ASOIAF: The True House of Dragons

Harren gave a slight nod to Maester Tion, who knelt at his feet, then stepped back and gently closed the door to the Iron King's bedchamber.

He walked to the window, his gaze drifting into the distance.

The blood-red sun had already sunk halfway beneath the hills of the Isle of Faces, casting its dying glow across the sky in a blaze of crimson.

After a long moment, he turned back to the mirror in the room.

Harren lifted a hand to wipe away the lingering tear stains from his face. He carefully adjusted the steel chain-scaled armor on his body, and once he was fully dressed, he walked heavily to the bed. He lay down slowly, hands folded over his abdomen, still clad in the heavy armor, and gradually closed his eyes.

As the last ray of sunlight faded from the windowsill, darkness swept in like a tide.

The sound of massive wings beating the air shattered the silence. Harren's clasped fingers trembled slightly as he fought the urge to open his eyes.

Balerion's pitch-black body blended perfectly into the night, becoming one with the darkness. The sentries at Harrenhal were not alerted at all—until the great dragon descended like death itself. By the time they noticed, it was far too late.

BOOM! A deafening blast rang out as a flood of black flame surged into the bedroom, instantly devouring the entire chamber.

The fire crackled and snapped, the searing heat distorting the very air.

Within just a few breaths, Harren was reduced to ash under the black flames. He didn't even have time to scream before vanishing into the endless blaze, leaving behind only a scorched husk.

The Iron King who had ruled both the Iron Islands and the Riverlands was no more, and the Riverlands now formally submitted to the Targaryens.

Aegon sat astride Balerion, staring down at the main tower—what the messenger had called the Iron King's Tower.

The tower's summit had collapsed under the assault of the black flames, and fire still raged within. The Iron King's Tower now looked like a massive candle set alight, its form twisting and melting, streams of molten stone running down its sides.

"Perhaps from now on, this tower should be called the Kingspyre Tower," Aegon murmured to himself.

He signaled for Balerion to cease breathing fire, wary that the hundred-meter-high structure might collapse under the intensity of the black flames. As Harren had once boasted, stone did not burn—but his fortress had not been built entirely of stone.

Red fire and black flame roared across the Iron King's Tower. The Ironborn guards scrambled to douse the blaze with water.

Fortunately, Aegon had not ordered Balerion to target the more flammable parts of the castle. The fire was brought under control by the Ironborn when it had burned down three floors from the top.

At Harrenhal's gates, Maester Tion knelt weeping, surrounded by lords of the Riverlands. None could understand why this traitorous maester was crying so bitterly.

Black Harren was dead. And this man, who had stabbed him in the back and delivered the message to Aegon, shouldn't he be celebrating?

The next day...

Smoke still rose from the top of the Iron King's Tower, but the rest of Harrenhal remained unscathed.

The Ironborn opened the castle gates and surrendered.

With that, the Riverlands were fully subdued under the Targaryen dynasty. Aegon held a grand feast in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths to celebrate the tremendous progress of his conquest, and once again summoned all the Riverlands lords to swear their allegiance.

...

Let us now turn to Visenya's campaign against the Kingdom of the Vale.

Unlike Aegon's smooth and swift conquests, Visenya's path was fraught with difficulties from the very beginning.

House Arryn quickly assembled its fleet and received reinforcements from Braavos—dozens of warships rushed to their aid. Off the coast of Gulltown, they clashed with the Targaryen fleet and dealt it a serious blow. Aegon's naval commander, Aethan Velaryon, was killed in the battle.

Queen Visenya descended from the skies on Vhagar, setting the Vale's ships ablaze and salvaging what could have been a disastrous defeat.

Though Gulltown was in a perilous state, the remaining Targaryen naval forces were no longer capable of taking the city—one of the five largest ports in Westeros.

With little choice, Visenya withdrew, leaving a portion of the fleet stationed at Claw Isle while she flew to Harrenhal to reunite with her husband.

At Harrenhal, Aegon gathered with his chief advisors to plan their next moves.

It was decided that his younger sister, Rhaenys, would lead several thousand troops drawn from Riverlands nobles to assault the Bloody Gate, while his elder sister, Visenya, would travel to Crackclaw Point to bring the local lords under their banner.

Aegon himself led the main host to the southern bank of the Blackwater Rush to support Orys Baratheon. Word had reached him that the Storm Kingdom had attempted to cross the river multiple times, but each attempt had been successfully thwarted by Orys. This tactic—striking the enemy mid-crossing—was one Aegon had personally instructed Orys to use before departing.

Now, it was time to face the Storm Kingdom directly.

Visenya, astride Vhagar and commanding an elite force, made her way to Crackclaw Point, where she was met with sincere and eager welcomes from the local populace.

Crackclaw Point had known nothing but war since the Dawn Age. The House Darklyn of Duskendale, the House Mooton of Maidenpool, and the House Celtigar of Claw Isle had all tried to conquer it—none had succeeded.

Even in times of peace, internal conflict ran rampant.

But now, the Targaryen dynasty offered them a rare and precious hope for lasting peace.

Once news of King Harren's demise reached Crackclaw Point, its lords quickly bent the knee.

And when they learned that Queen Visenya was willing to take them on as her direct vassals, many of the local lords swore their loyalty with fervent enthusiasm.

...

Due to the urgent situation in the Stormlands, Orys—already short on troops—was nearly unable to hold the line after several grueling battles.

Aegon made a swift decision to ride Balerion ahead to reinforce the front, while part of the main army boarded the longships left behind by Harren. Sailing through the Gods Eye and into a tributary of the Blackwater Rush, they made rapid progress toward the battlefield.

When Aegon arrived on dragonback, the Stormlands army was preparing to cross the river. Balerion's thunderous roar struck terror into their ranks, and the Stormlanders broke into a panicked retreat.

Orys received Aegon at the camp and gave a detailed report on the recent engagements.

Aegon praised his efforts and briefed him on the Targaryen conquest's broader progress.

The next day, Aegon dispatched an envoy across the river with a letter, proclaiming the Targaryen victories in the Riverlands and the grim fate of Black Harren. The message urged the Storm King not to persist in resisting the Dragonlord's forces.

After receiving the envoy, the Stormlands troops on the southern bank of the Blackwater Rush withdrew of their own accord and fell back to Grassy Vale.

However, once the envoy returned, Aegon still received no reply from the Storm King. Days passed with no word, and by then, the elite main force traveling downstream by longship had arrived and regrouped.

Aegon decided to go on the offensive. He led over four thousand soldiers safely across the Blackwater Rush, then launched a rapid march toward Grassy Vale. With Balerion smashing open the gates, the town was swiftly taken.

While regrouping at Grassy Vale, Aegon received a message from King Argilac of the Stormlands.

Argilac sought a decisive battle with Aegon. The letter of challenge ended with a few bold words written in the Storm King's own hand:

—The victor shall be king.

Aegon accepted the challenge.

Unlike King Harren's treacherous bannermen, Argilac's vassals remained fiercely loyal. The "proud" Storm King gathered a host of nearly twenty thousand at Storm's End.

Determined not to repeat his old rival's fate—roasted alive in his own castle like a suckling pig with an apple in its mouth—King Argilac chose to meet Aegon in open battle outside Storm's End.

The Targaryen forces, bolstered by Balerion's looming presence, secured a steep slope that offered a commanding view of the battlefield.

On the day of battle, the Stormlands lived up to their name.

From morning onward, rain fell in sheets, and by midday, fierce winds howled across the field.

Argilac's advisors urged him to postpone the attack until the weather cleared, but the Storm King was confident—his army outnumbered the enemy nearly four to one, with almost eight times the knights and heavy cavalry.

Seeing the drenched Targaryen banners flying atop a hill he considered his own, Argilac burned with rage.

The seasoned warrior also noticed the south wind was driving rain straight into the eyes of the Targaryen soldiers.

And so, the "proud" Argilac gave the order to attack.

Though vastly outnumbered, the Targaryens held their ground. Orys remained true to the oath he had sworn Aegon, personally leading his knights in resisting the enemy charge and temporarily holding the line.

The battle raged deep into the night, the ground soaked in blood—a far cry from Aegon's swift victory at Harrenhal.

Argilac led three cavalry charges against Orys Baratheon's position. But the slope proved too steep, the rain had turned the earth to mud, and the charging warhorses slipped and stumbled. Each assault lost cohesion and momentum before reaching its mark.

Even so, the Stormlands infantry climbed the slope on foot and managed to turn the tide. The Targaryen soldiers, their vision blurred by rain, didn't notice the approaching spearmen until they were nearly upon them. Their bowstrings were soaked and useless.

One hill fell, then another.

Argilac seized the moment, launching a fourth and final charge. This time, he and his knights broke through the center of the Targaryen lines.

The Storm King's personal guard crashed straight into Aegon and Balerion.

Even grounded, the King-tier Dragon was a terrifying force. Dickon Morrigan, commander of the vanguard, and the bastard of Blackhaven were both consumed by dragonfire, and many of Argilac's royal knights fell with them in a valiant stand.

Panic swept the battlefield. Warhorses, spooked and confused, bolted in every direction, crashing into their own cavalry lines and shattering the once-cohesive formation. Amid the chaos, the Storm King himself was thrown from his mount.

Argilac did not give in.

As Orys led his forces down the muddy slope for a counterattack, he spotted the old king locked in combat with six or seven opponents, their corpses already strewn at his feet.

"Stand aside!" Orys shouted, then swiftly dismounted and advanced on foot to face the Storm King.

At that moment, Aegon stood atop Balerion's massive head as the dragon slowly paced forward. One hand gripped the black dragon's horn, the other leaned heavily on the family sword, Blackfyre. Aegon shouted, "Stand down—I'll take him myself!"

Upon hearing this, Orys pounded his armored chest with a fist, bowed his head in deference, and stepped back.

Balerion lowered his house-sized head slowly. Aegon leapt from it, landing firmly in the middle of the rain-soaked, muddy field.

"Argilac," Aegon said as he walked steadily up to the Storm King, drawing Blackfyre and holding it upright before his chest, his expression grave. "For the sake of the battles we once fought side by side, I'll give you one last chance. Defeat me, and I'll bow and serve you. Lose, and you kneel before me."

Argilac was breathing hard. The old king had endured several charges and was nearly spent—but not done. He still had the strength for one last fight.

"So be it!" Argilac roared, lunging at Aegon like a tiger pouncing on its prey. The gleaming blade in his hand flashed like a streak of silver, trailing crystal raindrops as it slashed viciously at Aegon's neck.

Aegon stepped swiftly to the left, narrowly evading the deadly edge. Blackfyre swept out in a curved arc through the rain, executing a Valyrian military technique. The blade met Argilac's sword at its weakest angle.

CLANG!

A loud metallic crash rang out as the swords collided, sending sparks flashing in the downpour.

Argilac did not falter. In his decades of battle, he had faced swordmasters as skilled as Aegon. His sword, though knocked off course, spun in an elegant outward flourish and returned solidly to his grip.

Their first clash ended evenly—neither had gained the upper hand.

The duel surged on as their swords danced like wind-driven chaos, striking and parrying with furious speed. The clanging of steel rang out like relentless war drums.

The fight was ferocious.

The aged, white-haired warrior king and the silver-haired, purple-eyed Dragonlord of House Targaryen clashed again and again in the rain and mud.

Aegon, striking and defending in rhythm, thought to himself: There's something strange about this old man's strength... it must be tied to the Storm somehow. No ordinary man could endure this long against someone who's activated [Outer Tyrant, Inner King].

The duel had drawn a massive crowd. Soldiers from both the Targaryen host and the Stormlands had surrounded the field three ranks deep, forming a great circle.

All around them, warriors bellowed with fury and passion, cheering on their respective kings. The roars of the crowd rose above even the howling winds of the storm outside Storm's End.

At that very moment, atop the walls of Storm's End...

Princess Argella stood alone in the pouring rain, gazing down at the decisive clash unfolding below.

Her body began to glow with a faint white light.

She slowly lifted one hand and pointed a single finger toward the sky.

The storm above Storm's End grew even more violent. A slender snake of lightning twisted down from the clouds, brushing her fingertip like a lover's touch, unwilling to part.

Tears streamed down Argella's cheeks as her body trembled uncontrollably. The lightning on her fingertip thickened, crackling with growing power.

"Aegon... Father... stop fighting!"

She screamed with every ounce of strength she had, and with a forceful motion, swept her glowing finger down toward the center of the duel.

BOOM!

Thunder cracked like a war drum. A blinding silver bolt, thick as an arm, exploded downward—striking the ground at Aegon and Argilac's feet like molten silver bursting from the sky.