=Aegon's 3rd Person POV=
Aegon sat in a dimly lit room, scribbling on his yellowed, and weathered journal in serene silence. Pausing his quill to contemplate, he looked to the darken oily wall of dragonstone that was built out of the famed blackstone of old Valyria, to the statues and figures of abominable creatures neither beast nor man, to the many tapestries dotting the wall of his chamber, tapestries of man mating with horned, and scaled beasts, he looked to the legacy of old Valyria, a legacy that was almost lost in time, and took it all in. Such dreadry sight would have made many a common man uncomfortable, mayhaps flee in fright but to him and those bearing the blood of dragonlords, it's the sight of home.
Home, an odd notion to Aegon, a man with a second set of memories of a distant world. A world where monstrous structures dot the skies, structures that would have made even ancient and formidable keeps like Casterly Rock look pale, and small in comparison. A world where even the most common of folks can live to the ripe old age of 70 namedays. And perhaps the most saddened of all, a world where dragons no longer rule the sky, replaced, and forgotten by formidable metal contraptions that defied the very law of nature.
It was hard for Aegon of course, the first few years after awakening these memories. To be told that he and his family is the last inheritor, the last vestige of a great empire, perhaps the greatest of them all, only to be shown how true greatness really looked. What could have been something to be proud of, something to boast about suddenly turned oh so ordinary, so insignificant, it made him seem small.
Ignorance might be bliss for some man, but not for our Aegon, because wallow did he not, in his insignificance. For Aegon was no ordinary man in his first life despite starting from nothing, why should he be one now? That he was born a lordling, a dragonlordling no less. From an orphan, a street rat, to a lawman, he worked his way into the House of Lords, and earned the title life peer, till his eventual death by those very same flying metal contraptions that he was so enamoured of. Further proof of course, that dragons are far superior for Balerion would have never gone down because of some Arrax damned birds, and why can't he be more now that he started with so much more.
No, Aegon refused to be just another forgotten Targaryen lord, ruling over an inconsequential amount of small folks, he wanted to leave his marks on the world. He wanted to matter. And to accomplish this, he knew he not only needed science, the study of the natural working of the world, for although it was science, that took humanity in his old world from the time of sticks and stones, to the age of technologies, those progress were all built on the shoulders of great men that spanned millennials. And what was Aegon but an ordinary mortal man. No he needed more, he needed what his ancestors used to bind themself to the greatest beasts ever lived, to forge the greatest civilization the world has ever seen, to harness the very flame of volcanoes to weave their craft, he needed magic.
Looking at the floating wisp of flame that is the sole source of light within his chamber, he smiled in satisfaction. Although faint, magic is everywhere if you know where to look. Or should he say, how to look. It was difficult at first, not only learning magic, but how to perceive magic. It took many hours of meditations, and countless old tomes, before he could even feel the faintest mote of magic. But eventually, he figured it out using a magical catalyst made of dragon blood, and heated using dragon flame for dragons are creatures of magic, they are fire made flesh. He was able to "jumpstart" his third eyes, his magical sense that way. It took him another year before he was able to control, and express his magic in the form of pyromancy, the form that is the easiest for those of Targaryen blood.
Magic, he finds is chaos incarnate. It's random, wild and difficult to control. No one alive knows its origin, where it's from, a question mayhaps even the vaunted bloodmages of old Valyria didn't have the answer to. But what he knows, magic, and its appearance in the physical world is few, elsewhere beside dragonstone, and within the dragons themselves, oh the dragons. If the mainland of Westeros is akin to a moonless night, and dragonstone, flickering flames in the encroaching darkness, then the dragons shine with magic like the very sun itself. They are like furnaces that output magic, and whenever he's near Balerion, his bonded, his pyromancy gets stronger, and other forms of magic that he struggled with gets easier to use.
He could have dived deeper of course, to disregard all safety, and precautions, and delve further into the art. But family held him back, for he and them knew that it was magic that caused the doom, and that some lines weren't meant to be crossed. Now he just gotta make sure to engrave that notion into his children less some foolish descendants of his took one step too many, and caused a second doom right here in Westeros.
Two gentle knocks rang against his oak wood door, breaking him out of his trance. Smiling softly, for he knew that knock before he yelled, neither too soft, nor too loud, while standing up. "Come in Senya."
Creaking noise was heard from the wooden door scraping against the black stone floor, as in stepped a stern faced woman with braided platinum gold hair, gemstone like violet orbs for eyes, and skin as white as milk.
"Working on magic without me again I see?" Visenya said, a little aggrieved at both the notion and her current conditions.
Her eyes soften as a faint smile donned her face after Aegon silently moved toward the woman, arm wrapped around hers in support. The small floating ball of flame followed him closely behind.
"You should have called the servants. It's not safe for you to move around the castle alone this late at night, especially not with our child in your belly." Said Aegon, his hand gently caressing the noticeable bulge on his wife's belly.
Visenya sneered. "I'm pregnant, not a cripple. Besides, the servants fret over the smallest of things. Did you know that I can't even enjoy a proper warm bath without healers, and your learned men, fussing over me."
Helping her settle down on the sofa in front of his desk, Aegon spoke with a stern face. "As they should, Senya, you are carrying our child, the potential heir to our future empire. I don't think my fragile heart will be able to take it if something were to happen to either of you. Besides, a warm bath for us is more like scalding hot for most of them."
Pouting at her husband, Visenya complained "I came here to vent my frustration to my husband, yet all I got are rebukes, and admonishment… It's like you don't even love me anymore, valzyyrys."
Smiling crookedly at his temperamental wife, Aegon marvelled at how much pregnancy hormones can really change a woman. The Visenya he knows would just bear all her burdens with a stern face, and stiff lips, not here dumping all her problems on him. Caressing her head gently, Aegon decided that maybe he does enjoy this side of his wife after all.
"I'm sorry Senya, that was thoughtless of me. But hey, how about I make this up to you by going flying tomorrow?"
And like wildefyre being dumped on a small flame, Visenya's face brightened up at the prospect. "Are you serious? You're not tricking me are you Aegon?"
"I'm hurt that you would think that little of me. Would I, a beacon of honesty, your ever faithful husband, lie to you?" Answered Aegon, waving his hand dramatically.
Rolling her eyes, Visenya tsked in disbelief. "How about that time you hid live lizards in those apples to convince us that the store room was haunted? Or how you made monster shaped shadow puppets to scare both me and Rhaenys into sleeping together with you? Or-"
Aegon interrupted, holding his hand up in mock surrender "Ok, ok, I get it. I may not be as honest as I claimed to be. But I would never lie to you about this, right?" taking a pause to get a silent nod from his Senya, Aegon lifted her chin up to face him, his thumb caressing her left cheek as he continued. "Just think about it Mandia, by tomorrow, we will be in the sky, on the back of either Vhagar or Balerion feeling the wind in our hair, hands touching those weirdly shaped clouds, with nothing holding us down. Just you, me and our baby in the sky."
Purring softly into Aegon gentle, but secured hand, Visenya opened her ruby lips, and whispered softly. "Hmm, that would be nice."
Silence reigned after that as Aegon snuggled into his wife, both enjoying each other's presence in the flickering light of the ethereal flame.
"Do you think it will be a boy?" Visenya said softly, after a while, breaking the serene silence.
Humming throatily in contemplation, Aegon smiled wistfully, and spoke. "It doesn't really matter to me what gender the baby is. I'll love it all the same." Pausing to move his mouth toward his wife's ear, he whispered lecherously. "Plus even if it's not a boy, we can always make more babies. Hell, we can start to practice making one right now."
Visenya blushed a deep shade of red, contrasted beautifully with her pale milky skin, as she nodded her silence assent, face dipped down in embarrassment.
Seeing this, Aegon smirked in triumph at his near total control over his wife, as his hand slowly moved down to her back. Untying her white nightgown, exposing her soft and perky flesh along with her red, and swollen nipples, he brushed his finger over Visenya's sensitive nipples rolling, and squeezing them gently along his callous fingers. Soft erotic moans came out in response to Aegon's action, as his foreplay continued until Visenya arches back in ecstasy, and two streams of white liquid rolled shot out of her titillating tits.
"Since when did my wife become such a slut? You're already this soaked just from me fondling your breasts." Said Aegon, licking his milk soaked finger, as he looked down at his wife's dripping smallclothes.
Eyes fluttering, and showing a vulnerable face, Visenya pouted and protested weakly. "It's your fault for making me like this. You better take responsibility for this."
Baring his teeth, and smiling ferally, Aegon hands moved swiftly toward his wife's small clothes, and forcibly ripped out the expensive, and intricately designed silk panties. Underneath the fabrics layed a shaved pink fold glistening in its own fluid.
"That's right!!! Out there, you can be the fearsome she-warrior dragoness all you want. But here, you are nothing but a whore, a slut whose job is to take my seed, and bear me sons and daughters." Growled Aegon, lust and sadistic thoughts made way to the front of his mind, clouding his desire, and giving him one single purpose, fucking his needy, and submissive pregnant wife. As if in response to Aegon's increasing excitement, the flaming wisp brighten in intensity, further absorbing in the ambience magic, and chaos
"Yes husband." Visenya whispered softly, which earned her a hard hair yank, and a snarl from Aegon.
"Wrong title WHORE, now say it again."
"Yes… master." Repeated a shamed but oddly excited Visenya, evident from the clear liquid gushing out of her pink fold.
Pulling down his pants, a large 7 inch cock flung out of his smallclothes, softly pressing against his wife's pussy. Fate, it seems, had blessed Aegon in not only his station at birth, but in other departments as well. Excitement colored Visenya, as she started grinding her womanhood against his length, eager to take him whole. But Aegon had another idea, he lifted his pregnant wife up, exposing her plumb white buttocks, and a puckered hole hiding within.
Visenya panicked as she noticed her husband's intention, but the protest fell weakly, and swiftly as she struggled to disappoint her love. Fortunately for the woman, destiny, it seems, had other ideas, as out of the corner of Aegon's eyes flickered a dragonglass candle in prismatic colors, signaling someone trying to establish a connection.
Sighing in disappointment at being blue balled by what could only be his hāedar Rhaenys, Aegon helped himself, and his wife readied up before reaching his hand toward the silver plate beneath the glasscandle in intense concentration.
As if being lifted by an invisible hand, the silver tray defied gravity, and levitated up, and toward Aegon's direction, before settling itself, and the glass candle above it, on the table in front of the duo. If one looked closely on the tray's surface, one could see strange etchings, and symbols in what resembled the first men rune that were carved on the bronze armor.
Snuggling further into Aegon's arm, his wife spoke with pride in her voice. "No matter how many times I see it, I still can't believe that you single handedly revived a dead magical language from those barbarians."
Smiling awkwardly, Aegon softly brushed Visenya's hair, as he gently reminded her. "You shouldn't call the first men barbarians, in fact, you shouldn't call any culture not of our own barbaric before getting to really know it first."
Brushing away Visenya's impending protest, Aegon willed the chaos within his body toward the candle, wrapping around it, before sending it inside the glasscandle itself, thereby establishing the connection.
A grey smoke-like substance rose out from the candles, forming a semi transparent disk with the picture of a scantily dressed Rhaenys in her slutty underwear. Said woman froze when the visage of her sister, Visenya appeared on her end of the candle.
Eyes narrowed at her younger sister's seduction attempt of her own husband, Visenya smiled sadistically then spoke. "Hello dear sister, it's a cold night isn't it?"
And like the northern wind blowing against her back, Rhaenys shivered a bit before she nodded her head timidly.
"Then please do tell, why is it that you're so underclothed? Are the Velaryon such bad hosts, that they are unable to provide you, a Targaryen lady, with proper clothings?…" Spewed his wife ruthlessly, as on and on she went, from scolding Rhaenys's slutty nature, which he find is ironic, to admonishing her for calling this late at night, disturbing his study time.
With his Senya almost reducing his little sister to tears, Aegon sneakily brushed his right hand gently around his wife's back, while waving his other hand placatingly toward the two. "Ok that's enough, you two. I'm sure Rhaenys is sorry for her seduction's attempt. Now if there's nothing else you want to talk about, how are you and mother Rhaenys? Have you both been well?"
Wiping away her tears, Rhaenys nodded. "I'm sorry Mandia, Lēkia, I knew Aegon was gonna stay up late in his study, and since you won't bed me until we're wed, I wanted to help you relax, and convince you to change your mind somehow…"
Softened at his sister's thoughtful gesture, Aegon gently reminded her. "It's not that I don't want to bed you Rhaenys. It's that you're still too young, and childbirth is dangerous for women like you. I just can't… I can't imagine the thought of losing either of you. Heck I'm slightly shaking out of fear for Senya now that we're talking about this."
Raising his slightly shaking left hand for both the women to see, Aegon confessed one of his greatest fears. Without modern medicine and equipment, there's not much for a man like him to do besides mandating handwashing, the use of boiled, warm water, and basic sanitary practices. And for Aegon, a man with an obsessive need for control, this thought frightened him to his core.
A warm hand draped itself over his, as Visenya brought her lip to his cheek. "Have some faith, husband, I'm a strong woman. I won't let something like childbirth take me."
"Sis's right, Aegon!!! We can't let you be a widower and let all those greedy whores of the realm take advantage of you!!!" Chimed in a now smiling Rhaenys. Brightening the mood significantly.
"Then I'm truly blessed by the 14 to have two strong women supporting me all the way." Said a resolved Aegon, promising himself to protect his two most precious treasures in this life.
Conversations flowed from there, as jokes and words are exchanged, as laughter and snorts rang out the room, and before long, flames were snuffed out, as Rhaenys went back to her bed, and Aegon and Visenya theirs.
Unbeknownst to all while Dragonstone, and the rest of Westeros was in slumber, an unnatural storm was happening, ripping, and clawing at the very fabric of reality, before tearing space itself asunder. Inside the tears of space, one can see spheres of planes colliding, while separating. One can see a kaleidoscope of colors winding, and unwinding in chaotic fashions, as the very rules of the physical world itself rendered mute, and meaningless. And just like that a bright flash flickered into being, before spreading out, and enveloping an enormous distance from Craw Isle, to Driftmark. In the far distance, from Pentos, to Volantis, to Yi Ti, the same bright flashes flickered into being, wrapping, and ripping boats, galleons, carracks, all bearing the same three banners, of the three last remaining true Valyrian noble houses, before depositing them all in a foreign land filled with magic, and chaos, monsters, and mysteries, politics, and intrigues, and witches, and witcher.
A/N: Hey, I'm a newbie author here, only got two 1 fic beside this one under my belt so far. This story is kind of inspired by the tartered dragon, plus with the new witcher game coming out, I kinda want to explore the idea of hat, and how far a bunch of dragonriding targaryens can do, and go in a much more powerful, magic heavy setting. Also there's a nsfw version of this fic on qq under the same name if anyone want to check that out. Anyway bye y'all.