Chapter 20: The Unveiling of an Empire: A Dragonlord's Wedding
Time: 7 BC
POV: Kaelen Silvanor
The Century of Blood, a hundred years of relentless conflict and shifting allegiances in Essos that began with the Doom of Valyria, still raged in distant lands, though its fiercest fires seemed to be drawing towards a close. While the Free Cities continued to exhaust themselves in their endless feuds, the Silvanar Empire rose as a new kind of power. My unwavering trade had cemented our name across the known world, and I, Kaelen, the merchant who had become Emperor through consistent delivery and strategic diplomacy, now found my realm a beacon of order and prosperity amidst the chaos. The Citadel's wary overtures, with their small, supervised presence within Ael'tharion, were testament to this newfound recognition.
It was in this era, five years before Aegon Targaryen would begin his momentous conquest, that a most formidable and ancient house sought audience. House Belaerys. Over a century ago, they had heeded my subtle warning before the Doom consumed Valyria, securing their lineage, a significant portion of their wealth, and their precious dragons on a secluded island. For a hundred years, they had governed themselves, rebuilding their strength in the shadows, navigating the relentless chaos of the Century of Blood. But as the long conflict had worn on, even their formidable power seemed less secure in isolation. They recognized a new truth: even with dragons, a single house could be extinguished in a world now slowly coalescing into larger, more stable powers. They needed a larger framework, a secure future, and they saw it in the rising influence of the Silvanar Empire.
Their arrival at the island I had designated for them near the Stepstones was an awe-inspiring sight. Twelve dragons, their scales shimmering under the sun, descended from the sky, their roars echoing across the waves. They carried riders of silver hair and violet eyes, a striking presence that commanded immediate respect. This was power, raw and undeniable, a living echo of the ancient Freehold. Accompanying them were ships laden with half their ancestral wealth, a testament to their enduring might. Lord Maekar Belaerys, the current head of the house and great-grandson of the one who had made the initial migration, had formally sought to integrate his house into my Empire.
The preparations for the marriage of Emperor Kaelen and Vala Belaerys, Daughter of Dragons, swept through Ael'tharion. This was not merely a union of two individuals, but a profound melding of ancient powers – the subtle, ageless might of the Silvanar with the overt, terrifying majesty of Valyrian dragonlords. Every detail was meticulously orchestrated, from the living tapestries woven with light and flora that adorned the grand halls to the ethereal music that resonated from crystalline instruments.
Invitations, carried by my swiftest ships, ventured north to White Harbor for the Manderlys, west to Oldtown for the Hightowers, and along the bustling Gold Road for the Lannisters. These were the houses that had come to rely on the Silvanar Empire's unwavering trade, the lords who had witnessed our prosperity and acknowledged my emperorship. Their presence at this wedding would be a testament to the Silvanar's growing influence across Westeros, and a formal acknowledgement of our new, public ties to the legendary Dragonlords. Their awe, when they witnessed a dozen dragons circling the skies above Ael'tharion, was palpable.
The wedding itself was a spectacle unlike any ever witnessed in Westeros or Essos. Maesters from the Citadel, still wary but intensely fascinated, observed every detail, their quills scratching furiously in their notebooks. Lords and ladies from the North, the Reach, and the Westerlands arrived, their eyes wide with disbelief as they beheld the sheer scale of the Belaerys dragons, and the ethereal beauty of my Silvanar kin.
I took Vala's hand before a grand altar carved from a single, immense geode that pulsed with soft, inner light. Our vows were spoken in the ancient tongue of my people, a language that flowed like water and resonated with the very earth. When our hands joined, a subtle ripple of power passed between us, felt by my kin and perhaps even dimly by the Maesters. It was a formal acknowledgment of the blending of two powerful bloodlines. The celebration that followed was a joyous display of Silvanar culture, blending the exotic with the practical, offering sights and tastes that astonished our mortal guests.
Far across the Narrow Sea, on the windswept island of Dragonstone, the news of the wedding struck House Targaryen like a thunderclap. Aegon Targaryen, a young lord of solemn demeanor, stood with his elder sister and wife, Visenya, and his younger sister and wife, Rhaenys, before a freshly arrived raven. The scroll, bearing the unfamiliar seal of the Silvanar Empire and detailing the union, was passed between them.
"Belaerys," Visenya murmured, her silver eyes narrowed. "I thought them all consumed by the Doom, or scattered into obscurity! Twelve dragons? And half their wealth?" Her voice was laced with disbelief and a hint of the steel she possessed.
Rhaenys, ever the dreamer, tapped her chin. "An Emperor of Sothoryos... and his people are said to be 'ageless' with 'pointed ears and strange hair colors.' It sounds like something from a child's fable." But even her voice held a note of genuine curiosity.
Aegon, however, remained silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the parchment. His purple eyes held a complex mixture of thoughts. For generations, the Targaryens had nurtured their three remaining dragons, clinging to their Valyrian heritage as the sole surviving Dragonlords. They had meticulously planned their eventual conquest of Westeros, a destiny they felt was theirs. But the sudden emergence of House Belaerys, not only alive and powerful but aligned with an unknown Emperor from Sothoryos, drastically altered the political landscape.
"This 'Silvanar Empire'… their trade has become vital to Westeros," Aegon finally spoke, his voice low, almost a rumble. "They did not conquer. They provided. And now, they bind themselves to a house of Dragonlords with such strength."
Visenya looked at him, her expression grave. "It changes things, brother. We were meant to be the only ones. The only true heirs of Valyria."
"Perhaps," Aegon said, rolling the parchment slowly, "but the world is larger than we imagined. This Emperor Kaelen has amassed influence in a century, what we have only dreamt of for generations. He has secured allegiance through prosperity and marriage, not fire. Their existence... their alliance... is a variable we cannot ignore. A power that might be rival or ally. It forces us to reconsider our timing, our approach. The conquest of Westeros may yet begin, but it seems there are more dragons in this world than we once believed, and more Emperors besides ourselves."
The surprise of the Targaryens was profound. The revelation of House Belaerys's survival and their alliance with the enigmatic Silvanar Empire ignited new considerations in the minds of the Dragonlords of Dragonstone, forcing them to re-evaluate their carefully laid plans for the future of Westeros.