Chapter 18: The Dragon's Challenge and the Immortal's Gaze
The Conquest Begins (2 BC)
The Century of Blood in Essos finally began to ebb, leaving behind a scarred but redefined landscape of independent Free Cities. In Westeros, the subtle pulse of impending change grew stronger. On Dragonstone, the young Aegon Targaryen, alongside his formidable sisters Visenya and Rhaenys, had come of age. Their three dragons, Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar, though pale shadows of the monstrous beasts that once soared above Valyria, were still creatures of fire and terror, unlike anything seen in Westeros for millennia.
Aegon had spent years studying the continent, its petty kings, its fractured alliances, its ancient legends. He knew of the squabbling kings in the Reach and the Westerlands, the fiercely independent North, the stubborn Stormlands, and the proud Vale. And he knew of the Immortal Lord of House Leywin, the mysterious, undying entity who had turned a portion of the Riverlands into an unassailable sanctuary, a place where neither Andal iron nor Ironborn reavers dared tread. Tales of the Soul Reaper, the Gods Eye Guardian, had reached Dragonstone, painted in whispers of fear and awe.
The time finally came. Aegon sent forth his iconic message to every king and lord in Westeros: Bend the knee, and become my vassal, or be destroyed. His words were carried by ravens and messengers, but his true message was delivered by the shadow of Balerion, a terrifying silhouette against the sun, flying over castles and towns, a stark warning of the fire and blood to come.
"Well, that's certainly subtle," Regis drawled in my mind, his usual sarcasm returning as we sensed the ripples of Aegon's declaration spreading across the continent. "Sending out little notes and having your oversized pet lizard try to intimidate everyone. Has he considered a strongly worded letter, perhaps? Or a basket of muffins?"
"His ambition is grand, Regis," I replied, my gaze fixed eastward, where the faint aetheric signature of Dragonstone pulsed with growing power. "And he believes his might absolute."
A Visit in the Dark
I had no intention of bending the knee, nor of allowing a new, more volatile power to simply waltz into my domain. My family, my people, and the heart of the Old Gods' magic were under my protection. There was no need for a protracted war; a single, clear message would suffice.
Under the cloak of a moonless night, I departed the Grand Castle of Leywin. Reynold and Tesia, young but keenly perceptive, knew something monumental was about to happen. Ceara, her dark blue hair shimmering, her bright red eyes reflecting the faint starlight, simply grasped my hand. "Be careful, Arthur," she whispered, a silent understanding between us. "He's not like the others."
"No," I agreed, my own golden, cat-like slit eyes narrowed in thought. "He is not."
My passage across the Narrow Sea was swifter than any ship, more silent than any shadow. I moved through the aether itself, bypassing all conventional defenses. The air around Dragonstone hummed with draconic mana, a crude but potent energy. I found Aegon in his study, a chamber filled with maps, scrolls, and the scent of old parchment and ambition. He was alone, tracing lines on a map of Westeros, his mind clearly engrossed in the monumental task before him.
I materialized silently in the center of the room, my Asuran form fully manifested, radiating a subtle, ancient power that seemed to absorb the very light. The stone under my feet did not creak, the air did not stir.
Aegon, a man renowned for his composure, stiffened. His hand instinctively went to the Valyrian steel dagger at his belt, but he froze, his eyes, dark purple and sharp, widening as they took in my towering, scaled form, the sheer, crushing weight of my presence. He was a King, a conqueror, but in that moment, he was merely a man standing before a god.
His gaze snapped to my face, to my golden, cat-like slit eyes that glowed with an otherworldly light in the dim room. "Who… what are you?" he finally managed, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hand.
The Immortal's Answer
I remained silent for a long moment, allowing the full weight of my existence to settle upon him. "I am Arthur Leywin," I began, my voice a deep, resonant rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very stones of Dragonstone. "And I am here to answer your message."
Aegon's eyes flickered to the map, then back to me. "My message was for the kings of Westeros. Are you a king, then, Lord Leywin?"
"I am more than a king," I stated, my gaze piercing. "I am the protector of the Gods Eye, the guardian of the Riverlands. And this is my message to you, Aegon Targaryen: If you or your oversized lizards set foot upon my domain, your house will go extinct. Not in generations, but in a single, devastating moment."
Aegon's jaw tightened, his hand clenching the dagger. "My dragons are the blood of Valyria! No king, no army, no thing in Westeros can stand before them!"
"Your 'dragons' are mere hatchlings compared to the beasts that once flew in my skies," I countered, a chilling edge to my voice. "They are overgrown lizards that spit fire. Let them come to the lands of Leywin, and they will see a real dragon." My words carried a weight that made the very air crackle, hinting at the true, terrifying scale of power I spoke of.
I stepped closer, my shadow engulfing him. "You seek to conquer this continent. You will find resistance, yes. But understand this, Aegon Targaryen: I have walked this world since your ancestors were mere shepherds, tending their flocks in forgotten valleys of Valyria. I have witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the birth and death of stars. I was here before your dragons hatched, and I will be here long after your line turns to dust."
"What… what are you?" Aegon repeated, his earlier question now laced with desperation, his eyes fixed on the impossible, ancient wisdom in my own.
I allowed a faint, knowing smile to touch my lips. "I am the Lance, the Master of Fate, the Godkiller in another life. Here, I am Leywin the Soul Reaper, the Gods Eye Guardian, and the Immortal Lord of a land no one will ever conquer. Choose your path wisely, dragonlord. Westeros awaits your fire, but my domain awaits only your extinction."