7 Splendid Isolation Begins

"Prince Aerys has a unique talent - he can spend gold faster than a Dornishman in a pillow house. Why, I've seen him blow through a kingdom's treasury in the time it takes me to finish my midday meal! One moment the vaults are filled to bursting, the next they're emptier than the Reachsmen's wit during a drought. Truly a gift, that ability. Although from the king's point of view, it may be seen less as a gift and more as a curse! If the prince doesn't slow his spending soon, the only dragon left in their coffers will be carved into the Targaryen sigil!"-Maester Caeth-

~~~(Location:Dragonstone,Westeros)~~~

~~~(Date: 21AC)~~~

Prince Aerys cuts a striking figure, Imperial features were formed in exquisite Valyrian angles, proudly displaying his lineage and sovereignty. Scarlet locks the color of dragon flame cascade to his hips in silken waves, each individual strand seeming to ripple with its own inner light. Although he is only nine years old, Aerys stands as tall as a fourteen-year-old boy, towering above others his age.

When he shifts his head, the movement highlights minuscule variations within those vibrant locks - glints of tangerine, vermilion, and even auric flecks swirling like the dancing flames from which they draw their luminosity.

Gentle contours and angles define features of exquisite androgynous beauty, portraying a flawless balance between masculine strength and feminine grace. High cheekbones and a sculpted jawline give him an aristocratic air, while full lips are shaped in a natural pout of ruby perfection. The image of a powerful yet elegant monarch springs unbidden to mind upon gazing at him.

But it is the eyes that hold one's attention fast - wide almond-shaped orbs of purest amethyst, rimmed in the longest lashes any envied maiden would fight to possess. Within those fathomless irises swirl galaxies unseen by any seer or scholar, patches of cerulean and azure evoking thoughts of bottomless seas and skies under starlight. Flecks of shimmering silver drift like shooting stars, hints of mysteries and secrets lurking far beyond normal ken.

To look into Aerys's eyes is to plunge headlong into every wonder and terror the universe holds close, but never to drown - rather, one feels uplifted by profound understanding and serenity radiating from his irises' dancing fractals. Some newborn insight into existence's deepest riddles blossoms with each glimpse, a fleeting revelation leaving one craving further enlightenment.

Alabaster skin pulls taut over compact yet magnificently muscled limbs and torso, displaying rippling definition without an ounce of excess flesh. power resides in every contour of his inhumanly beautiful form, framing lithe joints and tendons like finely crafted blade steel. Each minute motion ripples with the subtle danger and precision of a predator, yet beneath lurks coiled whipcord strength to deliver earth-shattering blows or bursts of inhuman speed.

Some aura of vibrational energy seems to coruscate around him when he walks or shifts position, distorting his perception's edges to further emphasize his otherworldly nature. None can withstand the subtle attraction and mesmerism radiating from his flawless figure, which flickers at reality's unseen seams unlike anything mortal. Even the gods themselves surely stopped to admire his vibrant perfection, crafting Aerys as an intentional blend of allure and lethality in its rawest primeval form.

King's Landing was growing uneasy under the influence of the dragon princes. Maegor had become increasingly stern and short-tempered as the years passed. One afternoon, during a ride in the royal gardens, his palfrey threw a shoe and kicked him in frustration.

Rage took hold of Maegor in an instant. He drew his dagger and savagely stabbed the horse repeatedly as it collapsed, dying. A stableboy who heard the screams came running and was met with Maegor's blade slashed half the face off the stableboy who came running towards the animal's screams.

The capital was aghast at the gruesome attack. King Aegon had no choice but to send Maegor into exile, returning him to Dragonstone under his mother's watch. But Aerys was not done causing chaos in Maegor's wake.

Prince Aerys was accustomed to lavish luxuries during his stay in Aegonfort, but his spending had grown impossible to restrain. Each moon he commissioned new wardrobes of the finest red and black silks, embellished with the rarest dragonbone jewels.

The royal coffers emptied faster than they could be refilled by taxes. Aerys also took a liking to the pleasure barges of Lys, specifically importing seven of the most lavish and ornate pleasure barges to honor the seven gods, along with their colorfully dressed women, to amuse him. His manse soon earned the crude nickname "The Scarlet Palace" for the prince's indulgences.

Word soon reached the ears of the most devout in the realm, including the High Septon. It is said his thin eyebrows arched so high upon hearing the news, they vanished beneath his ornate headdress. Fury took hold of the spiritual leader at the notion of the Seven Being reduced to mere symbols of carnal pleasure and debauchery.

He flew into a righteous fervor, preaching fiery sermons condemning Aerys' sacrilege. The prince was twisting piety into pure profanity, he declared, defiling all that is holy. Thundering cries of "sinful wretch" and "blasphemer" rang throughout the sept as he railed against the scion of House Targaryen.

King Aegon suffered headaches reviewing the ledgers. One moon, he lost patience upon learning Aerys had purchased an entire merchant fleet on a whim, eyeing their extravagant goods. Father summoned the wayward son, intending to knock some financial sense into him.

King Aegon had finally reached his wits' end with Aerys' profligate spending. He summoned the prince, intending to repossess his ill-gotten riches to sell off, restocking the treasury.

But Aerys was in a defiant mood. When told he must return to Dragonstone, leaving behind his luxuries, the prince flew into a rage. He vowed that if even a single bolt of silk was taken, he would set the entire Citadel ablaze with Dragonfire.

As Aerys and Aegon faced off, the king's small council looked on nervously. Among them were several maesters from the Citadel, there to advise on financial matters.

When Aerys uttered his dire threat to burn their institution, the maesters' faces drained of all color. Archmaester Gyldayn began sputtering nonsensically, comb clutching forgotten in his hands.

Nearby, Maester Yvon stumbled over his own feet in shock, careening face-first into a bookshelf. Heavy tomes tumbled down around him as he let out a muffled wail.

But all paled in comparison to Maester Caeth, newly arrived from Oldtown. At Aerys' words, the stout man's eyes bulged as if to pop from their sockets. His mouth worked soundlessly for several moments before emitting a high-pitched squeak that echoed off stone walls.

The assembled royals watched as Caeth commenced an odd jigging dance, flapping his hands in distress. Only when he collapsed in a dead faint did solemnity return to the throne room.

From that day, Aerys took special delight in making vague threats whenever the maesters were present. Their reactions never failed to lift his darkened mood, much to King Aegon's thinly veiled delight.

While Aerys spent extravagantly on clothing and goods, another indulgence was portraits showcasing his breathtaking beauty and grandeur. Each moon he summoned the realm's finest artists to Aegonfort.

Lord Farwynd spent weeks meticulously rendering Aerys bathed in silks, intricate jewels glittering in his hair like fallen stars. The likeness was so lifelike, that smallfolk whispered the prince may walk from the canvas at any moment.

Lady Westerling wept at the honor of painting Aerys' beloved dragon Meleys, eyes glowing with flecks of wildfire in the sunset. Her scaly scarlet skin and elegant claws were depicted in flawless detail, as if the great she-dragon may swoop down from the wall.

Artisan Rogar depicted their majestic silhouettes soaring against the moon in an intricate tapestry, fibers carefully dyed the very hues of their glimmering scales. None who gazed upon it could deny the eternal bond between dragonlord and fire-made flesh.

Aerys proudly displayed these artistic homages across Dragonstone's walls, further cementing his image as the pinnacle of royal beauty and dragonkin supremacy. All who visited left awestruck and speaking his name in hushed, reverent tones.

King Aegon had reluctantly agreed to Aerys retaining his possessions on one condition - he must return at once to Dragonstone. The prince wasted no time making preparations.

First, Aerys commissioned the royal shipwrights to construct an ornate carriage suitable for transporting his vast wardrobes and artwork over the sea. Once complete, it was laden with silks, jewels, and carefully wrapped portraits under his direction.

With possessions secured, Aerys sought passage to his island domain. He knew only one man with a fleet capable of such a lavish transport - Lord Aethan Velaryon, the most skilled sailor in the realm.

Aerys' considerable charm won over the usually stoic seafarer. Aethan pledged his full retinue of galleys to carry the prince and all his earthly delights across the waters. So with sails flying the roaring red dragon, the lavish procession began its westward journey.

Upon arriving at Dragonstone, Aerys disembarked with a dramatic flourish. His exiles would be spent in the decadent luxury he was accustomed to, banished or not. And so the prince's splendid isolation began, curated down to the finest detail as always.

Prince Aerys was welcomed back to DragonStone by his mother, Queen Visnya, and his twin brother, Maegor Targaryen. The ancient stone walls of the castle seemed to echo with a sense of anticipation as the young prince returned to his ancestral home. The air was thick with intrigue, for Aerys was known for his enigmatic nature and unpredictable actions.

As he entered the grand hall, adorned with tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen, the flickering torches cast dancing shadows upon the faces of those gathered. Queen Visnya, a regal figure with silver hair cascading down her back, stood at the center of attention, her eyes filled with equal parts pride and concern. Maegor, his twin brother, stood beside her, his piercing violet eyes fixed upon Aerys with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

Aerys had a mysterious air about him that seemed to electrify the room with power. The courtiers whispered about his rumored gifts to Maegor: two exotic and alluring Lys women, who were said to possess the ability to captivate any man's heart. Additionally, there was a portrait of Aerys himself, which was seen as a symbol of his vanity and self-assuredness.

The tension in the room was palpable as Aerys approached his brother, a sly smile playing upon his lips. Maegor, known for his stoic demeanor, allowed himself a rare smile in response.