The Starry Sept was truly an impressive place, its opulence unmatched by many. The statues of the Seven were grand and meticulously detailed. Aegon, with his winged figure, stood gazing at the statues of the Maiden and the Mother—the two gods whose compassion and soulful grace he most resonated with. Yet as he looked at their stone forms, he found them lacking, failing to capture the true divinity and grace he believed they embodied.
"My prince," came a voice from behind him. A figure dressed in the robes of a septon appeared from an entrance opposite the one Aegon had used.
"Septon," Aegon acknowledged, still not turning around to face the man. His eyes remained on the statues. "What did you think of my speech?" he asked.
The old man hesitated before responding, "Well, my prince, you spoke eloquently. But I fear your suggestion that the lords should have no say in the ruling of the kingdom might be polarizing. And the display with the dragons... it was rather domineering."
Aegon finally turned to face the septon, meeting the old man's gaze with his own striking purple, reptilian eyes. "You know, septon," he began in a soft yet commanding tone, "I was born different. I have always been able to see into people's hearts. When I walked into these sacred halls, I expected to find pure worshippers of the Seven. Instead, I saw depraved men who lust after their own nuns. And when I look at you now, I see ambition. Tell me, why does a man of the cloth need ambition?"
The septon was taken aback, but Aegon continued, his voice calm yet laced with an underlying intensity. "Many at home believe I am the Warrior reincarnated. But I see myself as a child cradled in the hands of the Mother. You see, septon, ambition is for nobles, warriors, merchants, and craftsmen. I had dragons land in the strongholds of those I sought to dominate with fear. Yet, none of them set foot on the Starry Sept. Do you know why?"
The septon shook his head, his voice caught in his throat.
"I believe in the Seven," Aegon declared with conviction, "not in the corrupted teachings that have been twisted for political gain, but in the gods themselves. I would have burned this entire city to ashes—every man, woman, and child—to make a statement to the lords that I will not tolerate their treachery. But I would never harm a septon or desecrate the sanctity of this place. For I am not just a conqueror; I am a believer."
The septon could only manage a faint, "I see."
"Remove the lies from your holy texts," Aegon commanded, his voice sharp as a blade. "Stop spreading the nonsense about bastards being cursed. Children bear no guilt for the sins of their parents. You have ten years to cleanse the faith of its corruption. I have shown you mercy, given your ambition a purpose. Do not waste it."
Without waiting for a response, Aegon turned and walked toward the altar, kneeling before the seven-pointed star. The septon watched, his mind racing. This young prince, with his demonic appearance—horns, tail, wings—carried a grace and devotion that felt more genuine than anything the septon had seen in years. When had he, and the Faith, lost sight of their true purpose?
He looked at the statues, then back at the kneeling prince. The septon knew that the holy scriptures had been altered over the years to serve the desires of the nobility. He was one of those who believed the dragonlords needed to be controlled, that the Faith could temper their power. But now, faced with Aegon's raw, unwavering conviction, he realized the depth of their mistakes.
"A believer in the gods themselves..." he murmured, a chill running down his spine. He knew what was coming—a reckoning, either by force or through political means. Aegon was offering the Faith a chance to cleanse itself, to return to true worship—or face the wrath of a believer who would burn the world but never defile the sacred.