Chapter 21: The Golden Leash, The Crimson Tithe, The Pantheon's Pall
Decades unfurled like ancient, bloodstained scrolls following Sōsuke Aizen's silent conquest of Braavos. The world outside the mists of the Titan's shadow remained largely oblivious to the shift in its deepest currents of power. Kings rose and fell, empires warred, prophets preached, and plagues scoured – all the familiar, chaotic choreography of mortal existence. Yet, beneath this surface turmoil, an unseen hand, divine and infinitely patient, was now subtly, yet inexorably, guiding the tempo, composing a global symphony of strife for a singular, silent audience: Aizen himself, the god-king of the Obsidian Spire, the hidden master of Braavos's shadows and coffers.
His merger with the Hōgyoku had been the true dawn of his divinity in this new world. He was no longer merely a transcendent being wielding a powerful artifact; he was the Hōgyoku, its reality-bending, wish-fulfilling, evolution-driving power an intrinsic part of his soul. Kyōka Suigetsu, reborn in his grasp, was an extension of this divine will, its illusions now capable of ensnaring not just senses, but beliefs, of rewriting perceived realities on a scale that could sway nations.
With the Many-Faced God consumed and its essence integrated into his own, Aizen possessed an unparalleled understanding of death, its myriad pathways, and the subtle energies of endings. The Faceless Men, their former abstract deity replaced by a tangible, terrifyingly potent god, became his most exquisite instruments. They were no longer mere assassins for hire; they were his Divine Hand, his Shadow Blades, their "gifts" now delivered with a strategic precision that served his grand, multi-generational designs. Their ability to shift visages was amplified, their infiltration skills honed to supernatural levels, their purpose elevated from delivering oblivion to shaping destiny.
And the Iron Bank of Braavos, its vaults now literally overflowing with the unimaginable wealth of Old Valyria – gold, silver, gemstones, priceless artifacts that Aizen had systematically "laundered" into its ledgers – became his golden leash upon the world. Under the outwardly unchanged veneer of its Keyholders (many of whom were now either Aizen's deeply conditioned agents, Faceless Men in perfect disguise, or men whose fear of their true master outweighed any loyalty to profit), the Bank's lending policies underwent a subtle, insidious transformation.
It began to extend surprisingly generous lines of credit to precisely those rulers, factions, and would-be conquerors whose ambitions were most likely to ignite prolonged, devastating conflicts.
* In Westeros, generations after Aegon's "tragic victory" over "Lord Aerion Vaelaros" (a legend that now haunted the Targaryen dynasty with whispers of Valyrian rivals and unsolved mysteries), the Iron Bank subtly funded rival claimants during periods of succession crisis. It might offer a loan to a rebellious Lord Paramount chafing under the Iron Throne's rule, just enough to arm his levies and embolden his defiance. It might back a charismatic pretender emerging from the Disputed Lands, fueling another Blackfyre-esque rebellion before its time. The goal was never outright victory for these Aizen-backed pawns, but sustained, soul-rich attrition against the established Targaryen power.
* Across the Narrow Sea, the Free Cities became a chessboard for Aizen's financial warfare. The Bank would fund Volantis's ancient dreams of Valyrian revival, only to then offer even larger sums to the Triarchy of Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh to counter Volantene aggression, ensuring decades of brutal, costly naval wars and land skirmishes. It backed Pentoshi merchant princes in their territorial disputes with Braavos's own nominal territories (a delicious irony Aizen savored), then profited from the ensuing trade disruptions and the eventual "stabilization" efforts it would also finance.
* Further east, the Dothraki khals, whose rampages were usually a seasonal scourge, found themselves subtly guided by "traders" (Aizen's agents) towards wealthier, more populous regions, their campaigns sometimes "coincidentally" facilitated by unexplained weaknesses in their targets' defenses (courtesy of a Faceless Man's intervention). The slave cities of Slaver's Bay saw an increase in both brutally suppressed revolts and the subsequent, costly rebuilding efforts, all financed by Braavosi gold, all contributing to the ceaseless flow of spiritual anguish.
The Faceless Men, meanwhile, moved like ghosts through the courts and battlefields of the world. They did not merely assassinate. They eliminated peacemakers on the eve of treaties. They replaced trusted advisors with their own, subtly steering rulers towards disastrous policies. They stole war plans, created "irrefutable" evidence of betrayals between allies, and ensured that minor border skirmishes escalated into full-blown wars. A king found dead with a poisoned cup, a brilliant general succumbing to a "sudden illness," a vital bridge collapsing at a crucial moment – these were now often the silent, unseen interventions of Aizen's will, all designed to maximize chaos, prolong suffering, and ensure the richest possible harvest.
And the harvest was continuous. Aizen, from the profound stillness of his Obsidian Spire, or sometimes from a hidden sanctum deep beneath his Braavosi manse, felt the constant, subtle influx of soul energy from across the globe. He had perfected his Kido-Valyrian "spiritual siphons" – arcane constructs that could be discreetly established by his agents near anticipated zones of major conflict. These nexuses, often disguised as ancient ruins, forgotten shrines, or even unusual geological formations, drew in the released spiritual essences of the dying, filtering them, and channeling them across vast distances to their divine master. Kyōka Suigetsu played its part, weaving localized illusions that made the dying feel a strange sense of peace or a calling towards a "guiding light," ensuring their souls flowed willingly, unknowingly, into his grasp.
This ceaseless, varied diet of souls fueled a different kind of evolution than the cataclysmic surge of Valyria's Doom. It was a gradual, nuanced strengthening, a broadening of his divine understanding. He absorbed the courage of doomed soldiers, the despair of widowed queens, the fanatical devotion of religious martyrs, the cold ambition of usurpers. Each soul was a unique tapestry of emotions and experiences, and as he integrated them, his comprehension of the mortal psyche, in all its folly and grandeur, became absolute. His mastery over the fundamental energies of this world deepened. He found he could subtly influence global emotional currents, amplifying waves of fear in one region to spark a panic, or fostering a sense of false hope in another to lure a nation into a disastrous war. His precognitive flashes became sharper, not true omniscience, but an almost perfect understanding of the chains of cause and effect, allowing him to predict the outcome of his machinations with chilling accuracy.
While these grand, subtle campaigns of global destabilization unfolded, Aizen began the next phase of his personal apotheosis: the identification and planned consumption of the other "gods" of this world. His own divinity, born from the Hōgyoku and countless mortal souls, was a dynamic, evolving force. To continue that evolution, to diversify his divine essence, he needed to assimilate other significant spiritual entities, other beings that commanded worship and wielded unique powers.
His divine senses, coupled with the vast archives he had plundered from Valyria and the ongoing intelligence gathered by his Faceless Men and Sentinels, allowed him to map out the spiritual landscape of Planetos. He categorized potential targets:
* Egregores and Thought-Forms: Entities like the Many-Faced God, born from collective belief and sustained by sacrifice or specific emotional energies. R'hllor, the Lord of Light, was a prime candidate in this category. Its widespread, fanatical following, its association with fire and shadow, its powerful priesthood (Red Priests and Priestesses) who claimed to wield true magic – all pointed to a significant reservoir of spiritual power. The Drowned God of the Ironborn, though cruder, also held a certain primal energy he might eventually deign to absorb.
* Nature Deities and Primordial Essences: The Old Gods of the North, the silent, faceless deities of the weirwood trees, represented a vast, ancient network of telluric energy, a planetary consciousness Lyra Stark had been attuned to. This was a subtle, diffuse power, but potentially immense if he could find its nexus. Then there was the abyssal entity Vhagarion had glimpsed – the "Voice from the Abyss" worshipped by the Seekers of the Lost Blood – a being that felt truly ancient, perhaps one of the original, Lovecraftian powers that had shaped the world in its infancy.
* Other Localized or Obscure Divinities: The countless minor gods worshipped in Essos – the Lion of Night in Qarth, the Stone Cow of the Dothraki, the various mysterious deities of the Shadow Lands. Most were likely weak, localized thought-forms, but some might hold unique sparks of power or forgotten knowledge worth assimilating. Even the Fourteen Flames themselves, Aizen theorized, might retain a collective, dormant consciousness, a fiery planetary soul he could perhaps tap or re-ignite for a final, devastating harvest.
For each potential target, Aizen initiated meticulous research. The Faceless Men, with their ability to infiltrate any society, any temple, were invaluable. They gathered texts, observed rituals, identified high priests and holy sites. Aizen's Sentinels, with their arcane senses, mapped spiritual energy flows. He himself would often scry these entities, probing their defenses, assessing their true nature.
His strategy for deicide would vary. Against an egregore like R'hllor, he might employ a combination of undermining its faith (using Kyōka Suigetsu to create false prophets or expose corruption within its priesthood), weakening its spiritual anchors (destroying major temples or perverting its sacred flames), and then a direct spiritual confrontation to unravel its collective consciousness and absorb its fire-aspected power. Against a primordial nature entity, a more direct, forceful approach might be needed, perhaps involving Ignis Primus and Vhagarion, or a complex Kido-Valyrian ritual to bind and drain its essence.
Ignis Primus, now a creature of truly awe-inspiring power, had become Aizen's most potent single instrument of destruction, second only to himself. The magma dragon, its incandescent eyes burning with an intelligence that was both ancient and fiercely loyal to its "creator-brother," often served as Aizen's unseen enforcer in distant lands, its appearances fueling legends of a "Great Winged Fury" or a "Volcano Incarnate" that would "coincidentally" devastate a region whose destabilization served Aizen's plans, its actions carefully cloaked so as not to be directly attributable to any known power. Vhagarion remained Aizen's personal companion and a symbol of his more overt Valyrian personas, should he ever choose to resurrect "Lord Aerion" or a similar guise.
The world bled, and Aizen thrived. Kingdoms rose and fell on tides of Braavosi gold. Wars were fought over grievances manufactured by unseen agents. Prophets spoke of dooms and saviors, their words often subtly twisted by Aizen's influence. And through it all, the quiet, unassuming "Master Kyoraku" continued his scholarly pursuits in Braavos, a city that now unknowingly served as the financial and covert operations hub for a god who was patiently, meticulously, preparing to devour its counterparts across the globe.
Aizen felt no malice in this, no particular joy in the suffering itself, only the serene satisfaction of a grand experiment unfolding according to design, of an endless hunger being perpetually, exquisitely fed. Mortals, with their fleeting lives and passionate follies, were the architects of their own misery, the providers of their own spiritual grist. He was merely the Weaver, guiding the threads, collecting the inevitable tithe. Their gods, too, he was coming to realize, were often just grander, older versions of the same mortal folly – constructs of belief, fear, and accumulated power, waiting to be unmade and remade by a will stronger than their own.
After years of preparation, observation, and the subtle weakening of its global support structures through his agents, Aizen finally selected his next major divine target. It was not one of the distant, primordial entities, nor a minor local deity. He chose a god whose influence was widespread, whose power was tangible, whose priests wielded demonstrable magic, and whose demise would send profound shockwaves through a significant portion of the known world: R'hllor, the Lord of Light, the Heart of Fire.
"Your followers speak of a Great Other, a lord of darkness," Aizen mused, standing before a vast, arcane map in his Obsidian Spire, where the sigil of R'hllor – a flaming heart – pulsed over numerous cities in Essos and even held sway over a few zealous converts in Westeros. "They are about to meet a darkness far more absolute, a shadow that does not merely oppose light, but consumes it, digests it, and makes it part of its own ever-expanding glory."
He gave the order. Argent and the Faceless Men were to initiate the final phase of preparations: targeting R'hllor's most powerful red priests and priestesses, infiltrating their fire temples, and identifying the primary nexuses of their god's power – perhaps the great temple in Volantis, or some hidden sanctuary where their "Lord of Light" was most strongly manifest.
The Weaver had chosen his next thread to pull. The Red God's fiery heart was about to be offered upon the altar of a far colder, far more ancient, and infinitely more ambitious divinity. The feast, Aizen knew, would be spectacular.