The air was cold as Aegon watched the army march up the Kingsroad.
The spearmen led the way, moving in tight formation. All had been reequipped, armoured with thick layers of cloth and mail, with black cloaks hanging from black iron pins. Their commanders wore red crested helms and suits of black scales, and standing beside them were standard bearers who held up high a three-headed dragon that snapped at anything that got to close. The Unsullied would serve better with their new equipment, Aegon knew. With proper mail and gambeson, they were better armoured. Though their shields had decreased in size, their pikes grew to six metres long, allowing the mass of eunuchs to go four-to-five ranks deep with their spears in front. As it was, the Unsullied were even weaker to being outflanked from the sides and rear, but from the front, they would be impossible to beat back. Any enemy foolish enough to go against them had to pass a wall of spears. In the battle near Bronzegate, the Tyrell cavalry learned that too late when they charged with their cavalry. The sight hadn't been pretty.
Watching the army matching towards King's Landing, Aegon didn't believe there was a better sight. Well . . . perhaps after the doors closed and locked. He smiled at the thought. He had forgotten how much he missed Daenerys. The last few nights of their reunion were tiring and Aegon still felt sore between his legs.
Standing beside him was Ser Jorah, Duck and Barristan, as well as a few officers from the sellsword companies, and the black cloaks. Both Kingsguard were in their silver mail and white cloaks that had darkened in the rain that rattled off their metal plate. Ser Jorah was a trusted adviser to his wife and Aegon knew the exiled lord would be a valuable asset for when they retook the north from the Boltons should they refuse to bend the knee, or Stannis should the Baratheon succeed and rally the northerners against the south once more.
As the men on foot went past, Aegon's attention turned to the cavalry, the riders mounted atop magnificent chargers. The sellsword lancers and cavalry archers rode up first, many of whom were head to toe in scales and each step rang with the song of bells. "I always wanted to ask why they have bells."
"Dothraki bells," Ezzelyno answered in a rough growl. "We have a tradition in the company where every Dothraki they kill, we take a bell from his person. The barbarians consider it an insult."
"It seems you've killed many Dothraki," Ser Jorah remarked, staring in the same direction as his liege. Most sellswords at least had a dozen bells on their mounts.
"Aye, we do. We of the legion consider hunting Dothraki a sport. They're nothing more than rats, to be perfectly honest, fit only to be hunted down and slain. They make a lot of racket and people fear them, but we have much experience in dealing with their Khalasars. Pikemen, archers and cavalry are enough to stop them."
"You have much experience?"
"Volantis is usually attacked from Khalasars attacking their eastern territory. Our company is usually hired to augment the tiger cloaks and the various citizen militias that are called up in times of crisis."
"Dothraki aren't Westerosi knights," Ser Barristan remarked. "Your mounted archers are lightly armed, even your heavy cavalry can't compete with full plated knights. Should they meet proper knights in the field, your mounted units won't last long."
Ser Valarr chuckled. The sellsword captain sat atop a black warhorse with black barding and with a dark purple caparison. He turned to the aged knight and smiled that punchable half-smile of his. "I can easily disagree, ser. From what I heard, you Westerosi lack experience with mounted archers like those of the east, and your knights are few and far between. You have ten untrained levies for every trained knight, if I recall correctly. Your tactics are inferior to when it comes to combined arms that can be expected of Essosi standing armies. As could be seen from the battle near Bronzegate, knights aren't that effective when used against enemies who use both foot, archers and cavalry in unison. Nor are they good against pikemen standing shoulder to shoulder, the anvil to the hammer that is my mounted contingent." If Ser Barristan had any thoughts on that, he didn't show them. The old knight didn't trust the sellswords, especially the Golden Company. Continuing, the sellsword stared up into the sky. "Now if we put dragons into the equation, having them attack from the air will be invaluable. Especially if we can encircle the enemy . . . the Westerosi will be easy pickings to dragon fire."
"If you claim so," Aegon said with a yawn, uninterested in the conversation. He ran a hand though his wet hair that fell before his eyes. I really need this cut. The sellswords were to win his throne and nothing else. "I hope you are prepared for war. You claim much but I haven't seen it, ser."
"The lads have been restless, I'll confess. They're not the kind to want to stay whist the good loot is taken by the golden boys of Bittersteel."
"Their swords will be blooded soon, I assure you," Aegon replied as he watched them. He knew the strength of the Golden Company against Westerosi armies and whilst he saw the Unsullied fight against the pathetic slave soldiers of Slaver's Bay, though he wondered how effective they'll be against knights. A similar question stood with the legion. "Just make sure your men don't rape, or do anything else unwarranted. We need to be seen as liberators, not evil conquerors from across the sea."
As Haldon told him, it was as much a battle on perceptions as it was on the Lannisters. Rumours would be thrown at them from the Lannister side and they needed to be shown in a positively so the people don't resist. As the his tutor said, "You need to be seen in a good light so people won't rise against you, but you need to be tough so people don't see you as weak and therefor rise against you."
"Aye, my prince. I've given strict orders. Those who break said rules will be given to you for punishment, to do as you see fit." He then gave another sardonic smile, one that caused Aegon to fight back a grimace. "Has your lovely wife finished you dragon training yet? You need to join your princess to rule the skies like the dragonlords of old."
As they waited for the army to regroup at Storm's End, Daenerys had been teaching him on what she did to ride Meraxes. Balerion was a more difficult creature to tame, she needlessly concluded after a few days. While the black dragon let Aegon near him, the creature was bad-tempered and quite rebellious. The three dragons were all different in personality as in appearance, Vhagar was cunning if wary. The beautiful silver Meraxes was the tamest as well as the fastest, one of the reasons Aegon guessed Dany could ride her silver. Their last session yesterday was met with some success, with Dany smiling at him and claimed he could very soon be a rider. Aegon hoped so. While he would deny it, the dragon scared him as well. Even now, Balerion was circling above him, haven gotten larger and much more intimidating then the little hatchling that once slept on his lap.
Valarr continued, "Remember when I once said that taking Westeros may be difficult, it seems I very much was mistaken. I've never seen an invasion go this smoothly. Especially when the dragons haven't even been used yet."
Not in the way Aegon expected. The dragons followed the armies like sharks after the scent of blood. They appear during a battle, scare the local Westerosi while inspiring his own. Messages were written that just the sight of a dragon was enough to make castles surrender – each fearing they'll be the next Harrenhal even if all the dragon's fire could was only discolour the stone. "Let's hope our situation improves further when I can fly and they get larger." It was a short distance from the Stormlands and King's Landing in comparison to the rest of Westeros. It helped that the other kingdoms were still in chaos. The North was fighting off Stannis Baratheon's attack, with many houses fighting under the flayed man of House Bolton, whilst others joined the burning stag. The Riverlands meanwhile were fighting a civil war between the various branches of House Frey after the old man's death. All the better for us to take advantage of. Let the Northman fight and weaken in winter and let the Riverlands destabilise more. Then all they had to do was move in with promises of food and order with little resistance.
"Will do, my prince," acknowledged Ser Barristan, sitting atop a large barbed courser. "They will get larger. The more they eat, the greater they get and there is always food on the ground for them, thanks to this infernal war. Provided they have much space to grow, they'll grow."
Food. Either the people or their corpses. Prince Aegon grimaced at the thought. Dragons were smart, but they were animals and like many animals, they were content to simply scavenge food after battles. When they didn't though, they were more than willing to feed on the living. Their teeth could rip apart mail and swallow whole sections of a man, only to choke the metal back up in molten heaps.
With a roar, Aegon and the others looked up. Meraxes circled above, with Daenerys in the saddle. She descended beside them, scaring the horses whose riders fought for control. Aegon's own panicked and only with a strong hand and calming words did the mare calm down. Giving his mount a pat on the side of the head, Aegon turned to Dany and said, "Greetings beloved aunt, any news?"
She grinned, unbuckled her harness and jumped off. Daenerys had her hair in a braid, like how Queen Visenya was depicted. She patted the cream-scaled dragon affectionately. Meraxes pressed its spiked head against her body and made a sound similar to a purr. Dany giggled and the dragon rumbled happily. "I do have news, dear nephew. Our Lord Jon Connington was more than happy to see me, initially. He's taken the few remaining castles in the northern Stormlands, and the Kingswood. House Buckler, Hasty, Langward as well as much of Massey's Hook have all bent the knee. Our lord hand now patiently waits for our prince to join him and the others as they prepare for King's Landing."
I would have already if I could fly. "Sadly, he'll have to wait a little longer. You were in the air, what about the terrain?"
"The grounds are wet and the Kingswood is heavily forested. I suggest sending out a vanguard out. The wood is thick enough to be the perfect place for an ambush." While the dragons weren't game-changers, as of yet, they were the perfect scouts. Dany could fly anywhere in Westeros and provide reconnaissance about the land from high above. It was much better than sending scouts by either foot or horse. Daenerys didn't seem to mind, if anything she enjoyed it and brought back stories for him.
Aegon agreed and turned back to his sellsword captain. "Send some horsemen and make sure there aren't any Baratheon loyalists lurking in the woods, or survivors of the battle." The dark-haired man gave a nod and galloped away. The Unsullied were good in pitched battles but when it came to guerrilla warfare, they were much to be desired. Hopefully their commanders have made them more flexible. Aegon smiled and turned back to his wife. "May I ask how your recent ride went?"
Daenerys laughed. "Wonderful, I encourage you to try harder, then we can fly together." She let out a sigh, full of longing. "The feel of the wind on your face, looking down at our domain . . . it's just wonderful. A shame you can't participate."
"Oh, I need your help for that, dear wife. After all, as the Sovereign of the Eastern Sky, I'm sure you can teach me further." He smiled his most charming smile.
Dany snorted and cocked her head. "Is that what the men are calling me, or just you? I'm flattered."
"The men. They're calling you a couple of things, my love. The Dragon Princess, the Silver Dragon, to name a few." Those were the more decent ones, Aegon had punched a sellsword for a title that was very inappropriate. Ser Barristan didn't look at him favourably for that, but Aegon didn't care. "A good name if you ask me. Have you scouted much else?"
"I have. There are forests and rivers before us. There are also towns and farms, destroyed or abandoned. There are a few inhabited villages and I visited a few." That caught Ser Barristan's attention and the old man looked ready to lecture her. Daenerys knew that face and sighed. "Fear not, ser. I only visited the towns we liberated. I was perfectly safe. Besides, I had Meraxes with me and he'll always protect me." Like it understood the praise, the silver dragon pushed it's snout into her shoulder, making Dany laugh girlishly and she gave the dragon a scratch behind the horns. Turning back to her nephew, Daenerys continued, "I talked to some, and they love us. Food is flooding in from Essos and the smallfolk are turning their heads towards us. One even said I was a goddess. But if one things for certain, they don't have any love for the Lannisters. They want them gone."
"Doesn't sound like the Lannister's are that popular." Pointing out the obvious aren't you, Egg. Seeing as the Stormlands have more loyalty for Stannis or Renly, he couldn't blame them for wanting the lions out. But what about the dragons? They would shout the praises to those who had the food, Aegon knew. But would the praise continue when the food stopped being delivered? He doubted it.
The lord commander shook his head. "Your Grace, you shouldn't explore on your own. Who knows what threats there are. If you seek to explore, please at least have a kingsguard and a contingent of soldiers with you. Even Aegon the Conqueror and your brother kept kingsguard with him."
Dany's face darkened. "Guards slow me down. I wasn't going alone, ser. Like I said, I had Meraxes with me. An army in himself and entirely loyal to his mother. I understand your concern, but I don't need it." Ser Barristan looked hurt by that and apologised.
"Speaking of food," Aegon said, changing the conversation. "What about the Tyrells, surely they are supplying the city?"
Daenerys groaned. "They still love the Tyrells and their precious little rose, but I didn't spot any food shipments coming from the west, though there were plenty of refugees fleeing towards the city. The lack of shipments makes me think our friends in the Reach have blocked the roads."
Margaery Tyrell, three times married and twice widowed. Some people claimed she was cursed, but always in the dark corners of taverns. "She brings a curse on those who don't pluck her petal," one sellsword had said whilst deep in his drink. Aegon doubted the rumours, but he wondered what fate will become of the boy king in the future. Thrice married and thrice widowed? He didn't want to think about that. He promised Tyrion and intended to deliver. He may not like the Lannister, but he wouldn't abandon his word. If needed, the boy king could be sent to the Citadel, the Night's Watch or the faith, out the way but alive. The girl likewise.
While the majority of the army proceeded to King's Landing by foot, a small portion had boarded ships and sailed north. The plan was to surround the city, where the Dornish will group up under the command of Quentyn Martell. Princess Arianne had wanted Aegon to go to Dorne and meet her father, saying how much he would want to meet his nephew. Aegon politely declined and replied with, "I will go to Dorne, I ensure you. But not now. Only when King's Landing and the Seven kingdoms are under the Targaryen banner, will I do to Dorne to see my uncle." Princess Arianne Martell wasn't happy with that. After both sides said their goodbyes, the princess returned to Dorne with her retinue. Let's hope the Dornish arrive soon.
While that was going on, Daenerys took charge in making him a rider. Days passed before she decided he was ready. She stood beside Meraxes as Aegon slowly entered the snow covered field, littered with the blackened bones of cows. The farmer had been angry to say the least, even after he received a letter of payment by the sellswords now waiting with crossbows at the ready a fair distance away. Neither Aegon nor Dany liked that, but Ser Barristan was unmoving. The prince doubted the archers do much besides maybe making Balerion angry. Maybe they're here to provide a distraction.
"You'll do well, nephew," Dany said. She wore her armour and a thick cloak lined with soft fur. Her face was red and her breath was visible in the cold.
"You sound confident."
"You're a Targaryen, Egg."
"I'm only half. Half Targaryen, half Martell." He looked at Balerion waiting in the centre of the field, having grown passive after his feeding but looking even more intimidating with blood covering his jaw and stained teeth. "What if it isn't enough? What if I make a mistake?" What if he eats me or sets me alight?
His wife rolled her eyes. "Doubting yourself now? What happened to all that bravado last night?" Her lips slowly formed a smile and she gently cupped his cheek, running a finger down the line of his jaw. "You'll be fine, Aegon. I know you will. Just do as I taught you."
He nodded and took a few steps forward.
"Oh, and one more thing." Aegon turned around and Dany smiled. "One bit of advice, nephew. When you do fly. Keep your mouth closed."
"Why?"
"You'll find out if you don't."
Aegon took a deep breath as he slowly proceeded forwards, not making direct eye contact with the creature that stared with bright crimson eyes. No wonder people are calling you Balerion Reborn. Not that it helped to calm him especially with this being the most aggressive dragon, one who fought with its siblings over food and almost always coming out on top, as well as stealing from the locals who were powerless to do anything.
Still trying to act as the good rulers they were taught to be, both Aegon and Daenerys payed the farmers for the burnt bones of animals. Tyrion, meanwhile, was suspicious and claimed they could have been burnt on purpose. Neither Aegon nor Daenerys had evidence that was the case and continued. A few times they got one who brought human bones that were blackened, the least they could do was give them compensation in gold and gentle words. Dany had been distraught when that it first happened. For Aegon, the memories didn't help, it just made him all the more nervous.
"Keep calm, Aegon," Dany called over to him. "Dragons wont bond with those they believe their inferior."
The prince straightened himself. I am not inferior. I'm a Targaryen. Blood of the Dragonlords and the sun. This dragon will accept me as a rider. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken. I am the blood of those who stood their ground against the dragons and won.
When he got near enough, Aegon looked up directly at Balerion. Smoke rose between the teeth and the blood of cattle seemed to steam. Then it roared. The dragon's breath was like a furnace, reddening his skin with the sheer heat. Charred flesh and broken bones laid between the black teeth, some being flung at Aegon alongside boiling spittle. The faith of the seven spoke of seven hells for each sin a man or woman did. It was like he was looking into one of those hells. If I run, he will eat me. If I move, he will strike. Aegon Targaryen was never surer of anything in his life.
"Aegon, keep calm. Don't do anything rash," Dany yelled, her voice sounding slightly strained. It was like she feared where this was going.
Aegon stared ahead, his limbs felt like they were made of lead. He saw his reflection in the bright red orbs that were Balerion's eyes. It was a terrified boy he saw. I cannot let him know my fear. I can't. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken. He repeated those words like a prayer.
Once again, the dragon roared, rising its serpentine neck far above him as it beat its wings, sending powdery snow everywhere. Aegon staggered back, a hand shielding his face. Balerion bellowed, salvia burning as it touched his skin. Aegon wanted to flee, he wanted to find something to cower behind, but doing so would make Balerion see him as prey instead of master. "No," he shouted, his voice starting soft but quickly got louder. "NO!"
The black wings spread out, blocking the light and engulfing his vision so all he could see was red and black. The colours of house Targaryen. It covered him in shadow. Many times he trained Balerion, this was the latest and he had got further than before. But it felt like it still was the first. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken. I won't bend to you. "Zaldrīzes Saevati!" Balerion reared up once again, bellowing into the air, letting loose a torrent of flame that Aegon barely dodged by leaping back. The tip of his boots caught alight but were quickly doused in the snow. "Balerion Dohaeris!" The black beast didn't seem to like the sound of that, releasing another roar directly into his face, heated air instead of flame. He didn't leap back this time, Aegon stood his ground, eyes locked on the monster before him. It was a game of wills, he decided. One had to back down and be subservient for the other. Aegon wanted something in his hands to hold at the least as they became slippery with sweat. All men must die, but we go down kicking and defiant.
The two stared each other down. The black wings beat again, and again, then folded. It was Balerion who wavered first. The black dragon lowered its head submissively, stretching out flat on the ground. The dragon still made a low growling sound as if to save face. Aegon Targaryen, stared at the dragon laying down on the mud and snow before him. His heart was beating in his throat and his hands were shaking.
There were clapping behind and he turned.
"You did it, nephew," Daenerys called, smiling, looking more relieved than impressed. Ser Rolly and Ser Barristan, too, looked relieved. "You must be quick. Take advantage. Do it now."
Aegon nodded. He felt faint, his legs felt like they were going to collapse underneath him any moment. Somehow he managed to gain his bearing and climbed onto Balerion's back. The black dragon hissed. The scales were warm underneath his palms. The black dragon's moved, muscles rippling and twisting beneath the scales. Before Aegon had a chance to soak everything in, the wings cracked like thunder, and he was flying.
One moment he was on the ground, the next, the world was suddenly becoming very small underneath him. Aegon could see the holdfasts and castles, forests, fields and streams. I've done it. I'm a rider. He could help but laugh, quickly regretting it as the cold wind and flakes of snow filled his mouth.
He felt dizzy, and held onto the ridges for dear life. He felt the urge to simply close his eyes. Aegon was scared and frozen with fear, but happy. Happy he was the second Targaryen to be flying in over a hundred years. Taking a deep breath and opening his purple eyes, he saw Balerion had levelled off and heading straight . . . somewhere. Yes, fly me higher. Higher. He shouted the words, but he couldn't hear them. The wind was too strong, too loud.
My ancestors will be proud.