Chapter 23: The Emerald Bloom and the Scions of Power
Time: 1 AC to 16 AC
POV: Kaelen Silvanor
Fifteen years had passed since Aegon Targaryen had forged his Iron Throne and unified Westeros. Fifteen years since the Silvanar Empire had solidified its alliance with House Belaerys, and since my union with Empress Vala had begun to bear its extraordinary fruit. The world had largely settled into its new order; Westeros, under Targaryen rule, experienced a fragile but burgeoning peace, while the Silvanar Empire continued its quiet expansion, its trade routes flourishing, and its influence weaving ever deeper into the tapestry of global commerce. The Century of Blood, while not entirely extinguished in its fringes, had certainly abated, leaving behind a scarred but evolving Essos.
Within Ael'tharion, these years were a period of profound growth, not merely for the Empire, but for my lineage. The laughter of children, a sound once rare in the ancient halls of the Ael'athar, now echoed joyously through the living architecture of our city. Aerion, Elaron, and Aelia, my first three children with Vala, blossomed into remarkable beings, their unique heritage shining brightly.
My eldest son, Aerion Silvanor, now a striking youth of fifteen years, was a testament to the blend of our blood. He possessed Vala's lustrous, moonlit silver hair, but his eyes were my own distinct emerald green, holding a quiet depth. From his earliest days, it was evident he had inherited my profound connection to the natural world, specifically my control over plants. We spent countless hours together in the vast, spiraling botanical gardens of Ael'tharion. He learned to coax vines to grow into intricate patterns, to command flowers to bloom out of season, and to mend blighted foliage with a mere touch. His affinity was subtle yet absolute; he could feel the pulse of the living wood beneath his hands, understand the silent language of the roots, and even accelerate the growth of entire groves. His training was not merely about power, but about reverence – understanding the delicate balance of life, the rhythms of growth and decay that define existence. He moved with a dancer's grace, his long, pointy ears often twitching as he listened to the subtle whispers of the flora.
Elaron Silvanor, two years Aerion's junior, at thirteen, was more contemplative, his temperament mirroring Vala's serene intellect. His deep amethyst eyes held a thoughtful gaze, though his silver hair had a slightly darker, almost steel-grey sheen. Elaron's inherited gifts were earth-shaping abilities, a form of geomancy, and a remarkable rapid regeneration. Under the tutelage of Gareth, our Sentinel of the Verdant Shield, and later, my own guidance, he learned to command the very stone beneath our feet. He could cause fissures to open and close, raise defensive earthen ramparts, or smooth uneven terrain with a focused will. His skin, even after a childhood scrape or tumble, would heal with impossible speed, leaving no mark. His training involved rigorous mental discipline, for control over the earth demanded immense focus and patience. He often meditated among the ancient stones of our mountain caves, feeling the slow, deliberate pulse of the planet. Like all my kin, his pointy ears were a clear mark of his heritage.
Then there was Aelia Silvanor, my radiant daughter, now ten years of age. She was a revelation. While both her brothers had inherited specific facets of my abilities, Aelia had seemingly inherited them all. Her moonlit silver hair was a pure, dazzling cascade, and her eyes were my deep sapphire, shimmering with an almost liquid light. From a tender age, it was clear she possessed control over plants, the ability to manipulate earth, and rapid regeneration. She could cause wildflowers to bloom in her wake as she ran through a meadow, sculpt intricate patterns from the soil with a wave of her hand, and shrug off injuries that would fell a grown man. Her vibrant, spirited nature was perfectly suited to the flow of magic that moved through her. Her training was a delicate balance of channeling her immense gifts without overwhelming herself or her surroundings. She was a whirlwind of energy, her laughter echoing, her pointy ears often peeking out from behind playful strands of hair.
As the decade and a half progressed, our family grew once more. Empress Vala, vibrant and devoted, blessed me with two more children, further intertwining the lines of Silvanar and Belaerys.
Our fourth child, born when Aelia was three, was another son, whom we named Valerion Silvanor. Now seven years old, Valerion possessed a more traditional Valyrian appearance with classic silver hair and striking deep violet eyes, though they held a keen, observant light that marked him as Silvanar. His abilities manifested subtly, lending him an enhanced awareness of his surroundings – an almost preternatural sense of balance and coordination, a heightened sense of hearing and sight that could pick out the faintest whisper or the slightest shift in the air. He moved with an innate grace and speed, often scaling the living walls of the palace with effortless agility. He loved to explore, his pointy ears always alert to every sound and nuance of the world.
Our youngest, a daughter named Lorien Silvanor, was born when Valerion was two, making her five years old now. She had my distinctive emerald eyes, set in a frame of soft, silvery-blonde hair that hinted at her dual heritage. Lorien's gift was an innate affinity for water and healing. She could calm turbulent streams with a gentle touch, draw moisture from the air, and soothe pain with a comforting presence. Her touch was remarkably restorative, capable of accelerating the natural healing process of others, though not with the rapid, self-regenerative speed of Elaron or Aelia. She possessed a quiet, empathetic spirit, often drawn to the soothing sounds of Ael'tharion's internal waterways, her tiny pointy ears listening intently to their flow.
Watching my children grow, each a unique testament to the potent fusion of our ancient bloodlines, filled me with a profound sense of satisfaction. They were not merely heirs to an empire; they were a new evolution. Aerion, with his command over life itself; Elaron, master of the earth and regeneration; Aelia, a powerful synthesis of these elemental forces; Valerion, with his honed senses and agility; and Lorien, the gentle healer with the whisper of water. All of them possessed the defining pointy ears of the Ael'athar, a subtle mark of their immortal heritage.
Their training was paramount. While Vala meticulously oversaw their education in history, languages, and the intricate politics of the mortal world, I took a more direct hand in guiding their innate abilities. We ensured they understood not just the raw power they wielded, but the responsibility that came with it. They were the future, the emerald legacy that would guide the Silvanar Empire through the millennia to come.
My long-term vision had always extended far beyond the fleeting concerns of mortal kingdoms. Aegon's conquest had reshaped a continent, but my children, blending the strength of dragon-blood with the ageless power of the Ael'athar, represented a force that could shape the very currents of the world itself, quietly, subtly, but with an enduring impact that would dwarf any Iron Throne. The world was ever-changing, but the Silvanor Empire, with its growing lineage of empowered heirs, was building something truly eternal.