rough-hewn stone and busy atmosphere of the nascent capital. She was accompanied by a small retinue of Belaerys guards, their silver hair and violet eyes standing out, and crucially, a young, quietly watchful Belaerys dragonrider, his presence a subtle yet potent reminder of the powerful alliance between our Empire and the Dragonlords.
King Aegon I Targaryen, now seated on his formidable Iron Throne, received them in the rudimentary throne room. He was a man of quiet power, his purple eyes sharp with the weight of recent victories and the immense task of consolidating his new realm. His sister-wives, Visenya and Rhaenys, stood beside him, their expressions a mixture of curiosity, shrewd assessment, and the subtle wariness of dragonlords facing a new and powerful unknown.
Lyra, ever graceful and possessed of an inherent dignity, presented Kaelen's formal greetings and the precise purpose of their visit. "King Aegon," she began, her voice calm and clear, yet carrying a subtle resonance that commanded attention, "the Silvanar Empire, by decree of Emperor Kaelen, extends its congratulations on the unification of Westeros. Our Empire has long been a conduit of prosperity across the known world, and it is our desire to continue and expand our established trade relations with the newly formed Seven Kingdoms, now under your singular rule."
She laid out detailed proposals with a clarity that impressed even the battle-hardened Targaryens. These included exclusive trade routes that guaranteed reliable delivery even through tumultuous seas, agreements for mutual protection of shipping lanes against piracy or competing powers, and offers of rare Sothoryosi goods—exotic spices of unparalleled fragrance, luminous woods that seemed to glow from within, unique minerals with strange properties, and advanced Silvanar crafts, all delivered with an efficiency and quality unmatched by any other power. She spoke of our advanced agricultural techniques that could yield unparalleled harvests, and our refined metals that could create tools of incredible durability.
Aegon listened intently, his gaze moving between Lyra's composed features, the silent Silvanar guards, and the ever-watchful Belaerys dragonrider. The presence of a Belaerys in the delegation was not lost on him; it was a potent reminder that the Silvanar's wealth was now backed by dragonfire. He was well aware of the vast wealth and advanced nature of the Silvanar trade network, which even during the turbulent years of the Conquest had largely managed to maintain its flow, proving its resilience and reach.
After a period of intense, yet polite, negotiation, during which Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys pressed for details about the enigmatic Silvanar Empire, their unique nature, and the formidable strength of their Dragonlord allies, they came to a comprehensive agreement. The Silvanar Empire would maintain its privileged trade status within the nascent Seven Kingdoms, unhindered by tariffs or piracy, in exchange for guaranteed supply of vital goods and exclusive access to their unique products. It was a mutually beneficial pact, marking the first formal diplomatic tie between the nascent Targaryen dynasty and the ancient, yet newly overt, Silvanar Empire. As the delegation departed, leaving behind a subtle scent of living forest and ancient magic, Aegon's thoughts remained on the mysterious Emperor of Sothoryos, whose power seemed to grow even as the world around him was remade.
Back in Ael'tharion, as the years immediately following the Conquest unfolded and the new peace settled across Westeros, the future of the Silvanar Empire truly began to take root in a new generation. My union with Empress Vala Belaerys bore its magnificent fruit, proving the profound implications of our blended bloodlines and the wisdom of our strategic alliance.
Our firstborn was a boy, radiant from the moment of his birth. We named him Aerion Silvanor. He possessed Vala's lustrous silver hair, a shade of moonlit silver that seemed to glow, but his eyes were my own distinctive emerald, eyes that held both the ancient calm of the Ael'athar and a nascent spark of Valyrian fire. He was a robust, curious child, quick to learn and possessive of an innate connection to the living world around him, subtly humming with the magic of Ael'tharion. From his earliest days, he displayed a profound affinity for the grand, ancient trees that formed the very structure of our city.
Two years later, Vala gave birth to our second son, whom we named Elaron Silvanor. He was more the mirror of his mother, with her deep amethyst eyes, though his silver hair had a slightly deeper, richer sheen, almost like polished steel. Elaron was quieter, more contemplative, often found observing the intricate patterns of light and shadow, or poring over ancient texts. He showed an early and keen affinity for the scholarly pursuits of the Belaerys loremasters, delving into histories and theories of magic.
Our third and final child, a girl, was born three years after Elaron. We named her Aelia Silvanor. She was a breathtaking blend of both our lineages, inheriting the purest shade of Vala's moonlit silver hair, but with my unique deep sapphire eyes that shimmered with an almost liquid light, hinting at hidden depths. Aelia was spirited and vibrant, with an uncanny ability to connect with animals and a joyous, melodic laugh that filled the palace halls. She moved with an innate grace, almost a dance, from the moment she could walk.
These were my children, the living embodiment of the future I had envisioned. They were High Elves, gifted with the agelessness of my line, yet carrying the potent dragon-blood of Valyria within their veins, a fusion of two legendary powers. They would be the new pillars of the Silvanar Empire, a living testament to the union of two ancient forces and the dawn of a truly unique dynasty. As I watched them grow, exploring the living city with boundless energy, their laughter echoing through the verdant halls, I knew the foundation for an eternal empire had truly been laid. The world had changed with Aegon's Conquest, but my Empire had not merely survived; it had evolved, its roots now intertwined with the very essence of dragonfire and ancient magic, destined to influence the currents of history for ages to come.