A/N:Si into Aegon Targaryen with the system known as Conqueror. If you're concerned this is going to be a Gary Sue… It's an SI into Aegon Targaryen. It's already a power wank… With that said, I still intend to touch on some very interesting and introspective topics. In other words, power and the system will definitely be prevalent, but not the only part of the story. I hope this introductory chapter will give you all a taste of the character interactions, development, and the story I intend to build.
P.S. I've actually planned this story too! 25 Chapters as of now, though that number will definitely grow. I gotta plan my stories more… This might be the easiest chapter I've ever written. Lets hope the next flows just as easily.
Dragonstone, 5 BC
Lord Aerion Targaryen
Bedridden and weak, the aged Lord of Dragonstone hands were wrinkled with age, and his hair no longer shined silver-gold, instead, grayed with age and stress. A wracking cough tore through his chest, and it felt like daggers were driven into him with each breath stolen.
His son, his pride and joy, grasped his weak hand, and the strength in Aegon's grip gave him a surety he once was incapable of imagining. With the little strength he had left, he looked up, and his son smiled softly. Aegon's hair was silvery, and his purple eyes were filled with concern. Most Valyrians had rather feminine faces, and his son was no exception.
"You are a great man, Aegon."
"Men who have great fathers themselves often are," Aegon replied, squeezing his hand.
Aerion squeezed back. "You were always a charming one."
Silence fell in the room, but it was comfortable. He was dying. He knew it. Aegon knew it. Visenya and Rhaenys too. Soon, his end would come. Aerion wanted to speak. To tell him how proud he was of Aegon. His charismatic boy with a heart of gold and a spine of steel. With a million dreams floating behind his dark eyes, like fish teeming beneath the surface of the Narrow Sea.
Instead, he said nothing. Words mattered little, and he was never good at using them.
"Do you remember the day I claimed Balerion, father?" Aegon questioned.
"How could I forget?"
"Sometimes, I feel death will be the same as that first flight. Freedom. Where the worldly concerns melt away, and you feel almost weightless. Worries are nothing but the wind blowing across your face, for what could rattle a dragon? A great hall filled with our ancestors and our dragons await us, and they greet us with smiles as we take to the skies…"
Aerion felt himself drifting softly, his son's words soothing his soul like a dip of water on an unbearably hot day. It would all be okay with Aegon at the helm and his sisters by his side. He knew it, but a father worried, until death came with a rattling sigh, and he was nothing but the wind.
Aerion Targaryen died smiling softly.
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Visenya Targaryen
Her valonqar stood in her fath—in his solar, leaning back in his seat with his legs on the table. The walls were dark and grim, and Aegon stood out like a beacon of light. He swirled his glass of wine before taking a long drink.
Their fathers death a sennight prior had shaken her and her siblings in different ways. Rhaenys, sweet Rhaenys cried and cried, Aegon turned to drink, and she worked while her heart broke. They were close to him in different ways… but she supposes she felt she was the closest in temperament, and they related easily on many topics.
"It does not feel real," Aegon whispered, slurring slightly.
"Drinking surely won't help," she chided without heat. What would help, she wondered? Would anything ease her pain?
"I know," he chuckled, humorless. "When the lords arrive to swear fealty, I'll stop."
Good, she thought. She couldn't do it alone. Be a pillar of strength. Perhaps once, when she was small and her mother died… But Aegon filled the cracks. He was always so mature. So wise beyond his years… She admired that.
"Good," she nodded.
"Thank you," he said sincerely, before clarifying. "I know it hasn't been easy on you either, and you are working through the pain."
"I am the Lady of Dragonstone. The keep does not function without me." She felt bitter even as she uttered the truth. She was a warrior. Not a fucking copper counter.
"Wife…" Aegon called out, slightly hesitant.
"Husband," she acknowledged.
"I think it's time I tell you of my dreams. What I envision for you, me, Rhaenys, and Orys."
Her interest peaked. She had always known he had great ambitions, but Aegon never once uttered them in front of father, nor her, for the truth was she could never lie if father caught wind and questioned her.
"Tell me."
The words that came were unbelievable in their simplicity, yet, the vision, the sheer ambitiousness stirred a heat inside her.
"We will conquer Westeros."
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Aegon fucked her, and he fucked her hard. The slapping of skin echoed in the chamber, and his thick shaft filled her in a way only comparable to Dark Sister in her hand. She… she knew she loved control, but there was something freeing about her face pushed down into the bed, arse in the air, her hair being pulled back, and just letting go.
He leaned forward, tongue tracing her ear. The words were dark, and her cunt grew wetter, "My Queen… Seven Kingdoms… Seven Kings… All of them will be beneath us. On their knees, or as ash."
"Yes," she whispered, throwing her hips back. He let go of her hair, traced her toned and scarred body with calloused hands. Across her breasts, down her back, before settling upon her hips. His thrusts turned frantic, and he buried himself as deep as he could go before spilling inside her. Her brother's seed warmed her, like the dark words and grand ambitions.
She imagined her stomach swelling with a son, and she saw him on a throne with Kingdoms beneath him.
Aegon pulled back, his seed-stained cock falling from inside her. Visenya missed the fullness, and she missed letting go.
He laid beside her, and she turned onto her back, a hand covering her cunt to keep the seed inside. She let herself be pulled onto his chest, her head above his beating heart.
They basked in the afterglow, silence a bearable sound.
She asked a question that had been plaguing her thoughts long before conquest was ever mentioned.
"What do you plan to do with Rhaenys?" Her little sister was… Visenya was jealous, all told.
"Ah," Aegon said, tensing slightly before forcibly relaxing.
"Tell me."
He hesitated once again, but spoke. "Taking her as my wife is the only option I can think of. I trust Orys, but handing dragons to his children and grandchildren is," he paused, "dangerous, to say the least."
He did not mention the Velaryons, but he did not have to. They were loyal, of course, but she knew the power one felt upon a dragon. She knew the ambitions they could bring.
"I agree," she said tightly, ignoring the jealousy brewing in her chest. Rhaenys was… everything Visenya was not. Beautiful. Talented in womanly ways. When she sang, it seemed even the birds stopped to listen. She was kind, and she was mischievous and playful in ways Visenya couldn't be even if she tried.
"I love you. You know that, right?" Aegon reassured, but compared to the doubts in her chest, the words felt hollow.
"As a brother does a sister? I know."
"For us, is there a difference?" He dryly said. "You are beautiful. A Valyrian Dragonlord… When you burn armies to ash and conquer kingdoms alone, I might spill my seed simply reading the parchment."
Despite herself, she felt a timid girl then, heat rushing to her cheeks. She huffed and turned away from him, laying her head upon his arm.
His arms encircled her like a dragon did its prey, and she let herself be pulled against his chest.
"I'm serious, you know. You are not the typical woman, Visenya, we both know that, but you wouldn't be you if you were, and I love every part of you." His hands traced her taut form, from her muscular legs, up her arms, and over the ridges of his scars.
His voice turned husky, "And when your stomach swells with our child," he cupped her belly, "even atop Balerion I couldn't find such a beautiful sight."
His shaft teased her lower lips, and together, they sighed and joined as one. Their lovemaking was gentle, in comparison to the rough fucking of before. He eased in and out, his fingers dancing upon her skin and the little button above her cunt that always had her melting.
In that moment, she felt beautiful, and she felt loved, and when he spilled inside her once again, she too hoped her stomach would swell, and this time, not even for a crown, but for a child that was just theirs.
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A/N: If you're interested in what Visenya looks like, just look up 'sexy Visenya Targaryen' and the first image is what I've based her on. If you prefer to imagine, you do you.
See y'all next time.