Divide and Conquer, Chapter 5: Coronations and Celebrations (E)

Sixth Moon, 97 AD (5 BC)

Visenya

The Hall of a Hundred Hearths truly lived up to its name. There were fifty hearths on each side of the hall, spaced ten feet apart, all of them lit and blazing with fire in a desperate attempt to warm the massive space. Smooth slate floors on the ground led up to great marble walls and colored and clear glass windows in the galleries above that lit up the room alongside the blazing hearths.

The great hall could feast an army and that was exactly what they were going to do. A thousand tables had been arranged and prepared to seat tens of thousands in long and neat rows. The vast kitchens that were larger than the halls of many castles had been put to use creating a delectable banquet from Harren’s greedily hoarded supplies and stores. But before they could feast and celebrate, the ceremony had to be completed first.

The Storming of Harrenhal had been a bloody affair, though it could have been even worse. By some fortune, Lord Bracken and the other Riverlords within the walls had led their forces to defect and turn on the Ironmen and they had soon been joined by the Rivermen levies of Harren’s sons and Ironmen lords and even the castle’s servants who had long been treated cruelly and harshly by the Hoares.

Nonetheless in the chaos of the assault and the uncertainty of who was friend or foe, thousands of Rivermen, be they defectors, servants, or besiegers, had perished, and around five thousand of their sellsword vanguard had been killed as well. The end result however more than justified the cost. By sunrise, Harren and all his sons were dead and the castle had been taken intact, all according to plan.

The following three months had passed by swiftly, they had consolidated control over Harrenhal and begun work on repairing the gates and walls they had damaged before leading their armies to root out all the remaining Ironmen scattered across the western Riverlands. Saltpans, Stoney Sept, Raventree Hall, Fairmarket, and Seagard had all fallen and everywhere they went they were greeted as liberators and saviors by the local Rivermen and cursed as demons by the Ironmen they captured and summarily executed.

Thousands of Ironmen had managed to escape before they secured the rest of the Riverlands however, fleeing by boat back home to the Iron Islands which had since descended into civil war with the extinction of House Hoare. Qhorin Volmark, Vickon Greyjoy, even a Drowned Priest by the name of Lodos, were just a few of the many claimants to the now vacant Kingship of the Iron Islands.

Unfortunately, they were unable to conquer the islands for themselves at this point of time, lacking a western fleet of any kind as they were and with Aegon afraid of overstretch. With their absence, every island, house, and even captain seemed to have designs to make themselves king but they would never have the Seastone Chair to sit upon.

That ancient and legendary throne upon which nearly all Kings and High Kings of the Iron Islands since time immemorial had been seated upon was now just a trophy for Visenya’s house. Harren had had the throne moved from Hoare Castle in the Iron Islands to his new seat in the Riverlands and it was now gathering dust in a storeroom for Aegon had refused to sit the throne, being put off by its eldritch kraken shape and tentacles.

Instead of the Seastone Chair, it was a fine though simple seat carved from ebony wood that Aegon had taken as his throne and placed upon the raised dais at the far end of the hall. Too humble a seat for a king some might say but Visenya was one of a privileged few who knew that Aegon’s true throne was still years away from being forged.

The preparations were already being made though. Hundreds of swords had been taken from the defeated Ironmen, including the weapons of the Hoares themselves, and stored safely in the trophy room alongside the Seastone Chair. They would be regularly cleaned and maintained to prevent them from rusting and decaying but nothing more than that for now. Their time had not yet come.

With the Iron Islands descending into civil war and the Riverlands fully secured under their rule, they had recalled their armies back to Harrenhal to attend Aegon’s coronation and swear their fealty to him as their king. A grand total of sixty thousand had congregated within the Hall of a Hundred Hearths in answer of this call.

There were lords, knights, men-at-arms, sellswords, smallfolk levies, legionaries, and sailors. Their own trusted staff of servants, stewards, Dragonguard, and Dragonkeepers had been brought in from Dragonstone to secure the castle for their residence and taking charge of the long oppressed servants and enthralled laborers of the Hoares whom had all been fed handsomely until recovery. Those who wished it had been allowed to return to their homes but many had chosen to stay and continue to serve and work on the castle’s completion and the planned renovations, having become feverishly devoted and loyal to Visenya and her siblings for saving them from the Hoares and giving them justice and vengeance.

All now stood at rapt attention, awe, nervousness, and fear upon their faces in equal measure as they beheld the spectacle before them. The Hall was so huge that even dragons were dwarfed by it and could easily fit within. Visenya stood before the ebony chair Aegon had taken as his temporary throne and Rhaenys was to her left. Their dragons, Vhagar and Meraxes, were to off to the right and left sides of the throne respectively, standing tall and proud upon their wings with their necks raised high and towering over the crowds. Lord Commander Gaemon Gryvetheon and several squadrons of Dragonguard ringed the dais in a protective formation beneath the dragons.

As was often her practice, Visenya scanned her surroundings, making sure to note any potential threats to her family’s safety. Her eyes flicked over the crowds before they lingered on the galleries above the left and right sides of the hall and built into the walls. Rows of Dragonguard armed with bows and spears stood at attention along those long balconies but Visenya’s gaze was soon drawn down to the entrances of the staircases leading up to them at the base of the walls on either side of the hall, right beside where all the crowds were standing.

She narrowed her eyes. There were guards at those staircases as well true but the potential threat displeased her nonetheless. It was not the first time she had noticed that flaw but the danger was more apparent than ever before on a day like this when the hall was packed with a large crowd with a grand ceremony soon to take place. Potential assassins could sneak past the guards or kill them to get onto the galleries and take a shot at anyone in the crowd, including Visenya herself or the people she loved and that was unacceptable to her.

She made a note to herself to have those staircases sealed and filled in so that the only way one could enter the galleries was from the corresponding floor on the main tower behind the hall but for today she would begrudgingly trust in the watchfulness of their Dragonguard who had never let them down before.

A great horn blew then, and Visenya shifted her attention away from the stairs and back to the ceremony. The enormous weirwood doors at the other end of the building opened inwards into the hall and in stalked the King of Dragons, Balerion the Black Dread. Even his enormous might looked small from this distance and with these surroundings but the crowds stared in awe nonetheless as he passed them by and utterly dwarfed any of them as he crawled towards the throne. His heavy wings and footsteps creating fearsome thuds on the slate floor as he thundered through the clear path in the middle of the hall. Upon his back stood a proud and imposing figure, all arrayed in black plate armor with scale patterns, a sword on his hips, and a smile on his handsome face.

As Balerion finally arrived at the throne, he lowered his head to allow his rider to climb down before taking his place behind the throne besides Vhagar. Aegon kneeled on the dais before her and Visenya took up the crown from the silk and feather pillow upon which it had laid. The smoky dark swirls in the metal were clear as day as she held it before her eyes. A Valyrian steel circlet, set with fourteen large square-cut rubies; a crown fit for a dragonlord, a king, an emperor to be.

Aegon looked up from where he was kneeling and smiled and winked before bowing his head again. Visenya couldn’t resist the smile that came to her face as she laid the crown on his head. It fit him perfectly, just as it had been designed to.

As Aegon rose with the crown on his brow, Rhaenys called out and proclaimed him as his herald before the assembled masses, “All hail His Grace, Aegon of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Rivers and Hills, Lord of Summerhall and Dragonstone, Protector of the Realm, and Shield of His People!”

The titles were not the final ones Aegon intended to hold but their meaning was significant nonetheless in that moment. The dragons’ roars echoed through the great hall and the lords and knights cheered and hailed their king but it was the smallfolk who shouted loudest, the thralls, servants, and levies whom they had freed from the yoke of the Hoares.

“Thank you my friends and servants, my lords and ladies, people of the Riverlands, of Blackwater Bay, of the isles of Dragonstone, Driftmark and Claw Isle, brave Essosi warriors who came to aid us in our moment of need, highborn and low, smallfolk and nobles alike,” Aegon said as the crowd’s cheers and claps finally quieted.

“Today is a most auspicious day! For upon this day we celebrate the true finality of the end of the black line of House Hoare! Their reign of tyranny and terror is at an end. Their days abusing and raping the daughters of the Riverlands are at an end! Their days enthralling the sons of the Trident and Blackwater are at an end! The Ironmen are at an end!

“Even now they fight amongst each other and squabble and kill each other over who shall be king of their wretched people and that shall be their ruin. And if by some miracle they recover and seek to strike us again, they shall meet the steel of the Riverlands, of Blackwater Bay! They will face the dragon’s breath!

“And so it shall be for all who dare to despoil our people and steal our lands! Too long have the Riverlands been subject to the whims of foreign powers and kings who have sought to take its riches and give nothing in return. No more. Now we stand strong and united, with brave soldiers and fearsome dragons who shall destroy all who dare to prey upon us. Let all the other kings and lords of Westeros know that Aegon the Dragon is King of the Rivers and Hills and they are under the protection of me and mine. From the rivers Trident and Blackwater to the western hills and the foothills of the Mountains of the Moon, let the armies of our foes know this, never again will the lands of our people fall into enemy hands!”

There was a great cheer at that as highborn and low alike chorused their excitement and cheers and their honest belief in Aegon’s words for they had seen and witnessed his power for themselves and they knew his words to be true. None who took shelter under the dragon’s wings would ever be betrayed, that was their promise, their oath.

“Aegon! Aegon! Aegon!” the crowds chanted and quieted only when Aegon continued his speech.

“This castle we stand in was once the symbol of your oppression. A place of cruelty and malice, named for the vanity of a tyrant whose heart was as black as night. No longer. Now it shall be a place of light and beauty and music. It will be a symbol of justice and glory, a sigil of strength against our enemies, a final refuge for our people that shall never fall. Together, we will create a glorious and proud future for our children and our children’s children, a future of unity and a prosperity so rich it will be like the fabled summer that never ends, and it all starts right here in the castle of Summerhall!”

The cheers were as loud as ever in response and the crowds began chanting, “Summer! Summer! Summer!”

“We shall bring a summer that never ends for our friends and family, and Fire and Blood upon our enemies, and we will do it all together,” Aegon said before he drew forth Blackfyre from its scabbard and thrust it up high into the air, shouting, “Glory to the Riverlands!”

So captivated were they by Aegon’s speech and the vision he spoke of that everyone in the room, highborn and low, even the mercenaries from the east, and Visenya and Rhaenys who had known of the speech’s content ahead of the ceremony all pumped their right fists in the air and chorused his words. “Glory to the Riverlands!”

Aegon raised his sword high again thrice after that, each time chanting a different cry. First he repeated ‘Glory to the Riverlands’ then it was ‘Fire and Blood’ and at the end it was ‘All Hail Targaryen’ and each time the crowd followed his words and repeated them eagerly and without question or hesitance.

When the cries finally died down (for they had continued in an endless chorus long after Aegon had stopped) and it was clear that Aegon’s speech was at an end, Rhaenys readied her scroll and proclaimed. “When I call your name my lords, please step forward before the throne so that you may swear your fealty to the King and be given your just rewards for your leal and loyal service!”

Rhaenys was stopped before she could call the first name on the list however as Aegon raised his hand from where he was seated on the throne. “Wait my love, there is something we must do first before that.”

Rhaenys and her both turned to Aegon in confusion as he gestured to the Dragonguard who brought forward two more pillows of silk and feather upon which rested two identical crowns Visenya had never seen before. Thin black metal bands set with delicately small but beautiful oval rubies.

The two Dragonguard bearing the crowns walked up right beside Aegon who had risen from his throne and he called out to them both. “Visenya and Rhaenys Targaryen, come forth and kneel,” he summoned them proudly.

Rhaenys and her shared a glance with each other as they walked before Aegon. Visenya was more than a little surprised in all honesty and she was certain Rhaenys felt the same. Queens were rarely crowned in this manner and it was never given this kind of spectacle and importance. This had not been part of the plans for the coronation and neither Rhaenys nor her had been presumptuous enough to ask that it be. But if their husband wished to honor them so before the eyes of all their new realm, they could hardly complain now could they?

They knelt side by side before Aegon, with Visenya on the left and Rhaenys to her right. As Aegon raised the first of the two crowns into the air to crown one of them, Visenya noticed that the circlet was made of Valyrian steel as surely as Aegon’s own crown had been and the rubies set within were lesser in size but grander in brilliance even than Aegon’s own.

Aegon placed the first crown on her head gently and set it in place well, ensuring that it did not tangle and tug at her hair before he did the same with Rhaenys. When both of them had been crowned, Aegon spoke.

“The both of you are my oldest and truest friends and allies, mine own sisters and wives, the mothers of my children and heirs, the loves of my life. You have been at my side for as long as I can remember, my partners in power, my left hand and right. Rise now as my crowned queens, my lieutenants in all matters of the realm. When you speak, you speak in my name and with my voice. Your authority shall be questioned by none, your commands above any councilor, general, or lord, and your word second only to mine own. I bid you rise Queen Visenya, Queen Rhaenys, and take your rightful place beside me!” Aegon declared and they heeded his words.

They rose and stepped forward, with Rhaenys unable to resist stealing a quick kiss from Aegon with a mischievous smirk before they turned on their step, with Visenya at Aegon’s right and Rhaenys at his left. As it always had been, as it always would be.

The crowds applauded for there was naught else to do when seeing their queens honored and crowned by the King and when that moment had passed, then and only then did they return at last to the matter of the lords. Aegon’s message was clear to all. His queens were sacrosanct and above reproach and above all in the realm but he himself.

Drawing out the scroll again, Rhaenys called forth their brother, Orys Baratheon. He stepped in front of the throne, dressed in the surcoat of his house, a three-headed black dragon with red wings breathing red flames on a yellow field with black bars on the left and right.

“Orys Baratheon, one of my oldest and most leal friends and counsellors. Once before have I acknowledged you as my blood, my own younger brother, and I do so again! Let if forever be known that House Baratheon is the kin of the royal house and shall be respected and honored as such.

“My beloved brother, I name you the Warden of Seagard, to hold all the attendant lands and incomes of that castle as your fief and the overlordship and responsibility of all the lands of the Cape of Eagles and the Green Fork of the River Trident. These titles and honors your sons and grandsons and all the descendants of your body thenceforth shall hold after you until the end of time or until they prove unfaithful and ungrateful for this boon. Furthermore, I name you to the Royal Council as my Grand Chancellor, the Master of the Council, chief among my advisors. Do ye accept?” Aegon asked.

“I do, Your Grace,” came Orys’ heartfelt reply.

“Then kneel and renew your oaths of fealty to me and mine.”

Orys kneeled and drew his sword, holding it in his hands. “Here do I swear fealty and service to my king, Aegon of House Targaryen, King of the Rivers and Hills. To him and to his house and all its heirs, I swear to be loyal and true, to uphold their royal laws and will, to hold alike all friends and foes; to provide service in war and counsel in peace, and to pay the just and honorable homage in accordance with the station entrusted to me. So swear I Orys of House Baratheon, son of Aerion Targaryen, brother of my king, Aegon Targaryen, before the eyes and witness of all gods and men. Let them hold this oath in their keeping, and if I should break it, consign me to eternal damnation and disgrace.”

“And this do I hear, Aegon of House Targaryen, King of the Rivers and Hills, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given, fealty with love, valor with honor, oathbreaking with vengeance.”

Then Orys took up his sword and sheathed it back in his scabbard and Rhaenys called forth the Lords Frey and all the other lords and knights from within the lands that had been entrusted to his oversight and overlordship. Lord Frey and the others knelt and swore their fealty, first to Aegon as their king and received their titles and lands anew from him and then to Orys as their king’s Warden of Seagard and their direct liege and overlord.

The hierarchy and structure that they had created in their kingdom was as such. As King of the Rivers and Hills, the Crown and the man who wore it, Aegon, was the true and allodial owner of all the land in the realm. This land was in turn subinfeuded to five classes.

First and greatest among them were the Wardens, who numbered a mere five in the Riverlands and held great responsibility and overlordship over vast regions as part of Aegon’s delegation. Beneath the Wardens were Defenders and then Keepers, lesser lords in both the Wards and in the Crown Province directly about Summerhall who had similar responsibilities to the Wardens but held oversight over lesser lands and had less power and could be sworn to either the Wardens or the Crown directly.

Though their titles were Wardens, Defenders, and Keepers, all in these three classes were considered lords and styled as such as had been the tradition in Westeros since time immemorial. Lords Baratheon, Velaryon, Tully, Bracken, and so forth.

Beneath the Keepers were the Masters, a title they had repurposed from the old Velaryon title that signified rule of Driftmark or the title held by the heads of Houses Glover and Tallhart in the North. It was in short a title that signified a rank in the nobility and in the feudal hierarchy equal to that of a landed knight and indeed all landed knights fell into this title, the term Master having been created as a uniform way to address and refer to those in that rank whether they were knighted or not.

If they had inherited those lands but had not been knighted, then those in this rank would be referred to simply as Master of their seat, or Mistress if female. For those who were knighted, they were addressed as Ser so and so, Master of their seat, and their wives as Dame so and so, Mistress of their seat, and this convention applied even to those knights that had no lands at all though in that example they lacked the Master and Mistress titles altogether.

Beneath the Masters were all those merchants, yeomen, and household knights who held property and land in some form in their own right but had no right to rule it as a feudal fief. Every single subject within the kingdom owed direct fealty to the Crown that superseded their allegiance to their direct feudal lord should that lord prove treasonous though for practicality’s sake, only the Defenders below the Wardens would ever be compelled to swear their fealty to the Crown as well unless the opportunity arose in a grand ceremony such as this one for the Keepers and Masters further below to do likewise.

After Orys and his vassals had sworn fealty and been granted their lands and titles in accordance to the new hierarchy, Rhaenys called forth their uncle, Lord Daemon Velaryon, and all his sons, and they swore once again the oaths they had sworn when Duskendale had fallen and Aegon renewed their fiefs and titles as Warden of Duskendale, Defender of Driftmark, and Lord of the Tides. Furthermore, once he had received his fealty as the Crown allodial owner from houses such as Hollard, Rykker, Buckwell, Hayford, Rosby, and Stokeworth, they were bid to swear fealty to their uncle as their Warden and take their place beneath him as his Defenders, Keepers, and Masters.

And so the process continued. Their good-uncle, Lord Crispian Celtigar, renewed his oaths and was confirmed as the Warden of Crackclaw Point and Lord of the Claw. His lands were expanded to include Rook’s Rest and Lords Staunton and the other Clawlords swore their fealty anew to both the Crown and House Celtigar and received their corresponding lower titles in the hierarchy.

Her and Aegon’s old mentor Quenton Qoherys and his sons swore fealty and their house was created as the Wardens of Raventree Hall, while Josua Scales was created as the Warden of Stoney Sept, and all of the corresponding vassals swore the required oaths to Crown and Warden both and received their proper titles in the hierarchy in quick order.

Many of the Riverlords like Lords Frey, Piper, Rosby, and Tully were disappointed that House Targaryen would not be their immediate liege but they had ultimately acquiesced to their wishes, placated that they would still swear fealty directly to the Crown even as Defenders and could appeal to it for arbitration should their Wardens prove unjust to them. This was part of how they intended to keep the Wardens in line, by ensuring that their Defenders and other vassals swore loyalty not just to them but to the Crown as well and were ultimately loyal to their lieges only so long as their lieges obeyed the Crown.

In addition, the lands and borders of each Ward were clearly defined and set in stone, as was the boundaries of the Crown Province that directly surrounded Summerhall, a territory in which the Crown itself served as the local Warden so to speak. The corresponding Defenders, Keepers, and Masters in that territory such as House Vance of Atranta, House Hogg of Sow’s Horn, Houses Lothston, Whent, Wode, and more all swore their fealty and the mouth of the Blackwater Rush, the castles of Summerhall and Darry, and the towns of Saltpans, Harroway, and Maidenpool and all their attendant lands and incomes were taken as the direct demesne of House Targaryen in addition to their ancestral seat of Dragonstone.

Town and city charters were also written and granted in great amounts on that day. Noble City Charters were given to each of the Wardens for a city in their demesne, particularly Seagard for Baratheon, Fairmarket for Qoherys, Stoney Sept for Scales, Duskendale for Velaryon, and Crabtown on Claw Isle for Celtigar, in addition to a whole host of lesser town charters like Hull on Driftmark for Velaryon.

These Noble City and Town Charters unlocked the full economic potential of the local settlements, ensuring they and the Riverlands as a whole would thrive and become more prosperous, increasing the taxes paid to the Crown. Traditionally however this had always been seen by previous Riverkings as a threat to their own power and rightfully so. To ensure that the increased prosperity of their fiefs did not dangerously strengthen the local lords, the charters they had each been given also empowered the artisans, guilds, and burghers in their towns and cities to form powerful councils to represent themselves and their citizens, councils that would have the right to appeal directly to the Crown if their lord mistreated them and the authority to fund and create town watches that were only nominally answerable to the local lords and their feudal retinues before the councils and the Crown.

All of these terms had been hidden in the charters that the lords had happily accepted and even if any of them later discovered and truly understood them, Visenya doubted any would dare to refuse, especially as all the other rights and privileges afforded by the charters required the aforementioned councils to be created before they could go into effect.

Crown City and Town Charters similarly established local councils from the artisans, guilds, and burghers, but these were all firmly subordinated to royally-appointed Mayors and were granted their powers only for the purpose of delegation. Councils in Crown Cities or Towns also lacked the right to fund and raise autonomous city watches as such rights were reserved solely for the Crown. Crown City Charters had already been granted to Derlyn on Dragonstone, Maidenpool, Harroway, Saltpans, Summerton outside the western walls of Summerhall, and the newly created Dragonport which did not yet truly exist beyond fishing villages on the mouth of the Blackwater.

In addition to the charters, the spoils were also fairly and properly divided up at last, with one tenth of the treasures of Harrenhal and the loot from the defeated Ironmen going to paying the sellswords and the direct Targaryen forces handsomely, another four-tenths had been given back to the Riverlands with a great portion given directly to the Riverlords including Wardens and Defenders alike and to the servants and thralls that had worked in Harrenhal. They had kept the remaining half of Harren’s treasure for their own treasury and though it was but half, it was no small amount and made a noticeable addition to their own treasure hoard that was already fat from their inheritance as one of the Forty and Aegon’s projects and extortions of the Free Cities.

Aegon also formally proclaimed the renaming of the Gods Eye to the Dragons Eye to cement their house’s claim on the region and privately Visenya and her siblings thought the new name far more fitting with all the weirwoods in the Riverlands cut down by Harren, and good riddance Visenya thought about that. With Aegon’s foreknowledge she knew that it was all too true that those trees really could see what they were doing and she shuddered to imagine who was looking from the other side. She was grateful Harren had cut down the heart tree in the godswood of Summerhall, it would have been problematic to contrive a reason to rid themselves of that eldritch all-seeing abomination.

In addition, Hoare Isle within the lake, once known as the Isle of Faces, Aegon now named the Isle of Queens in honor of her and Rhaenys and dedicated it to them to decide what was to be done with it. She had shared a glance with Rhaenys when Aegon had announced that and she had sighed seeing the excited and overeager smirk on her face.

She would have to balance her sister’s more whimsical and artistic side to try and get a compromise that would make at least some use of the isle’s enormously strategic position. It was a pretty large island in all honestly, might be even that they could split it in half and both of them would get exactly what they wanted.

Once all of this had passed, Visenya took over the role of the herald for the next part of the ceremony, leaving Rhaenys to rest her voice as she took oversight for a matter that was of deep importance to her, the military. The Dragonguard all renewed their oaths of fealty and the Royal Navy, and the Royal Army and its sub branches, the Provincial Guard and the Royal Legion were all formally created as units were all formally created as units and institutions (though in time their true descriptor would be Imperial not Royal).

The Royal Navy was formed from their Dragonstone fleet and any sellsails who had chosen to formally join their service, though it was early days yet with their navy having merely fifty ships, far dwarfed by the Velaryon or Celtigar Fleets.

The Provincial Guard meanwhile would incorporate the rank and file of the castle garrison at Dragonstone as the founding members. Going forward these men and the many others that would soon be recruited into their ranks would have the responsibility of garrisoning Crown Castles, Cities, and Towns and patrolling their perimeters. They would also serve as the local watches, keeping the streets safe for the citizenry and would be funded partially by additional taxes levied on the local councils in those settlements.

As herald Visenya called forth in turn the Provincial Guard and the captains and sailors of the Royal Navy who had been present to swear their oaths as soldiers of the Crown. She then summoned the various members of the newly created Royal Legion, the army with which they would conquer Westeros.

Aegon’s predictions had come true as either due to having been paid handsomely, coming to appreciate Westeros, or coming to believe in his vision, the entire Lost Legion had elected to stay and formally join up and swear fealty to their house as the core of their new legions, even Legate Yavo and other recalcitrant members.

They had thus created two legions in the months since the Storming of Harrenhal; the First Legion under the command of Legate Yavo and the Second Legion under the newly promoted Legate Tullios, the former Lieutenant Legate of the Lost Legion. The Royal Legion overall was to be considered the legal continuation and rechristening of the Twelfth Valyrian Legion, and indeed of all the Valyrian legions of old, creating a continuity and tradition that could be traced back thousands of years.

Each of the new legions had in its ranks half of the old Lost Legion and Dragonstone Legion respectively, amounting to 2000 and 500 men from each original unit in total. In addition to this 2500, the numbers of each legion had been further swelled by an estimated 3000 sellswords from the other Free Companies who had also elected to sign up with their military and become soldiers sworn to the Targaryen crown, as well as all the non-Dragonguard household knights sworn to House Targaryen and new recruits from the smallfolk and hedge knights in the Riverlands or Essosi immigrants which had started enlisting after the fall of Harrenhal.

Altogether, both Legions were about 5000 strong though they still fell short of the planned strength of 6000 men each. This was an increase of a thousand men from the Valyrian legions of old due to planned structural and doctrinal changes, such as the incorporation of Westeros’ knightly culture to provide a heavy cavalry corps and other plans to make the legions more cavalry-focused and mobile to keep up with the dragons.

Years of work would be needed to drill the existing legionaries and any new recruits into true cohesion and discipline especially given their wildly differing origins and the new doctrines and tactics they had in mind for them, but Aegon and her were confident that both units would be fully trained and ready by the time they moved on to the next campaign in about six years.

“Royal Legionaries! Step forth!” Visenya called and 10,000 Legionaries slowly emerged and formed up in the middle of the hall, the difference in discipline and speed clearly showing the differing levels of training and mindset in the soldiers, something that only time could remediate.

“Dedicate your hearts!” she ordered and the Legionaries all saluted, placing their right fists upon their left breasts and their left fists upon their lower right backs to offer up their hearts to the cause of House Targaryen. A salute that had been practiced and drilled by all the members of the Legion, the Knights, and Navy ever since the formation of each branch.

“Swear your oath as Legionaries!” she commanded and they obeyed. Despite their differing standards of discipline, this oath was one that all the new Royal Legionaries had memorized in the past weeks and months.

“Upon my honor I do swear undying loyalty to the King of the Rivers and Hills, Aegon of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, and unwavering obedience to the officers of his great realm. May those above judge me, and those below take me, if I fail in my duty. Long live the King! Long live the Riverlands!”

As the Legionaries swore their oaths, she could see the mixed looks in the faces of the nobility, with many of them clearly uncertain about the idea of a centralized royal army. Tough, Visenya thought simply with a snort. They would just have to deal with it.

The feudal lords themselves and all their retinues, knights, men-at-arms, and watches were classified as Auxiliaries. Unfortunately, with how new and unstable their reign was and how much in dire need of manpower they would need from calling the banners as the Conquest proceeded, they could not yet curtail the rights of the nobility to private armies though Aegon had already instituted the King’s Peace and forbidden private war under pain of dragonfire.

Perhaps one day, decades from now, once the Conquest was complete, scutage could be imposed upon the nobility to strengthen the Crown’s armies and navies at the expense of the nobility’s own, perhaps in a century or two they may no longer need to allow the nobility to have any armies of their own at all, but those were not the times that they lived in and they had to accept and understand that.

The Targaryens in that other world had made the mistake of not changing enough in Westeros but they could not go so far in their efforts to be unlike them that they changed too much too fast and overstretched and outpaced their ability to do so. Such hastiness would lead to ruination as surely as the complacency and laziness of their counterparts had.

As the ceremony concluded, Aegon called for the newly created anthem of their kingdom to be played and led the crowds in singing it. The trumpets sounded, and the lutes and other instruments began to play the opening of the song.

Truth and hope in our Motherland!

And death to every foe!

Our soldiers shall not pause to rest,

We vow our loyalty!

Old traditions they will abide,

Arise young heroes!

Our past inspires noble deeds,

All Hail Targaryen!

Immortal beacon shows the way,

Step forth and seek glory!

Hoist your swords high into the clouds!

Hail Targaryen!

Our King stands astride this world,

He’ll vanquish every foe!

His truth and justice shine so bright,

All hail his brilliant light!

Never will he be overthrown,

Like mountains and sea,

His bloodline immortal and pure,

All Hail Targaryen!

So let his wisdom guide our way,

Go forth and seek glory!

Hoist your swords high into the clouds!

Hail Targaryen!

___________________________________

Aegon

He sat at the high table seated in his temporary throne, a wondrous ebony chair that he would definitely put to use as his dining chair or council seat long after it was retired from its role as his throne. On the table was a delicious and fine feast, the spoils of his victory over the Hoares.

Harren might have been a cruel son of a bitch, but he had good taste in food, Aegon would give him that. And now everything that Harren had owned and taken for himself, Aegon had taken from him just as he had taken from others his whole life. The world had its ironies. Harren’s food, his kingdom, his castle, all of it was Aegon’s now, his to mold as he pleased.

His eyes flicked around the table and lingered on his close friends and allies, Orys, Aethan, Quenton, Josua, Uncle Daemon, and their good-uncle, Lord Crispian, among others. Eventually they came to rest on Visenya and Rhaenys to his right and left, both of them being aided by the maids as they entertained and tended to their three children, uncaring at all that they were being watched by thousands.

Aegon had been uncertain about his family’s private and intimate moments being put on full display before the eyes of the realm but his wives had disagreed. Visenya had rebuked the idea that she should have any shame or nervousness for doing as all mothers did even in the public’s eyes and Rhaenys had even said that they should ‘let the realm see that dragons can nurture as much as they can destroy.’

He took a sip of his wine to prevent his gaze from being noticed but it did not work. Visenya started smiling as she noticed his glance.

“Do you want to hold him?” she asked, referring to their infant son Aegor who was snoring away on her shoulder. The plates and bowls at Visenya’s place on the table were empty and neatly arranged with the utensils on top. His wife was nothing if not meticulous in all matters, even in dining, and ever since she had finished she had been holding Aegor.

“Not at the moment. I don’t want to disturb his nap,” Aegon replied gently as he caressed his son’s cheek briefly.

Visenya and him had named their second son ‘Aegor’ for a number of reasons. For one they had simply liked the name, and they had also had a great deal of respect and approval for the man who had borne it in that other world. Aegor Bittersteel had been a controversial man with many flaws and virtues alike but the one constant thing about him had been his undying loyalty and devotion to his elder brother Daemon Blackfyre, even to the extent of creating the finest army in the world and fighting for decades to put Daemon’s sons and grandsons on the throne long after Daemon himself had perished.

Something else that they hadn’t discussed but they both knew the other thought of was that the name, though very similar, was still different enough from Maegor for both of them to accept. Their alternate son was not one they wished to dwell on often, but Aegon knew that neither he nor Visenya would complain if their son grew up to be as strong and tall as his alternate brother with a similar name.

It was nice to imagine it sometimes. Their son Aegor with all the raw physical strength, talent, and sheer competence and capability of Maegor and Bittersteel but with none of their vices. If Aegor was even half as loyal to Aerion as Bittersteel had been to Blackfyre, and even a third as strong as Maegor, the future of their sons would be bright indeed with them by each other’s side.

But such dreams were premature when Aegor had not even reached his first nameday. It had been very disheartening when he had not recognized them when they had picked him, Aerion, and Valaena up from Dragonstone after the Riverlands were secure. Once they had regained his trust and perhaps stirred up his memories of them, whatever memories babies of that age could have at least, he had become even clingier to them than he had been before, and his elder siblings who had remembered and missed them had been even more so.

Whether they wanted to admit it or not, Visenya and Rhaenys had been much the same. The fact that they had opted to entertain themselves more with the children who had maids to care for them instead of with their most trusted friends and vassals at a feast such as this one said a lot. In truth Aegon felt similarly but with his wives taking a break for the night, he had to carry the role of the entertaining host near entirely on his own.

It made him wonder at times how all of them would handle longer campaigns and separations in the future. They had been lucky that the Riverlands had taken less than six months to fully secure and subdue but he knew that they would not be as fortunate when the time came to conquer the other kingdoms.

True the children would be older and more independent by then but they would still be young and no matter how old and big they got some part of him would always consider them his little boys and girl and he had a feeling Visenya and Rhaenys would agree. Not to mention the high probability that they would have children younger than Aerion, Aegor, and Valaena, and that would put them back to square one.

Campaigns could and probably would take them away from home for months, perhaps even years at a time, and every visit they made home to see their children and rest, they would bear the risk that their absence would prolong the war unnecessarily and cost the lives of thousands of men who could have been saved.

Yet at the same time, the longer they stayed away from home, the more their hearts would weary of the separation from their loved ones, the more of their children’s lives they would miss, and the more risk that they would grow up learning all the wrong things without their guidance and parenting and then ruin all the work they had done to create their inheritance.

That was the dilemma that Aegon found himself dwelling on. He had always known about it of course but it had only really hit him just how serious it really was when he had returned to Dragonstone after all those months away conquering and his children had grown so much in that time and struggled to remember him.

For a few brief moments it had made him hesitate and wonder if the long and laborious path he had set before himself was the correct one before he had quashed the idea. He knew all too well what the outcome of that line of thought was and he refused to leave a rebellious and half-conquered continent as his children’s inheritance. A defiant realm where danger lurked around every corner, one in which his children, and their children and all of his descendants would forever be at risk.

No, he had to stay the course. He’d sworn it to himself long ago. Do it properly or not at all, those were the choices he had given to himself and Aegon had chosen greatness, he had chosen the hard way, and he refused to let himself regret that choice.

Someone at the table made a joke then that had most of the table chuckling, even Visenya and Rhaenys, and Aegon joined in, not caring that he hadn’t even heard the joke due to being lost in his thoughts. All that mattered to him was that the people he loved found joy and laughter in it.

He let his worries fade away as he immersed himself back in the conversation and jested, laughed, and drank with his friends and family. It was a celebration after all! There was no room for foreboding thoughts. Not tonight. No tonight they would celebrate their great and swift victory over the Hoares and relish in the mutual glory and power which it had brought them.

Eventually the conversation turned to a topic that filled Aegon with a particular pride.

“I must say brother, I think you had us all surprised when you crowned Visenya and Rhaenys after your speech,” Orys said with a smile.

“Good. It means that my plan worked. Visenya and Rhaenys are precious to me above all things save perhaps our children, and queens as capable and lovely as they deserve every last honor I give them,” Aegon said proudly.

His sisters blushed ever so slightly at his words, the red faintly visible on their pale cheeks. They started preening as attention was drawn to the identical crowns upon their heads by the conversation. Valyrian steel circlets, just as his own crown was, though thinner and darker and made to fit beautifully on a woman’s head. Dainty and graceful some might even call them, and made from the finest materials.

The Valyrian steel for all three crowns had been melted down and reforged from rings, bracelets, and other jewelry that had been part of their collection on Dragonstone or had been taken from the spoils of Harrenhal and the tributes and bribes of the Free Cities.

The fire-rubies set within Visenya and Rhaenys’ circlets were of the highest quality and grade, heirlooms of their house that had been mined from the depths of each of the Fourteen Flames of Old Valyria. They seemed to almost glow, reflecting the red-gold light of the hearths as if they had captured it and trapped it within. The rubies in Aegon’s own crown were of a similar grade and quality but their color was deeper and darker, closer to that of blood than fire, and ever so slightly less brilliant and bright as a result though there was an equal appeal in the dark and lustrous gems that matched the crimson color of the dragon on his house’s banners.

“Well said Your Grace,” their good-uncle, Lord Crispian, interjected. “Their Graces the Queens are beyond compare amongst all women in their wisdom, grace, and beauty,” he flattered.

“You are too kind my lord,” Rhaenys thanked the Warden of Crackclaw Point and he bowed his head humbly.

“The crowns were the work of Master Mott yes?” his uncle Daemon asked.

“They were indeed,” Aegon replied.

Taro Mott was his newly appointed Royal Armorer and the man who had created all three crowns for him and his wives but he had been in his service for almost four years already. He was among many Essosi artisans and craftsmen that Aegon had brought to Dragonstone by various means before he had invaded the Riverlands. In Mott’s particular case, he had been sent to Aegon as part of the bribes Qohor had paid him to stay out of the Century of the Blood and he had never regretted that demand even once. The skills of a Qohorik master-smith who could reforge Valyrian steel were wondrous to behold and Mott had several sons and apprentices who had come as well as part of Aegon’s demands, ensuring that expertise would be available to his heirs for generations to come.

“Perhaps the only downside of becoming a lord is that I will no longer have such easy access to Master Mott’s fine work,” his old mentor Quenton Qoherys japed.

Aegon chuckled. “I’ll be sure to let him know he still has an eager customer in you whenever he isn’t busy with my own projects for him Quenton.”

Aegor started crying all of a sudden then as he roused and his crying started upsetting his older siblings as well. The maids hurriedly tended to Aerion and Valaena while Visenya got up from her seat and walked some distance away to calm down their son and figure out what he wanted.

“Apologies my lords,” Aegon said graciously to his guests but they waved him off.

“No apologies needed at all Your Grace. Many of us here are fathers as well. Babes will cry, tis simply the way things are,” Lord Crispian said. “I’d argue it’s actually a good sign that Prince Aegor is crying. It proves the young prince is strong and fit, and what a pair of lungs he has on him indeed!”

“Prince Aerion and Princess Valaena were the perfect little princelings today as well,” his aunt Cassandra, the wife of his uncle Daemon and sister to Lord Crispian, cooed.

“I look forward to seeing what the three of them can accomplish once they grow up,” Uncle Daemon interjected as Visenya returned and sat back in her seat with Aegor now calmed down and looking around eagerly.

There was a mischievous smirk on his brother’s face when he continued the conversation. “So… you have three already. When’s the next one?” Orys asked slyly.

Visenya and Rhaenys turned to him with raised eyebrows and teasing expressions on their faces, clearly expecting him to answer the question. Many of the others on the table looked amused at his predicament.

Aegon wisely escaped by simply saying, “We shall see,” and refusing to elaborate any further.

________________________________________

For a supposedly primitive society, Westeros had some novel technologies and innovations. The winches and pulleys that served as elevators in all but name were one of them, being used at the Wall, the Eyrie, the Hightower, Casterly Rock, and the towers of Harrenhal.

Of course Harrenhal was now Summerhall and the five great towers had accompanied the castle in its renaming. Harren had originally named the towers for various things, including of course one for himself. Those names had been forgotten in that other world after the burning though so Aegon had always remembered and referred to the towers of Harrenhal by the names that had been given to their melted ruins.

He had wondered for a long time what names would be appropriate for the towers once he took the fortress and eventually he had realized that if the castle was being renamed Summerhall, why not follow that theme and name the towers for the seasons? And so the Wailing Tower had become the Tower of Winter, the Tower of Dread had become the Tower of Spring, and the Tower of Ghosts had become the Tower of Autumn. Each of these three towers had already been completed and stood at tall and proud heights. Five hundred, four hundred and fifty, and four hundred feet respectively.

In that other world it was said that the shortest tower in Harrenhal was half as tall as the tallest tower in Winterfell, the one known as the Broken Tower by that time period. However, seeing as how neither of those towers had been destroyed in this timeline and according to his maesters the tallest tower in Winterfell in this world was four hundred feet high, Aegon presumed that either things were different in this world or the damage done to both towers in that alternate timeline had created the half as high height comparisons that had been written in that man’s books.

The remaining two towers were already the tallest in the castle, with the Kingspyre and Widow’s Tower having been designed for heights of six hundred and fifty and five hundred and fifty feet respectively, though both still had another thirty feet to go before they were completed. Aegon also intended to renovate and modify Harren’s original designs to build a reinforced flat roof with crenellated battlements at the top of each of the five towers to serve as a landing perch for their dragons; having to take either a very long staircase or a painfully slow (and mildly terrifying) winch elevator with an ignoble iron cage in the center of said staircase every time they wanted to ascend and descend was ridiculous.

He’d leave the climbing and winching to everyone else while he and his family flew to and from the tops of the towers thank you very much. Until his intended renovations for the tower roofs were completed and the main two towers completed in general, his family would be residing and conducting most of their business from the lower floors of the towers instead of the uppermost floors as the previous owner had intended.

In the not so distant future though, Aegon could easily imagine having his family’s apartments and solars where they were meant to be near the top of the main tower with barracks for Dragonguard and Dragonkeepers to protect and tend to them and their dragons. That vision was why the tower once known as the Kingspyre Tower in another world would be known simply as Dragonsreach in this one for the tower would reach high into the sky where dragons flew and roosted upon its roof.

There was so much that they could do with the towers. The descending levels beneath his family’s apartments in Dragonsreach could have barracks to house more soldiers, quarters for servants, the meeting rooms, solars, offices, and record halls for their Royal Council and all the ministries, institutions, bureaucrats, and civil service beneath them and this could extend over to the neighboring Tower of Summer (the Widow’s Tower that would never be) due to the connecting bridge.

Not to mention the cells beneath the Summer Tower would also be useful for keeping their prisoners and it could have more barracks to help keep an eye on them, the Tower of Winter was aptly named because it had the vast subterranean storage vaults and granaries beneath it, noble guests could be hosted in the Towers of Autumn and Spring, more soldiers housed, more offices and headquarters for institutions, and so and so forth. The list of possibilities was endless.

In all honesty the five towers and Summerhall as a whole were so huge Aegon was currently struggling to think up a use for every last inch of space but he was certain that as his kingdom, as his empire grew and his centralized government and all the armies, councils, institutions, and bureaucracy therein grew with it, they’d make sure all that space was put to good use. That space was one of the main reasons he had decided to take the castle intact in this world instead of destroying it after all.

When their party finally arrived from the Hall of a Hundred Hearths at the temporary apartments on the fifth floor of Dragonsreach that they had chosen to reside in for the time being, Aegon observed as the Dragonguard under Ser Gaemon’s command took up their posts around each room and in each corridor and hall to reinforce the existing perimeter of guards. While that was happening, the maids took their sleeping children away to the nursery and Aegon and his wives watched their children go with mixed feelings of both relief and sadness.

As involved as they were with their children’s care and upbringing, sometimes it really did become too taxing and tiring to care for them and that was when the perks of being lords and ladies, and now royals, really came in handy. Whenever that happened, they simply handed the children off to the sole care of their maids for a few hours while they took their rest or got whatever tasks they needed to complete done.

Once they had checked that their bath had been drawn and the water was hot, Aegon locked the door behind them and gave strict orders to the Dragonguard and his children’s maids that they were not to be disturbed unless there was anything urgent.

He undressed tiredly as he entered into the bathroom. The tub was on a raised stone platform with a wood fire stove below it that was heating the water almost to boiling. Far too hot for anyone else to tolerate but he and his sisters had always preferred it that way. Perhaps the fire in their blood made them find it soothing and enjoyable instead of painful.

Aegon stepped into the tub and sighed happily as the scalding hot water soaked into his aching muscles and warmed him to the bones. It had been a long day, a festive celebration but a tiring one nonetheless and it was always good to have a nice and long hot soak in the bath after a day like that. It was the main reason why he had chosen this particular set of apartments. It was the only one that had a bath as fine as this on the lower floors of Dragonsreach, easily heated and large enough to fit two or even three people easily even if it was not as large as the great baths in the bathouse near the godswood.

It wasn’t long before Visenya and Rhaenys came into the bathroom as well and Aegon could not stop himself from hardening at the breathtaking sight. His sisters were both tall for women, slender and shapely, lean but not too lean, with just enough flesh in all the right places.

The so called hourglass figure the lustful playwrights and bards so liked to speak of was represented perfectly in their bodies. Their long slender legs ran up to perfectly curved and round bottoms and wide hips before a narrow waist gave way to firm and full breasts with perfect pert pink nipples and then two beautiful and loving faces, the faces of the loves of his life.

They were the most beautiful women in the world, dragonlord scions of the last of the Forty Families. The blood of the dragon ran thick in them. Their skin was pale white and flawless, never tanning even slightly no matter how much sunlight they got (and they never got sunburned either). They seemed to almost glow with an ethereal and otherworldly beauty, their silver-gold hair and purple eyes appearing to shine slightly as they reflected the light of the fire.

There was a mischievous smirk on Rhaenys’ face and an amused glint in Visenya’s dark eyes as they noticed how captivated by them he was. Visenya was taller and more voluptuous than Rhaenys, with a harsher and more austere beauty, while Rhaenys was leaner, shorter, and slimmer, with less muscle and more of a dainty feminine grace. Aegon had always loved everything about them both just the same though and enjoyed the differences that enriched his life. And the two of them had never ceased to take pride in the fact they could leave him speechless even after years of marriage.

They both stepped into the bathtub and nestled themselves in place beside him. Rhaenys leaned her head on his left shoulder while Visenya pressed her cheek in close to his. He could feel her hot breath on his neck and mouth, it made the hairs on his body rise in trepid anticipation for what she would do next. There was a smirk on her lips as her hand snaked down his chest and then his stomach at an almost painfully slow and deliberate pace before sinking down into the water and reaching its destination.

He resisted the temptation to curse as Visenya’s firm hand started pumping his length slightly while she traced the lines of the muscles on his chest. “Hard already?”

The tiredness he had felt earlier seemed to have melted away entirely in the heat of the water and the delicate touch of his wives. “Of course I am when I have two beautiful women sharing a bath with me.”

“Flatterer,” Visenya retorted before she started pumping harder. “You have been one very naughty man today Aegon. Such endless compliments and praises, those exquisite crowns and that surprise coronation? And you had the gall to keep it all secret too! How romantic, you could make any woman go weak.”

“Including you?” he said with a smirk but Visenya pumped even harder in rebuke and he groaned at the feeling. He noticed that Visenya didn’t answer his question though and that told him all he needed to know.

He moved his hands under the water, running his way up and between Visenya’s legs to begin his retaliation. Teasingly he slipped two fingers into her folds and began massaging her insides while his thumb delicately pressed against her sensitive nub.

“Fuck,” Visenya cursed though she paid him back for it by intensifying her own efforts. Still Aegon knew his way around Visenya’s body well enough that he almost had her coming undone for him before Rhaenys interfered.

Stirring from where she had laid her head on his shoulder, his younger sister began kissing her way up his neck while her hand traced along his thighs and made him even more sensitive and receptive to Visenya’s merciless ministrations.

“Shall we punish this misbehaving husband of ours Visenya?” Rhaenys asked foxily and Aegon glared lightly at her. She smiled innocently in response. What a minx.

She crossed her legs beneath the water as her hand replaced Visenya’s on his manhood and then she started sucked and biting at her favorite spot on his neck. Aegon’s favorite as well, not that he would ever say that aloud. It didn’t need to be said.

With both her hands now freed Visenya placed them both on his cheeks before she captured his lips in a kiss, moaning into his mouth as he continued pleasuring her with his fingers, desperately trying to keep his focus as Rhaenys’ soft and delicate hand wrapped around his cock and pumped it faster and harder than Visenya’s had.

They continued like that for a while, kissing and sucking and touching each other until finally Visenya broke their kiss, breathing in sharply before she cried out loud in pleasure from her climax. Seeing Visenya come undone made Aegon want it too and he was almost about to reach the point of no return when Rhaenys froze her hand in place and held him almost painfully tight.

He was about to protest when he saw the look on her face. One he had seen before many times and it had never failed to fill him with lust. There was a hungry, almost starved look on Rhaenys’ face as she licked her lips. An insatiable appetite had arisen within her now and there was no stopping it. A primal instinct and need that had to be met.

“The only place you are spilling your seed is inside me brother,” she said, a husky hot tone to her voice as she let go of him and struggled to position his cock right in her wanton haste.

“Do you have any idea how impatient you made me giving all your attention to Visenya?” she demanded as she finally lodged him at her entrance.

The sister of theirs in question was watching them both with an amused look on her face as she caught her breath and recovered from her earlier climax.

“It’s my turn now,” Rhaenys said breathlessly before she lowered herself on him. She was so, so wet. Her own juices mixed with the water of the bath to make his entry smooth and she slid down easily until he was buried to the hilt within her. They both sighed in pleasure as their bodies joined and Aegon groaned as Rhaenys grinded and bounced on him.

Somehow she was hotter inside than the bath was. The fire of Old Valyria ran hot and passionate in her blood, but it hurt so good. The pain and the pleasure were one and the same. Her inner folds coiled and squeezed around him exquisitely, so tight and snug. He fit into her perfectly… but that was to be expected when she had been made for him and he for her. His sister, his love, his wife. Only a dragon could satisfy a dragon.

Feeling mischievous and deciding to put the normally submissive Rhaenys back in her place, Aegon held her firmly as she descended next, keeping her from moving at all as he wrapped his legs around hers and pressed her firmly down on top of him with his hands on her ass. Rhaenys moaned loudly at first from the sudden and hard descent but soon started whining as she realized she could not escape and the pleasure had subsided.

“Just answer my question and I’ll let you go,” Aegon told her with a smirk.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“If you could only choose to ride one dragon for the rest of your life, which would you rather have? Me… or Meraxes?” he teased her, knowing how much she loved riding them both even if the nature of those rides could not be more different.

“Fuck off, I’m not answering that question,” she told him with a pout.

“You kiss your daughter with that mouth?” Aegon asked her with mocking horror.

Rhaenys smirked. “No, I kiss my brother.”

Aegon could not help but smile at the clever response. “And if you don’t answer the question, a kiss might be all you’re going to get tonight.”

“As if you’re really going to stop,” Rhaenys dared. “You want to finish just as much as I do.”

“That’s true, but I do have another wife here which I’m sure will be more than eager to receive my affections if you prove too stubborn,” Aegon said cockily.

Rhaenys turned to Visenya who said nothing, only smiling at her predicament. She turned back to him and start beating her fists on his chest. “You two can be so mean.”

“But you love us anyway don’t you? What else are older siblings for but teasing their younger siblings to hell and back hmm? Now what’s it going to be Rhaenys?” he asked as he thrust upwards ever so slightly to give her a taste of the pleasure she craved.

Rhaenys broke. “It’s you! I choose you alright?”

“I’m honored. So does this mean that from now on whenever you say you’re going to ride your dragon, it’s only me you’re referring to and not Meraxes?” he could not resist teasing her further.

“Fuck you,” Rhaenys retorted.

“That’s the idea darling,” Aegon answered before he bucked his hips up into her and loosed his grip on her so she could start riding and grinding on him again.

Rhaenys was almost as aggressive as Visenya got whenever she was riled up now that he had unleashed her. She rode and grinded onto him hard, concentrating on working her inner muscles to tighten and squeeze and coil around him as much as she could. Eventually her movement started becoming more frantic and Aegon knew she was getting close. He was much the same though. The climax which had been put off first by Rhaenys’ denial and then the break he had forced them to take as he teased her now crept up on him with a fury.

His younger sister wasn’t done with him yet though. As she sensed them both approaching their finish she slowed down, moving only enough to stir them both up and keep them slowly rising to their climax as she looked at him with a sweet and mischievous smile that promised only revenge for his earlier teasing.

“You know the conversation at dinner had me realizing that my dear nephew Aegor doesn’t have a sister to marry. Why don’t we…correct that,” she whispered seductively into his ear and Aegon lost all control.

Rhaenys could no longer grind on him or move at all because Aegon grabbed onto her ass again and he did all the work for them both, raising her up and down effortlessly as he thrust into her over and over again, desperate to fill her with his seed and give her the child she so wanted.

His minx of a sister smirked at his loss of control before she lost control of her own thoughts and words under his onslaught. “Fuck! Fuck yes. Fuck me! Breed me!”

Aegon thrust and thrust until he came deep inside his sister-wife with a roar. Rhaenys cried out her own pleasure before she collapsed on him, her head on his shoulder and her breath warm on his back as she felt his hot seed spill deep inside her womb. If fortune smiled upon them, it would take root and in nine months’ time he and Rhaenys would have a second daughter. And if it didn’t, he’d fuck her again and again until it did.

When Rhaenys finally caught her breath and got off him, Visenya chided her. “You’re going to get the bath dirty,” she said but there was no heat in her rebuke. Her legs seemed to be shifting as she looked at Aegon and then at his seed leaking out from Rhaenys’s slit enthralled.

It seemed that Visenya had enjoyed watching them very possibly make her an aunt for the second time. Aegon would be a poor husband if he excluded her from the celebrations though. As he felt his lust growing and his cock hardening again after some rest, he suddenly moved forward and picked up Visenya, making her scream in surprise uncharacteristically as he carried her out of the bath and to the bed, with a winded and tired Rhaenys following behind them.

Aegon’s blood was hot as he slathered kisses all over Visenya’s body before moving down to her slit and kissing her there as well. As always, the taste was sweeter than any dessert and the girly squeals the normally composed and serious Visenya made as he brought her to climax with his tongue were like music to his ears.

Visenya was so drunk on pleasure that she did not protest even in the slightest when he moved her into position and took her still sensitive cunt from behind, rutting into her and spanking her firm bottom red as he paid her back for all the teasing she had done to him earlier.

He brought Visenya to climax again before he finally came inside her and when he recovered he took her and Rhaenys both once more. The two of them needed some correcting he thought to himself, so even as he tired he kept going, wanting to make them squeal and scream his name until they were utterly finished and could take no more.

These mischievous wives had had the audacity to ‘punish’ him for honoring and praising them and such ingratitude had to be dealt with a firm hand. But none of them really minded any of it did they? Neither him the ‘unjust’ punishment nor they the corrections for it. It was all just part of the push and pull in their relationship, dancing, teasing, and fighting as they mated just like their dragons did.

When they finally settled down to sleep hours later, both of them nestled into his arms and chest exhausted but satisfied and sore in all the right places. He placed a tender kiss on both of their foreheads before he finally let sleep claim him as well.

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Author’s Note: Thanks to Jordan Redstark for helping me make the maps and ​Ascalon451​​​ for the CoA for Houses  Baratheon  and  Scales based on CK2 AGOT mod. On the topic of the maps and CoAs, you can also see them separate from the chapter here and here!

Also thanks to Vector Maximus  for helping me come up with Orys’ oath of fealty with some added inspiration by Tolkien’s oaths of fealty in LOTR that we were discussing, and credit to Boromir’s speech, Skyrim, and Attack on Titan which were also referenced if any of you noticed. As was Code Geass from which the anthem is taken.

This is my first ever explicit scene so I hope that you all think it’s good! Curious to hear your thoughts on it. Thanks to Neyra for helping me out with it and going over it with me.

Hope you guys liked this chapter! If the size of Harrenhal boggles you, I’m right there with you though rewatching Hobbit has helped a lot with my SOD, 100% recommend, especially since I’m using Smaug from those movies and the Red Death from HTTYD as scaling and visual aids for Balerion whom I imagine has measurements similar to Smaug.

Lmk your thoughts, suggestions, and any questions in the comments below or over on Discord!