After Aegon's departure, Queen Alysanne assumed control of the court. The most pressing matter before the Queen Regent was money.
Or rather, the lack of it—for the crown faced a dire financial crisis.
King Maegor's wars had drained the treasury bare. His Master of Coin had done little beyond raising taxes and levying the lords to cover the shortfall. These measures not only yielded less than expected but also deepened the lords' resentment toward Maegor.
Things did not improve under Aegon.
The young king's coronation and his "Golden Wedding" were both splendid and magnificent, winning him the affection of nobles and smallfolk alike, yet each placed an even heavier burden on the treasury.
Worse still, the crown faced another great expense: Lord Rogar, the Hand, was determined to see the Dragonpit restored—a project requiring vast sums.
The Dragonpit had been left in ruins when a dragon, fused with the Greedy One's monstrous strength, had broken free.
Edwell Celtigar, Lord of Claw Isle, had once served as Hand during Maegor's "cruel" reign, achieving little. Given a second chance as Master of Coin during the Regency, he proved no better.
Unwilling to anger the great lords, Celtigar turned instead upon the common folk of King's Landing. He tripled port duties, imposed import and export levies on certain goods, and demanded extra tribute from innkeepers and builders.
Far from replenishing the coffers, these policies brought construction to a halt, emptied inns, and strangled trade. Merchant ships avoided King's Landing altogether, turning instead to Driftmark, Duskendale, Maidenpool, and other ports to escape the taxes.
Though Lannisport and Oldtown were also included in Celtigar's edicts, enforcement there was weak—Casterly Rock and the Hightower ignored the commands, unwilling to lift a finger.
The new taxes made Celtigar loathed in the capital, and both Lord Rogar and Queen Alysanne were dragged down in the people's scorn.
Even the Dragonpit's repairs ground to a halt when the crown could no longer pay the builders.
Meanwhile, new storms gathered in north and south.
With Lord Rogar ruling far away in King's Landing, the Dornish grew bold—raiding the Marches with greater frequency and even striking into the Stormlands. Rumors spread of a new "Vulture King" rising in the Red Mountains, but Rogar's brother Borys pleaded lack of men and coin to march against him.
The North faced even graver peril.
At the end of the fifty-first year of the Conquest, the Night's Watch garrisons at Rimegate and Sable Hall rose in revolt. The new Lord Stark gathered his bannermen to march to the Wall and aid in putting down the mutiny.
The rebels were largely men once pardoned by the young king—former Poor Fellows and Warrior's Sons. Their leaders were two knights who had once served in Maegor's Kingsguard before turning to Aegon: Ser Olyver Bracken and Ser Raymund Mallery.
The Lord Commander of the Watch had foolishly placed Bracken and Mallery in charge of the two decaying forts. The pair seized the chance to declare themselves lords.
The rebellion was short-lived, for the black brothers loyal to their vows outnumbered the traitors ten to one.
With the support of Lord Stark and his bannermen, the Watch retook Rimegate, hanged all the oathbreakers, and delivered Ser Olyver to Lord Stark—who beheaded him with Ice.
At Sable Hall, the rebels fled beyond the Wall to seek alliance with the wildlings. Lord Walton Stark pursued them, but two days north, in the snows of the Haunted Forest, they were ambushed by giants.
Later chronicles tell that Walton slew two giants before being dragged from his horse and torn apart by the rest. His men recovered only fragments of his body to return to Castle Black.
Ser Raymund Mallery and the other deserters received a harsher fate. The wildlings despised crows, oathbreakers or not.
Half a year later, Raymund's severed head was delivered to Eastwatch. When the Watch asked after the rest, the wildling chief only laughed: "We ate them."
Alaric Stark, second son of Brandon Stark, became Lord of Winterfell. Able though harsh, he bore long resentment toward the crown, blaming his brother Walton's death on Emperor Aegon's pardons. He often accused the Emperor of weakness for sparing Maegor's followers and sending them to the Wall rather than executing them.
Yet whatever the North's troubles, Aegon could do nothing—he was still at sea, bound for Valyria.
As the days passed, more lords made their way to King's Landing to pay homage to Queen Regent Alysanne.
Before leaving Westeros, Emperor Aegon had solemnly declared to his subjects that through the special eye he had placed in Alysanne's brow, he could see all that transpired within the realm.
It was not only a bridge of communication between him and his kingdom—but also a potent warning, a shadow of dread cast over all who might harbor disloyalty.
The nobles hoped that through the Eye, the Queen Regent might convey to the Emperor their fervent wish for his swift return.
The first to arrive was Lord Massey of Stonedance, followed closely by Lord Staunton of Rook's Rest, Lord Darklyn of Duskendale, and Lord Bar Emmon of Sharp Point. Soon after came Lord Harte, Lord Rollingford, Lord Mooton, and Lord Stokeworth, among others.
In the solemn Hall of Conquest, Queen Alysanne received the assembled lords.
Before the hushed gaze of all present, she slowly closed her own eyes—then opened the mysterious vertical eye upon her brow.
That Imperial Eye seemed to radiate the majesty and scrutiny of Emperor Aegon himself, sweeping across the gathered lords before slowly shutting once more.
"Your Grace, has the Emperor sent any word?"
"When will His Majesty return?"
"The realm stands on the brink of unrest—we beg the Emperor to come back swiftly!"
Their voices brimmed with anxiety and longing.
Queen Alysanne first calmed them with gentle words before relaying the message Aegon had entrusted to her:
"His Majesty will return within three months at most. He has safely reached the Valyrian peninsula and has even been granted audience with the legendary elder of Valyria. He is now focused wholly on awakening the divine power of the Father within him. Before long, he will set out on his journey home."
At her words, the unease and restlessness in the hall gradually subsided. Those who had begun entertaining dangerous thoughts quickly smothered them.
For the Emperor had already been the mightiest of Westeros's dragonborn. Now, with the divine power of the Father awakened in him, his strength was beyond imagination.
Some lords could not help but wonder: when the Emperor returned, how harshly would he punish those who had been scheming in his absence?
Foremost among them was Alaric Stark of the North. Having openly denounced the Emperor's policies again and again, he might well see the Stark lordship stripped from his house once the god-touched Emperor returned.
...
After this, Queen Alysanne turned to matters of governance.
Her mind was sharp, her reasoning precise, and she deftly resolved several disputes among the lords on the spot. Her wisdom left the realm's great men in awe, and they grew sincerely convinced of her ability to rule.
Yet even the most capable ruler cannot escape slander.
In King's Landing, a vile book began to circulate, titled The Red Chamber's Dream of Delusion. Its pages dripped with obscene lies, depicting the Queen Regent's supposed "indulgences" as she waited alone in her chambers.
The book's appearance was like opening Pandora's box. Soon after came other salacious tales, such as The Tale of Dust and Vice and The Record of Rise and Fall, spreading like wildfire through the city.
When the matter reached her ears, the usually composed Queen Alysanne flew into a rare fury within the Red Keep.
What followed was a sweeping purge across King's Landing.
Hundreds of brothels that had spread such rumors were closed by royal decree, and dozens of bards who had composed or performed the slanders were executed.
With these swift and merciless measures, the wise Queen Alysanne revealed her steel—proving to her subjects that she was not only just and clever, but also resolute and uncompromising.
Hand of the King Rogar, witnessing her thunderous response, could not help but feel a pang of unease. His younger brother Borys had urged him to exploit the Emperor's absence for advantage—but Rogar, thinking clearly, sternly rejected the idea, sparing himself and his house from disaster.
...
The Valyrian Peninsula.
This land, scarred by centuries of ruin and disaster, radiated a suffocating sense of dread.
Aegon's split self led the Demon-Hunting Knights, escorting the severed remains of his sisters Aerea and Rhaella, pressing deeper into the heart of the desolate ruins.
Their ships fought against the surging waves of the Smoking Sea, creeping toward the jagged edge of Valyria's shattered bones.
The waters themselves gleamed with an unnatural hue, as though poisoned by some lingering curse. The closer they drew, the more relentless the dangers became.
The first came as a swarm of flesh-born insects. Twisted in form, their serrated mandibles clattered as they descended upon the vessel in a deafening buzz.
The swarm struck with terrifying speed, coating the deck in a living carpet of wings and teeth. The dragonborn fought back, blades flashing, hacking through the tide.
But the insects would not die. Even severed, their writhing halves still clawed and gnawed, refusing to yield.
As the battle pressed to its breaking point, the sea itself rose in a monstrous wave.
From beneath the black waters, a colossal corpse-dragon heaved its rotting bulk into view. Its body was riddled with festering wounds, leaking a stench so foul it seemed to rot the air.
The beast opened its maw and vomited a torrent of black fire. Wherever the flame touched, the deck charred and curled into ash.
The Demon-Hunters scattered for their lives. At last, Aegon was forced to enter his half-awakened state, unleashing enough power to drive the abomination back beneath the waves.
They pressed onward into Valyria's heart.
This cursed land was a living nightmare. Beyond corpse-dragons and flesh-insects came horrors stranger still: twisted monsters, warped by mutation, bodies malformed, stinking of rot.
Their strength exceeded the limits of any dragonborn. Each blow landed with world-breaking force, driving the Demon-Hunters into despair.
And then—salvation.
From the cloud-choked heavens, vast spears of living flesh suddenly pierced downward, gleaming with eerie light.
They fell with irresistible force, impaling the monsters and pinning them thrashing to the earth. Agonized shrieks echoed, chilling every soul to the bone.
The dragonborn gazed upward at the heavy, gray sky, their hearts a storm of confusion and gratitude. Where had such spears come from?
Whatever the answer, they had been spared.
...
After countless trials of blood and death, Aegon's split and the Demon-Hunting Knights finally reached the cradle of Valyria:
—the Fourteen Flames.
Guided, or perhaps guarded, by the rain of flesh-spears, they stumbled through danger after danger yet reached the mountain's heart alive.
There, they beheld it.
A pillar of living flesh, thrusting a thousand meters into the clouds, vast and terrible as if it had grown from the earth's deepest abyss. It radiated an ancient, alien power that pressed upon their souls.
Aegon and his company stood in its shadow, gazing upward at a sight beyond mortal reckoning.
Then the pillar stirred.
From its summit, tendrils of flesh uncoiled, twisting downward, weaving themselves into a massive, solid stair of living blood and sinew.
At last, the staircase settled at Aegon's feet.
With all eyes upon him, he did not hesitate.
Step by step, Aegon mounted the ladder of flesh, climbing toward the pillar's summit.