The Connington Chronicles (AGoT)

Part One-One: Pauper to Lord.
Our story begins in the war of the Five Kings, one of the bloodiest civil wars in Westerosi history. In the small Lordship of Mirkwood, there ruled at one point an insignificant family. Shortly after the onset of the war, the ruling family was suddenly supplanted. A young 23-25 year old man had taken over the Lordship, a man called Robert Connington. This is his story (Law and Order intro).

I've spoken with my Maester, and he suggested to me that I write a chronicle of my actions. After all, no one else in known Westerosi history had risen so fast so quickly, except, perhaps, in the age of Aegon the Conqueror. I suppose I should start in the days before my ascension. I was the son of a small time Stormlander merchant, gone off to Qarth to trade. While there, my father had died, and I had inherited his meagre fortune. Over the course of two years, I had amassed a nice sum, enough to buy a ship for the trip back to Westeros and to have enough money to set myself up as a rich merchant. However, as fate would happen, my life changed the moment the Last Targaryen walked into Qarth with her small Dothraki entourage. During her stay, I ingratiated myself to her, and when she was set upon in Qarth, her entourage and two of her dragons slain, I offered her a safe way back to Westeros, a safe place to raise her final dragon, and the possibility to retake her kingdom. The payment was small: her hand in marriage. Seeing that if she stayed, her life would soon be forfeit, she accepted.

The trip back to Westeros took a few months, as the result of a number of storms along the way and the need to continuously feed Daenerys' dragon, Drogon. When we arrived at our destination, a small Lordship on the edge of the Stormlands, my old home, I maneuvered my way onto the Lordship. Once I had succeeded in the first step, I set my councilors to their tasks and sent for a new Maester. Over the course of the next three years, my Master of Laws was able to fabricate documents claiming that the Lordship of the Weeping Tower had belonged to my family a few generations back, and I was now claiming the land. I was in possession of a good sized castle, and could raise hundreds more troops than the Lord of the Weeping Tower. It was easily taken, but the lord I had to put in charge of my army was... less than ideal. However, the Lordship was easily taken, and half of the prisoners taken during the battle were co-opted into the new garrison.

Once I returned to Mirkwood, I found a pleasant surprise, one I had been waiting for for three years. While I had my dalliances, one of which had resulted in a son, I needed a trueborn son. And lo and behold, Daenerys Targaryen had birthed one. I named him Arstan, after a man in Qarth who had helped me prosper.


Over the next fifteen years, I slowly expanded my power base in the nearby Lordships. By the time I had attained the rank of High Lord, Joffrey Lannister, Tywin Lannister, Robb Stark, Balon Greyjoy, and Stannis Baratheon had all died. The North and Riverlands had been absorbed into the Iron Isles, and Shireen had ruled in the Stormlands before Robert Lannisters, the first of Joffrey's trueborn children by Sansa Stark, took away her Lord Paramountcy. In that time, I had become relatively prestigious, and the current King of the Iron Throne liked me well enough. In fifteen years, I had broken up with my sweetheart, gotten back together, and birthed two daughters, one by my mistress and one by my wife (The contraceptive event not only seems to not work, but seems to bug out the bastard mechanics).

That final year, I made my move for the High Lordship. I did not have quality generals, and my wife Daenerys had managed to tame Drogon. The conversation was... interesting.
"So you'll delay placing me on the throne for decades, have me birth your children, watch you dally with other women, and now you expect me to lead your armies?" Daenerys was amused. I could tell she wasn't angry, because she usually strokes the dagger she'd been training with when she gets angry. The past few months she'd been practicing combat and dragon flight, in order to better prepare for the war I was hoping would come soon.
"It's taken me a decade and a half to get to my current position. This last push will accelerate my-- our progress, and with my breadth of incompetent generals, I need you to lead. Besides, you and Drogon need some practice flying and fighting in actual combat. Things are progressing very well, and I can see us making the move for the throne in a decade, at most."
"Really? After fifteen years, with us still far from the throne, now you want to reveal our trump card? On some minor Lordling?"
"After I take the High Lordship, I'll be in a position of power. The current King is amenable to me, after my brief trip to King's Landing. I plan to have the Lord Paramountcy inside the year."
"The year? That's an optimistic guess. And if you don't have it?"
"Daenerys, please. I know what I'm doing. Just do as I ask, this once."

I made preparations for a trip to King's Landing. I knew that by the time I reached the capital, I would already be in the position to claim the title of High Lord. And indeed, I was. The day after I arrived in King's Landing, a raven had come, telling me the title of High Lord was vacant and ready for me to take. By the time I had gained an audience with young Robert, I was a proper High Lord. I presented my case, stated how I would be an excellent Lord Paramount, and that I would ensure that Shireen was not allowed to spread her false religion. Robert, the young fool, could not see what was happening. I left the Capital a Lord Paramount.


"You're back. How did the audience go? You haven't sent one raven these past few months. Arstan was starting to think you were dead." Daenerys seemed to ignore the fact that our son was right there.
"Oh I'm quite alive dear. And I have some very good news." I lay my letter of office in front of her. She picked it up, glanced at it, then began to read more carefully.
"Robert Connington, I accept your request and hearby name you Lord Paramount of the Stormlands." Daenerys put the note down. "So it worked. What now?" Arstan asked.
"Now, I send out my bastard children to secure alliances, and ingratiate myself to the remaining Lords Paramounts. Iron King Quellon would be very interested in getting back at the throne that blinded him, and Robert Arryn still hates the Lannisters for his previous defeat. Your own betrothal to the Tyrell's daughter should secure that alliance. In a few years, all will be ready."
---- End of Part One-One: From Pauper to Lord

I have all the other screenshots, I'll just upload them tomorrow and the day after. Feedback is appreciated.

I was going to get to that as just a handwave, but I'll answer it here since it's already brought up: The Aegon event occurred, everything seemed primed for a double Targaryen Invasion of Westeros. Then nothing happened. After the war which will be up in a half hour at most, I went and looked at Aegon. Turns out he died of Pneumonia with 2 kids, both dead. Seems Daenerys really is the Last Targaryen.

Part One-Two: From Lord to King, or the Dragon's War with the Lion.
I spent two years, waiting for my daughter to become a woman while silently plotting the death of the Iron King's rock wife. Things finally fell into place, near the end of the fourth month of the year 320. I had managed to convince Quellon to marry my young daughter Leona, not even 15 yet. This secured an alliance with the powerful Iron Isles that ruled the north of Westeros.


A few months later, I had prepared my allies, gathered my troops, and sent a strongly worded letter to the fifteen year old king, demanding his surrender and abdication to the rightful Queen of Westeros. He refused, as I expected and feared. I was hoping to have my plan succeed without a hitch, but it didn't. The Dragon's War with the Lion was started.


Many people joined my cause. The Blind Lady of Dorne, the Blind Iron King, the Lord of the Reach, the Lord of the Vale, and some minor High Lord. Supporting the king, were the Lannisters of Casterly Rock and the vile Shireen Baratheon, ruler of Storm's End.
The Crownlander Lannister host came straight for the lands I had chipped away at in Shipbreaker Bay. I was in luck, for thousands of disillusioned Crownlanders, Stormlanders, knights, and other folk had flocked to my banner. I had myself an extra 45000 men to add to my already formidable host of 18000. Alas, many of these disbanded or died of starvation before I could amass them in a proper army, and those thirty five thousand that had survived were beset by a better led and better armed Lannister Host at Adderhall. An offer of parley and surrender was sent by the Lord Paramount Raynard of the Westerlands, the man in charge of the army. I agreed to lay down my arms if he managed to beat me in combat. I was lucky, for Raynard was an adequate fighter at best. The problem was that so was I. We circled and fought and clashed swords for close to an hour, when finally I spotted my opportunity. In the heat of battle, Raynard had left his shield arm exposed. A quick thrust flowed into a chop, and Raynard's head was separated from its body. I had won.


Unfortunately, the Gilded Lion took his nephew's place, and he turned out to be a far more formidable opponent in strategy. Despite having the superior position, my nobles were still too independent and did not allow better generals to lead. They were, however, able to keep the fighting going for many dies by forcing the Lannister host to traverse unfamiliar and stormy territory. While we fought, I received two ravens. One had good tiding, and said that a large Reachman army was coming to support, with no Westerlands army pursuing them as a result of Raynard's death throwing the region into chaos. The other news was not so great. The man I had sent hundreds of pieces of gold to try and appease, the man I had married my baseborn daughter off to, had died. With the Iron King's death, I lost a valuable, if heretical, ally.


We were defeated, our army losing one out of every two men, leaving only 16000 still alive, with a measly 2500 mercenaries coming to reinforce, while all that we had managed to accomplish was to cut the Lannister force down by thirteen thousand men. The surviving thirty thousand turned north to deal with our allies from the Reach, who were suffering the same fates in the Stormlands as our enemies. I was able to regroup my forces, make my lords see the futility in their own pride, and was able to replace my generals with more competent men, or in this case, as it turned out, women. My wife, Daenerys Stormborn, commanded our left flank of 6000 from her mighty dragon. A mercenary captain commanded the center flank of another 6000, and our right flank was led by the brilliant Brienne of Tarth, who lead 6500 troops. With new, skilled (or in my wife's case, dragon-riding), commanders in charge, we turned north to try and save our Reachman allies. Alas, we arrived a few days too late, for the remainder of the Reachman army was fleeing, a mere 8000 of their previous 30000, but it was not in vain. The Lannister host had been left severely depleted and in great disarray. With our arrival, we slew many a Lannister bannerman, and left less than 1 man in four alive, while losing less than 1 in 6 on our side.


Months of traveling, chasing, and sieging followed. When we finally entered King's Landing by way of Daenerys growing impatient and releasing her dragon, we found the corpse of Robert Lannister. He had no children, and no living siblings. The throne passed to what appeared to be his nephew, but I never bothered checking. The war was almost won by then, all that was left was forcing the Lion's paw.


We took the Red Keep shortly after Robert's death, but the subjugation of King's Landing required a few more months.



In the closing stages of the war, when we closed in one of the few remaining Lannister holdings, I received a raven from Mistwood. My daughter Elenei, the only one of my children to inherit her mother's looks, her hair and her eye, had become a woman. Arstan had turned out differently. He had bright hair, certainly, but it was bright gold, and his eyes were not the violet of my wife and daughter. While certainly good news, I had more on my mind at the time, and did not see Elenei or acknowledge it until the war was won.


Finally, when we took the final Lannister holding, we captured the young new King, who had been crowned and given Widow's Wail shortly before falling into my hands. Eager take hold of Widow's Wail, I executed the young brat, but it was smuggled out to his Lannister cousins in Casterly Rock. When I inquired about who the crown had passed to, I was surprised. Somehow, the R'hollori bitch Shireen, who had refused my call to arms and had taken away a large portion of 8000 men that could've helped my armies, had been crowned Queen of all Westeros!


I had a great and uproarious laugh over this, but it mattered not. The war was won by then, a change in ruler would not change the outcome. Shireen ruled not a day before the crown was plucked from her head and placed on the head of my wife. Twenty five years after coming to Westeros, twenty five years of watching foul Lannisters run the throne into the ground, was ended. A Targaryen ruled the Kingdom again, but it was a Kingdom divided. Three Lord Paramountcies had been stolen away by Quellon, and while that land was unstable, no lords were willing to leave the Iron Isles. Regardless, Daenerys ruled at the age of 40.


---- End of Part One-Two: From Lord to King.
(You'll notice a war at the bottom left of the last screenshot, I'll get into that later.

This part was fraught with tension. I had started a faction hoping to get some people joining, as well as the free faction troops, but no such luck on the first. Having 45000 free men show up, however, was beyond my expectations. I was even happier when Raynard died and his realm thrown into chaos, as that meant it was 4 Kingdoms against One. Despite the King's host being numerous and well led, it did not win the war for the Lannisters. I was also a little perplexed as to the reason why Shireen didn't inherit Widow's Wail, but I'll force it into my family somehow. And while my family will soon hold the throne, I still need to reclaim the Iron Isles and hold the entirety of Westeros, bar the Wall and beyond it, for a hundred years. There is still plenty of time for new conflagrations to occur.

Unfortunately, since I don't have Drogon to command anymore, I need to wait for Arstan to inherit everything. Oh right...

Part One-Three: From King to Corpse
Immediately following my victory, I sent a strongly worded letter to Shireen Baratheon to surrender her lands. She refused, and I found myself with a tough fight on my hands. My bannermen had lost many men, while the vile Shireen had her full host of 8000 men. It took me a while to amass enough troops, but I was eventually able to begin the siege of Storm's End. While laying siege to Storm's End, one of my generals, my son, Arstan, came to me. He told me that my dear wife had offered him a position on the Kingsguard. I was alarmed at first, before he told me he had rejected. I don't know what Daenerys was thinking. Was she trying to disinherit her only son?


The siege of Storm's End took many months before we took it, and during that time I received a raven from King's Landing. I chuckled at the message, considering the contents. My wife, Daenerys, had given me the title of Warden of the NORTH? The only northern Lord Paramountcy still a part of the Iron Throne was the Vale! Still, despite the emptiness of the statement, it was a nice award.


In the years following the subduing and banishing of Shireen Baratheon, the realm was at peace. Well, the Stormlands and Crownlands were at peace. The Vale, Reach, Dorne, and Westerlands were war torn. Past the age of fifty, I kept ruling my realm. One night, a faceless man came to me. He offered me a name in exchange for my hand. I asked which hand, and he said it was my choice. Well, I had little use for my shield hand, and the reward was great. A person I could kill, be certain it was thought an accident, and could also be absolutely certain of their death? I accepted. On the way out, I told him the name. I had been discussing lineage with my wife, and she convinced me to try and keep up the Targaryen breeding policy, as long as there was one son and one daughter. The name I spoke was that of my son's wife. The day after I heard of her death, I married Arstan to Elenei. Even if Targaryen's will not rule the throne, the Kings and Queens will at least look the part. (Note: that is not what actually went down. I killed the wife normally, and used the name on the Iron Boy King. This just makes more narrative sense)



Near the end of the year 328, a Stormlander Lord that had tried to rise against me demanded a trial by combat. He demanded one of his kinsmen stand for him. I inquired, and it turns out that he was the most martially capable family member, which wasn't saying much. I agreed to the fight and said I would meet his champion in single combat. After all, I need no hand to hold my shield. I can just strap it to my arm.


Or, you know, it might not work out.


---End of Part One-Three: From King to Corpse and Part One

As I already mentioned there was one discrepancy with timing, but the way its set up makes more sense in my head. Also, I now know for sure that my son won't be pesky and run around being a needless tyrant when he takes over, since I'll be ruling as him! He already has one daughter from his first marriage though. I also assume that Arstan's military skills came from his time on the front line. An aggressive, inspiring leader that will eventually ride a dragon? Seems a perfect mix for a slaughtering machine.

Part Two-One: The Dragon burns the Direwolf and Kraken.
I am Arstan Connington. And I am ruling far sooner than I had expected. I had begged my father not to go and fight in his old, crippled body, but he wouldn't listen. I suppose it was his last wish, and I should honor it, but having all this responsibility thrust upon me suddenly is strange. I write now in my father's old diary, which is more akin to a mostly empty tome, where I have discovered many of his secrets. I learned of how he killed my wife, for which I am still in mourning. While I hate him for that, he is still my father. Elenei is pacing in the other room, fuming. She does not agree with my plans. But I have already spoken to Mother about it. As soon as she has produced a dragon egg, she will give it to me. She told me that birthing dragons is no simple thing, and unless you are immune to fire, which unfortunately neither I nor my sister inherited, extremely dangerous. However, Maester's know many things, and my maester has told me many interesting things. The importance of Summerhall, and the libraries of the Citadel. The fortress on Dragonstone, and the Dragon Pit of King's Landing. I will need to visit all these places and more to learn about how to birth, raise, and train my dragon. To that end I dispatched my Master-of-Laws to show how the Stormlands had ruled Oldtown for a period of time in the past. It was complete and utter horseshit, and everyone would know it for that, but I still need an excuse. To that end, I have also begun "questioning" the Lord of Summerhall. Soon, he will be quite amenable for me to stay a long period of time in his lands without his supervision. I did, however, receive some distressing news from the Night's Watch. It appears that the Wildlings have united, and one Vayon of First Hearth is the King Beyond the Wall.


Mother hosted a tournament soon after I had inherited, most likely to celebrate my inheritance. I missed the reason in the pages long invitation. I traveled to King's Landing, for I would need to study the Dragon Pit. Plus, showcasing my abilities in a controlled environment is somehow more respected than showing it on the battlefield, and I would never pass up the chance for more gold. I won the jousting tournament, and proved myself worthy of the name Connington and Targaryen.


I also gained a nice skill when some imbecile insulted me, and got heavily wounded in a duel against me. I realized I very much liked duels, and fought 5 and won 3 before I left the tournament. A year after I had inherited, my Master-of-Laws came up with good news. She had managed to fabricate a claim on Oldtown, and even better was the fact that it was not complete bollocks. The document was a long few hundred pages, but the basic gist of it is that I am descended from a bastard son of a previous ruler of Oldtown. The details didn't matter, for it gave me an opportunity to take Oldtown, and with the Reach in complete disarray, there was no one to stop me.


Unfortunately, upon hearing of my mercenary fleets the ruler of Oldtown promptly fled back under the skirts of the Tyrells, forcing me to attack them. Luckily, I was able to raise 8000 men and mercenaries, more than enough troops to take Oldtown, and called upon some of my Dornish allies. I was sure they would relish the thought of killing some Reachmen.


Moreover, I was able to hunt down and kill Shireen Baratheon. She had caused my family no small amount of heartache, but now she was dead. She does not even deserve a proper burial, the fire-worshiping whore.


The siege of Oldtown took months, and during the wait a large Reachman army came down to try and stop us. They failed, but my sickness helped none. Luckily I was able to recover shortly before taking Oldtown. An omen? Perhaps, but it matters not. The infuriating part is that we were not able to take the Citadel, but considering we have a stranglehold on them, they agree to allow me unrestricted access to their grounds. I send a few scribes in to collect all the books I need, and to bring them back to Storm's End when they're done. I retain personal command over Oldtown, for I trust no man or woman alive, save perhaps my mother, to hold it.


Upon returning to Storm's End, I found Elenei standing at the docks, smirking. She rarely smiled in my presence, for she had some mild hate for me, but that day it mattered not. A raven had arrived, saying that Mother had started to take back the stolen Kingdoms. She had subdued the Direwolf already, no doubt burning its armies to the ground. The Stark's were allowed to keep their lands, but that could not be allowed. They must be removed from power.


Two years later, Mother called all her major vassals to her realm. Which wasn't saying much, considering the Reach was still in the throes of civil war, the Stark Ruler was imprisoned, and Dorne, once again, was a battleground. The only two Lords Paramounts that arrived were I and Robert Arryn. Upon arrival in King's Landing, we were greeted by a curiosity. It appears that one of the children of Aegon Targaryen, Mother's nephew, actually lived. More over, he was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard! I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a cousin.


Mother was annoyed at the lack of attendance, so she called off the meeting, but not before telling me what she intended: To bring the Iron Islands back under her sway, and to punish the treacherous Greyjoys. Returning home, I decided to stage an event of my own. I spared no expense hosting an extravagant tourney in Storm's End. Invitations were sent to every corner of the realm, even the newly released Stark.


The tourney also had an ulterior motive. By conversing in secret with a few of Rickon Stark's court, I was able to finally get enough supporters to fabricate evidence of his treason. I spent many weeks working on convincing "proof", but when it was finally done, Mother ate it up completely. The Stark's fate was sealed.


After dealing with the Stark's, Mother got bored of waiting for stability in her realm and just decided to attack the Iron Isles, who were so badly fractured it was a wonder they still called themselves Kings and Queens. I loaded my personal guard onto my small personal fleet, rendezvoused with Mother's army and fleet, and went to besiege Pyke.


We did not bother with a siege. Trying to starve out an island ruled by excellent seamen was stupid. We assaulted immediately instead. Most of Pyke's garrison had been stripped away to fight in their civil war, so we took Pyke easily. I personally took the Queen, her husband, and her five children prisoner. Only the husband was able to bargain his way out of captivity, so Beony and her five children would have an extended stay in the dark, damp dungeons of Storm's End. Considering that's how they lived in Pyke, this should not be much different.


A year after the Greyjoy's subjugation, their second one in half a century, I received some joyous news. My wife, Elenei, was pregnant. This news alone was enough to drag me out of my depression, and I was besides myself with anticipation and glee. Seven months after Elenei showed signs, she went into labor (And yes, it IS seven months for CKII. The event comes up two months into the pregnancy) and took over two days to birth the child. Once I saw, I understood. The child was huge, no doubt destined to grow up to be a giant amongst men. Even better, he was a son. He was everything I could've hoped for him to be. I named him Aegon, in honor of my ancient ancestor (Also, since the Targaryen coinflip only works for Targaryens and likely Blackfyre's, I'll be doing it manually with a coin first to figure out good/bad and a dice second to figure out good/better. If they're born with negative traits in the form of slow/imbecile/inbred, and get a good trait on the coinflip, I will remove the bad trait. If they go insane, well, they'll be even less desireable)


Two years later, Elenei went into labour again, and this time twins were the result. The firstborn amongst them, Elenei, had hair and eyes like her mother and grandmother. The secondborn, Rhaegar, looked more like me and Father. Continuing on in the Targaryen tradition, young Elenei was instantly betrothed to young Aegon. While Rhaegar had not been born with any visible traits, I was confident he would grow up to be smart and strong.


Finally, almost a year to the day after the birth of my twins, I received momentous news. Drogon had lain an egg. How a single dragon lay an egg, I know not. In fact, Mother was quite elusive about where it came from, so it might have come from the same place my Mother's dragon came from. In any case, the thing I had been waiting for for over fourteen years had finally occurred. I was the proud owner of one dragon egg.


End of Part Two-One: The Dragon Burns the Direwolf and Kraken.

Well, I was making plans to retake Westeros, and here Daenerys goes and conquers most of it anyway. Unfortunately, by now the Trident has absorbed the Rock, which leaves two Kingdoms in the land. One, however, is much stronger than the other. That, and I start preparing to hatch my dragon (not really, but cliffhangers are important, ya know?). Will I succeed? Will I die a fiery death and burn Storm's End to the ground with me? Find out tomorrow, when a bunch of crazy and funny shit happens. Also, turns out Mirkwood is NOT the actual name of my beginning location. But I'm still going to change it once I become King, because changing history is a lot more fun than making corrections.

Part Two-Two: None shall bar our Path.
It took me over half a year to prepare all the necessary ingredients, perfect all the rituals, and prepare all the safeguards to birth the dragon. I spent months interviewing Mother, how she birthed her Dragons, specifically what she did. She told me that she had sacrificed a blood witch to the flames. I did not know all of the minute details to the process, and anything that seemed to have a correlation was to be seized and exploited. I was only able to get a blood witch by hiring some Ironborn reavers to bring one back to me. In the meantime, I spent months in the Citadel, looking for any books that would help me. I finally found 'Blood and Fire', but it was quite vague, and the only useful information I was able to get out of it is how to properly safeguard the birthing chamber to ensure no outside influence interferes.


I took the book with me to Summerhall, where Targaryen Kings past tried to bring back the dragons. They failed, obviously, but you can find results even in failure. The altar used for the ritual was barely intact, but the makeup and shape of it was still somewhat legible. I made notes to avoid specific configurations and mineral make ups, in order to ensure a higher chance of success. I left my Maester in Summerhall to eke out whatever he could from the ruins. I had already moved on to studying the eggs themselves.


I was making plans to travel to King's Landing to further interview Mother, when I received word she was a few days out from Storm's End. I quickly prepared an entry feast, and after a night of revelry, I got down to studying the eggs. Two weeks of intense inspection, questioning, and various experiments followed. In the end, I learned a few valuable things. Dragon eggs should be handled with care, for they could emit heat at any moment and cause someone carrying them to drop. They could withstand intense heat, but that alone would not be enough to provoke a reaction. Daenerys speculated that the mixing of the blood witch's vigor with the flames changed the fire into something that caused a reaction with the dragon's magic, allowing them to awaken. In addition, I would have to perform the ritual myself. I could have onlookers, but if others performed it, the dragon might not bond with me properly and a truly wild, untameable dragon might result. (Note: unless it's actually specified in the books, don't take anything I say here seriously. Since this has only been done once, offscreen and by a fire-immune person, its open to interpretation)


I spent a month constructing the proper chamber. I built it far below Storm's End, so that in the event I failed, the damage would be minimal. Besides the blood witch, the Ironborn had also brought back a few slaves. I put them to work building the chamber, altar, ritualistic wall carvings, and other things. In the end, I fed them and the bloodwitch to the pyre that was enveloping my egg.


Two days of grueling chanting, fire walking, and blood sacrifices followed. Throughout it all, the fire never needed sustenance, even past the point where I was sure there was nothing that the fire could burn. I took that as a good sign, and that things were progressing well. In the end, with everything looking perfect but with no visible result, I decided to take a great risk, but considering what I had done so far, it was minor. I doused myself in water to try and keep the fire from my body, and walked into the flame. The flames licked at my body, and I could feel my skin starting to heat up unbearably. Still, I picked up the strangely cool egg. I pulled out an obsidian knife, the only metal that had so far managed not to melt in this flame, and slit my hand. My blood spread over the egg, the fire, the altar, and my own body. The egg trembled. It split open. Then everything went dark. At first I assumed I had failed, that I had died and gone on, but I could still feel the aches, pains, and burns of my body. Then I realized something else. My hands felt something scaly, and my ears heard the distinct shriek of.. something. By the time I had stumbled back to the door, dragon in hand, I realized what must have happened. The birth of the dragon must've swallowed all the flame in the chamber. Indeed, as I stepped into the light of the thin stairway leading to the ritual chamber, and into my mother's armed, I beheld a small dragon of an incredibly bright, vibrant, red hue. I probably looked like I had been burned, cut, and otherwise debased, but at that point thought ceased. I was breathless as I stared at the dragon. No, my dragon. It took me a few days to come up with a name for it, but I finally did. The dragons were the embodiment of ancient Valyria, and once more were the dragons living. As a result, my young dragon was named Valyr. By the dragon's had come Valyria's greatness, and by Valyr's greatness shall the name Connington be known forever.


Months later, my daughter Melessa was born. She was my third daughter, and the second one by my sister-wife. She was smaller than my other children, and cried a lot more than the others, looked like a horse, with a large hair lip, but she was still my child. (Doing my manual Targaryen coinflip, she got quick, so I'll remove the inbred, but she'll be an ugly hairlipped weakling who's intelligent instead of inbred)


A year after Valyr's birth, he had grown up into a goodly sized dragon. Nowhere near the size of Drogon, who had had over forty five years to grow, but I was still surprised by Valyr's growth. He could not carry me yet, and was still learning to fly, but he was still as large as a small hovel, just over a year after his birth. If he kept growing at this rate, I'd run out of cattle to feed him. I let him roam free for now, as I did not yet have any of the things necessary to contain or tame Valyr, the foremost of which was a Dragon Pit. I spent the next few years stockpiling enough gold to ensure a construction of a Dragon Pit just like the one in King's Landing.


During the wait, Elenei, who had started to grow closer to me, complained to me that I was not spending enough time with her. I took her off for a romantic week at our inland manor, far from the storms of Shipbreaker's Bay, but that just seemed to make it worse. It eventually became clear that she had taken on a lover, and the discovery of who it was shook me. It was the same Maester that had served my family for the large part of the last fifty years, who had assisted me so greatly in birthing my dragon. The knowledge that Maester Igon was Elenei's lover was more shocking than the discovery of a lover. As much as it saddened me, I could not bear this affront to my honor. Elenei would get off scot free, because I could not do anything to her, but my Maester I could kill. It took me half a year to set up the circumstances for his death, but the fool I had hired to do the job broke under Septry torture. I was able to explain away the reasoning by claiming that he had tried to steal my dragon, but Elenei knew. The Archmaester too probably.


A month later the Rock rose up in revolt against the Tully's. I had originally assumed that the Lannister's had orchestrated it, but that was not the case. It seemed that the victor of the large civil war had not been a Lannister, but a Frey! Of course, it is entirely possible that a Frey was just appointed ruler of those lands, but that would not explain their holding of Casterly Rock. The Lannister's would've held onto that to their dying breath. The fact that they had not suggested that they had been forcibly removed from power by the Frey's.


A year and a half after Valyr had grown, the Dragon Pit was finished. By that time, Valyr had grown to the size of a small manor, but I had already compensated for that. The Dragon pit was the equivalent of a half of the fortress of Storm's End being buried into the ground. As Valyr grew, the Dragon Pit would be extended upwards until it was no longer practical. If dragon's stopped their growth if they were penned in, I would ensure that as much space as was practical was given to Valyr. It would not do to have them end up like the dog-like final dragons of the previous Targaryens.


The day after the construction of the Dragon Pit, a large amount of cattle was gathered in it. Once Valyr was inside, the great gates at the top were sealed, and I stayed inside to try and tame him.


After eating his fill of cattle, Valyr came to stare at me. I had fought alongside dragons during the war of the Dragon and Lion, and had even seen it burn castles to the ground, but I had never looked into the maw of a dragon before. My knees shook with fear, but I had to tame that fear. I had spoken with tamers of bears, wolves, and other, more exotic animals. They all agreed on one thing: show yourself to be superior, and animals would relent. How one went about proving himself to be superior to a dragon, none of them had any idea. Still, showing fear would be a clear mistake. I walked forward calmly, appearing almost bored. Valyr was curious, wondering what I was doing. When I tried to set a large saddle on him, he became a little prickly, and fire came out of his nostrils. I scolded him and flicked the whip I had brought with me. Valyr looked more amused than frightened, but he quieted down, which worked. It took me a while to saddle him, but I was finally able to do so. I remember Mother saying how you had to flick your whip in the direction you wanted the dragon to go, because the dragon's first instinct was to fight back instead of flee. I called out to raise the ceiling gates, and flicked my whip at Valyr's head. With a great roar, Valyr flapped his wings. After a few flaps, Valyr broke the surface of his home. I flew him in a circle around Storm's End, and the end of Shipbreaker Bay. However, Valyr was unaccustomed to having a human ride him, and landed soon after he took off. Regardless, I had been successful. I had birthed, raised, and tamed a dragon.


I had done something that had been accomplished only one other time in over a century. I had committed what was formerly folly, had risked many things, but it had payed off. I was the second Dragon rider in the land, and most likely not the last. My father had spent decades trying to come up with a saying, discarding one after other, none of them fitting our family. But I had finally found one, in my dragon. My family would rule these lands, even if I must burn them down, for 'None shall bar our Path.

-----End of Part Two-Two: None Shall bar our Path.
Well that was certainly interesting. I'm still not entirely certain about the calculations behind birthing a dragon, but I was very lucky. I had a 25% to 50% chance of dying horribly and killing a portion of my family. Still, I succeeded. Taming a dragon is a lot easier than birthing one, but when you can go balls deep in an AAR, do it. Seeing the Frey's fight the Tully's from Casterly Rock induced around half a minute of laughter from me. It was so random, so unexpected, it caught me off by surprise. The even more surprising thing is that what probably happened is that the Frey son of a Lannister woman had a claim that was pressed or inherited. Still, it looks like I'm going to be doing some conquering soon. Once I take over the Iron Throne, chances are that the game will change into a more intrigue based AAR before I recreate the Dance of Dragons. Hell, I might just have multiple Dances of Dragons just because.

Part Two-Three: The New King
I practice flying Valyr for a week. I want to be absolutely certain that I can fly my dragon safely and not die in the middle of some complicated aerial maneuver. Once I had practiced, alone and with my army, I decided to finally listen to my daughter Leona and assault the Reach. They had far more troops than me, and my only saving grace would be my dragon. I would have to avoid any large confrontations where my dragon was not available, and probably spend many sleepless nights doing reconnaissance and moving between my armies. Still, undisputed mastery of the sky would go a long way in this war.


It took me two months to rally my forces, but they still need to move towards my border with the Reach. Oldtown is besieged, but for the moment I could not care. I have already sent a force of 5000 men to besiege the Arbor, for that is the place the current Lord Paramount rules out of. Slowly, but surely, the Reachman's armies are mustering. While reorganizing my army a few days ride out of Storm's End, I receive more news of Elenei's fertility. She has once more born twins, again a boy and a girl. The boy is named Barristan, and the girl Tyana.


Battle was first met near the end of the year. My vanguard of 16000 engaged a Reachman army of 14500. My troops slew two men for every one that fell, but that might not be enough if I cannot reach the front soon. Close to 45000 troops close in, and my only hope for survival is Valyr.


Valyr's first test in actual combat comes almost two months later. An army of 27000 Reachmen, one of the large armies that had engaged us along with survivors of the previous fight, engaged an army of 12000 men that were resting at Fairhunt. They likely hoped to slaughter my vanguard before my dragon could save them. They did not know I was a few days out. I sent an order ahead to delay the enemy and wait for my arrival. Though I lost a few thousand men, the battle was decided once Valyr took to the skies. Though I did not allow him to burn the entire army, for I did not wish to scorch my own lands, the results were telling regardless. Less than 2800 of my men had died, while over 11000 Reachmen had fallen. I sent a force of 11000 troops to chase after and harry the survivors of the fight, badly led and demoralized as they were, while I continued onwards to engage the other army and attempt to regain stolen Summerhall.


I fought their army of 23000, and despite being outnumbered by over 8000 troops, I thought that Valyr's presence would easily ensure our victory. While it certainly did, my refusal to allow my dragon free rein cost us over 6000 lives, with only 9000 enemies killed. My pursuing force up north was being pounded by fresh reinforcements, and now I needed to follow up my victory and rout the survivors. I was being too long-sighted, and it was hurting me. It did not matter if some outward Stormland territories burned for a few years if I could not win this war and prevent the deaths of tens of thousands more.


As I chased the army fleeing from my dragon, a Red Priestess of R'hollor showed up in my tent one night. She tries to convince me to stray from the Seven, but I know how that ends. Stannis strayed from the Seven and he died. Shireen also strayed from the Seven and is now dead, her children most likely in whorehouses. Still, the Priestess might prove useful at a later point. I send her off to Storm's End. If she manages to survive Elenei, she might be of use.


Word soon reaches me of my defeat at Dalston. I am forced to stop my pursuit of the Reachman army to the south, for I need to regroup with the survivors and form an army that might be strong enough to hold down the Reachmen while I burn them.


My army would not be able to reach the survivors in time, so I enact a risky maneuver. I fly ahead of my army to try and organize the less than five thousand survivors, and ensure their survival. I leave my Master-at-Arms in charge, with instructions to march north and rendezvous. Unfortunately, shortly after I leave, I see the Reachman army I had to leave behind engaging my troops. I had to make a choice between my larger army and my smaller army, and I was certain my army of 7500 men could hold and delay long enough for me to return with my 4500. I reach the northern army just in time. They were lining up for battle when I land, tired and hungry. I quickly organize my army into a defensive state, and fly up on Valyr to inflict righteous death and destruction upon them. For the first time, I allow Valyr to do as he pleases. The result is sickening. Less than five hundred of my troops died in their holding action, while the entire enemy army of 12000 men is but a pile of ashes. A few lords escaped, but I was able to capture one that sat in the middle of the pile of ashes, crying, most likely at the slaughter around him.


Unfortunately, my troops at Summerset were not able to hold out long enough to wait for my arrival back. 5000 men had died, and the survivors were fleeing back to me. I was determined to rally with them and hopefully with the 2600 Sellswords and Dornish Spearmen coming from Storm's End.


Once I rallied my troops, I pushed back against the Reach. When I engaged the 12000 survivors of the rout down at Summersept, the result was a slaughter. I lost 24 men, mostly to arrows that tried to fell Valyr but missed. Of the 12000 troops facing me, only 300 survived to flee.


Following on back to Summerhall, I engaged and crushed another large army of Reachmen. After that, they could not put up much of a fight. I marched down to Oldtown and liberated it, before forcing the Lord Paramount's hand and allowing Leona Connington to assume the mantle of Lady Paramount of the Reach. As it turns out, the Lord Paramountcy had been contested from within as much as without, and a large force, over twenty thousand men, had started a siege of the Shield Islands. I moved troops to assist my daughter in crushing one of the would-be Usurper's large armies, when devastating news arrived. My mother, Daenerys Stormborn, Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, and many more titles beside, had died. I was now the new King of Westeros. Arstan Connington, first of his name.


-----End of Part Two-Three: The New King.
There's really not much to say in this part, is there? Lots of slaughter, burning, and death. That and it's late where I am, so I can't write much more.

Part Two-Four: The Re-Unification of Westeros.
Upon coming to the throne, I found a large amount of administrative duties that needed to be dealt with. The letter on top of the pile of paper indicated that my daughter had wasted no time in asking me to force her rightful vassal to stand down. Considering I just fought a bloody war to place her on that seat, I sent her rebellious vassal a message that if he does not desist right now he will be branded a traitor to the realm and dealt with accordingly. He wisely accepted my offer. I then went about changing the national legislature of Westeros. I debated increasing my authority over the various lords of the realm, but being fresh on the throne, that would probably be akin to a death sentence. Even I could not stand the entire realm rising up in rebellion against me. I did, however, decide to decrease my authority over the North, to weaken whatever lord I eventually appoint Lord Paramount, decided to start taxing the nobles a small amount, and tried to increase my authority in the lands of my birth.



All the while, I had been preparing my coronation. Lavish sums, saved up by my mother, went into preparing the feast, prettying up the Red Keep, and the area around the Red Keep. A large number of belligerent lords decided to not come to my coronation, but in the grand scheme of things, they were insignificant. The coronation itself took almost a full day, and by the end of it I was bone tired. I sent away most of the sycophants, asked only the small Council to follow me, and went to make plans.


Drogon was loose over the city, and my mother had failed to subdue the Tullys and the Freys before her untimely death. While that could be chalked up to her advanced age, Drogon was still an issue. Well, Drogon and Elenei. Elenei had finally found out about my mistress and demanded I break off my relationship with her. Though my relationship with Elenei was... frosty, to say the least, my mistress had proven quite infertile. It was no issue cutting off the relationship, especially when I was able to force Elenei to show off her natural gifts at the party I was staging for the Lords of the Stormlands. I wanted them nice, drunk, and in the mood for a fuck. Then they would not care what document was set in front of them. It paid off, and they willingly signed away some of their autonomy. By the time they awoke from their drunken stupors in the arms of multiple whores, it was far too late.


After that feast, Drogon finally started showing himself again. He singed some livestock on the edges of the city jurisdiction, which prompted complaints from the farmers, which finally worked their way up to me. As much as I wanted to deal with Drogon, I was loath to try again. I had tried multiple times to get to Drogon, but every time he saw me he flew away. I do not think he was scared, considering he is at least three times the size of Valyr. Still, I had put up a reward for anyone who wanted to try taming him, but the only person brave enough to try had gotten himself badly burned for his efforts. I don't know what happened to him, but I expect he died. I had shared many of my woes with the Lord Commander of my Kingsguard, Aegon. After the latest incident, he decided to go and try to tame Drogon. I do not know how he succeeded, but he did, somehow. While I was somewhat saddened that my branch of the family would not have Drogon, at least he is tamed and alive instead of dead.


Considering that Drogon was now tamed and I could have two different fronts led by dragons, I accelerated my plans to re integrate the Westlands and the Riverlands. I sent messages to old Frey and young Tully that they must surrender their sovereignty and bow to their rightful lord. While the Tully boy had brains in him and surrendered immediately, Walder had seemingly started suffering from old age. I sent messages out to my vassals that they should muster under my banners and move to defeat the Freys. While most of my Lords Paramounts decided to side with me, three cowards decided to stay out, and they would be dealt with later accordingly. Of the four Lord Paramounts beneath me, only the Greyjoys of the "Iron Islands", who ruled not one inch of their homeland, failed to support me. The only other lords who decided to disobey me where a R'hollori Lord in the Crownlands and the Lord of the Neck. They would both be dealt with sharply.


Most of the war was mustering my troops and besieging the Frey's fringe castles. I did, however, land large amounts of Reachmen on Fair Isle. The next thing I new, Walder was marching an army of 41000 to attack the troops already there. The troops I had prepared to siege Casterly Rock with were instead sent north to Fair Isle, where over 90000 men clashed. Unfortunately for old Walder, I had sent Aegon and Drogon with that army in order to burn Casterly Rock. While I was needed to marshal my troops on the West, I could send Aegon ahead with one other Kingsguard to exact fiery vengeance against the Freys. As it appears, Aegon was very eager to test out Drogon's combat capabilities. He was not disappointed. Less than 5000 of my troops fell, while over 26000 of the enemy burned to death, before being caught by Drogon's fiery vengeance on the mainland. (The other event in the back is me producing a metric buttload of wildfire in King's Landing, because there's no sense in being a half-way crazed pyromancer. That will get referenced if/when I decide to use it)


I flew for a few weeks over the Westlands in order to be present at the pyre of Casterly Rock. When I finally unleashed Valyr and Drogon, they turned Casterly Rock into more than just a pyre. They turned it into a slag heap. I was able to pull out the family of Freys, only to ransom them all back to Walder. Poor Walder himself was captured, and was forced to pay for the privilege to surrender. It was a rich moment, but had little purpose except for my own amusement.


After that, the Rock went back under the Mantle of the Iron Throne. The Crossing, which had mysteriously gone independent from the Trident, willingly came back as well. I left them independent of the Tullys for now. They had clearly fought their way free, and submitted to their rightful rulers without complaint. For the first time in over fifty years, the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros were once again united.
-----End of Part Two-Five: The Re-unification of Westeros.
I'll add something meaningful here once I start starving. In the meantime, new part! And Aegon's grandson is a dragon rider! YAY! Oh also, the TS overlay doesn't signify anything. I was GM'ing a game at the same time as I was continuing this AAR.

Part Two-Five: The Calm Before the Storm.
It seems that I have offended the Seven somehow. My daughter Melessa has been taken from me.


Elenei couldn't take it. She'd hated me for years; seeing her daughter's death pushed her over the edge. She lost her will to live and ran off to die in a duel.


I did not mourn her much. I put on a public facade, for the ruler of the realm cannot be shown to be celebrating and dancing on his wife's corpse (figuratively), I so wanted to. I married Ysilla a few weeks after Elenei's funeral, and though it took a few years for her to grow great with child, that she did. Two and a half years after Elenei's death, another son was born, who I named Gerold.


Elenei's death affected Aegon greatly. He was already a very skilled fighter at the time of her death, and over the course of three and a half years had been training almost non stop. By 353 AL, Aegon Connington joined the ranks of Formidable Fighters.


By that time Ysilla had already started showing signs of being with child again. Near the end of the year, one more daughter was born to me, by the name of Scolera.


A year later, when Aegon was almost a man, a peculiar idea had formed in his head. He wanted to go and join the Wall as a Black Brother. I would not allow it. Not only was he the heir to the throne, but it would be far too dangerous there. In my tenure as king, I sent many a man off to the wall, and I am certain that there are many people there that hate me.


A few months later, once Elenei had her first bleeding, I married her to Aegon. I wanted to do everything possible to bog Aegon down in duties in order to ensure he doesn't think about joining the Night's Watch or Kingsguard.


Eight days later, I divorced Ysilla. Disagreements had been popping up and once I discovered her with a lover, I broke ties with her. She was an unimportant woman related to no noble families. I was making no enemies doing this.


Two days after that, I knighted Aegon. As a knight myself, I was able to accomplish this, and after Aegon had become known throughout the realm for being my squire and had earned a lot of money through tourneys, I deemed him worthy of the honor of being called Ser.


I spent the next few months searching for a wife, when my niece Mariya Uller, Lady Paramount of Dorne, came forth with an interesting proposal. She proposed, more accurately, that I marry her. She wanted to solidify her claim to Dorne, and the easiest way to do that was to marry the reigning monarch. While she was both my niece and 40 years younger than me, I accepted. Having the southern half of the Kingdom be personally overseen by my House appealed to me.


Ravens, and the messages they carried, flocked to my Maester. Some of them were very interesting indeed. It seems that two different Lords, one of which was a Reachman High Lord, had acquired dragon eggs! While I was certain they would never be able to hatch them safely, I tasked my Master-of-Whisperers with overseeing their progress.



The Court Septon that directly reported to me came back to King's Landing with excellent news. The R'hollori heresy had finally been driven out of Storm's End. No more would fiery sacrifices of Stormlander citizens occur.


Over a year after my marriage to Mariya, a child was finally born of the union. It was a daughter, which under normal circumstances an old lord would have cursed. There were two reasons why I did not care, though. First, was that Lysa was my tenth child, or close to my tenth. I've lost count by now. The second, is that my wife rules in Dornish Lands and under Dornish laws, which allow women equal grounds for inheritance.


When Rhaegar came of age, I married him to a Reachman, the bastard daughter of a dead High Lord. Under normal circumstances, I would've overlooked her. However, her intellect was renowned widely, and I did not need a highborn daughter for Rhaegar. Aegon would serve in his capacity as heir apparent well enough.


When Rhaegar came of age, I knighted him as well. I had raised him to serve in a military capacity, and so being a Ser would fit him far better than Aegon, who had been raised to rule.


Soon after the start of 358 AL, a member of my Kingsguard died in his sleep. Needing a replacement, I offered the position to Ser Quenton of Westbrook, a skilled fighter and commander of men. He graciously accepted.


The month following, I received news I had been waiting for for decades. My Master-of-Laws, also called Elenei (seems to be a really abused name), had fabricated papers that claimed that Harrenhal belonged to the proper ruler of the Iron Throne. I capitalized on this opportunity, but unfortunately the Tullys decided to stand against me. Westeros would once more march to war.



-----End of Part Two-Five: The Calm before the Storm.
Sorry this is coming out a lot later than my usual posting schedule has been. The good news is that I have enough material for two more parts, so I should be fine barring any health issues. I'm also going to start keeping a count of how many Kingsguard die over this period of time, because I'm pretty sure almost the entire current force gets replaced. Maybe more.

Part Two-Six: Lots and Lots o' Dyin'.
With the Tullys declining to surrender Harrenhal to me, I knew a large war was inevitable. I waited for ravens to come, informing me of the decisions of the Lords Paramounts sworn to me. Thankfully, they all, to a man and woman, supported me. This would be an easy war, with the resources of an entire realm to call on.


One of my Kingsguard (2 so far) died during the opening maneuvers of the war, in a skirmish action that some cowardly Riverlanders conducted. I replaced him with Ser Guncer of Woodmere, a renowned and formidable fighter.


During that time, while gathering my army in King' s Landing, I decided to have a dalliance with a woman closer to my age. Considering my wife ruled in Dorne for most of the time, I did not expect her to discover it. (NOTE: Be sure to read at the end).


Some time after my vassals won some minor skirmishes with the Riverlanders, Aegon and Elenei produced their first child: Shya, a girl. I had hoped for a son, and one with his father's characteristics at that, but they were still young and fertile. More children would no doubt come.


After defeating Garrett Tully, mostly by burning his army and Riverrun to the ground, I stripped Harrenhal and the Lord Paramountcy from the young man. I handed them off to a Frey instead, because some of that large House had proven loyal to me, and you could hardly fault the now dead Walder for trying to maintain his independence. (And I made a big mistake here. I gave Harrenhal back >( So, I just consoled it over to me)



The young Donnel Frey, Lord Paramount of the West, instead of heading back to Casterly Rock, came to me with an interesting proposition. My daughter Tyana's madness was well known throughout the Seven Kingdoms, but it appears that Donnel did not fear it, and wanted to grow closer to the Throne, no doubt to ensure a smooth succession. Obviously, I accepted.


After my victory, and shortly after the beginning of the new year, Rhaegar's bastard wife bore him a son. Rhaegar named him Alaric, no doubt after some great warrior. A month later, I found out that my dalliance with Melicent had produced a daughter. I let Melicent name her, and she named her Lia. A few months later, Barristan came to me, asking the same fool question that Aegon had, wanting to go to the Wall and be a great warrior. I denied him the opportunity, but looking back, knowing what occurred between me and him, I should have packed him off there the first chance I had. Near the end of that year, another of my Kingsguard passed away (3), dying in a duel. Once more, I had to find a replacement, and I found Ser Franklyn of Oakenshield. He was a skilled fighter, and young, likely to serve my son after me.


The next few years passed in a blur. Mariya grew great with child again, and birthed another daughter. My daughter Elenei again grew great with child, and also bore another daughter. The year after that, Barristan came of age, and after finding him some nice Northwoman to bed, I knighted him. He was a good warrior, and a better diplomat.

Over the course of the next two years, only a few events of note occurred. First, another one of my Kingsguard (4) fell, and he was replaced with Ser Michael of Rainwood. It seemed that great knights were in low supply that month, and though he was a passable warrior, his real genius lay in economics. While he could not serve on my council, I was certain Aegon would do well with him. He was always bad with his finances.


In the months after that, after Mariya came to visit for a week or so, I began to suspect she had a lover. At first sight, this would be allowable, partially because of Dornish custom and also because of the age difference. What was not acceptable, however, was seeing her fuck her lover in my own bed the next time she visited. I sent her packing and almost executed her lover. Still, I stayed my hand. Looking back, I don't know if I should have. Considering yet another of my Kingsguard died a year later (5), I wondered if that was the Seven voicing their displeasure. In any case, I had to replace him, and I chose Androw of Darksgrave. He was an excellent commander of men, a strong and towering knight, and a skilled warrior. The perfect example of a Kingsguard. His only downside was the fact he ate so much, but King's Landing had large larders.


Three months later, during one of my tours throughout the lands, I received devastating news by raven. Aegon, who had not come with me on the journey on account of his health, had died in his sleep. I was short a member of the Kingsguard again, and this time he had been one of the greatest, long serving, and closely related members, and Commanders, of the Kingsguard. The whole realm mourned his death. (Note 2)


-----End of Part Two-Six: Lots and Lots o' Dyin'.
Alright, two major things of note. The first, is that I checked into my lovers house, and I discovered something both creepy and interesting. It turns out that House Bolling is the go-to mistress House for the Conningtons. Every single Connington bastard - PERIOD - has been born of a Bolling mother. And that is at least 3. I wonder if this trend will continue with future rulers, I'll have to keep a lookout. The second note is that of Blackfyre on Aegon. I accidentally forgot to make a save, and simply used the autosave. When I went to try Joffrey out, it overwrote the save I had where Aegon had a dragon. Since I didn't want to re-write a whole part, I simply found someone with only two GoT traits, one of them being a Dragon and the other being Blackfyre (Aenys, if you were wondering), and just copied them both to save time and effort. If I ever actually get Blackfyre into my family tree, then I'll come up with a fluff reason for it. Finally, the Kingsguard are not even CLOSE to done dying. Oh no, not by a long shot. Most of the twenty-year-olds you see here? They die very soon.

Part Two-Seven: The Death of a King.
Drogon turned out to not be a problem. Aegon had an old brother, who went by the name of Aemon. After Aegon's untimely death, Aemon took up Blackfyre and went to Drogon's pit. He came back two days later with Drogon in tow and left King's Landing. I know not where he went, but I am confident Drogon will show up again.
In any case, I had to select a new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. I chose Byron Grandison, a slightly older man but with a good sword hand and a sharp eye for money. Considering that in battle most of my safety was provided by Valyr and that I had six other knights to protect me, the military acumen of my Lord Commander did not worry me overmuch.


Unfortunately, I was forced to replace another one of my Kingsguard (7) when I found out that he was busy sleeping with what appears to have been a whole stable of whores when he was supposed to be protecting me. I had Androw gelded and sent off to the Wall in disgrace. Maybe he might make a name for himself up there, but he is not welcome in King's Landing. I replaced him with Ser Ronald Grandison, a clubfooted, butstill skilled, knight.


At the beginning of the tenth month of 364 AL, I received word from the Lord Commander of the Night's watch, telling me that he had extended the territory owned by the Watch Beyond the Wall, and now held territory that was directly desired by the King Beyond the Wall. I personally didn't care how much of the land past the Wall the Night's Watch seized. It would be centuries, at the most, before the Night's Watch became even equivalent in power to the lowest of High Lords.

Unfortunately, it appeared that another one of the Kingsguard (8) died during a sudden and brief outbreak of the Bloody Flux. Luckily, it was outside the city, but my guardian lost his life anyway. I replaced him with Ser Waldon Graceford, a skilled knight and commander of men.


Unfortunately, I had to send Barristan away, for he had been too much of a bother around court and had even been caught plotting against me. I stripped him of any claims he might have had towards my titles and sent him packing towards the Wall without a penny to his name. He had been too bitter to be the third son, and I was glad to be rid of him. The good news was that Aegon and Elenei had finally produced a son, named Arstan after me. Two years later, this was followed by another daughter, which they named Marya. It was at this time that I decided to finally grant the Lord Paramountcy of the North. I decided to give it to the Lord of Winterfell, not minding the fact that he or his father had been lowborn before being granted lands. What mattered was that he ruled Winterfell, and I did not care that he was an Ironborn or worshipped the Drowned God. The people up there were all heretics anyway.


At the turn of the year, I received news from the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. Apparently, he believed that I had done him some wrong, and so rebelled against my rule. Normally, I would've just crushed him like a bug, but circumstances forced me to reconsider my situation. My daughter Leona was already fighting the Freys, and would continue to do so, but now my decision to grant the Riverlands to the Freys and the North to an Ironborn came back to bite me. The Riverlander Freys joined with their Westerland cousins, and the cowardly Ygon and Romny failed to answer my call to arms. They would be dealt with in due time. In the meantime, however, the fight looked a lot more even, especially considering I now only had one dragon to use.


I also received a proposal by my daughter Leona. Following the former Lord Paramount of the Westerlands forceful expulsion to the Wall, Tyana had found herself without a husband. Leona offered to marry her second son to Tyana, likely because she couldn't find a better match. I assented, because I could not find anyone else who would take a raving homosexual. The war was over rather quickly though, because a force of 6000 men raised from Pyke combined with a few Reachmen brought out of Oldtown and the Arbor quickly took Casterly Rock, while Valyr blazed his way across the Riverlands. Both Freys surrendered quickly and both were stripped of their Lord Paramountcies, and the Westerlander Frey of Casterly Rock as well. I had lost a member of the Kingsguard (9) during that war, due to a cowardly assassination attempt. He was replaced by Ser Damion Brax, an aging warrior, but the best that could be found in such short order.


Unfortunately, six months later, I had to replace my Lord Commander of the Kingsguard again. Byron had simply not woken up one day, and was laid to rest. And so it was that Michael Seaworth, who had served in the Kingsguard for 6 years, found himself as Lord Commander. Of the available talent, he was the best to fill that position.


My health steadily grew worse over the next few months. The toll of seeing so many close comrades die weighed on me, and the strain of ruling the realm slowly got to me. It was not until the middle of the year that I had to retire to my bed. I write this now, certain that death is only a few moments away. Passing away in my sleep, most likely in agonizing pain, seems unnecessary. I'll simply ask for the Maester to give me something to ease the pain and help me pass. Frankly, I am no use on this sickbed, and despite Valyr being in the Dragon Pit at the moment, I don't want to risk him breaking free. King's Landing is, after all, filled to the brim with wildfire. Ah, here comes the Maester now.


The King is dead.
-----Part Two-Seven: The Death of a King.
Well, I'd say 67 is a good age. I think Arstan must have ruled for at least 30 years before dying. He also accomplished a lot: Reintegrated the Trident and the Rock, put down multiple rebellions. He also saw no less than TEN Kingsguard die in a relatively short span of time, which I think was about a decade. I have no idea if the trend will continue, but so far 2 Lord Commanders have died and the Kingsguard have had to accept 9 new members over 10 years. The tenth hasn't had an event be triggered for him yet. I've also loaded up Aegon and it looks like he'll have a rocky succession ahead of him. A lot of the lords under him despise him, including his sister Leona, who also happens to have a weak claim on the throne. I predict very interesting events occurring very soon.

Well I just played about a year ahead, and everything looks stable. As a result, I'll just fast forward this AAR until it gets back to an interesting point, so tomorrow might not have an update. Just a warning.

I'm going to try something different here. I want to write this part with no images attached, just a wall of text with nice different colors and spacing.
Part Three-One: The Eighteen Years of Death and Taxes.
(I'm finally going to start using the ingame calendar days, since it appears GRRM didn't really put in a standard calendar besides the year)
-October 13, 369AL
My father had clearly shown me the journal both he and my grandfather wrote in. I understood what I would write in this journal when I took the throne. Now that I sit on it, only a month after his death, I wonder how he died. His death had certainly caused a stir. I barely managed to stop Valyr from burning the city to the ground, and after I coaxed him into his pit, I went and dived into the small library of dragonlore my father and grandmother had accumulated. When Valyr was next scheduled to be fed, I led the cattle in. I read about the way my father had tamed Valyr. I did not bother with that. Valyr already knew me, and I had flown him before, with my father's supervision. He recognized me and understood me. I also knew what mistakes not to make. Armed with this knowledge and these advantages, I tamed Valyr inside an hour. The people named me Dragontamer, in regards to how quickly I assumed control of Valyr. Having a pet dragon has some benefits, and those benefits culminated in my official crowning a month later by the High Septon and overseen by all of the Lords Paramount, even my sister Leona. It was then that, clearly wondering if she should, Leona tipped me off about the fact that Gerold, like his older brother Barristan, could not stand being so far behind in succession, and had started a plot to kidnap me and tried to bring in Leona. I thanked her quietly and then made preparations for Gerold's death.

-September 10, 370AL
It culminated in having a bribed carriage driver sending Gerold over a cliff the year later. It was not a great loss. Gerold was an incredibly bitter and inept man. The peasantry didn't even know he existed.

-January 1st, 371AL
Today, four months work had come to fruition. I had been seeding rumors throughout Ygon Greyjoy's court about perceived crimes and weaknesses of mine. Today, I was able to force his hand and his rebellion. I have already received word from all the other Lords Paramount, and only the Freys of Harrenhal refuse my call.

-August 3rd, 371AL
It took me six months to do it, but I have succeeded. Ygon Greyjoy rots in a cell, landless and penniless. He will remain there for the rest of his days. By now, I have given the Lord Paramountcy of the Iron Islands to a Northman. My idea of an ironic joke, that. The North is ruled by an Ironborn and the Islands are ruled by a Northman. Well, half of the isles were already ruled by Northmen anyway, including Pyke. I just made their rule official.

-January 3rd, 373AL
Yet another Kingsguard (11) died today. That is what, the eleventh in under three decades? No wonder Father was having a hard time finding recruits near the end of his life. I also faced some problems, because the first two knights I offered the position to rejected it. I was forced to give it to Ser Hosteen Lolliston, but knowing his reputation as a warrior, I was fine with him at my side.

-May 26th, 373AL
The misdirection of Ygon had been a test, to see if I could do it. I had a different target in mind today. My father had wanted Harrenhal for a while, and now, with the current Lord Paramount of the Riverlands revolting as a result of my meddling, I am in the perfect position to seize the ancient castle. Moreover, he needs to be punished for his neutrality in the last war. Anticipating Edwyn's reply, I had sent ravens out to my other Lords Paramount only a few days prior. They were now returning, all with messages of confirmation. The realm marched to war against the Freys.

-May 13th, 374AL
It took almost a year, but after burning Riverrun to the ground again, as an example, Edwyn finally wised up and surrendered. I stripped him of lands and titles and banished him to the Wall, never to return. The Lord Paramountcy, I handed to the High Lord of the Trident, while I held on to Harrenhal.

(You know, separate entries for every dead Kingsguard are starting to get repetitive, so I'm just going to say they suffered their twelfth casualty)

-July 4th, 376AL
Considering that the treasury had millions of gold dragons in it, and nowhere to spend it, I had decided to commission the construction of a new city outside of Storm's End, named Storm's Call. The construction had lasted 2 years, but now the bare framework of the town was in place. I handed it off to some merchant and gave him some money to start building.

-March 9th, 379AL
Aemon of Essos, rider of Drogon and wielder of Blackfyre, had died just a few days ago. His only child and daughter, Daenys, had been married to my nephew Alaric, son of Rhaegar. Today, wielding Blackfyre, she tamed a dragon at the age of 14 and without bothering to consult the library of dragonlore I had offered her. Truly, she will be a great lady. Moreover, she owns a dragon egg that her father had managed to appropriate, most likely from Drogon. Considering how common Dragons eggs were becoming in Westeros, I estimated that their full return would come in a few generations, once sufficient dragonlore had become available.

-August 11th, 379AL
Today, I have decided to right the wrong that my great ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, wrought upon Harrenhall. Once more, the treasury had filled to overflowing, and so I decided that a construction project on the greatest castle in Westeros was warranted. I did not care about the time factor. I just wanted to rebuild Harrenhall, to not have it look like a slag heap anymore, to have its three towers capable of housing soldiers.
I have already sunk around a million dragons into buying supplies and hiring workers alone, and I know it will cost a lot more. The projections I calculated show that it will probably take at least 5 times more than my initial investment to rebuild Harrenhall. But I was obscenely rich, and making tens of thousands of dragons a month from taxes alone.

-October 30th, 379AL
My son, Arstan, and his older sister, Larra, have gotten married today. It was a lavish and joyous event, with the revelries expected to last at least a day. Already, I am feeling a bit tipsy, and I write this in the brief interlude between wedding and feast. I see the Arbor wine being broken out, and I had best be there. That one has been aged since I was born.

-March 14th, 380AL
After months of arduous training following his wedding, Arstan has become one of the pinnacle fighters of Westeros. Strong, swift, and smart enough to defeat almost anybody in the Seven Kingdoms, Prince Arstan Connington is a truly Formidable Fighter.

-12 June, 381AL
I had been wondering where this was. I seemed to have misplaced it when I visited Harrenhall. In any case, I have many things to record. Just two months back, Aegon and Larra had their first son. They named him Aegon, after me and our great ancestor. The happiness was dampened a few weeks later, when Lord Commander Michael (13) of the Kingsguard passed away. In his place was put Ronald Grandisson, of middling age. Moreover, today I received good news from my Master-of-Coin. A significant part, but nowhere near all, of the debris in and around Harrenhall had been removed. It was starting to look like half a castle, instead of a ruin of a castle. I have already sunk more hundreds of thousands into its construction.

(And then the September of that year, the Kingsguard suffered its 14th casualty)

-December 8th, 381AL
Daenys bore twins to Alaric today, both sons, which they named Bonifer and Orys. This information is greatly important, for one of them will end up wielding Blackfyre and riding Drogon and the other one will end up with a Dragon's egg. They will both be vital to the return of Dragons to this land.

-May 7th, 384AL
I am a few months behind the Larra's birthing of Elenei, but I write today about a different matter. My Master-of-Laws had dredged up, at great expense, millions of dragons gone on excavating ruins, to be precise, an ancient document that showed the King's right to the High Lordship of Summerhall. Of course, it was all bollocks, but considering how much money was spent making that, I was going to use it. While it took 2 weeks for the High Lord of Summerhall to decide, he decided to be suicidal and challenge the might of the Iron Throne alone. Deeming my personal levies from the Stormlands and Crownlands to be sufficient, I started gathering them into an army.

-August 30th, 384AL
The circumstances surrounding what I am writing here now are curious, mostly because I have just finished fucking a woman and am stark naked. Daenys, who I had brought on this campaign in order to sharpen her skills and Drogon's, had a wonderful body. While my army was only a few days out of Storm's End, she is my main nightly companion now. While I am certain that if Alaric or Rhaegar found out, they would be furious, it matters not. As it is, there is no harm. Both of us are adults, and Dragon Riders to boot. Even though I know Alaric is only a few tents away, being the commander of my right flank, I don't care. He won't approach my tent, not with both Valyr and Drogon outside. By the Seven, even the sex with Elenei wasn't so good! I do wonder if Daenys will grow great with child. That would almost certainly be a dead giveaway if the child was born with the classic features of a Targaryen. But even so, that would be of no matter. Lying with Daenys, I feel like nothing can stop me. Then again, those are the words of my house. And now I must be off, to rouse the army.

-December 6th, 384AL
Today sees the raising of a new Lord Commander (15). A month ago, after having routed the High Lord of Summerhall's army, Ronald elected to lead a charge against the last few men who held the field. These men turned out to not be fleeing at all, but merely awaiting an opportunity. Once Ronald closed, they turned around and quickly butchered him. As punishment, they were all fed to the dragons. Still, that does mark the third Lord Commander in fifteen years. Not the greatest of omens.

-February 2nd, 385AL
Today, the fallen High Lord of Summerhall saw his only gambit fail. He had called for his grandson, Narbert Trant, to stand for him as his champion. I had elected to stand for myself. When I saw the pitiful wretch I was going up against, barely knowing one side of a sword from the other, I laughed. I took off my plate and handed away my sword, electing only to wield a dagger. Even that was not a sufficient handicap. I was able to instantly step inside the youth's guard and ram my dagger into his eye. There was no contest, and after killing his grandson I strode right over to the former High Lord and gutted him. This had been such an egregious waste of time he did not deserve a proper death.

(Sixteenth casualty...)

-August 11th, 385AL
I am going to find the chief Alchemist, if he still lives, throttle him if he does or throw him into the Blackwater if he doesn't. The fool had not properly secured the cache of Wildfire and as I sat in my study I saw the entirety of Flea Bottom burst into flames. I knew that Flea Bottom had contained all of the pots of Wildfire, and watching as green fire burned that district to the ground, I resolved to find as many Alchemists as possible and ensure this thing didn't happen again. Right now though, I needed to mobilize the Goldcloaks to ensure that the fire doesn't spread any further. It's caused more destruction in a brief moment than even Drogon and Valyr combined could do.

-September 30th, 385AL
My new Lord Commander had succumbed to terrible wildfire burns (17). It meant I had to find a fourth Lord Commander. I was starting to wonder if the Kingsguard were cursed, they seemed to die so often. The entire force of Kingsguard had been replaced more than twice in half a century. Well, the only Kingsguard of any experience after the fiasco last month is Osney Redfort. I suppose I'll have to give him the position.

-October 30th, 385AL
The damage caused by the wildire has been dealt with. After ensuring that there were other skilled Alchemists that could continue work on wildfire, I took the lead alchemist and the fools he relied upon and left him in a locked stone room with a single unstable pot of Wildire. I had resolved, shortly after finding them, to force them to endure the same thing they forced King's Landing to suffer. As I started walking up the stairs from the cell I left them in, I started hearing the screams. I expected them to last for at least another few minutes, and hopefully an hour. A lesson needed to be taught to the Alchemist's guild, about the price of failure.

-February 12th, 386AL
I received more news from my Master-of-Coin, who practically lives in Harrenhal by this point. They had moved away more than half of the rubble, and Harrenhal could almost be called a proper castle by now.
I sent him even more dragons to cover whatever expenses might arise.

-July 21st, 386AL
The removal of the High Lord of Summerhall had a point. I wanted Summerhall itself, after Father had given it away shortly after Valyr's birth. To that extent, it was easy to find the documents Father had used to claim it the first time around and simply replace his name with mine. After the Lady of Summerhall received my message, she surrendered. She was not dumb enough to challenge me.

-July 22nd, 387AL
I have managed to get my hands on a dragon egg. I still don't know precisely how it happened, but when I visited Valyr yesterday, I found him curled around an egg. I decided to keep it, because I did not yet know to whom I should pass on my dragon egg. Giving it to my extended family in the Reach seemed like a good idea, but considering the string of misfortunes that had befallen that branch of the family, I held off on it for now.

-----End of Part Three-One: The Eighteen Years of Death and Taxes.
I need to cut this short here, because its getting a bit late where I am and considering the next event that comes up it might as well start in the next part. Besides, I think getting another dragon egg is a good enough end point. So far, SEVENTEEN Kingsguard have had to be replaced. SEVENTEEN! Four of which were the Lord Commanders! And things STILL aren't done. If anyone still comments on this, post your thoughts of this format.

This is going to be a relatively short part. In fact, I expect that the rest of part 3 and 4 will be short, since I'll be breezing through them until I get to something interesting. As a result, part 3 will last until the current King's death, with one or two more parts after this, and then part 4 will just be one post/one king until things get interesting again.

But let's get back to keeping this AAR on life support.

Part Three-Two: To Go Beyond.
A few months ago, I had tasked Philip with trying to find some way that I could expand my dominion past the Wall. Mostly, it was to get him out of my hair, and also as a sort of test. I knew for a fact that I had absolutely no claim in the Seven Hells to the lands Beyond the Wall. Philip had, however, done the impossible. Supposedly, he had found a way for me to claim-
"Excuse me, my lord. You've been sitting there for the past few minutes, just staring vacantly. Are you all right?"
Philip's voice woke me from my reverie. I was a bit worried. I had been so pre-occupied and had not noticed his arrival. If that happened with an assassin... Well, let's worry about that later.
"I am, thank you. I am told that you managed to secure a claim on lands Beyond the Wall?"
"Indeed. It was quite easy, actually. The lands there are in constant turmoil. Bribing a few wildlings that would support your rule was quite easy. They are ready to submit to you, on the condition you could actually ensure their safety. Moreover, you would have to physically seize those lands yourself from the current 'King' who rules there. The other thing is that I have only managed to ensure that a few parcels of land will bow to you. The rest still style themselves 'Free Folk.'"
"How did you manage to convince the Wildlings in the first place?"
"Oh, a few swords of steel, a few pieces of plate mail, a large pile of gold, and the promise of warmth and security. Those are worth a lot there. Now, I know how quickly you usually act, so I took the liberty of sending a message to the Night's Watch for them to pass on."
"Excellent. Inform the Lord Paramount of the North that he is to muster his forces at Last Hearth."
"Just him, lord?"
"Do you expect a small force of badly equipped wildlings to pose much of a threat? Only the Ironborn and Northmen are needed. Besides, they are both heretics, and it is preferable to spill their blood first. "


After that, I made preparations. I told Alaric and Daenys to accompany me, and set off with a small honor guard aboard the Draego. It was a grand ship that my grandmother had commissioned. The trip itself took a few months. It was September by the time I arrived at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, along with the army of Northmen and Ironborn I had requested. I personally commanded the center, with Alaric commanding the left. Daenys, and Drogon, commanded the right. I had left Valyr back in King's Landing, unsure if he could deal with the cold. Drogon, however, was around ninety years old, a grand, imposing dragon that you could boil water on. Daenys was comfortable bringing him this far North, and she was his rider.

The lands Beyond the Wall, however, defied all our expectations. Even with warnings from the Night's Watch, no one had led such a large offensive this far north before. While I knew supply lines were going to be a hassle, I was not expecting such a disaster that occurred. It took us almost a year to track down our quarry, a few thousand men trying to muster into some semblance of an army. By the time our scouts confirmed their presence, my army had lost one man in two to the cold. Drogon had spent weeks doing nothing but flying supplies over. I knew that stopping Drogon was risky, but with only 8000 men, in unfamiliar territory, going up against enemies that knew the terrain and might be laying in ambush, I needed a dragon. Luckily, we were able to engage them before our supply situation grew any worse than it already was. The battle itself was a massacre. While they had knowledge of the terrain, they could not deal with my better armored, better trained, and better disciplined troops. Having a ninety-year-old dragon on our side helped a lot as well. We slaughtered their small army, secured their supplies, and made our way off to the newly secured Upper Frostfangs. While they too were unable to sustain my army, I was able to keep my troops alive. After securing a sufficient supply of food and water, I left behind a few hundred men under the command of my nephew, Lord Thurgood Connington of the Reach. He was to rule the lands already secured Beyond the Wall and any more lands we might secure. While dealing with Wildlings would no doubt tax him, I was certain he could control them. He was left with a large sum of money and a large, hastily constructed castle on the outskirts of Thenn, his capital. While it was not as large as Thenn, the best that could pass for a city this far up north, it was certainly better than most of the other gathering places the Wildlings held.


It took only a few months to return from the Wall, thank the Seven. Not as heavily laden as when we came, and with significantly better knowledge of the terrain and scouts, we made good time. I snuck in a few trysts with Daenys where I could, but mostly I was focused on getting my army back to the Seven Kingdoms alive.

It was February of 391 AL when I finally returned to King's Landing. Luckily, my disappearance up north had been covered up, with most none the wiser. As a result, the realm had run quite smoothly, with no one capitalizing on the removal of both Dragon Riders available to the throne. I had studied my dragonlore, and knew the intricacies involved in hatching an egg. I also knew that there were at least two eggs in Westeros not held by the royal family. If, by some blind luck, someone had managed to hatch one, raise one in under a year, and tame it, they might have taken the Seven Kingdoms by the time I had come back. So far, though, no one else has managed to hatch any dragons. Considering I have a monopoly on most existing dragonlore, I am not terribly surprised. Only the lord of Hammerhall, who rules a short distance away from the Field of Fire, could glean any new dragonlore. The rest would have to settle with detailed inspection of their eggs and whatever scraps of knowledge escaped the Red Keep.

Currently, two dragon eggs existed in the Connington Family. I held one, still unsure about who to grant it to. The second one was held by Orys Connington, my grand-nephew by Alaric and Daenys. His brother had died while we were up north, with Orys inheriting everything, including the dragon egg and rights to Blackfyre and Drogon. I had already sent out a raven, hoping to find him some nice Dornish wench to bed. Considering the chance that he would inherit the throne was low, I was not concerned with trying to secure alliances or practice High Valyrian breeding practices. My only interest was in returning the dragons to prominence, and the Conningtons with them.

Part Three-Three: All will burn.

The next seven years were quiet. Aegon grew into a skilled steward and fighter, and was well versed in dragonlore. As the only female relatives were either far too young or far too old, I was forced to look abroad for a wife. Early in my search, I found Rylene of Oakenshield, an orphaned minor noble. Seeing as how my offers to the Lords Paramounts had been rejected, on account of either dislike or no daughters being available, I took the Lord of Oakenshield's offer.

The beginning of 398 AL, however, saw the end of my relationship with Daenys. Over the past few months, we had grown further and further apart, until I had finally cut off the relationship. The situation was compounded three days after that when my brother Rhaegar died. He died at the age of 56, relatively young compared to the recent family. That February, when Orys' chosen bride came of age, I sent an immediate honor guard to escort her. It was the least I could do to that branch of the family.

The next two years had only three events of any note. The first was the commissioning of a dozen new castles to line the Blackwater. Most of the treasury was poured into their construction. The second was the birth of my granddaughter Melessa, by Aegon and Rylene. Unfortunately, this birth had taken much out of Rylene, and at the dawn of the new century, Rylene passed away in her sleep, at the young age of 24. The new wife I sought out had a new condition on it: she had to be strong enough to survive the pains of childbirth. I found one such woman in the Vale, a fourteen year old bastard. Her father agreed, seemingly to get the bastard out of his household.

That May, the King Beyond the Wall chose foolishly and declared that he would take my lands and my titles. I was not overly worried. I called up the armies of the North and ordered them to deal with the threat. The pathetically small army that Harle had managed to muster was slaughtered completely, and the invasion crushed before it began.

The following March, however, my sister-wife Elenei died. She had been sick for the past year, and it finally ended in her death. I found a new wife in the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands' sister, Perriane Wayn.


Three months after my marriage, Melicent bore Aegon a son, who was named Arstan after me and my grandfather. For a year after that, things were quiet, until the Wildlings decided to try and attack again. Once more, the assault was easily crushed. Soon after their defeat, Perriane bore her fourth child, and the first to me. The child was female, and was named Melessa.

A year after Melessa's birth, all of the debris in Harrenhal was removed. While the three towers were still broken, there was no longer any rubble stopping construction. The workers have started laying a foundation to rebuild the three Towers.


A year after that, the Wildlings attacked again. It seems like they operate like clockwork now, attacking every few years despite the fact that they cannot win. This time around, I just asked my nephew to raise the troops from the Upper Frostfangs, sent Daenys and Drogon up north to escort the army, and waited for word that the Wildlings had been crushed.

In the August of 405 AL, the realm was once more thrust into war. Lothar Wayn, Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, had attempted to fabricate a claim to my throne. I sent my guards to arrest him, but Lothar managed to evade them. He raised his banners shortly after, with his cousin, Lady Paramount Jonquil Tully, joining him. The Greyjoy's, as always, proved cowards and stayed out of the fight, having somehow managed to regain the Iron Islands. The rest of the Lords and Ladies Paramount, however, an equal split, sided with me. (Interesting note: 4/7 of the current Lords/Ladies Paramounts are female)


I mustered an army in the Crownlands, and marched off towards Riverrun. A few weeks out of Riverrun, outside a small Holdfast called Branstone, I met the Riverlander army. Age had withered away my patience and mercy, and I released Valyr from the beginning. While the burning took a day, the battle was decided in the first few moments. Though I lost 950 men, half of the opposing army had burned in Valyr's fires. I chased down the survivors, burned them, and continued on to the capital.


A week after that slaughter, Lothar Wayn surrendered. The Lord Paramountcies of the Vale and Riverlands were taken from their holders, and Lothar Wayn was fed to Valyr for his crimes. Jonquil Tully, however, had somehow managed to escape me, and had fled across the Narrow Sea. I was content to leave her there, powerless and friendless as she was.


Two weeks after that, life had finally caught up with me. I started coughing, and had trouble breathing. The maester's tried to save my life, but it was to no avail. Tonight is the 26th of January. I hold no illusions about my health. If I wake up tomorrow, I will praise the Seven, but I have been bedridden the entire day. I have already prepared my will, in the likely event that I die.


-----End of Part Three-Three: All will burn.
And now will start the one post per ruler trend. I hope this only lasts for a few updates. Hopefully, it won't last terribly long, as I am starting to increase my crown authority and am spreading dragons around in an attempt to encourage a new Dance of Dragons. And now, number crunching time, for anyone interested. No story-important info will be revealed here, I swear.

So, I went and changed a few lines of code, mostly in the dragon_events.txt file. The changes I made were primarily adding a few modifiers, and adding the house_targaryen flag to my dynasty, which makes sense considering that all of the current dynasty is descended from a Targaryen, and the Mother of Dragons no less.

Currently, any Connington AI that holds a dragon egg has a 50% chance of attempting a hatch, due to the factor of 10 for living dynasty member with a dragon and a factor of 10 for the age_of_dragons flag, with a base factor of 1 and a factor of 100 to say no. Non Connington Ai's will only have a 9% chance of triggering a hatch, so the chances are that it is just my family that will be flooded with dragons.

As for hatching dragons, any Connington, assuming they have no traits that modify the outcomes, will have a 7/12 chance of successfully hatching a dragon, assuming that dragon pits affect only the province holder themselves. If they affect anyone living there or visiting, then instead the chance goes up to 87.5%. This is because the base factor of 1 is multiplied by 100 for a living dynastic dragon and the age of dragons flag, multiplied by 2 for the dragon egg intel, which they will definitively have since you need at least 1 piece of intel to even attempt a hatch. This is multiplied once more by 3.5 for having the house_targaryen dynastic flag. If they have any R'hollor traits, or are Valyrian in any way, the chance goes up even higher. What this means is that Conningtons have a slightly more than 58% chance to successfully hatch, and a slightly less than 42% to fail. Non Conningtons, however, will have just a 3% to successfully hatch, since I have successfully secured most of the dragon intel locations.

Now, assuming that the Connington in question has no intel besides dragon egg intel, they will have a 29% chance to tame the dragon if they don't have a dragon pit, with a 68% chance to tame the dragon if they do. This chance explodes if they actually inherited the dragon, since I changed the dragon_inherited modifier to 100 (if you're inheriting a dragon, it's a safe bet your relative taught you the necessary information). Now, if a non-Connington decides to tame, and they have a dragon pit, they have a measly chance of 8% to successfully tame their dragon. This decreases to 2% if they don't have a dragon pit.

As you can see, the Conningtons will be swimming in dragons very soon, assuming dragon eggs keep being produced. Considering that 3 dragon eggs currently exist in the family, with far more no doubt on the way, the stage is being set for Westeros to be burned to the ground.