ASOIAF: The True House of Dragons

Aegon had long pondered why most Chinese dynasties rarely lasted more than three hundred years before collapsing. Eventually, he came to understand that the world was like a speeding train—each dynasty had to run with all its might just to keep pace and reach the next station. If a dynasty stalled and was left behind by the train of the world, its end was almost inevitable.

Aegon's main quest still had over eight hundred years remaining, and for the House Targaryen to endure that long was nearly a fantasy. Even with his cheat-like abilities, surviving for a thousand years was an almost impossible feat. After all, the props he drew would eventually be used up, and each achievement could only be completed once. The world was only so big—there simply weren't enough achievements for him to farm over and over.

Take the present for instance—his ambition to achieve the Great Conquest was still incomplete, hindered by the Iron Islands and Dorne. At this point, he had no usable items left, and the resulting unease gnawed at him.

It was precisely for this reason that he exercised great caution in matters concerning his own safety. He was determined to avoid doing anything that would incur the wrath of gods or men, wary of accumulating too many enemies, or worse—being assassinated when he least expected it.

He certainly had the power to wipe out the Holy Faith in one swift stroke, like autumn wind sweeping away fallen leaves. But the faith that had taken root over thousands of years couldn't be uprooted in just a few. He had no choice but to proceed gradually, step by step.

The same applied to the Nine Free Cities. Several of them housed the headquarters of the True God Church, which was even more difficult to deal with than the Faith of the Seven, a religion based on worldly gods.

Though Balerion was unmatched in this world, Aegon was well aware that he was not invincible. He vividly remembered that swim he took with Lady Argella in a river during his return to King's Landing. It had just been a simple test, yet it left him with a cold and fever that lasted an entire day.

In a medieval setting like this, a persistent high fever could very well be fatal. His father, Aerion, had once warned him with words that had now become Aegon's unshakable rule of conduct:

—Our family has many, many problems and enemies to face. More than you can possibly imagine.

For now, while subtly spreading Valyrian culture and the Eastern culture of his past life, Aegon was also carefully disguising himself. He worked hard to ensure that, in the eyes of outsiders, the Targaryen king looked no different from the natives of this land.

Such concealment served to lower the guard of both enemies and potential rivals. And only by doing so could he steadily work toward his true goal: establishing a centralized Targaryen dynasty where the royal house possessed enough power and authority to lead this new realm forward—breaking free of the three-century curse that doomed dynasties to rise and fall in cycles.

This line of thinking would push House Targaryen toward growing strength and prosperity—and that was precisely the future Aegon longed for.

He had once read on a gaming forum in his previous life that True Gods came in many different forms:

Some were born purely of faith and known as gods of belief.

Some originated from nature spirits and held dominion over the natural order—these were nature gods.

Some were formed from concentrated, extreme emotions—evil gods.

And some were flesh gods—mortals who had transcended racial limits through continuous evolution.

Among all these types of True Gods, there was one particularly unique kind: race gods. Their divine power rose or fell depending on the strength and prosperity of their race.

Aegon privately speculated that the type of godhood rewarded for completing his main quest was most likely that of a race god. Thus, striving to enhance the glory and might of House Targaryen and its dynasty—even after ascending to godhood—was not only sensible but clearly the right choice.

Aegon was a king with ambition. If he were content with merely securing his claim to Westeros, there would've been no need to go to such lengths building a new Citadel in Harrenhal.

"Knock, knock!"

A knock came at the door. Aegon straightened up from his workstation and gently patted his lower back, sore from being bent over for too long.

But it wasn't from indulging in pleasures with lovers or wives. Thanks to the item [Renal Adrenaline], Aegon's waist was now remarkably strong—even if he added a few more lovers, he wouldn't feel the slightest weakness in his legs.

His dedication was finally paying off. Rhaenys had started showing signs of morning sickness—a piece of news that delighted both the kingdom's senior officials and its people.

"Who is it?" Aegon called out toward the door.

He had given strict orders not to be disturbed during his experiments, so this had to be something important.

"Your Grace, a letter has arrived from the Starry Sept in Oldtown," came the respectful reply from the attendant outside.

Aegon set down the bark in his hands and washed the sap off. He was currently immersed in papermaking experiments. Since bamboo didn't exist in this world, he had chosen to use fishbeam bark as his material of choice.

With help from the chip, the experiments were progressing reasonably well. However, the chip's calculations consumed destiny points at a frustratingly fast rate. Even with his daily entanglements with three women, the destiny points he earned still couldn't keep up.

After opening the lab door, Aegon took the letter from the attendant and waved him off.

At present, the ravenry Archmaester at Harrenhal was nurturing a new raven tower. Already, over a hundred ravens had nested inside. While it was still far from the scale of Oldtown's tower, which housed thousands, it was more than enough for the kingdom's internal correspondence.

Aegon glanced at the wax seal on the letter and recognized it as the personal crest of the High Septon. It seemed there was trouble within the Faith of the Seven.

He didn't open the letter immediately. Instead, he reached for the parchment notebook hanging on the wall and began recording the data from his recent experiment—details like temperature, humidity, soaking time for the tree pulp, and the amount of starch added.

All of this data had been derived through the chip's calculations, which consumed Destiny Points, and had been verified through practical testing. If he didn't write it down, the effort—and the Destiny Points—would be wasted.

After repeated trials, Aegon finally confirmed—much to his dismay—that his [Alien Chip] talent was basically the knockoff version. The chip's database was hardwired directly into his brain's neural pathways, leaving him completely speechless.

Once he finished carefully recording the data, Aegon hung the notebook back in its place. He then slowly opened the envelope, recognizing the familiar handwriting of the High Septon.

Though their correspondence was not frequent, it had never ceased. Inside the Faith of the Seven, the struggle between the pro-Targaryen faction, represented by the High Septon, and the anti-Targaryen faction had never truly ended.

The High Septon's side was clearly on the back foot. Without Aegon's consistent support—both overt and behind the scenes—he likely would've been removed from his position as the church's leader long ago.

Aegon lowered his head to read the letter. It read:

"Aegon, to the grandson of my old friend: This year's winter is especially harsh. Even in Oldtown in the south, light snow has begun to fall. The chill in my body is worsening. If this winter lasts more than five years, I fear I may not live to see spring return.

If you have any plans for the church, you must prepare and act within these five years. That way, I can help you one last time before I pass."

Aegon exhaled deeply, sighing inwardly. The High Septon's declining health was undoubtedly bad news.

It was time to consider how to reclaim control over the Faith of the Seven.

Aegon could not allow those Septons who denounced the marriages of House Targaryen as incest to hold the seat of power. That path would only lead the fledgling kingdom into another round of chaos and unrest.

He had to root out this hidden cancer within the Targaryen dynasty during his lifetime.

...

At that moment, footsteps echoed outside the laboratory. Aegon suddenly realized he had forgotten to close the door.

He looked up toward the entrance and saw his sister Visenya standing before him.

She wore a low-cut, seductive gown that hugged her figure tightly, accentuating her voluptuous and alluring curves. Her silver-gold hair had been carefully braided and styled into an elegant loop, adding an air of noble, icy beauty.

Aegon couldn't help but be surprised. Normally, Visenya preferred leather or cotton armor. Why would she wear something so provocative today? What's more, ever since their marriage, it had almost always been him taking the initiative to seek her out for intimacy.

Visenya's frosty, ice-queen demeanor left Aegon both enamored and frustrated. He loved how her resistance only heightened his excitement, yet hated how rare their moments of closeness were—barely a few times a month.

He hadn't expected her to come looking for him today.

"Are you staring?" Visenya's cheeks flushed slightly as she teased him with a light scolding.

"You're too beautiful," Aegon replied with a smile, stepping forward to gently wrap his arm around her slender waist.

Visenya felt completely different from his other three lovers. Her body had graceful, athletic lines, the result of years of training. Not a trace of excess fat, and her flexibility was exceptional.

"Do you like it? I wore this especially for you today," Visenya said with a soft, affectionate smile.

"Of course." Aegon's hands began to wander restlessly.

The letter still in his hand caught Visenya's attention. She asked, "What's that?"

As she spoke, she reached out, grabbed his hand, and took the letter to read it.

"Forget about that. I want you," Aegon murmured, breathing in the captivating scent at her neck.

"Wait! The High Septon's condition has worsened!" Visenya frowned as she scanned the letter, planting one hand firmly on Aegon's chest to push him away as he tried to kiss her.

Aegon's mood was abruptly interrupted. He sighed helplessly.

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have been thinking about being with you while still holding that letter."

Aegon turned, poured himself a glass of water from the table, and tilted his head back to drink it all in one gulp.

"You're always thinking about these things," Visenya said with a touch of reproach. "Clearly, dealing with the crisis in the Faith of the Seven is more important."

She stepped beside him and planted a feather-light kiss on his forehead.

"Do you have a plan?"

Aegon responded with a weary expression. "I'm still thinking it through. We can't let a single Septon who opposes the Targaryens get away. If we do, it's only a matter of time before it all blows up."

"In the known world, theocracy and monarchy are separate powers. In some places, the church even holds more sway than the throne," Visenya said slowly, deep in thought. "Getting rid of those Septons won't be easy. And from what the High Septon wrote, there's likely a sizable group of Septons and monks working against us."

Aegon suddenly grabbed her and turned her around, pressing her against the wall, clearly intent on resuming where they had left off.

Visenya no longer wished to reject her husband. She knew that if she appeared too unwilling and caused Aegon to grow displeased with her, the hope she held of conceiving a child would be lost. After all, she had taken the initiative to come to him today—it was only the High Septon's letter that had interrupted things.

So Aegon proceeded smoothly with his intentions.

But Visenya had a slight case of perfectionism, and she found it difficult to fully focus on anything else until her mind had settled a lingering issue.

Even in the midst of their intimacy, her thoughts continued to churn. Just as she was nearing a peak, a flash of inspiration struck her. She blurted out quickly, "Why don't you convert to the Faith of the Seven?"

Aegon was completely engrossed in the moment and only responded instinctively, "What?"

"If you convert and become head of the Church, wouldn't you have the authority to deal with those Septons?" Visenya explained patiently.

"Hiss... What a brilliant plan," Aegon said with admiration.

"What do you mean, brilliant?" Visenya asked.

"Your clever mind—and everything about you—is brilliant." Aegon turned her to face him, their movements growing more urgent. "Stop thinking so much. Just focus on this moment."

"Mm." A faint blush colored Visenya's face as she softly said, "Be gentle."

...

[Upto 20 chapters ahead for now]

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