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The Necromancer King (A Game Of Thrones)

"I shall strike east... and conquer." A Targaryen prince blessed with the gift of boundless potential over all types of magic. Men will bend to his will, whether through life or death. An endless horde of warriors who do not require rest or food will follow him to the ends of the world. He who summons fire, commands the wind and controls the flow of the sea will continue to march and conquer what is rightfully His. This is the story of the first Dragon Emperor of the World. (Thanks to my old friend boundlessvortex for the cover.) (MC is an OC if you're wondering.)

SovereignOfHeaven · TV
Not enough ratings
124 Chs

The Silver Khal

Aerion sat at his table, surrounded by his magisters, Kingsguard and a few Soul Knights. They were gathered in order to be informed of his decisions and how matters will be proceeding onwards.

"I will be riding my khalasar to victory against the army while Stannis will take good care of the navy... if they are foolish enough to strike, that is. Once these two rebel forces are defeated, the leaders of the Free Cities will have to pay the price of defying me."

Illyrio smiled. "What will you do to the Iron Bank? The people behind it supported the Sea Lord in his wish to rid off you, after all."

"Oh, I will only be taking it for myself." Aerion smiled. "Along with any other banks, just as I have done with all occupied Free Cities... which would make me the richest man in this part of Essos, if not the entirety of the Known World. Ah, speaking of the Iron Bank... the Crown has gathered some debt, hasn't it?"

"Yes, mainly due to Robert's need for amusement." Stallio Pahroran added.

Aerion smirked. "And now, he needs gold for the ongoing Rebellion... and ships to buy."

"Wouldn't that be helping your greatest enemy?"

"I would be digging him into a deeper hole, making him swallow his pride and showing the Seven Kingdoms once again who the more capable ruler is. All to benefit me... though I do not mind Tywin's lands being raided, they will one day be mine which means that the Iron Fleet cannot be left running loose for too long."

"It would cause some damage that would negatively affect me in the future... you understand that, don't you, Stallio?"

"Of course, I understand now. We are all blessed to be led by such a wise Emperor."

"Good... now, you may all leave, except for Ser Jaime."

Once the main hall cleared, Aerion stood up and turned to Jaime Lannister.

"What do you think about becoming the Lord of Casterly Rock and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands... if the rules of the Kingsguard were to be altered?"

"I never wished to be the heir to Casterly Rock. You knew this from a long time ago... why ask now?"

"People change." Aerion shrugged. "If that truly is the case, I will have to leave that honour to your younger brother, the Imp... or find a new Great House to replace House Lannister which would be rather troublesome."

"Or you may leave the title for my father."

"You see, Jaime, that is where the true issue lies. Even if I keep him as the Lord Paramount, whether he is alive or undead, who in Seven Hells is going to be his heir? He is too old to produce another child... which leads back to the Imp and yourself, Jaime."

"A member of the Kingsguard cannot-"

Aerion smiled as he interrupted Jaime. "Tsk, tsk, tsk... as I said, the rules can be altered. King Aegon, the First of his Name, founded the Kingsguard under the suggestion of Queen Visenya Targaryen who based the oaths around the dreadful Night's Watch. It makes sense and I understand the reasoning behind it... but I can make a few exceptions."

The Knight of the Realm... an honour that will only be bestowed to you.

"You can remain as my knight and ignore the lands that should be yours, but they will eventually be passed down to your children. You may marry whoever you wish... perhaps that lady you tumbled once or twice? In truth, it doesn't matter to me..."

"Even if you make an exception, I know that my marriage would not be accepted..."

"How so?" Aerion frowned slightly. "Was it a peasant that you were interested in?"

"No... I will tell you when the time comes, my prince."

Aerion chuckled. "Perhaps it wasn't just one lady..."

"I have only ever loved one. Apart from the truth that she is already married, it would be forbidden and widely frowned upon for me to marry her."

Forbidden... could it be?

Aerion stroked his chin. "Hmm... how tragic. However, as I said, exceptions can be made and the husband can meet an unfortunate end if he stands against House Targaryen."

"We will discuss this further when the time comes..." Aerion smiled and walked past Jaime, towards the end of the hall. "I will now be leaving for the Dothraki camp."

"May I leave with you?"

"No, I'd rather you stay here."

Aerion opened the doors and left.

~

Aerion sat atop his red stallion, riding towards the gate of Pentos.

A new alias... the Stormcaller. A name that brings forth respect and fear at the very same time. How magnificent!

"My Lord."

The two Soul Knights guarding the gate bowed as Aerion rode onwards, to the Dothraki camp outside of Pentos. It was a massive gathering of around ten thousand riders along with their mounts and slaves. The Dothraki were rather organised when it came to food and rarely ran out despite their massive khalasars. This was mostly due to the abundance of horses as a majority of riders had several horses. The milk and meat from the horses were enough to last the khalasar over three months, if not longer.

As Aerion got within distance, the closest Dothraki warriors rose and watched closely while Aerion rode to the centre of the camp.

Ten thousand Dothraki riders... I highly doubt that Norvos and Qohor's combined forces could defeat them in the field. It is unfortunate that I lost the other ten thousand in my absence. Nevertheless, they will find themselves in my service sooner or later.

Through life or death, all will serve the Emperor.

Aerion thought.

Once he reached the centre of the camp, the ko was first to approach him. He certainly looked the part of a fierce warrior, as a great majority of the Dothraki did. The blue patterns representing Khal Drogo's khalasar remained on his chest much like the rest of the Dothraki. He was both tall and intimidating with a rather long beard and short dark hair. There were a few scars on his face which gained him greater respect among his peers.

"I, Nizho, was chosen to be your ko when you slept."

Aerion nodded. "You will remain as my ko, Nizho. The khalasar chose you themselves which means something."

He turned his eyes from Nizho to the surrounding riders.

"You are all the members of my blessed khalasar. The other half that deserted had no sense of loyalty... in truth, they were no more than barbarians who did as they wished. Time has removed them from my service and, for that, I am glad!"

"The foolish leaders of the Free Cities have united against me, with the sole intention of keeping their old traditions! Their army is large but disorganised and soulless, led by a man with nothing significant to his name."

"While I, Prince Aerion Stormcaller of House Targaryen, have taken cities, sunk navies into the sea and killed thousands of men with my divine strength!"

The Dothraki riders nodded with approval under the spell of Aerion's irresistible charisma. Well, it wasn't quite a spell... but it may as well be!

"My blessed warriors, will you ride with me to victory and crush all of their hopes?"

Nizho drew his arakh and raised it to the sky.

"WE WILL RIDE!"

Following that, many other Dothraki joined in on the chant until every all of them were a part of it. All ten thousand riders...

"FOR THE SILVER KHAL, WE WILL RIDE!"

"FOR THE SILVER KHAL, WE WILL RIDE!"

Aerion could not help but smile seeing the reaction. Perhaps disciplining this set of more loyal riders will be much easier than he'd thought. Maybe they didn't even need disciplining... so long as he was strong enough to command them.

Which, he certainly was.

It didn't even seem to matter whether or not he was foreign to them. They followed his overwhelming strength... strength that was more than enough to overshadow everything else.

The first and most crucial battles of the great conquest of New Valyria would soon begin, though not in the way that the magisters had imagined.

Ten thousand Dothraki riders rode with the Dragon of the East, the Stormcaller, Prince Aerion of House Targaryen himself... what army from the Free Cities could defy such a force in the field?

The answer would soon become clearer than glass.