The birth of Prince Maegor, the king's second son, brought renewed vitality to the young dynasty.
The reaction from the court and the realm's lords was far more enthusiastic than Aegon had anticipated. Nobles came to King's Landing of their own accord to offer congratulations for the young prince's birth.
Standing atop the Dragonlord Gate of the Red Keep, Aegon looked down at the Kingsroad. Every day, noble carriages streamed into the city without pause.
Queen Visenya's influence in the court had grown to such an extent that even Aegon had to treat it with caution.
After a moment's thought, Aegon understood how she had built such a formidable network of power. It was due to his own indulgence and delegation of authority, along with Visenya's masterful political maneuvering. Back at Harrenhal, Visenya personally met and encouraged nearly every newly arrived noble heir.
Since Aegon had only visited the Knight's Wolf Tower once to offer guidance, and rarely gave hands-on instruction afterward, Queen Visenya had filled the void of mentor in his place.
Over the seven or eight years the royal court had been based in Harrenhal, Visenya had guided countless noble youths in martial training. It was no exaggeration to say she had "disciples across the realm."
The elder nobles respected her for her contributions to the realm, while the younger generation took great pride in having received her martial guidance. Many considered themselves her disciples, and some had even formed secret factions devoted to defending Queen Visenya.
During a recent succession dispute within the royal family, Sharra—the Master of Whisperers—was harshly reprimanded by Aegon for getting involved.
It was from Sharra that Aegon first learned of a militant faction: the Knights of the Holy Queen. Composed of noble youths who had graduated from Wolf Hall at Harrenhal, their mission was to uphold Queen Visenya's interests. Their influence within the Targaryen dynasty could not be underestimated.
Aegon rubbed his temples.
No wonder Rhaenys feared her sister. If he were in her position, he couldn't say with certainty that he'd come out ahead in a political contest with Visenya.
The problem was, Aegon himself was a hedonist. He spent his days tinkering with new inventions, or wrapped in the comforts of his lovers, and on occasion would even disguise himself to wander through the brothels of King's Landing in search of novelty.
If he were to remove Visenya from politics now, he couldn't name a single suitable replacement—either they lacked the ability, or he couldn't fully trust them.
"Your Grace, Queen Visenya wishes to host a birthday banquet for Prince Maegor and asks that you come discuss the details." A maid hurried over, bowing respectfully as she spoke.
Aegon exhaled softly and replied with a calm, "Very well. I'll head over now."
He turned and made his way toward Visenya's tower in the inner court, though his mind remained occupied with thoughts of royal authority and succession.
If I name Maegor as crown prince... would these problems resolve themselves? A powerful queen mother like Visenya might bring stability to the Targaryen dynasty. She could even assist Maegor in ruling, just as she was doing for me now.
But Maegor has one fatal flaw...
...
Aegon arrived at Visenya's tower by rail carriage. At the palace entrance, Visenya was pacing with the child in her arms, as if expecting him.
He stepped out and approached, taking baby Maegor from her.
The boy's face bore a strong resemblance to Aegon. His limbs were thick and powerful, flailing with energy as he let out a fierce, full-throated cry—a truly healthy child.
But what gave Aegon pause was one of Maegor's traits.
He reopened the interface, displaying the list of attributes the chip had detected:
[Maegor Targaryen
Attributes:
Politics: 23
Strategy: 1/47
Military Strategy: 0/93
Mental Strength: 1/34
Vitality: 5/99
Talents:
[C-Rank – Bloodthirsty Blessing: Fertility -50%, Offspring Vitality -50%. Your attacks inflict a bleeding effect. Upon stacking five layers, you enter a 10-second 'Blood Rage' state.
Blood Rage: +50% Vitality, Sanity reduced by 5–99% (depending on number of bleeding stacks). Attacks during Blood Rage apply five additional bleeding stacks.]
[E-Rank – Contempt: You are naturally domineering. Enemies you have defeated will suffer a fear-based mental debuff upon future encounters.]
[True Dragonblood – Dragonborn: Charisma +2.5, Fire resistance increased to 80%, Mental resistance -50%. 75% chance to tame a King-tier Dragon and become a Dragonrider.]]
Maegor was born with a C-rank talent—but this very trait was the source of Aegon's hesitation.
The drastically reduced fertility could jeopardize the completion of his main quest. Worse still, it was uncertain whether this condition would be passed down to future generations.
The more Aegon studied the so-called "blessing," the more it resembled a divine mark of some kind.
He remembered that Gaemon, too, had gained a [Red God's Blessing] before his death.
Was some god watching his bloodline? Had he, in the midst of conquest, unknowingly provoked a deity?
Aegon couldn't make sense of it.
Visenya wrapped her arms around Aegon's waist from behind and laughed.
"See? Didn't I say my son was exceptional? He's nothing like that frail Aenys. He's bound to become a great warrior one day!"
Aegon gently played with little Maegor, lowering his head slightly as he replied in a deep voice, "Maegor does have the physique of a warrior, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's fit to be king."
"Why not?" Visenya's expression stiffened. She quickly took the child from Aegon's arms, her tone filled with displeasure. "Why can't my son be king? And Aenys can? He can't even hold a standard longsword properly—how is that your idea of 'fit'?"
Aegon hesitated, briefly silent. After a pause, he said slowly, "I possess a certain ability—one that allows me to see a person's innate talents. And I discovered… Maegor has extremely low fertility."
After much consideration, Aegon had decided to tell her the truth.
Visenya froze mid-motion as she tried to soothe Maegor. She lowered her head, silent. A moment later, she answered with a calm but guarded tone, "What sort of bizarre ability is that? I don't believe you."
"Why would I lie to you? Do you not even trust my word?" Aegon, unable to explain the origin of the chip, could only respond with honesty and sincerity.
After a moment, Visenya quietly said, "My own fertility is quite low. Perhaps Maegor inherited it from me. But... I have a potion that can help improve his fertility."
Aegon's brows furrowed. "What kind of potion? Where did it come from?"
Visenya said nothing. Holding Maegor close, she turned to leave. Aegon quickly stepped forward and grabbed her arm.
"I sense the mark of a god on Maegor. Is it connected to this potion?"
Visenya kept her back to him, her voice soft. "I don't know what you're talking about. I got it from a witch while traveling through the Hills of High Heart. It has nothing to do with any gods."
Aegon stared at her back, his frown deepening. In his heart, he was certain—Visenya was hiding something.
Both sons had become sources of concern. Aenys had been prophesied in the Apocalypse to lead House Targaryen into decline, and Maegor now faced a serious flaw: near-total infertility.
Aegon realized he might need to act. If he did nothing, the Targaryen dynasty could die out by the second generation.
He slowly shook his head and let out a long, heavy breath.
He and Visenya agreed to hold Maegor's birthday banquet in three days. Then he left.
...
Visenya stood silently, watching Aegon walk away, her lips pressed tightly together.
She knew Aegon harbored deep resentment toward the gods. His desire to dismantle the Faith of the Seven had already made that clear—he wanted to erase divine authority entirely.
If he ever discovered that Maegor was connected to the Outer Gods, then Maegor would never have a chance at the throne.
Worse, Aegon might eventually turn on his own son, laying traps and obstacles out of fear. That would be terribly unfair to Maegor.
From the moment he was born, Maegor had stood out.
Visenya only wanted her son to have a fair chance—to compete openly with Aenys. Let the better one win. Even if Maegor lost the struggle for succession, Visenya could accept that.
...
Three days later.
Aegon, together with both queens and princes, hosted a banquet for the nobles at the tower of Visenya's palace.
Many close ministers arrived and smiled warmly at Aegon, bowing respectfully to the queens.
Aegon nodded in acknowledgment.
The palace tower was a grand complex where the tower housed royal sleeping quarters, and the palace in front was used for receptions and balls.
Since Queen Rhaenys's own tower was still under construction, she was temporarily residing here as well.
Inside the great hall, Aegon sat conversing happily with both queens. Laughter and joy filled the air, and to the assembled lords and ministers, the royal family appeared harmonious and strong.
One queen cradled Maegor, while the other held young Aenys by the hand. Standing on either side of Aegon, they made a picture of a warm and united royal household.
From time to time, ministers stepped forward to offer blessings to the royal family. Aegon and the queens responded with gentle smiles or nods.
These ministers were tactful, making their greetings brief and then stepping aside—aware that they shouldn't monopolize the king's time, especially with dozens more dignitaries waiting to be received.
After the pre-banquet greetings concluded, Aegon gathered all the vassals at the entrance to Visenya's palace.
"I am truly pleased by the blessings and gifts you've offered to my son Maegor," Aegon announced. "Now, I have a gift of my own to give him."
All eyes turned to the king, curious about what he had prepared for his son.
Aegon clapped his hands lightly. The attendants, following the signal, directed the red-robed City Watch to carry wooden crates into the square before the palace.
Box after box was brought in and opened—inside were rows upon rows of iron swords and steel spears.
Then, several Maesters unrolled a massive blueprint across the square, while red-cloaked guards began placing and stacking the weapons according to their instructions.
"Your Grace, are these weapons the ones you seized from enemy forces during the Conquest?" asked Hand of the King Torrhen, as though recalling something.
Aegon nodded slightly, gesturing toward the red-robed guards stacking weapons in the square and the wooden crates nearby. He spoke with pride.
"These five thousand long swords were all taken during the Great Conquest—either from the bodies of fallen enemies or surrendered by those who bent the knee.
Now, as my son Maegor celebrates his birthday, this is the gift I present to him.
Maegor was born strong, a natural warrior. A monument built from weapons suits him perfectly—hahaha."
Rhaenys tightened her grip on Aenys's hand, a bitter ache rising in her chest.
When Aenys was born, Aegon had given no such grand gift. In fact, he had declined the court's proposal to hold a celebration banquet altogether. It was simply too unfair.
Aegon... I will resent you for the rest of my life.
Sensing the faint tremble of his mother's hand, the perceptive Aenys understood her sorrow. Silently, he lifted her palm and pressed it gently to his small cheek.
The warmth of his skin softened Rhaenys's heart. She forced a small smile and gently stroked the back of Aenys's head.
Meanwhile, the structure taking shape in the square drew gasps from the Targaryen court.
A massive seat, nearly seven meters tall, emerged—covered in jagged blades, twisted steel, and sharp spikes that jutted from the backrest like the teeth of some monstrous beast.
Just then, a distant roar echoed from Rhaenys's Hill—Balerion answering his master's call.
The dragon nests there were still unfinished. Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes all remained in open-air lairs for now.
With the thunder of wings rumbling across the Red Keep, Balerion soared into the sky, gliding across the palace before landing steadily outside Visenya's tower. Thankfully, the grounds had been built wide enough to accommodate a King-tier Dragon's landing.
Balerion's massive head loomed over the iron monument.
Seeing this, Aegon stepped forward to the edge of the balcony, raised his arms high, then slowly lowered them—signaling Balerion to breathe fire.
To simply melt the throne would've been easy. But to partially fuse the swords into a solid seat—without destroying the structure—required precision, and a deep bond between dragon and rider.
Balerion raised his head, light gleaming from his throat. A torrent of black flame erupted, roaring across the square and engulfing the seat of blades.
Steel glowed red, then orange, then softened.
Aegon directed every motion with intense focus, and Balerion responded with meticulous care, adjusting the strength and aim of the fire.
As the Dragonfire burned on, the weapons melted into one another. What had once been a heap of swords and spears now began to take on the outline of a throne—grand, solemn, and full of menace.
The back of the throne curved upward like a coiled dragon. The spikes sharpened further under the heat, gleaming like icy fangs. The seat itself was broad and solid, with arms that curled like the talons of a beast.
The ministers stared in awe.
A throne of terrifying beauty, forged through fire and steel, was taking shape under the hands of Aegon and Balerion.
It stood silent in the square, like a monster born from flame—radiating sheer dominance.
When the forging was complete, Aegon gave a small nod. Balerion ceased his flame and stepped back, gazing silently at the throne he had helped create.
Aegon turned to face the gathered lords, his expression solemn.
"This Iron Throne is the symbol of the Targaryen dynasty's unity. It is the fruit of our ten years of conquest and sacrifice. May my son Maegor one day add even more swords to this throne!"
The crowd erupted in cheers—praising the Iron Throne and King Aegon's ambition.
Smiling, Aegon stepped down from the platform and approached the newly forged throne.
He considered sitting on it but, glancing at the jagged blades and lingering heat, quickly thought better of it. He had no intention of catching an infection.
"Never mind. Let this throne stand here quietly—to witness the glory of House Targaryen," Aegon laughed.
He led the nobles back into the palace.
Standing before the dais in the great hall, Aegon faced his loyal vassals.
"We forged the Targaryen dynasty with steel, fire, and fear—just like the Iron Throne outside.
But once that iron cools, it falls to us—the sword-bearers, those who hold power—to uphold justice across Westeros."
The hall erupted again. The lords shouted for King Aegon, for House Targaryen, and for young Prince Maegor.
Everyone could tell Aegon held special regard for Maegor. Most of the court already backed Visenya, so their joy was sincere.
Visenya, overwhelmed with happiness, rushed to embrace Aegon, kissing him repeatedly on the cheeks. Her joy was plain for all to see.
Behind them, Rhaenys stood with Aenys. Her fists clenched tightly as a heavy wave of sorrow washed over her.
She felt like an outsider—as if she were merely a spare queen in this kingdom.
To her, all eyes were fixed on Visenya and Maegor. She and Aenys were forgotten, standing in the shadows, with no place of their own.
Sensing her pain, Aenys reached up and gently tugged the hem of her dress, as if trying to offer comfort in his quiet way.
Just as the excitement in the hall peaked, Aegon slowly raised his left hand and pressed it downward.
Silence swept through the hall. All eyes turned to Aegon, awaiting his command.
Smiling, Aegon turned and walked to Rhaenys.
He acted as though he hadn't noticed her look of hurt and quiet bitterness. Instead, he bent down and picked up the slight, delicate Aenys, carrying him to the front of the dais.
There, standing tall with Aenys in his arms, Aegon faced the court.
His expression solemn, he declared, "On this momentous day, I have one more announcement—one that concerns the future of our realm.
The position of Targaryen heir shall be held by my firstborn son, Aenys. I ask that all of you give your utmost support in guiding and nurturing the crown prince!"
...
[Upto 20 chapters ahead for now]
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