Jon Snow
They slowly rode north, the cold winds howling in their ears. With Lord Stark leaving south to become Hand of the King, along with most of the household, as well as Arya and Sansa, Robb and Lady Catelyn now reigned in Winterfell.
While he knew Robb would deny it, he knew that their presence in Winterfell was not desired.
At first, it had looked as if Lord Stark would refuse the king and stay in the North, in Winterfell, but in the end, the king had convinced him.
The realm was at peace, though that unity was very fragile. Many would support the Targaryen girl should stake her claim to the Iron Throne, not because they loved her, but because barely anyone would ever dare oppose her.
Jon doubted, that even Tywin Lannister would fight her, should she try to claim the throne. Fighting her would likely result in the end of House Lannister, at least nine out of ten times. He would likely try to marry his elder son to her and then help her take the throne, get an heir with Lannister blood and then plot to have her killed. Or have her marry anyone with enough Lannister blood. Getting the girl to accept the Kingslayer as her husband would be a hard task.
In such a brittle situation, the King needed stability, more so than anything else. Naming Mace Tyrell, Tywin Lannister or any other man greedy for power would make him vulnerable to betrayal and deceit.
Counting out Lord Stark, only his younger brothers remained as viable options. However, Renly was too soft-minded and too heavily involved with the Tyrells, especially their youngest son Loras, while Stannis, on the other hand, was too dour. A harsh yet just man, but one who inspired to love or loyalty. Besides that, the King needed swords and spears now more than ever, and Stannis brought him none, that weren't his already.
Therefore, with a betrothal between Jon's cousin Sansa and the Prince Joffrey being made, Lord Stark was more or less forced to accept the position as hand.
Jon's uncle Benjen Stark rode a few dozen foot ahead of the two bastards, occasionally turning around to see if they were still behind him.
Eventually, Jon spurned his horse, until he rode directly next to Benjen.
"When did your hair turn white, lad?" Benjen asked him, as he rode up to him. "I've seen people's hair colour change slightly with time, but yours looks like you got stuck in a snowstorm. Last I recall, your hair was as black as a raven's feathers."
"Long story," Jon sighed, letting one hand slide through his light-grey hair while keeping the other on the horse's reigns. "They changed over time, grew paler and paler over the years."
For a moment, Benjen looked at him with suspicion, but quickly let the topic drop.
"Where are your wolves?" he asked his nephew, looking around the frozen landscape. "I've barely seen those two leave your side?"
"They left to hunt," Jon shrugged. "I can't have them eat whatever provisions we took, at least not as long as they are able to hunt by themselves. Can't spoil them too much or they might get too lazy."
"You got a point," Benjen conceded looking around them again, scanning the landscape. "Probably better like this."
"Ya still haven't told me why you're coming with me, lad," Benjen told him, after a short while of silence, turning his head. "Ned mentioned it wasn't because of the pleasure of joining the watch, so why is it?"
Jon smiled slightly.
"Someone I need to meet, uncle," he replied, while slowly patting the back of his horse's back. "Someone I've been waiting to meet for quite some time."
At this, Benjen turned his head towards Jon, his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion.
"Now you've got me curious. Who is this man you're talking about? I do not know of anyone serving the watch that you would have any interest in meeting. Lord Commander Jeor Mormont perhaps? He became Lord Commander not long ago when his predecessor Lord Commander Qorgyle died beyond the wall."
Benjen sighed, his dark grey eyes filled with what Jon knew to be sadness.
"I knew him, was a good man. Wouldn't have become Lord Commander otherwise. They ventured out one day, with a few dozen rangers. Usually, they never venture too far, always staying within the sight of the wall, but this time they went further, past the Haunted Forest and Craster's Keep, until they disappeared in the area between the Antler River and the Skirling Pass, a bit north of the Fist of the First Men. Never heard of any of them again."
Jon saw Ramsay frown slightly behind him. It was him, who did this.
It seems that, at the very least, however, nobody had learned that it had been good. He could have hit himself for not thinking of it right away.
Had some of them survived and remembered the face of their attacker, their arrival at Castle Black could have turned very uncomfortable.
"I'm not here for the Lord Commander," Jon replied finally, his eyes set straight forward. "I'm here for a family member," he said, as he turned to his right where Benjen rode, staring him straight in the eyes.
"Me?" Benjen laughed loudly. "You flatter me, Jon."
"Not you."
"Hm?"
"Aemon. The Maester."
Benjen's careless, happy mood disappeared as quickly as water in the deserts of Dorne.
"Aemon..." he repeated slowly, looking around carefully to ensure no one overheard them. "Ned told you," he finally stated, receiving a curt nod from Jon.
"About my mother... and father."
"When?"
"Never. It took me quite some time but eventually, I figured it out by myself. When I confronted him, he admitted to it."
"You did?" Jon's uncle asked, shock evident in his voice. "That's bad..." he muttered finally, his voice no more than a whisper.
"Is it?"
"It is. If you can figure it out, others can as well," Benjen stated, worry clear in his eyes.
"They won't figure it out," Jon reassured him. "Not the way I did."
"And how did you find it out?" Benjen asked curiously. "No one did so far, none but me."
His voice grew melancholic, as he started to speak.
"I helped her leave south, did you know? I was so young then, and when she made me swear to keep silent, then I did. When Ned rode off to war, I kept silent. I thought to myself... This mess would resolve itself, wouldn't it? They would parley and they would realize their mistake. But they didn't. At the Trident, none of the factions met beforehand. My brother and Robert thought it was unnecessary. A rapist was undeserving of being heard. And neither did my brother trust Robert to not break guest right, as soon as he saw the prince. And Rhaegar? Gods know what he intended. He wanted their support against his father but on his own terms. He likely wanted to beat them in battle and then force them into his service, force them into submission. The lost battle and the reveal that he had never kidnapped Lyanna would have done it. They would have marched with him against King's Landing, taking the Iron Throne. But of course, that didn't happen. In his arrogance, he fell on the Trident, and with him fell the Targaryen Dynasty."
His voice was no more than a whisper when he continued.
"I kept silent, and the Seven Kingdoms bled for it. Robert has been a just ruler, but it was blood and swords that placed him there."
A faraway look crept into his dark grey eyes, as he stared forwards into the barren, tundra-like landscape of the north, covered in snow and stones.
"One promise that cost the lives of thousands. After that, I joined the Night's Watch. A way to find redemption. To serve with honour."
"So that's why you joined," Jon slowly spoke. "Have you ever regretted it?"
"Never," Benjen shook his head. "Life has been hard on the wall, but never unfair or cruel. It is a constant struggle, but a good one."
Jon nodded, accepting his explanation.
"Tell me about Aemon," he finally demanded, as they finally saw the silhouette of Castle Black shine softly through the snowy fog that filled the air. "Tell me about my other uncle."
"An old man," Benjen told him. "An old man, but a good man. He's served the Night's Watch for so long, that the Seven Kingdoms have forgotten about his Targaryen Blood."
He paused for a moment, noticing Castle Black rise before them before he continued once more.
"You wouldn't know he's a Targaryen when you see him. He is bald, his eyes not purple but clouded in a milk-white colour. He has been blind for many years, but his hearing and mind are still as sharp as Valyrian Steel. He came here with Brynden Rivers, the Bloodraven. He perished beyond the wall, many years ago, as you probably know. He's always calm and courteous and his advice was never wrong."
He looked towards Jon for a moment, smiling softly. "He'll like you."
The three of them slowly rode through the entrance of the castle, where they were greeted by a small raven.
"Snow! Snow! Snow!" It cawed, as it circled above them.
The castle itself was rather worn down. 6 towers rose all across the castle, with a few small timber keeps in between. A gate guarded the tunnel through the Wall, long and twisted and narrow. A great switchback stair climbed its way up from Castle Black to the very top of the Wall. Wooden stairs were anchored into the monstrous structure, holding the stairs firmly in place. An Iron cage attached to a winch could seemingly also be used to ascend or descend to or from the top of the wall.
Still, it wasn't any of those features that drew his attention, but a man cloaked in Black that stood on a battlement that overlooked the yard below. He had seen around a fifty namedays, black eyes and black hair and even from the distance he seemed cold and humourless to Jon.
Yet when he rode closer, the man's expression turned to confusion and then blatant shock.
"Silver hair..." Jon could hear him mutter under his breath, as the man kept staring at him.
Aegon
Servants were positioned all over the old room, holding wine, ale, the volantene honeyjuice and other liquors. A last of the masters were rounded up in the rooms, with guards and soldiers of the Company on each side of them, guarding them so they would not dare to flee.
Magisters and other noblemen had travelled to Volantis as well to swear their allegiance or make promises that they could not deliver. Hopeless attempts to gain the ear and support of the new king that had arisen in the east. A hundred noblemen and no more than a dozen of the remaining masters, that had been proven to have treated their slaves fairly and with kindness, were rounded up before him. He sat on his throne, a seat of pure gold, that the smiths of the Golden Company had forged of the golden jewellery, that had once belonged to the Masters of Volantis.
The fat Magister of Pentos, Illyrio Mopathis was his name, strode forwards and spoke. "We have come, my king."
"You have," Aegon confirmed. "I never truly had the opportunity to thank you, Magister Illyrio. I was informed that you worked closely with the Spider, to get me out of King's Landing safely."
"I did," the fat Magister nodded. "I provided the ships and men he required for the task, my king. And seeing you here is so very worth it."
"You ensured I lived to this day. A greater gift could not be given. I am a king and I shall reign over more than just Volantis. A King does not forget his friends and his enemies much less. Nor will he fail to reward those who supported him."
A toothy, yellow grin appeared on the magisters face, as his face twisted into a smile. The morbidly obese man showed his wealth for all the world to see. Gemstone rings of many different colours adorned his fingers, including amethysts, black diamonds, emeralds, green pearls, jade, jet, onyx, opals, rubies and sapphires, light-blue winter diamonds and tourmaline.
"It may be a gift of unmatched greatness," the pentoshi cheesemonger started, "But there is another one I hope to bestow on you. A gift for your cause, my king. A symbol of legitimacy."
The fat man nodded to a servant behind him, who brought forth a long, black box, adorned with rubies and gold. When the magister's fatty fingers carefully opened the box, for a moment, Aegon was blinded.
He was holding his court in one of the palaces, with the roof opening to let the sun enter. When the light hit the object inside the box, it gleamed with such intensity, that for a moment Aegon feared he would go blind.
But a moment later, when the object was moved so that it no longer blinded him, Aegon could see what the object was. It was a sword, a hand-and-a-half longsword of Valyrian Steel.
But it wasn't just a sword
A huge ruby, the size of an apple rested in the middle of the pommel, with dark, fused metal forming the hilt. Two small dragons had been carved into each end of the crossguard, their mouths open and screeching at whatever enemy might approach
It took no more than a second until Aegon knew what he was seeing. The sword before him was the ancestral sword of House Targaryen, once wielded by Aegon the Conqueror himself. It was Blackfyre.
The sword that had brought peace and unity to the Seven Kingdoms when the First Aegon wielded it, and death and destruction when Daemon Blackfyre did.
"I thank you for this gift, Magister Illyrio," Aegon finally said, when he gathered himself. "Still, I must ask you this: How did you come into possession of Blackfyre? It hasn't been seen in more than a century."
"Unseen by the men of the west, but known to the noblemen of the east," Illyrio replied smoothly. "Lost from the Golden Company years ago, not long after the Redgrass Field," he started, giving Harry Strickland a pointed look. "But was swiftly recovered by a merchant. It has seen few owners, as those who came into its possession never gave it away easily. It changed hands just a few times, until my money and Varys pieces of information, finally found their way towards it, eventually retrieving it."
"Your gift is very much appreciated, Magister Illyrio," Aegon said loudly. "Ask for whatever boon you wish and if it is within my power, it shall be granted."
"I ask for no more than to see you sit on the Iron Throne. Such is the only boon I require." This struck Aegon as odd. The Magister was many things, good things and bad things, but above all, he was a greedy person. One did not simply become the wealthiest man in Pentos. It was earned through ruthlessness, cunning and most importantly greed. That he would not ask for anything was certainly confusing.
For a moment, he did not know what to do next, until Jon leaned down beside him. "The oaths," he whispered.
"I will have yours oaths of fealty now," Aegon loudly declared. "All of you, who stand before me will swear their oaths before the sun sets." He looked pointedly at the remaining masters. "A failure to do so will be considered treason and will be met with a fitting sentence."
One by one, the masters and magisters stepped forwards, bowing and reciting the same oath. The Essosi oaths were different from those sworn in the west, but Aegon accepted them all the same.
"By the R'hllor and the Black Goat, the Great Shepherd and the horse god, the Lion of Night and the Many-Faced God, the Silent God and the Lady of Spears, I swear this oath. I will be faithful and true to your cause, and love all that you love, and shun all that you shun. I shall grant my support when required and swear that I shall never, by will nor by force, by word nor by work, do ought of what is loathful to his Grace."
"And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonour. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise," Aegon replied, using the common oath of the Westerosi. At first, this earned him confusion, but the men got used to it quite quickly.
This went on and on, until shortly after the sun had set and candles and stars began to Illuminate the rooms and streets.
Until suddenly, the stars disappeared, dipping the poorer regions of Volantis in complete darkness. When Aegon looked up through the open room, suspecting it to be a cloud, his heart nearly stopped.
A childlike joy started to fill him, as 3 great dragons sailed above the city, darkening the sky.
3 Dragons circled the city, one was midnight black, another a mossy green and the third dragon's scales were cream and gold coloured.
For a moment he was awestruck, unable to move or think as the beasts of legends appeared before him in all their glory. He had learned a lot of them, he knew their names Rhaellion, Rhaegal and Viserion, he had read about everything they did in the newly named Bay of Dragons.
But seeing them here before him was another thing entirely.
Only then, did the largest of the three let out an ear-shattering roar, that echoed across the entire city.
She's here.
Daenerys
Daenerys clung onto Rhaellion's back, as her largest child circled in the air above the city. To the west, she could see the Disputed Lands stretch out for hundreds of leagues, with the Rhoyne flowing freely through the city.
Further south laid the lands of Volon Therys and the open grasslands of the Dothraki Sea. There she could see a sea of tents that seemed to span out for leagues. It was too dark to recognize more, or who lived in them.
A camp for refugees of the city maybe?
The Long Bridge of Volantis reached over the mouth of the Rhoyne, joining the two halves of Volantis. It was a great span with a fused stone road, supported by massive piers and stood inside the water. From her history lessons with Marwyn, she knew that the bridge had been built under the Triarch Vhalaso, shortly before the end of the Rhoynish Wars.
A hundred shops and houses stood atop the Long Bridge, but even from high above them, she could see that the houses were burned and looted, as was most of the city. The monstrous Black Walls loomed over the eastern side of the city, where the fires had been even worse. The entire area around the Black Walls was complete and utterly destroyed, with only burned rubble and blackened ruins remaining of the houses that had once stood there. The Black Walls had been breached, as a part of them had collapsed near the epicentre of the destruction.
There, a small crater showed, right where the Black Wall had collapsed.
Viserion and Rhaegal circled her, diving down and flying just a few foot over the ground, while Rhaellion remained a bit more careful, observing the area silently before letting out a roar to announce his presence, so loud that Dany had to cover her ears.
Shadow was right behind her, whining slightly at the roar. The hellhound was secured to the saddle as well, with a few straps holding her body to the saddle, right behind Daenerys herself.
She had arranged this so that the hound's sensitive ears would at least be slightly protected from the wind that howled in her ears during the journey. The dragons might have been her children, but she had come to care for the giant wolf-like hound just as much, if not more. Shadow was a dozen times stronger than her, but still not the slightest match for a dragon. Dany suspected, that it had been this, that had made her bond a bit more closely with her. The dragons obeyed her and returned her affections, but they didn't truly need her. Shadow, however, when she had found her, had been entirely vulnerable, even more so than the baby dragons.
She carefully circled above the city, searching for a safe place to land. The destruction of the previous battle was now in full display, with black scorch marks all over the city and the dark-red colour of blood darkening the white marble floor inside the Black Walls.
When Rhaellion flew deeper, close to the ground she could even make out the burned remains of what had once been bones. A blackened ribcage stuck out from a pile of rubble, where a stair had once led to what seemed to have been a wine-cellar.
The dragons slowly started to descend into an open space inside the Black Walls. The courtyard where they were attempting to land was huge, but not nearly enough to host the 3 dragons. Rhaellion landed in the middle, tearing down a fountain and multiple trees while doing so. He almost got impatient at one point and would have burned the trees around him to cinders to make it easier to land, but a quick mental command from Dany stopped him.
The other two dragons remained in the air while watching Rhaellion closely.
They often underestimate their size Daenerys mused. During the time on Bloodstone, she had often observed how they would accidentally tear down trees and rocks while attempting to land somewhere.
Shouts echoed all over the city and especially inside the Black Walls, as Rhaellion lowered his shoulder to ease her descent from his back. Daenerys still wasn't entirely sure of the dragon's gender, as they seemed to be able to change gender as often as they pleased.
The shouts and screams seemed to become less and less, as at least a hundred men of the Golden Company poured from the buildings around her, their speers and swords ready.
Jon Connington
The moment, the dragons roared from above them, the former Lord of Griffin's Roost immediately jumped up from his seat and followed Aegon outside.
To say that he was nervous, would be an understatement. Years and years of work, from the very beginning, had led up to this. The following hours might very well decide if the war for the Iron Throne would be won or lost
Would she submit to Aegon or prove herself a threat?
Directly after the taking of Volantis, Aegon had insisted on sending out a summon to his aunt on Bloodstone, demanding her presence at Volantis.
Jon had protested at first, as it might seem hostile, but he had agreed after a while. Showing Aegon's superiority would be necessary.
But still, to some extent, he had hoped that she would not answer. That she would stay entirely away from this conflict. But now she was here, with all three dragons circling above them.
"Men of the Golden Company!" he barked. "Get outside!"
The men obeyed and quickly shuffled away to meet the Dragon Empress in the courtyard, where already the giant black beast lowered his shoulder for her to dismount.
A giant wolf - no, it was her hellhound - dismounted right afterwards. Rhaegar's sister wasn't a tall person, she had a petite frame and could be no taller than Aegon had been 2 years ago. Still, the beast was an impressive size. It loomed behind her, his deep red eyes boring into the men of the Golden Company.
Aegon carefully walked forwards, Blackfyre strapped to his hip. Dressed in a red and black gown, adorned with gold and rubies, as well as an exquisite golden crown resting on his head, he looked every inch like the king he was.
As he slowly moved forwards, the other dragons lowered their heads, their huge faces staring at him threateningly.
A show of force if he had ever seen one. The girl wore a gown of black and purple, which she had seemed to take as her colours, and not the typical red and black that Aegon wore. Her dress was rather simple, with a band of leather that ran over her shoulders and stomach, holding the purple gown beneath in place. She wore a dress, but beneath it breeches what seemed logical to Jon, given the fact that she had been flying on a dragon.
He already knew that this would be difficult. She was certainly not a meek girl, one that saw herself as more than a price to be paraded around by a husband or to be traded away. But she would have to do her duty. She would have to see reason.
The dragons snarled loudly at the men of the Company, who by Jon's impression seemed to be on the verge of shitting themselves. Still, he couldn't blame them. Coming face to face with all 3 of Daenerys Targaryen's famed Dragons and her hellhound-beast at the same time, especially with them snarling at you, was not something a man could take easily.
Doubts started to fill him for the first time, as he looked upon the woman before him. Targaryens either leaned towards greatness or madness, a coinflip many said, but even those whose coin had landed on the right side, were nothing if not proud.
A slight had often been answered with fire and blood, and insult with a swift death.
And Rhaegar's sister would likely be the worst of them all. Pride and arrogance were what had been the defining character-traits of most Dragonriders, the power of their mounts giving them a feeling of superiority over everyone else.
And she had not only hatched a dragon, she had brought them back to the world, and not one but three of them. She had likely been filled with this typical pride from the very moment she hatched them.
Aegon took another step forwards, making the giant hellhound behind his aunt snarl loudly. It crouched down, seemingly ready to leap forwards, but Jon knew animals well enough, to know it was just a threat.
Others didn't.
Immediately a dozen men drew their swords in defence of their king. It would have been an admirable gesture if it didn't make everything a dozen times harder. Still, he had to admire their courage to do so, even with the threat of Dragonfire right in front of them.
Jon himself moved closer, just as within the fracture of a second, a sword materialized inside the girl's hands.
Dark Sister he recognized immediately. It had been rumoured for some time, that the sword was in the girl's possession.
"What is this?" Aegon asked in a commanding tone, gazing fiercely into those vivid, purple eyes that seemed to shine with the power of a roaring fire. With the blade in her right hand and a small flame flickering in her left hand, they glowed brilliantly in the darkness of the city, shining unnaturally with the flowing energy of unknown powers that filled her body.
Once again, this did nothing to soothe the old Griffin's nerves.
A tiny smirk drew across Daenerys's dark lips, as she straightened herself and cocked her head.
For a moment, Jon took a moment to admire the young girl's looks. He let his gaze trail from ankle to head, examining the woman's hourglass curves intently. She really was an extravagant beauty, just as rumours foretold, though her cold expression and distrustful, even dangerous glare slightly disturbed that grace. Still, she had all the features that other men would appreciate in a woman. Not me though. There has only ever been one person for me.
Maybe it would be better for Aegon to marry her, a way to satisfy her lust for power. But then again, it might make her lust for power even more than before, finding ways to overrule Aegon or even have him killed once she had given him an heir and secured her rule.
"Put down those weapons," the young girl commanded, power resonating in her every word. "Or whatever negotiations you have called me here for, will be a lot, a lot shorter than you intended."
As if to prove her words, the black dragon raised his head into the night sky and roared, before turning back to the men before him. Even from where Jon stood, he could see fire form in the back of the beast's throat.
Aegon gave a curt nod to the men, signalling them to lower their swords, but it was quite apparent, that they would have done so regardless of what he would have commanded.
"I am Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. The Last Dragon," he added and for a short moment, Jon could see the girl's eyes spark, though if it was amusement or anger he could not tell.
"Dragon?" she asked. "Dragon you call yourself? Because there is a 3 headed dragon engraved in your armour and sown into your gowns?" She laughed slightly, before pointing towards the midnight-coloured dragon.
"That is a dragon. You are not."
For a moment Aegon remained silent, seemingly not knowing how to answer.
Rhaegar's sister continued quickly, not allowing him any time to gather himself. "I have had a hundred titles. Mhysa, the Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons, Bride of fire, Bride of shadows, Daughter of death, Slayer of lies, the Dark Sovereign and the Butcherer of Astapor after what I did there."
She made a short pause.
"False Kings cower behind false crowns and titles. A true monarch takes what he wants."
Aegon stared back at her, boldly but not without fear. Jon knew he had to defuse the situation. Otherwise, her support might be long lost before they even made their offers.
"Your Grace," he interrupted, biting his tongue slightly at the title. "We do not want to appear inhospitable. Please accept our bread and salt. Our discussion can continue on the morrow."
"Our discussion continues now," the girl replied curtly and with confidence, though she took the bread and salt all the same.
Rhaegar's sister then moved towards the large palace where they had come from.
"Find us a meeting chamber," she commanded, looking harshly at the men of the Golden Company, while she let Dark Sister vanish into nothing but air again.
"I am your nephew," Aegon interrupted. "I give the orders here, not you. You do not command me."
For a moment, Daenerys paused in her steps, turning to look at Aegon.
"We'll see."
Daenerys
She slowly walked through the dark corridors of the city. She carefully let her hand slide over the candles that hung on the walls, illuminating them with her touch, one after one.
The journey north-east, towards Volantis, had been exhausting sure, but now she was very much awake. Prepared and eager to deal with the boy that called herself her nephew.
Two men of the Golden Company escorted her to a large chamber with a giant, oaken table in its middle and chairs arranged all around it.
Shadow trailed next to her, as her right hand lit up the candles, while her left hand softly grasped the giant hellhounds fur.
"Stay here, girl," she whispered to the hound as she entered the chamber, gesturing towards the entrance.
Carefully she pulled back one of the rather large, beautifully crafted chairs from beneath the table and sat down.
She nodded towards Aegon, indicating for him to sit down on the opposite end, before turning to the other men that had followed them.
"His Lordship is my hand," Aegon pointed towards the old man that had previously offered her the salt and bread. Captain Harry Strickland, Myles Toyne, Lysono Maar will be here as my advisors and those three-," he pointed towards 3 of the generals. "Will stay here as guards."
"Very well," Daenerys conceded, looking at the remaining men. "Out, all of you. But get me some wine first."
When the men complied and got out, she finally turned to look at her nephew.
"So?" she asked finally, raising an eyebrow. She carefully poured herself a cup of the wine she had been given.
"Well..." Aegon started, hesitating for a moment, uncertain about how to start this dialogue.
"You are telling me, that you summoned me here, quite rudely I might add, only to now have no clue about what to say?"
Aegon went red for a moment before he took a deep breath to gather himself.
"I have summoned you here, to ask for your support in the wars to come. There are many enemies to House Targaryen that remain unpunished. Something you will surely want to fix as well."
The words were spoken confidently, that Daenerys had to give him.
He does at least have the confidence of a king if nothing else.
"M-hm," Daenerys merely replied, seemingly a lot more interested in the liquor that filled her cup, than the plans of her supposed nephew.
"M-hm what?" the old man that had been introduced as Hand of the King asked irritated, his bushy eyebrows pulled together in confusion.
"Who are you?" Daenerys asked in return. "I forgot to ask and you weren't introduced."
"I am but an old man, but one who knew both your brother and served your father. I was Hand of the King during the rebellion and fought for faithfully for your family."
"Unsuccessfully, it would seem," Daenerys replied nonchalantly. "I know but one man who fits that description, logically that is. I hear the Pyromancer Rossart was named Hand of the King shortly before the sack, but I doubt he is still alive. You must be Jon Connington... Of course, you signed the letter to me, didn't you? Ser Barristan did say, that there was a possibility you might be alive."
Suddenly she let out a silent laugh. "So many... ghosts of the past, no? First, my nephew seems to be a godlike creature. A prophecised hero maybe, who can have his head crushed and survive? And another Hand of the King that failed miserably at his job also seems to have returned from his grave."
Jon felt anger well up in him at the girl's words, but she interrupted him before he could reply. "Go on, deny it," she challenged. "Tell me you did a good job while being Hand. Deny it and I will know you to be a liar."
"You're right," Connington conceded through gritted teeth. "I failed in the Rebellion, but I have not failed House Targaryen. I protected the heir to the throne for years, raised him and taught him." He gave Aegon a proud look.
"He is a good man and will be an even better king."
"I still fail to see, why I should support him?"
"I am your king as well," Aegon added, his voice low and harsh. "Your nephew by blood and last remaining child of Rhaegar Targaryen. The head of House Targaryen and heir to the throne. You are only the sister, whereas I am the son. By all the laws of gods and men, I am your king."
"Are you now?" For the first time, the girl showed hints of anger, as her long, nimble fingers clenched ever so slightly. "You call yourself the son of Rhaegar, but you have no proof."
Connington was about to interrupt, but the girl continued.
"And there is more. Heir to the throne you say, I say differently. Rhaegar and his children were disinherited by my father, removing them entirely from the line of succession in favour of Viserys. With his death, this passes on to me. So... no. By all the rights of gods and men, it is me who leads House Targaryen. I am its head and I am heir to the Iron Throne."
"A folly," Aegon replied brusquely. "A mad king, such deeds can't be trusted. An act done within the last days of his reign, with no weight behind them."
"The fact it happened remains."
Daenerys slowly stood up to refill her cup of wine, her purple gown moving behind her like water.
"So tell me, supposed nephew of mine... Why should I support you? Why should I obey you, when you hold no power over me? What could you ever offer me, that I could not take myself?"
Aegon sucked in a breath, before straightening himself.
"You have grown over the many years as both a person and a ruler. You have liberated Slaver's Bay and forged your very own empire. Fire and Blood were your tools, but you gave the citizens freedom and prosperity. Now come with me to Westeros. Serve me, and together we can bring this freedom to all men, not just those of the east. Together, we can save the country and create a dynasty that will last a thousand years."
"Freedom?" Rhaegar's sister interrupted. "The men of Westeros are free. Usurper, you may call him, but under Robert Baratheon's reign, the Seven Kingdoms have prospered the most since the Conciliator's reign, over 200 years ago."
"He tried to have you killed."
"So he did. But Bloodstone is safe now. There haven't been any assassins sent after me by him since I left Asshai over 3 years ago. Brittle it may be, but we have peace now with the Sunset Kingdoms. Once again, I fail to see. What makes you a better ruler than the current king? Why would I support you?"
"He is your nephew," Myles Thoyne spoke up for the first time, looking at the girl before him intently. "Your King."
"I have no King," Daenerys shot back, her eyes blazing. "And even if you were who you say," she started, disregarding Aegon's attempts to interrupt. "I don't care. Not now, not ever. When Viserys died, I had to flee to Asshai to find shelter. Assassins and cutthroats followed me even there. Tell me, where were you then? You call yourself the head of House Targaryen but said person must protect the remaining members of the house. You failed."
She paused for a moment.
"You are but a weak boy, unfit to rule and conquer. You watched Viserys and me suffer - and did nothing. Power belongs to those who are strong enough to take it. To inspire loyalty, love and fear in their subjects alike. I had nothing when I fled east. Everything I have today is mine because I worked hard for it. My men don't follow me because of some fancy title or family name. They follow me because they respect, love and fear me. 'Aegon Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne' you call yourself. But take those words away... What are you then? Nothing."
"I have taken Volantis."
"Through treachery. And how did that turn out? A city that hates you now, more than they ever did their master's. You could try to take some of my cities. I may have committed atrocities in those very cities, but the people would still fight tooth and nail to defend it from you. Were I to attack Volantis today, they would herald me as their saviour."
"The fires got out of control. It was not predictable," Connington intervened, his eyes showing both anger and annoyment. Despite that, Daenerys almost believed that there was a little fear in there as well.
"It was very predictable. Creating fires next to wooden buildings usually leads to them igniting as well."
"We didn't know."
"So what were you? Fools, so that you did not expect this to happen, or tyrants who didn't care?"
Aegon rose from his seat.
"The sack of Volantis was unfortunate. You weren't there. You don't know what happened, you don't know what decisions I had to make. I was faced with hard choices and I made the right one. I never intended it, I never wanted it. Had there been a way to prevent it, I would have taken it without hesitation. But there wasn't. So this is what happened and I will live with my choices. You, on the other hand, did things far worse. You executed men because you suspected that they might belong to those Sons of the Harpy. You bathed Astapor in fire and slaughtered a thousand innocents there. Tell me, where is that any different? We are not so different, you and I!"
Daenerys smiled at him slightly, as a mother would look at a petulant child.
"I never denied it," she simply shrugged. "Tell me what crimes I have committed. List every single one of them, every man I killed, every soldier I had burned. List everything and in return, I will tell you the price of victory. Aegon forged the 7 Kingdoms with fire and blood, not words and love. One needs to destroy the old, to create something new... something truly... great."
"So this is what you're doing? Creating something great?"
"Yes."
"And so shall we," Lysono Maar cut in, his voice sly. "House Lannister and House Baratheon have yet to pay for their crimes. Something the King intends to change."
"They butchered your family as well," Connington added. "Princess Rhaenys, your niece. Princess Elia, your sister-in-law. That was your family they killed, the blood of your blood they spilt. Such a crime demands retribution."
"I don't care, who killed who, Lord Connington," Daenerys replied calmly, though the famous Targaryen temper was starting to show itself clearly.
"My family died with Viserys. I don't care what House Targaryen wants. I wear black and purple because I no longer care about what might have been my family once."
She paused for a moment, before looking Connington straight into her eyes, her amethyst orbs shining with piercing intensity.
"Of course I would like to avenge Rhaenys and her mother. But I do not particularly care about it either. Starting a war with Westeros serves neither any of my interests nor the stability of my empire. Rhaenys's death was regrettable, but if leaving her death unavenged is the cost for the stability of my empire, then that is a price, that I am willing to pay."
Take that.
Jon Connington
This was bad. The girl was far worse than even he had anticipated. She showed a complete and utter disregard for authority and the respect she owed her nephew.
She had clearly shown her powers, from her illuminating the candles, to summoning Dark Sister from nothing but thin air. The power of magic filled her body, so much that in the dark chamber they were in, her eyes glowed like purple stars.
She was proud and fierce, a powerful ally, but an even more powerful enemy.
"Then marry your nephew," Jon proclaimed, in an attempt to sway her mind. "Unite your claims and -"
"bow to his will?" the girl interrupted. "I think not."
"It's the way this world works, my lady," Jon said, doing his best to make it sound as if there were regret in his voice.
"Not anymore. I am already a Queen, more than that, I am an Empress. I don't need to marry anyone to solidify this.
The girl turned towards Harry Strickland, who had up until now remained entirely silent, only occasionally whispering advice in Aegon's ears.
"Tell me, Captain-General Harry Strickland. Could you defeat my forces? You have as many men in the Golden Company as I have Unsullied and I have 3 Dragons."
"Well, we have the Dothraki as well," Strickland added, making Jon curse him for his stupidity. They should have waited with that and eased her into it. This might very well turn very dour now.
"The Dothraki?" Rhaegar's sister asked with a slight surprise. "So that's what the tents outside of the city were for."
Aegon seemed to recognize the folly this was leading to and softly nodded, his eyes averted.
"We should start discussing the potential allies in Weste-" he started, trying to change the topic, but he was quickly interrupted.
"Just how did you manage to acquire their support?" She asked, her eyes narrowed and sharp. "Dothraki are not known for their political skills or forging alliances."
"It was... difficult," Aegon conceded, not looking her in the eyes.
Look at her. You will make it only more suspicious to her.
"I'm sure it was. Dealing with such... barbarians. They have been a nuisance in Essos for quite some time now. Still, I would like to hear, how you managed to accomplish such a feat." The girl slowly drank a few sips of wine from her golden cup, never averting her eyes.
She knows. She has to. She would never be so suspicious about this alliance otherwise. Is this maybe, why she was so aggressive and distrustful towards us in the first place?
Suddenly, Jon regretted his decision during the sack. They should have betrayed the Dothraki, kept them outside of the gates and dealt with them later.
But then thousands more of our men would have died and the sack might have turned a lot bloodier for us.
But still, it would have been worth it. No amount of men in the world were worth what was about to come.
"A... marriage alliance," Aegon said carefully, his voice low and scared, far from the confidence he had displayed earlier.
For a moment, the tension was unbearable, until the girl laughed out loudly.
"You married a Dothraki girl?" she wheezed. "The noble Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name? Don't tell me you also intend to take those Dothraki with you to Westeros."
"Not me," Aegon all but whispered, his purple eyes staring into the table. "I didn't make the marriage alliance for me."
There was the tension again, back stronger than ever before. Silence lingered for a few moments before Jon could see a spark of realisation in the girl's eyes, just before it turned to a storm of hate and fury.
"You. Dare," she whispered, barely audible but the words laced with such anger that Jon was certain even Tywin Lannister would have cowered. Her voice echoed with power, as flames started to lick up and down her arms.
"You dare?" she repeated, her voice only growing in volume.
"It was necessary, please," Jon interrupted, trying to defuse the situation. "Arrangements can be made, you won't have to marry him."
Still, the girl ignored him, standing up from her table and walking around it, until she was just a few foot away from Aegon.
Suddenly he looked a lot less like a king and much more like the little boy he had adopted all those years ago.
Aegon
Aegon's aunt was certainly a beauty, as she stood before him, her eyes blazing and her hands resting on her hips, with flames licking her body and soft skin.
She was a queen, that much was certain and he should have expected more from her when the dragons had arrived in the city.
Jon had taught him to expect an obedient, fertile maid, ideal for the restoration of House Targaryen.
If only I would have thought for myself for once. It was more than obvious, that this wouldn't be the case.
Marrying her himself didn't seem like a bad idea anymore. She would be a strong queen, but still one beloved by many and respected by all. Not even Tywin Lannister would ever dare to challenge her. She was truly Visenya Targaryen reborn.
"You... can marry me instead?" he carefully spoke, as he looked into his aunts fiery, glowing eyes.
"How... gracious of you, to give me such an amazing alternative. Still, I must refuse. I won't marry whoever you chose for me. I won't marry you."
"No..." she shook her head slightly.
"This is an insult," she declared. "I have been insulted many times in my life, but this is the greatest of them all. You promise my hand in marriage to a savage warlord, to further your cause. You call yourself my king? My nephew? You are the lowest of all people I have ever met."
"Please," Aegon replied, his voice frail, but still desperately trying to keep it as firm as possible. He could not remember the last time he had pleaded to someone like this. "Let us sleep a night over it. Hasty decisions have been made on my part, but they do not have to mean anything. Let us reconvene on the morrow, after a night of sleep."
Aegon's aunt slowly moved back to her seat. He could not keep his eyes off her. He had met a thousand women, each more beautiful than the previous. But Daenerys was different. She had a fire in herself, she was a beauty, but beneath it was cold Iron. Harsh and cold and unyielding.
"Fine," she allowed. "I give you until tomorrow when the sun rises. You better have come up with a solution until then, otherwise..."
She raised a hand and through what appeared to be no more than a force of will, a satin pillow appeared on her hand. She rested it on the table between them, before adding a glove, soaked with blood on the top of it.
It didn't take long, for Aegon to understand the message. A bloodstained glove on a sating pillow was a declaration of war, commonly used by the cities of the far east, mainly Yi Ti, Qarth, maybe even in Asshai. Maybe Daenerys would know.
"It's 8 more hours until then," Daenerys stated brusquely, the threat evident in her voice.
"Use them wisely," she spoke, just as she left the room, her giant hellhound joining her.
Aegon couldn't help but let his eyes trail after her, as she disappeared in the darkness of the corridor, while the candles extinguished themselves behind her.
8 hours he remembered then, realizing how little time he had.
Fuck