Stay In Kingslanding, and Get The Most Unlikely Match Imaginable

As much as Aegon wanted to get out of the capital and take a break from the politics and lies of King's Landing, he did not want his name to join the list of kings who neglected their duties. His father always said that Kinghood is a duty, not a right and he is trying his utmost to live by those words. Before Rhaegar, there were five Aegon's to sit the Iron Throne. The first Aegon united the continent with fire and blood but he left behind two sons that divided the realm and nearly undone all of his achievements. The second Aegon was a bloodthirsty fool who initiated a civil war that killed all of the dragons while the third mourned himself into an early grave. Aegon the Fourth was a **** to his own lust and desires while the fifth Aegon was a good man who accidentally ended up burning most of his family in a futile attempt to resurrect the dragons. Kings are never perfect, especially Targaryen kings. Rhaegar's words echoed through the quiet room as Aegon rubbed his eyes and **** himself to read through the hundreds of pages of new laws and proposals that needed his approval. I wonder what my epitaph will be? Aegon thought as he stared at the seemingly endless paperwork on his desk. Aegon the Sixth of his Name, the son of Rhaegar the Last Dragon, died of intense boredom.

"Your Grace!" Suddenly a loud mesmerising voice broke Aegon free from thinking of worse ways for the history books to remember him as his father's former friend, Ser Richard Lonmouth barged into the king's study. "What is it, Ser Richard?" Aegon asked as he pretended to be engrossed in his work. "Uhm... A ship has arrived from Pentos, Your Grace." The knight fidgeted in his armour as if he was unsure as to what to say next. "Ships arrive from Pentos everyday, my good ser. What did this one bring? Plague?" Aegon asked jokingly but his smile quickly faded when he saw the pale face of the usually jovial knight. "Umm... They... They brought a message, Your Grace.... From King Rhaegar!"

Within minutes, Aegon was sitting on the Iron Throne and wearing his most regal clothes, a black surcoat with blood-red undertones. His crown, worn by his father before him, weigh heavily upon his head but not nearly as heavy as the scrumple piece of paper in his hand, marked by Rhaegar's personal seal. After a minute of composing himself, he gave permission for his guests to enter the throne room. A pudgy elderly man entered followed by nearly forty servants. Besides the Magister of Pentos was a Tanned Girl of Barely Eight and Ten Years, Aegon Believed Her To Be Dothraki, If Her Appearance and Clothing Were Anything To Go By.

"You stand in the presence of Aegon the Sixth of his Name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." Lord Jon Connington's booming voice echoed throughout the large hall as he introduced the king to his guests. "Your Grace," Magister Illyrio and his entourage bent their knees as a sign of respect. "It is an honour to meet you for the first time, you truly look like your father's son." Says Mopatis "You are too kind, my lord. You were with my father when he died weren't you Lord Mopatis?" Aegon said without sounding too accusatory as he rolled the piece of paper in his hand, the words upon it were unmistakably written by Rhaegar's hand.

Or by an expert forger.

"Yes, his fever and eventual **** came as a shock to us all." Illyrio said sadly and Aegon wondered if he was truly sincere. "But before he passed away, he did arrange a betrothal between The Daughter of Khal Drogo and Any One of His Son's, I am sure that you have read the document and confirmed its authenticity." Mopatis nodded at his Guest and she stepped forward so that the king could have a better view of her. She was Mildly tall and beautiful, her Breasts Were Not As Developed As Some, But That Wasn't A Big Issue for him. Unlike Aegon, she had unblemished Tanned Skin, Chestnut coloured eyes and Scorched Black hair which freely fell to her slim waist and wide hips that was fit for child-bearing.

"I'm Confused, Why Would A Khal of The Dothraki Give His Daughter To A Foreign King? Indeed. A Foreign King On The Other Side of The World? Dothraki Don't Sail, Everyone Know's This." Aegon Questions The Magister. "It's My Understanding King Rhaegar and The Khal Knew Each Other, and With No Suitable Mates For His Daughter, Khal Drogo Believed The Son Of Rhaegar Targaryen Would Be A Good Match For Both Parties." Says The Magister Carefully. I'll Need To Convene With The Small Council On This Matter, But To Be Clear, Is The Girl The Only Thing This Khal Drogo Has Offered?" Asks Aegon. "No, He Has Offered A Unprecedented Gift Your Grace." Says The Magister Slyly.