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The death of Aenys Targaryen and his sons Aegon and Viserys sent shockwaves across Westeros, plunging the realm into grief and uncertainty. Nobles whispered in the halls, and commoners mourned in the streets, shaken by the sudden loss of their prince and his heirs. But, on Merlin's advice, the capture of the assassin was kept a closely guarded secret. This silence preserved a slim advantage, allowing Merlin and the Targaryens to hunt down those responsible without alerting the true masterminds.

While Maegor had made sure to set up guards for his mother, his niece's and nephews. The last, but least his wife Alys was pregnant and probably going to give birth soon. So he had set up Healers and guards with her.

The High Septon and other influential members of the Faith of the Seven were taken aback at the news. The deaths had come sooner than they had anticipated. Yet, they were too enraptured by their newfound power and the seeming success of their mission to question it further. Secure in their arrogance, they failed to consider one vital element: Merlin. The wizard's unexpected presence cast a shadow over their schemes, one they hadn't foreseen.

Unlike the Faith of the Seven, the Maesters of the Citadel operated in the shadows, their involvement limited but crucial. They had discreetly supplied the Faith with a rare and potent poison, a substance carefully chosen to mimic a natural illness, one that could slip under scrutiny and arouse little suspicion. The Maesters kept their contact with the Faith shrouded in secrecy, minimizing the chance of discovery. They understood the stakes and knew to tread lightly, hoping the Faith's arrogance would shield them from any potential fallout.

As Merlin suspected, whispers began spreading through the courts and commonfolk alike, accusing Maegor of slaying the King and his sons. The rumors seemed almost perfectly crafted, each word laced with subtle accusations aimed at planting doubt and turning allies into enemies. Merlin recognized the cunning behind it—these were no ordinary rumors. They were the seeds of a masterfully orchestrated smear campaign, designed to fracture the Targaryen dynasty from within.

Following the trail, Merlin hunted down the intermediaries used by the true conspirators. Yet, as he expected, each one lay dead before he could reach them, silenced with brutal efficiency. Standing over the latest victim, a man named Jacob, Merlin's lips curled into a slight, mirthless smile. "Do they really believe death will hide their secrets from me?"

At the crime scene, Merlin knelt, placing his hand against the cold, blood-stained ground. His magic flared to life, sending spectral figures materializing into the air around him. The shadows danced and shifted, taking form as a vision unfolded—a replay of the moments before Jacob's death.

Jacob's face appeared, tense and wary, sensing the imminent danger. Three hooded figures emerged from the shadows, their movements swift and precise. Jacob's hand darted to his hip, pulling a knife, and he lunged toward the intruders. But they were prepared. One of them twisted aside, striking him in the chest with deadly precision, and another moved in swiftly, slicing Jacob's throat with a cold efficiency.

The figures hovered in the vision, spectral yet chillingly clear. As Merlin studied them, his gaze fell upon an insignia carved onto the chest of one of the assassins—a seven-pointed star. His eyes narrowed.

"Faith Militant," Merlin murmured, the words laced with contempt. So, the Faith of the Seven had sent its zealots to tie up loose ends.

Merlin stood, brushing off the dirt from his hands, his mind racing. The Faith had grown bold, too bold, believing themselves untouchable.

When Merlin returned, he found tragedy had struck once more. Alys Harroway, Maegor's long-suffering wife, had finally gone into labor, only to give birth to a twisted, eyeless monstrosity—a child deformed beyond recognition. She lay pale and trembling, staring at the stillborn baby in horror. Beside her, Maegor and Visenya stood frozen, shock and disbelief etched into their faces.

Merlin's gaze fell upon the infant, and he felt an unnatural energy lingering in the air. He murmured to himself, "This is not nature's work. Someone tampered with this child's birth—dark magic, woven into a potion."

Maegor, his face a mask of fury, turned to Merlin. "Potion?"

Merlin nodded grimly. "I can feel the residue of warlock magic—something from Essos. It's a twisted art, a vile magic used only by those who seek to manipulate life itself."

Visenya, her face tightening with rage, immediately summoned the guards and trusted healers. Some healers tended to Alys, whose pale face was streaked with tears, while Visenya interrogated the room with a voice as sharp as steel. "Who brought food to Lady Alys during her pregnancy?"

The guards and healers shifted uneasily under the intense scrutiny, and Merlin noticed several of them exchange glances, clearly rattled. Maegor's eyes darkened. "Answer her," he commanded, his voice thick with authority.

One of the healers hesitated, then spoke up. "It was Lady Alys's attendant… she was among the few allowed by Lord Maegor to attend to her personally."

Merlin's expression hardened, and he exchanged a look with Maegor. "We need to find her—now."

They quickly descended into the dark cellars, where the attendant was found, collapsed in a corner. Blood seeped from a wound, her breaths shallow but steady. Merlin knelt beside her, touching her forehead with glowing fingers as he channeled a surge of healing energy. The wound began to close, and slowly, the woman's eyes fluttered open, focusing in terror on the figures of Maegor and Merlin.

Maegor's glare bore into her. Merlin, his voice calm but probing, asked, "Did you place anything in Lady Alys's soup?"

The attendant shook her head rapidly, fear widening her eyes. "No… I swear, I did nothing. I only brought the soup to her chambers as I always have."

Merlin studied her face, sensing no hint of deceit. He nodded slowly. "Did you see anyone unusual in the kitchen at the time?"

The attendant thought, her gaze growing distant. "Lady Ceryse… she was in the kitchen."

Maegor's face twisted with fury as he muttered, "Ceryse." The name came out like a curse, his mind already piecing together the betrayal.

Merlin's voice was gentle but firm as he continued. "Did you see who attacked you?"

The attendant shivered, her brow furrowing in concentration. She shook her head. Merlin reached out, placing a hand over her temple, drawing her memories to the surface. Spectral figures appeared, and the scene unfolded—Ceryse, sneaking up from behind, driving a knife into the attendant's back before leaving her to die in the cellar.

As the vision faded, Merlin withdrew his hand, his expression grave. "It was Ceryse," he confirmed, the weight of the revelation settling on everyone in the room.

Maegor's hands clenched into fists, his rage barely contained. "She will pay for this," he growled.

As Maegor clenched his fists, rage coursing through him, Merlin placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "It's not just Ceryse we're dealing with," Merlin cautioned. "The potion that twisted your child into a monstrosity isn't something just anyone could procure. It's an ancient, forbidden substance, carefully guarded by those who practice dark magic. This means there is a far-reaching conspiracy behind her actions—someone powerful enough to pull these strings."

Maegor's eyes met Merlin's, filled with a burning need for answers. "So, who is it? Who would dare orchestrate such a thing?"

Merlin's expression hardened. "The Faith. I found evidence—the Faith Militant killed the intermediaries used to hire the assassin who murdered Aenys, Aegon, and Viserys. They likely manipulated Ceryse into slipping that vile potion to Alys, not only to end your bloodline but to weaken you emotionally, drive you to the edge."

Maegor's face darkened, his voice rising in anger. "Those bastards will pay!" His words echoed through the stone corridors, his wrath palpable.

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**The Assassination of King Aenys I and His Sons, and the Staining of the Faith of the Seven**

The assassination of King Aenys I Targaryen, along with his sons, Princes Aegon and Viserys, marked one of the most grievous chapters in Westerosi history. The shocking revelation that members of the Faith of the Seven had orchestrated this act of treachery sent ripples of disbelief and outrage throughout the realm. An institution once held in reverence as the moral pillar of Westerosi society was now marred by suspicion and scandal.

When the conspiracy came to light, and evidence revealed the Faith's role in these assassinations, the public outcry was fierce. The Faith of the Seven, which had long claimed to uphold the values of justice and piety, now faced allegations of betrayal, manipulation, and cold-blooded murder. The institution's reputation, once pristine, was forever tainted by this dark chapter.

In the years that followed, numerous maesters with strong ties to the Faith endeavored to manipulate historical records and subtly influence the narrative to mitigate the damage. These maesters worked tirelessly to protect the Faith, crafting accounts that downplayed the Faith's involvement and shifted blame onto lesser-known factions or isolated zealots. Yet, despite their efforts, the stain remained. Generations continued to view the Faith with mistrust, and whispers of its dark deeds persisted, undermining its once-unquestioned authority.

The assassination of King Aenys I and his sons stands as a lasting blemish on the Faith's legacy, even Maegors revenge against Faith was considered rightful justice by many.

Excerpts from "Sons Of Aegon"

By Scholar Phelix from Dorne

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