ASOIAF: The True House of Dragons

Politics is dark and cruel in every world.

After Volantis surrendered, it came under complete colonial rule by the allied forces. Unlike the chains Valyria once placed on the Nine Free Cities a century ago, the Seven Powers were far more resolute in their approach this time.

With Volantis stripped of its freedom, its ruling party had no place left.

The Seven Powers established a multinational body known as the Federal Council. This council, made up of fourteen representatives, would jointly govern the three Free Cities now under coalition control: Lys, Myr, and Volantis.

The number of seats each power held in the Federal Council was determined by their strength within the alliance, granting different numbers of permanent seats.

These permanent seats were closely tied to the annual output and profits of the three cities.

House Targaryen, having brought three King-tier Dragons into the war and fought with unmatched effort, earned four of those permanent seats.

The war had ended. The smoke was beginning to clear.

Aegon and his close friend Torrhen finally took a rare moment to enjoy the beauty of Volantis, strolling leisurely across the world-famous Long Bridge.

As one of the Nine Great Man-Made Wonders, the bridge stretched like a giant dragon over the Rhoyne, linking the old and new districts of the city. Its scale and grandeur were breathtaking—no surprise it had earned a place on the list of wonders compiled by Lomas Longstrider.

Aegon smiled and gave the bridge's railing a light pat, his laughter ringing out.

"I heard this is the longest sea-crossing bridge in the Known World. They say it's strong enough to support a thousand elephants. Truly remarkable."

By their sides, elite warriors shadowed their every step, eyes sharp and vigilant, alert to any disturbance or assassination attempt.

The two stood side by side, gazing out at the bustling harbor of Volantis. Merchant ships packed the docks, now all forcibly requisitioned to carry away immense stores of wealth and resources.

"This Long Bridge is impressive, no doubt," Torrhen said, leaning his hands on the stone balustrade and smiling. "But it still falls short compared to the Wall. That 200-meter-tall behemoth... the first time I saw it with my own eyes, I was speechless. The sheer awe it inspired—it's etched into me, something I'll never forget.

If you get the chance, you have to see it for yourself."

Months of war had left their mark on Torrhen. His face was more worn, more tired—perhaps from neglecting his beard, or perhaps from witnessing too much bloodshed.

He tilted his head slightly, looking toward Aegon, whose hand rested on the hilt of Blackfyre.

Aegon's profile was sharp and striking, as if carved by the gods themselves. The features of highborn Valyrians were indeed otherworldly.

"Thank you, Aegon," Torrhen said sincerely. "Thank you for everything you've done for Winterfell. This winter, fewer children and elders will have to die."

Aegon gave a slight shake of his head but said nothing. Slowly, he drew Blackfyre. The cold blade gleamed sharply in the sunlight.

"Care for a duel on the Long Bridge?" Torrhen asked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as he looked at his friend.

Aegon remained silent, simply lowering the tip of Blackfyre to one of the bridge's black stone pillars. A sharp scraping echoed as the Valyrian steel blade slid slowly across the stone, as if carving something.

Torrhen watched curiously, puzzled.

Only when Aegon sheathed the sword did he see clearly: three words had been etched into the pillar—"The Great Conquest."

"The Great Conquest?" Torrhen murmured, eyes full of confusion.

"Yes. The Great Conquest," Aegon replied with a slight nod. Then he asked, "Every winter, people in the North die in droves. What do you think is the true cause?"

"The cold," Torrhen answered without hesitation.

"No. It's not the cold. It's the people—the heavy taxes imposed by the great lords along the trade routes from the Narrow Sea to White Harbor," Aegon said calmly, his face expressionless.

Torrhen stared at those three forceful words, lost in thought.

"If one day, the taxes across Westeros could be governed under a unified system," Aegon continued, "then in winter-ravaged regions like the North, those burdens could be reduced—or even lifted entirely. If that were done, the deaths of so many during the cold months could be avoided."

He looked to Torrhen, his eyes steady and sincere.

"Unification! Taxation... The Great Conquest! You actually dare to conquer all of Westeros?!"

Torrhen's eyes widened as he stared at Aegon, horror written across his face.

Aegon said nothing at first, his expression calm.

"Westeros is in an age of chaos—hundreds of kingdoms, countless lords fighting over petty grievances. War never ends.

Every day, lives are lost across the land. Nearly every year, two or more kingdoms are at war, and even the ones not directly involved see their lords turn to arms to settle border disputes.

Don't you think this world is broken?"

"This is your vision?" Torrhen replied. "The Seven Kingdoms have ruled Westeros for thousands of years. Unification is impossible. It's too naïve."

"Valyria was once the greatest power in the world, and it still fell in a single day. Why are you so certain that Westeros cannot be unified in our time?"

Aegon placed both hands on the hilt of his sword, grounding it before him. His gaze locked with Torrhen's, firm and unwavering.

"I dream of a Westeros without war, free of hatred, where all peoples can live in peace. That is all I want.

Torrhen, my friend—I need your help."

Torrhen stared at the young man before him. The sea breeze tousled Aegon's hair, lending him an air of otherworldly grace, as though he didn't belong to this world.

"I can't. I won't help you."

Torrhen turned his gaze away, avoiding Aegon's eyes. As the crown prince of the Winter Kingdom, and with Winterfell squarely within Aegon's vision of conquest, he couldn't bring himself to betray his homeland or his people.

Aegon gave a slight nod and looked back toward the harbor. His voice dropped to a quiet murmur.

"I understand your hesitation.

But unification is the only way to lift Winterfell from its suffering. It's the only path to end the wars between lords and bring peace and stability to the common folk.

Your loyalty to your father and to your council—that's a small love.

True love is for all the people of the North. For every soul in Westeros.

In the next ten years, this continent will undergo a transformation not seen in millennia.

Torrhen Stark... will you stand against the tide of history and be swept away, or rise with the wave and become its chosen child?"

Torrhen was shaken by Aegon's ambition. No one had ever dared to dream of uniting Westeros. Perhaps some had entertained the thought—but always as a foolish fantasy.

Yet the young man before him had the power to do it.

The world's only living Dragonlord, backed by the deep heritage of House Targaryen.

Torrhen did not dismiss Aegon's words as childish nonsense.

"I will stand on the side of righteousness."

After a long silence, it was all Torrhen said—softly spoken, as if answering something far greater than the question itself.

Aegon looked out over the endless sea, a satisfied smile forming on his lips.

...

This conversation between Aegon and Torrhen was faithfully recorded by later historians in the annals of House Targaryen.

The records described it as follows:

"Who has shone in the histories through virtue since the Conqueror? Who has comforted the North with compassion since the Loyal King?"

— The History of the Targaryen Dynasty: The Great Conquest

...

Since that day he spoke with Torrhen about the Great Conquest, Aegon and Torrhen's bond had only grown stronger. The two now seemed like true, steadfast friends.

Torrhen entrusted the Northern soldiers he had brought with him to Aegon, formally hiring them as mercenaries under Aegon's command. Then, carrying the grain he had earned through military merit, he set off on his return journey to the North.

Aegon waved farewell to his friend at the port of Volantis.

They had also made a private agreement: when Aegon launched his Great Conquest, Torrhen would once again send a new group of "Northern sellswords" to join Aegon's campaign.

At that time, the greatest shortcoming of the Targaryens' conquest plan remained their lack of manpower and population.

Dragonstone's resources had been stretched thin just to muster a few thousand naval troops.

The Targaryen land forces were also weak. House Celtigar of Claw Isle, though appointed by the Targaryens as their general, had little real experience. Since relocating to Dragonstone, the Targaryens had focused heavily on developing their naval strength and rarely participated in land warfare. Naturally, the army trained by House Celtigar was small and poorly equipped.

Gaining Torrhen's support—and with it, the aid of Northern warriors—was undoubtedly a significant boost to the prospects of the Great Conquest.

...

One month later, the allied forces began to gradually withdraw some of their troops.

Just then, a system notification echoed in Aegon's mind.

"Ding~"

[Congratulations! You've earned a rare achievement in the event: 'Destiny of Volantis.' Reward: one blue-grade lottery draw. Guaranteed minimum: blue-tier item.]

[Would you like to draw now?]

"Yes." Aegon confirmed with a thought.

The system chimed: [Congratulations, you've received a blue-quality item: Renal Adrenaline.]

Aegon tapped open the details to inspect the item.

[Item: Renal Adrenaline]

[Type: Consumable]

[Quality: Blue]

[Rating: 33]

[Effect: A hormone that enhances kidney function, slightly boosting Constitution.]

[Note: Don't follow the path of the Spinning King!]

What the hell am I supposed to do with this? I don't have kidney issues, Aegon complained inwardly.

Time trickled by.

Originally, Aegon had assumed his stay in Volantis would be brief—but reality turned out to be far more complicated.

During the formation of the Federal Council, waves of negotiations around competing interests kept pouring in. Political wrangling was endless, with even a single issue dragging on for weeks at a time.

Throughout those long months of building the council, Aegon watched his father Aerion's hair thin at a visibly alarming rate. The sheer mental strain took a toll that pained Aegon deeply.

At last, six months later, the political structure and bureaucracy of the Federal Council—tasked with governing the three Free Cities—had finally stabilized. House Targaryen was granted the lifetime position of Federal Council President. Because he now had to manage council affairs, Aerion would no longer return to Dragonstone with Aegon.

Given the difficulty of traveling back and forth, Aerion decided to host Aegon's wedding in Volantis—and formally passed the title of House Targaryen's head to his son.

The wedding was held at the grand Temple of R'hllor in Volantis.

The temple was vast, its beams, stairways, walls, arches, towers, and skywalks intricately connected in seamless harmony—so masterfully crafted it seemed the entire structure had been carved from a single monolithic stone.

The choice of venue had nothing to do with the Targaryens revering the Red God; it was simply the most majestic building in all of Volantis—naturally commandeered for the occasion.

Aegon's grand wedding became the event of the century, drawing envoys from every nation across Essos and Westeros. The scene was one of unmatched splendor and prestige.

Since the wedding was held in R'hllor's temple, the Targaryens made sure not to embarrass the Red God's clergy. They arranged for the High Priest of R'hllor to officiate the ceremony. In the traditions of ancient Valyria, a priest's presence was essential for a wedding to be considered complete and sacred.

Above the temple's dome, countless hues danced in harmony—reds, golds, yellows, and oranges blending like the radiant clouds of a sunset.

Visenya and Rhaenys, dressed in ceremonial gowns of ancient Valyria, stood one on each side of Aegon as he led them into the grand temple.

With the congratulations of envoys from all nations, Aegon and his sisters completed the wedding ceremony according to ancient Valyrian tradition.

After greeting the guests, Aegon withdrew to his new chambers.

This palace had once served as the royal residence of Volantis.

But since neither of his sisters wished to serve him at the same time, Aegon was left with no choice. He had to visit each of their adjoining rooms in turn, fulfilling the wedding rites separately.

As for whether he stepped into his elder sister's chamber first, or his younger sister's—Aegon never told a soul.

...

At a far corner of the wedding banquet, King Argilac of the Stormlands sat frowning, drinking one cup of wine after another.

He had once sworn to his beloved daughter that he would seize the Stepstones as her dowry and deliver her in grand fashion to marry Aegon.

And now? Aegon had married both of his sisters—two wives at once!

How was he supposed to explain this to his precious daughter?

Was he really going to let the girl he cherished become Aegon's mistress?

Alas!

The more Argilac thought about it, the more frustrated he became. He tipped back two more large gulps of wine and sat there alone, quietly stewing in his bitterness.

...

The celebrations for Aegon's grand wedding lasted three full days.

Soon after, Aegon and his two sister-wives prepared to set sail and return to Dragonstone.

This time, Maester Gawen would accompany them on the voyage. Daemon Velaryon, however, remained behind in Volantis to assist Aerion in overseeing the federation's military affairs and to ensure his safety.

When Aegon officially accepted the role of Head of House Targaryen, Daemon passed on both the lordship and leadership of House Velaryon to his eldest son, Aethan Velaryon.

At the wedding banquet, Aethan formally swore an oath of allegiance to Aegon with solemn ceremony.

Thanks to the resource support from Volantis, the Great Conquest could begin ahead of schedule. Given Volantis's proximity to Slaver's Bay, Aethan had purchased a large number of war slaves there, who would now accompany the fleet back to Dragonstone.

With those war slaves and the Northern sellswords provided by Torrhen, Aegon had sufficient forces to begin the initial stages of the conquest.

As they boarded the ship, Aegon held Rhaenys in his arms while Visenya leaned gently on his shoulder. The three siblings turned to wave their final goodbyes to their father, Aerion.

Aerion stood on the shore, watching their figures fade slowly into the distance across the bay. For a brief moment, his eyes welled with tears.

The Targaryens' upcoming campaign would still require ongoing support from the Federal Council—continuous funding to cover the enormous military expenses, along with the resources needed for Aegon's planned capital construction. All of it demanded a vast supply of material wealth.

As long as Aerion could maintain a stable grip on the Council, Aegon would not need to worry about resources during his conquest.

...

And so began another long, dull voyage across the sea, stretching over several months.

Aside from spending time with his wives, Aegon had little to occupy himself. Still, watching his Destiny Points steadily increase did offer some small satisfaction.

[You are diligently propagating your house. Destiny Points gained: 0.001.]

[You are continuing your efforts...]

...

Not to mention Aegon's return to Dragonstone to prepare for war.

After King Argilac returned to Storm's End, he was consumed with sorrow. He had only one child—his daughter, Argella. Burdened by guilt over breaking his promise to her and overwhelmed by her repeated reproaches, Argilac was deeply distressed. He assured Argella that he would find her a better husband.

But Argella shot back,

"Is there anyone better than Aegon?"

Argilac was left speechless.

Aegon was the only Dragonlord knight left in Valyria. Since the formation of the Commonwealth, House Targaryen's influence had extended across eastern Essos. Handsome, noble, and unmatched in talent, it was nearly impossible to find a more exceptional young man than Aegon.

"Valyria has a tradition of remarriage. Several generations of the Targaryens have taken multiple wives. I think..." Argella murmured softly.

"Absolutely not! How can the Princess of the Stormlands become someone's mistress!"

King Argilac erupted, instantly rejecting the idea. He had never imagined his daughter's feelings for Aegon ran so deep that she would willingly sacrifice her honor just to be with him.

Argella pouted and clutched her father's arm, shaking it hard as she pleaded,

"I've fallen for him!

You were the one who insisted I go meet him. And now that I like him, you're the one who's upset… It's all your fault for making me fall for Aegon, waaah…"

Argilac did, in truth, feel ashamed. He couldn't bear to see his daughter crying and acting spoiled, so he slammed the throne with a heavy hand and said, exasperated,

"Ugh! Fine, have it your way—just stop crying, my precious girl! Sigh!"

Argella instantly stopped crying and beamed.

"Father, you're the best! Heehee!"

Argilac sent an envoy to House Targaryen on Dragonstone to propose a marriage alliance, offering his daughter to Lord Aegon. As a dowry, he promised all the lands east of the Gods Eye, south of the Trident, and north of the Blackwater Rush.

When Aegon received the envoy's letter, he was stunned.

Visenya and Rhaenys, upon hearing the news, immediately and firmly opposed the idea of Aegon taking another wife. For once, the two sisters stood united, both fiercely rejecting the notion of welcoming another sister into their family.

Though Aegon was inclined to accept, he ultimately yielded to Visenya and Rhaenys's wishes and declined the Storm King's offer.

In his reply, Aegon stated that he already had two wives and had no need for a third. He also pointed out that the lands promised had, for a generation or two, belonged entirely to House Hoare—lands Argilac had no authority to give away.

Aegon went on to propose:

"If Argilac is willing to cede Massey's Hook in addition to the offered 'dowry,' along with the forests and plains south of the Blackwater Rush all the way to the headwaters of the Wendwater and Mander, then our houses may form an alliance.

Furthermore, while I will not take Princess Argella as my wife, I am willing to grant her a Dragonseed who may inherit the Stormlands."

Argilac, proud and furious, flatly rejected the terms.

"He really thinks he can make my daughter his mistress! My Stormlands will never allow a bastard to inherit the throne. That would be an insult to Storm's End!"

Enraged, Argilac roared from his throne.

He ordered that Aegon's envoy have his hands cut off, packed in a box, and sent back to Aegon with a message saying,

"The bastard you fathered will only get these hands from me."

Aegon did not immediately respond to the insult, as this gave him the perfect excuse to launch his campaign into Westeros.

Instead, he summoned his friends, bannermen, and principal allies to Dragonstone for a council.

Following Maester Gawen's advice, Aegon chose to commit fully to the performance. Though never a devout man, he went to the sept to offer a solemn prayer to the Seven Gods of Westeros.

On the seventh day of the council, a great flock of ravens burst from the towers of Dragonstone, carrying Aegon's proclamation across the Seven Kingdoms. They flew not only to each of the seven kings, but also to the Citadel in Oldtown and to castles great and small throughout the realm, bearing the same message:

From this day forward, there would be only one king in Westeros!

Those who bent the knee to Aegon of House Targaryen would keep their lands and titles. Those who resisted would be overthrown, cast down—or destroyed.

Aegon's great conquest had begun.