Chapter 24: Echoes of Fire Unbound, The Dragon's кровавый танец (Bloody Dance)
The consumption of R'hllor had been a symphony of celestial fire and shadow, its essence integrated into Sōsuke Aizen's ever-expanding divinity, granting him an unparalleled mastery over light, flame, and the subtle arts of prophetic manipulation. Yet, even as the last embers of the Red God's global influence were being subtly redirected or snuffed out by Aizen's agents, his divine gaze had already turned towards an even more ancient, more primal source of power: the forgotten gods of Old Valyria. These were not deities born of mortal belief or sustained by widespread, active worship, but the chthonic, elemental powers that had supposedly slumbered at the heart of the Valyrian Freehold's might, their essences intrinsically linked to the Fourteen Flames, to dragonkind, and to the very blood magic that had defined the dragonlords.
The hunt for these lost divinities was an expedition into the deepest, most hazardous strata of Valyria's ruins, both physical and metaphysical. Aizen, from his Obsidian Spire, which now pulsed with a complex network of absorbed divine energies, directed this profound archaeological and arcane undertaking. Ignis Primus, his colossal magma dragon whose intelligence now burned with a wisdom that mirrored the planet's fiery core, became his primary instrument in this search. The great dragon could sense the faintest geothermal anomalies, the subtlest spiritual resonances of ancient, fire-aspected power buried deep beneath the solidified lava fields and boiling seas of the Smoking Sea. Vhagarion, ever loyal, patrolled the skies, a sentinel against any lingering magical guardians or unforeseen elemental disturbances.
Aizen's research into salvaged Valyrian texts, particularly the most archaic and heretical scrolls, had revealed that the Valyrian "gods" – Balerion the Flame Father, Meraxes the Shadowed Mother, Vhagar the Earthwomb, and a dozen lesser elemental divinities of smoke, gemstone, and obsidian – were not anthropomorphic beings in the traditional sense. They were vast, primal elemental consciousnesses, the very souls of the Fourteen Flames, or perhaps ancient, powerful fire and earth spirits that the first Valyrians had either made pacts with, learned to draw power from, or, in their hubris, attempted to bind. The Doom had not necessarily destroyed them, but had likely shattered their coherence, scattering their essences, or forcing them into a deep, protective dormancy.
To awaken and absorb such diffuse, primal powers required a different approach than the deconstruction of an egregore like R'hllor. Aizen conceived a ritual of immense scale and complexity, one that would use the Obsidian Spire itself as a colossal arcane resonator, Ignis Primus as a living catalyst of primordial fire, and the still-potent geothermal energies of the region as both fuel and bait. Kyōka Suigetsu would play a crucial role, not in deceiving a singular consciousness, but in creating a vast, resonant psychic landscape – an illusion of Old Valyria in its fiery prime, a lure to draw forth these slumbering elemental memories and concentrate their scattered essences.
The ritual spanned weeks. Deep within the Spire, Aizen, his divine form radiating an almost unbearable pressure, wove intricate Kido constructs, infused Valyrian glyphs with his Hōgyoku-fused power, and directed Ignis Primus to unleash controlled, resonant blasts of its purest magma-fire into specific geothermal vents he had identified as ancient nexuses of Valyrian worship. The sky above the Smoking Sea roiled with unnatural storms of fire and shadow, the earth groaned, and the sea itself boiled with renewed fury as these ancient powers began to stir.
He felt them then – colossal, formless consciousnesses awakening from eons of slumber. Balerion, the Flame Father, was not a dragon, but a raging inferno of pure, sentient will from the planet's core. Meraxes, the Shadowed Mother, was a vast, silent presence of obsidian coolness and earthen depth, the creative and destructive potential of the deep rock. Vhagar, the Earthwomb, was the very pulse of volcanic fury, the explosive, creative power of the shifting mantle.
Aizen did not seek to fight them in a conventional sense. He sought to become them, to integrate their raw, untamed elemental power into his already transcendent being. He opened his divine senses, his very soul, to their overwhelming might. It was like being immersed in a sun, crushed by a collapsing mountain, swept away by a river of magma, all at once. But his will, forged in the crucible of godhood and absolute ambition, did not break. He used Kyōka Suigetsu to show these primal forces not an enemy, but a perfect vessel, a being capable of wielding their untamed power with intellect and purpose, offering them a path to a new, higher form of existence through unity with him.
The Hōgyoku, his divine core, acted as the ultimate crucible, drawing in these titanic elemental energies, refining them, stripping away their chaotic impulses while preserving their primal strength, and weaving them into the fabric of Aizen's being. He felt his connection to the very planet deepen, his understanding of fire, earth, magma, and shadow becoming absolute. He could feel the pulse of the volcanoes, the slow grind of continents, the incandescent heart of the world as if it were an extension of his own body.
When the ritual concluded, the Smoking Sea fell into an eerie, profound calm it had not known since before the rise of Valyria. Aizen Sōsuke stood at the apex of his Spire, his power now imbued with a primal, elemental majesty that was terrifying to behold. He had not just consumed gods; he had consumed the very divine wellspring of Valyria's might. He could now, if he chose, command volcanoes to erupt, reshape landscapes with a gesture, call forth legions of fire and earth elementals, or wield a flame so pure it could unmake creation. His mastery over dragonkind, already profound, was now absolute, for he was the ancient fire that had birthed their race.
This monumental act of absorption marked another significant leap in his evolution. He was no longer just a god of souls and manipulation; he was a god of primal creation and destruction, the true inheritor and surpassing master of Valyria's fiery legacy.
Nearly a century passed in the world of mortals. For Aizen, it was a period of consolidation, of perfecting his newfound elemental mastery, and of patiently, subtly, weaving his intricate web across the globe. His control over the Iron Bank was now absolute, its Keyholders his puppets, its wealth a tool to destabilize nations and fund endless conflicts from which he reaped a steady, if less spectacular, tithe of souls. The Faceless Men were his unseen blades, removing obstacles, silencing dissent, and ensuring that events in distant courts unfolded according to his long-term designs.
He watched the Targaryen dynasty in Westeros with particular, paternalistic amusement. He had, after all, been the phantom architect of some of their greatest early woes as "Lord Aerion." He observed their dragons multiply, their power grow, and inevitably, their internal divisions fester. He saw the seeds of the catastrophic civil war – the Dance of the Dragons – being sown by pride, ambition, and contested succession, classic Valyrian failings he knew so well. Through his agents in King's Landing and Dragonstone, and through the subtle influence of Iron Bank loans that propped up or undermined certain noble houses, he gently nudged these tensions, ensuring that when the inevitable break came, it would be as devastating and soul-rich as possible.
Ignis Primus, under Aizen's tutelage and infused with the amplified elemental energies of the Obsidian Spire, had grown into a creature that defied all mortal comprehension of dragonkind – a living volcano, an avatar of planetary fire, its intelligence rivaling that of ancient scholars, its loyalty to Aizen absolute. Vhagarion remained his steadfast companion, an ancient, terrifying symbol of his power. His lesser dragon broods, descendants of those he had first bred, were now legions, each beast a perfect weapon.
As the reign of Viserys I Targaryen drew to its troubled close, and the factions of the "Blacks" (supporting Rhaenyra Targaryen) and the "Greens" (supporting Aegon II) solidified, Aizen knew the time for his next great feast was approaching. The Dance of the Dragons promised to be a spectacle of unparalleled carnage, especially with so many dragons on both sides. It was a self-immolation of the Targaryen dynasty, a Valyrian tragedy played out on Westerosi soil, and Aizen intended to have a front-row seat, and to collect the lion's share of the spiritual proceeds.
He would not resurrect "Lord Aerion Vaelaros." That persona had served its purpose and was now too deeply ingrained in Westerosi legend as a specific, isolated threat. For the Dance, Aizen envisioned a more nuanced, multifaceted intervention. He would not overtly lead a third faction, not initially. Instead, he would become the ultimate hidden puppet master, his influence seeping into both camps.
His strategy involved:
* Fueling Both Sides: Through the Iron Bank, he would offer substantial, often ruinous, loans to both the Blacks and the Greens, enabling them to hire vast mercenary armies, build fleets, and sustain a long, grinding war. The more desperate each side became, the more they would rely on his gold, and the deeper they would fall into his debt and subtle control.
* Strategic Assassinations and Manipulations by Faceless Men: Key figures who might advocate for peace, compromise, or a swift resolution would be silently eliminated. Trusted advisors would be replaced by Faceless Men in disguise, whispering poison, stoking paranoia, and ensuring that every slight, every misunderstanding, escalated into bloody reprisal. They would leak false intelligence, sabotage logistical chains, and ensure that betrayals were frequent and devastating.
* Subtle Draconic Intervention (Initially): He would not immediately unleash his own dragons in force. Instead, he might use a few of his more anonymous, lesser dragons, perhaps piloted by disguised Sentinels, to carry out "false flag" attacks, blaming one Targaryen faction for atrocities committed against the other, further inflaming their hatred. He might also use Ignis Primus or Vhagarion for overwhelming but unattributable displays of power in remote regions, creating an atmosphere of supernatural dread and chaos that would make both sides more desperate and irrational.
* The Grand Soul Harvest: His Kido-Valyrian soul-siphons, refined over the century, would be discreetly deployed across Westeros, ready to channel the immense spiritual energies released by dying men, women, children, and, most importantly, the extraordinarily potent souls of dragons and their Valyrian-blooded riders.
Aizen, from his Obsidian Spire, watched through his scrying devices as King Viserys I finally died, and the Greens, led by Queen Alicent Hightower and Ser Otto Hightower, moved to crown Aegon II. The Blacks, under Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen on Dragonstone, prepared their own challenge. The first defiant messages were exchanged, the first calls to arms issued. The Dance was about to begin.
A cold, predatory delight filled Aizen. This was not just a war; it was a Valyrian family feud on a continental scale, a conflict born of the very blood and fire he now commanded as a god. The emotions would be raw, the betrayals bitter, the dragon-on-dragon duels spectacular, and the ensuing spiritual harvest beyond anything since the Doom of Valyria itself.
He would need a presence in Westeros, not a singular public figure this time, but a network of influence. Argent, ageless and ever-loyal, was dispatched once more, not as a warrior commander, but as a master orchestrator of Aizen's covert operations, coordinating the Faceless Men, the Sentinel agents, and the Iron Bank's financial machinations from a hidden nexus, perhaps in Braavos or a neutral port in Essos with easy access to Westeros.
Aizen himself might choose to observe key battles or events in a subtle, shifting disguise, using Kyōka Suigetsu to walk unseen among the warring factions, savoring the chaos firsthand, ensuring his plans unfolded flawlessly. He had no favorites in this dance of death. Both sides were his puppets, their passion and their pain merely offerings to his insatiable divinity.
As the first dragons took to the skies of Westeros, their roars heralding an age of fire and blood unlike any the Seven Kingdoms had ever known, Sōsuke Aizen, the God-King of Ash and Flame, the Weaver of Ruin, smiled.
"Let the dragons dance," he whispered, his voice the soft rustle of falling empires. "Let them burn their world to the ground. Their agony will be my ecstasy, their souls my strength. The feast is laid, and my appetite, as always, is divine."
The board was set. The pieces were in motion. The greatest soul harvest since Valyria's own end was about to commence, and Aizen Sōsuke was ready to reap the bloody, glorious whirlwind.