Now that the kingdom had only just been established, affairs were many and pressing. Even so, Aegon still made time to stay close to Alysanne. He would walk with her through the gardens of the Red Keep, admiring the blossoms together, or sit with her by the window, speaking of the future and weaving dreams to draw their hearts closer.
As the days passed, dukes from across Westeros began arriving in King's Landing. They had already heard whispers of the Duke of the Westerlands' outrageous actions, and now, seeing Duke Bertrand humbly prostrating himself outside the Red Keep, they all understood the gravity of the matter. This was not merely about Bertrand himself, but about the dignity of the crown and the fragile balance of power throughout Westeros.
In the end, Bertrand's crimes were not widely proclaimed. But the punishment dealt to House Lannister was severe. The Westerlands lost several castles, which were seized into the Crownlands. One of these held a gold mine, delivering a crippling blow to the Lannisters' wealth and influence.
More shocking still, Ser Berland Lannister—the duke's eldest son, tall and well-bred—had dared to offend Queen Regent Rhaena at Casterly Rock. Such blatant disrespect toward the royal house was intolerable. Enraged, King Aegon ordered his execution without hesitation.
The sentence struck Westeros like a thunderclap. Lords and smallfolk alike were stunned by Berland's reckless arrogance, and the authority of the Targaryen crown was impressed upon them more deeply than ever.
In the aftermath, the Duke of the Westerlands, aware of the disgrace his family had brought upon itself, chose to abdicate. To everyone's surprise, before his death he passed the title not to his second son, but to his third.
Speculation rippled through the realm—why not the second? The truth was simple: it had been Aegon's command. The third son was still a boy, and therefore easier for the royal house to control.
This seemingly small decision carried weight beyond measure. For the first time, the royal family of Westeros had openly interfered in the succession of a ducal title.
Aegon's ambitions went further still. He had already conceived of more radical measures—policies like the Grace of the King—that would greatly diminish the power of the high lords while strengthening royal rule. Yet, with decades of political experience from his past life, he understood the peril of overreach. Reshaping Westeros' power structure could not be done in haste. Only gradual change—like the slow boil of a frog—would be both safe and effective.
This punishment of the Lannisters was but the first step in a much longer plan.
It was also a punishment softened by Bertrand's submission. He had confessed, admitted his wrongs, and accepted his fate willingly. All knew that had he remained obstinate, refusing to yield, only death awaited him. Even if all the dukes of the Seven Kingdoms had pleaded for mercy, Aegon would not have spared him. The majesty of House Targaryen could not be challenged.
...
After three months of feverish preparation, the wedding of King Aegon and Princess Alysanne was held at last.
The entire capital was awash in festivity. Lanterns and banners adorned every street, and crowds filled the city with noise and color. Aegon stood atop the walls of the Red Keep, a goblet of red wine in his hand, gazing out at the city below, bursting with life and joy in celebration of his union with Alysanne.
Tens of thousands had poured into King's Landing from across the realm, leaving the city packed to its limits. Yet with the newly formed City Watch on duty, Aegon felt no concern. He trusted fully in the soldiers he had trained himself.
The Red Keep gleamed with splendor. Vast crimson silks streamed from its towers, rippling in the wind like waterfalls of fire, while the walls bristled with the three-headed dragon banners of House Targaryen.
On the Seventh Day of the Seventh Moon, in the Fiftieth Year of the Conquest, the wedding began.
A seven-day feast filled the Red Keep's halls. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over long tables laden with delicacies from every corner of the world—succulent roasted suckling pigs, fragrant seafood platters, fine pastries, and vintage wines, their aromas filling the air and making mouths water.
The nobility of all Westeros and beyond had gathered. Duke Hightower escorted the former High Septon from Oldtown with a hundred knights and dozens of septons; the wedding would be officiated by the former High Septon himself, a gesture of gratitude for his past obedience. The new Duke of the Westerlands, Lyman Lannister, brought three hundred knights from Casterly Rock.
From the North came the frail Duke Brandon Stark of Winterfell with his sons Walton and Alaric, a dozen fierce bannermen, and thirty sworn brothers of the Night's Watch. The Vale was represented by Lord Arryn, Lord Corbray, and Lord Royce. From the southwestern marches of the Reach came the Lords Selmy, Dondarrion, and Tarly.
Even foreign rulers sent their emissaries. The Sealord of Braavos dispatched a son. The Archon of Tyrosh crossed the Narrow Sea himself, bringing his virgin daughter. Not to be outdone, Pentos sent a delegation of twenty-two Magisters.
Each brought lavish gifts for King Aegon and Princess Alysanne.
In all living memory, no wedding in Westeros had ever matched this one for grandeur.
On the day itself, more than fifty thousand commoners filled Dragon Square to witness the ceremony, while countless others lined the streets, cheering as the royal couple passed. Behind them rode hundreds of knights on splendid steeds, followed by long processions of bell-ringing septas.
Grand Maester Bennifer sighed. "Scour the annals of Westeros, and you will find no second event so magnificent."
All seventy-seven Septons of the realm were present, with the Fat Septon and the former High Septon standing at the head of the procession.
King Aegon, robed in radiant gold and crowned with the imperial diadem, stood beside his bride, who wore a long cloak studded with glittering gems, embroidered with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen.
The wedding unfolded with all its rites: prayers, vows, gifts, proclamations, blessings...
After the long and elaborate ceremony came days of celebration—tournaments, seven nights of feasting and revelry, and the mock naval battle in Blackwater Bay promised by Princess Alysanne's uncle.
The realm rejoiced as never before.
Guests wore splendid attire: nobles in robes embroidered with their house sigils, ladies glittering with jewels, radiant and proud. They moved through the hall exchanging congratulations, laughter and merriment filling the air. Musicians played bright tunes, and couples danced gracefully, their steps light as air.
Outside, the streets were alive with celebration. Children laughed as they ran through the crowds, clutching colorful sweets, while adults gathered to share in the joy, smiles shining on every face. The parades carried great flower-covered floats strung with ribbons, symbols of blessings and beauty. Jugglers and magicians performed, drawing waves of cheers from the people.
This was not merely the wedding of Aegon and Alysanne—it was a festival for all of King's Landing, for all of Westeros. It symbolized prosperity and stability, carrying the hopes of the people for a brighter future.
...
In the majestic Hall of Conquest, Aegon held his grand coronation as Emperor.
Light streamed through the stained-glass windows, painting him in color as he ascended the throne. Clad in the resplendent robes of the Emperor, crowned with a diadem glittering with jewels, he sat beneath the gaze of all present.
In that moment, he became once more the divine incarnation of the Father, bearing the sacred mission of upholding the world's order.
All those gathered fell to their knees, offering the highest reverence to their Emperor, their cheers echoing through the great hall.
From that day forward, foreign envoys addressed him as Aegon II.
Thus Aegon fully inherited the political legacy of his past life, standing at the pinnacle of power, holding in his hands the fate of the kingdom and much of the Known World.
The Emperor's throne was bound in faith itself. The Emperor was regarded as the Father incarnate, a vessel of the same soul reborn with each reign, bearer of supreme authority and divine duty.
...
Yet before the joy of the wedding had fully faded, a thorny matter was laid upon Aegon's desk.
Queen Alyssa, mother of Queen Regent Rhaena, had fallen in love with Lord Rogar, Hand of the King. With the Duke of the Westerlands so recently punished for affronting the crown, Rogar dared not proclaim his love openly.
Instead, he had Queen Alyssa go to Rhaena in secret, hoping she would intercede with Aegon and secure their marriage.
The moment Aegon heard of it, he rejected the proposal outright. He commanded Rhaena to deliver his warning: the Hand must restrain himself. Should he dare overstep again, should he so much as touch Queen Alyssa, Aegon would see his hand cut off.
His refusal was firm and absolute, leaving no room for debate.
Rogar had half-expected such an answer—but he did not relent. Instead, he pinned his hopes on Empress Alysanne. Newly wed and still in her honeymoon with the Emperor, she alone might sway him.
Alysanne's first instinct was to refuse. The matter was fraught and difficult. But Queen Alyssa was her mother. When she came in person, tear-streaked, speaking of her love for Rogar—while Rogar stood by, looking every inch the devoted suitor—Alysanne's heart softened.
She resolved to speak to her husband, hoping to persuade him to allow the marriage.
That day, Alysanne approached Aegon as he worked over state papers. Stepping softly, she leaned close and spoke gently.
"Aegon, I wish to speak of Mother and Lord Rogar. I know you denied their marriage, but I have thought on it, and perhaps there is more to consider.
The kingdom is still newly settled. You have just punished the Westerlands' duke with severity. If this is handled with care, it could show the great lords our family's tolerance and magnanimity, and that might strengthen the kingdom's stability."
Aegon lifted his gaze to her, his brow furrowed.
"Alysanne, this is not simply a marriage. As Hand of the King, Rogar should be the model of dignity, upholding the honor of the crown. If word spreads that he dallies with the Queen Regent's mother, what becomes of propriety? Where is the majesty of the royal house?"
Alysanne sat beside him, clasped his hand, and spoke earnestly.
"I understand your concerns. But Mother and Rogar love each other truly. The kingdom has just endured chaos, the people's hearts are not yet settled. If we allow this, Rogar will serve you with all the more loyalty, and his supporters will place greater trust in us.
This might be the chance to strengthen your rule."
Aegon fell silent, his eyes clouded with thought.
Queen Alyssa's father was the mighty Lord of the Tides, Aethan Velaryon, and her mother was Lady Alarra of House Massey. House Velaryon was ancient, noble, and wealthy; her grandfather had once been a close friend of Aegon the Conqueror and his two queens.
The first Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the first Master of Ships had both come from House Velaryon. From the founding of the realm under Aegon the Conqueror, the office of Master of Ships had been held exclusively by Velaryons.
If a ducal house were to ally with House Velaryon, they could form a power in the realm that even the royal house might struggle to counterbalance. And if their policies conflicted with those of House Baratheon, such an alliance could become a formidable obstacle to governance.
Seeing his hesitation, Alysanne pressed gently. "Aegon, we must unite every force we can.
The Hand of the King, Rogar, holds no small influence in court. If we alienate him over this, it may stir needless troubles. Why not view this instead as a chance to win hearts and loyalty? What do you think?"
Aegon exhaled softly, his gaze lingering on her. "I have thought on these matters too. But this is no small thing—I cannot take it lightly."
Realizing his stance remained firm, Alysanne let the matter drop.
Yet Lord Rogar did not. His feelings for Queen Alyssa only grew stronger. At last, mustering his courage, he resolved to face Aegon directly.
That day, Rogar entered the palace heavy with unease.
In the grand hall, his eyes immediately found Aegon seated upon the throne. Without a moment's pause, Rogar dropped to his knees, bowing low in humble reverence.
"Your Imperial Grace," he said, his voice steady with sincerity, "I know full well that my bond with Queen Alyssa places you in a difficult position.
But I swear this before you: if Your Grace will bless our union, I, Rogar, together with all the strength of House Baratheon, will devote myself to supporting Your Grace's efforts to check and weaken the power of the lords. I will aid you in securing the crown's supremacy."
Aegon felt a stir within at those words.
He had not expected Rogar to perceive his designs so keenly. All his life Aegon had labored to strengthen royal authority and curb the might of the great houses—yet he had never imagined Rogar would entwine this aim with his love for Alyssa and set it forth as a bargain.
His eyes lingered on Rogar as he weighed the choice. The promise was alluring indeed. If Rogar remained true, it would be a great boon to his reign and the kingdom's stability.
But the matter touched upon royal dignity and tradition. A single misstep could bring scandal and strife.
At last, after a long pause, Aegon spoke slowly.
"My Hand, I have heard your pledge. This is no light matter, and I must weigh much. But since you have spoken plainly, I shall trust you this once. Remember well what you have sworn today."
Rogar's face lit with relief. He bent low, striking his brow to the floor. "Your Grace, you have my word—I shall not break it. To prove my sincerity, I pledge here: from this day forth, every heir of House Baratheon shall be named at Your Grace's command. House Baratheon will serve the crown, without question, for all generations."
Aegon inclined his head, a faint glimmer of approval in his eyes. "Good. See that your deeds match your words. Under these terms, I grant my consent to your marriage with Queen Alyssa. But know this—should you break your vow, I will show no mercy."
Rogar pressed his head lower still, his voice fervent. "Your Grace may rest assured. I stake my very life on it!"
...
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