Author's Note
I do not own A Game of Thrones.
Missandei presented the Captains of the Second Sons, Mero of Braavos - the Titan's bastard, they had heard of him and his reputation - Prendahl na Ghezn and Daario Naharis.
Mero stepped forward to look them over. "You're the ones they're calling the Dragonborn?"
Starflame hissed from Rhaenys's side.
"Oh good," Rhaenys said. "Our reputation precedes us."
It felt like a long time since they'd had that.
Mero sneered at Visenya. "Swear I fucked you once in a pleasure house in Lys once."
Visenya scowled.
"Mind your tongue," Aegon snarled.
"Why?" He stepped onto the dais uninvited and seated himself beside Rhaenys. Starflame growled.
"I didn't mind hers."
Visenya fingered her knife, all but begging Aegon with her eyes. She wanted to cut him, see him bleed, taste it on her tongue like she once had-
"I might just let her cut it out," Aegon said.
Mero waved a hand at Missandei. "You. Slave girl. Bring wine."
"We have no slaves here," Rhaenys said sharply. She itched to get her hands on him before Visenya for threatening what was hers.
Mero sneered. "You'll all be slaves after the battle unless I save you."
The arrogance on this one was unbelievable. Aegon wondered what his reaction would be if he knew who they were, what they had once been.
(except that had been a lifetime ago, a lifetime and three hundred years, and a lot could change in three hundred years)
"You have a company of two thousand men," Visenya said.
"We have a khalsar of twenty five thousand," Aegon said.
"And seven thousand, five hundred Unsullied soldiers," Rhaenys added.
"Perhaps the good Captain could explain how he proposes to defeat us."
Of course, they had been the side at a disadvantage once upon a time. They took Westeros with barely any men (but they had three fully grown dragons then, three fully grown dragons willing to be deadly war machines).
"The Second Sons have faced worse odds and won."
Aegon raised an eyebrow. He doubted it. "The Second Sons have faced worse odds and run."
"Or you could fight for us," Visenya said.
Mero smiled. "We've taken the slaver's gold. We fight for Yunkai."
"I will pay you as much and more."
"Our contract is our bond. If we break our bond, no one will ever hire the Second Sons again," said Ghezn.
Aegon could at least understand that worry. The Second Sons were mercenaries, interested in where their next pay and alcohol was coming from.
"Ride with us and you'll never need another contract," Rhaenys announced in that airy manner.
Because most likely they'd all be dead, frozen in the ice and snow.
"You'll have all the gold of your choosing when we return to Westeros."
"You have no ships, you have no siege weapons," pointed out Naharis.
"Two months ago we had no Unsullied. A year ago we had no dragons," Visenya said. "You have two days to decide."
Mero leered at her. "Show me your cunt. I want to see if it's worth fighting for."
Visenya drew her knife. To Seven Hells with this uppity bastard, his insults and his leering! What did they need the Second Sons for anyway?
Aegon leant forward to lay a hand on her arm. She snarled and shook him off, springing to her feet and hissing in High Valyrian. "Don't touch me Aegon; I'll cut his tongue out!"
Mero too stood with his knife in his hand. "Do you always let your wenches do your fighting for you?"
Aegon stood, Jaedos clinging to his shirt and hissing.
"Peace sister. These men are our guests."
Visenya growled, animalistic like the dragon she once was. Drogar snarled at her side. Prendahl na Ghezn drew his knife and even the smirking, seemingly unflappable Daario Naharis looked somewhat concerned. Aegon moved to his sister's side.
"You seem to be enjoying our wine. Perhaps you'd like a flagon to help you ponder."
Visenya growled, showing her teeth. He'd show hospitality to these beasts?
"A flagon? And what are my brothers in arms to drink?"
"A barrel then."
"Better," proclaimed Mero. "The Titan's bastard does not drink alone. In the Second Sons we share everything. After the battle, maybe we'll all share your little wenches." He stopped by Missandei and smacked her behind. "I'll come looking for you when all this is over."
Rhaenys hissed through her teeth.
"I want to kill that one first," Visenya declared. She wanted to taste his blood and watch the life draining from his eyes.
"It may yet not come to battle," Aegon chided gently. Visenya growled.
"It always comes to battle with men like him."
She should know. Her boy, her brave, powerful, sweet boy whose face was still lost to her, had been one of them and nearly brought everything they built crashing down. Men like him and dragons like them knew nothing but battle, battle and blood.
If it came to battle with the Second Sons they would certainly win. They had the manpower and supplies, and both the Dothraki and the Unsullied were formidable on the battlefield.
But none of them wanted to take a significant loss before they even got to Westeros.
(not when the true enemy waited there, hiding amongst the ice and snow, awaiting the time when the cold and cloud and mist would cover the entire world)
"We can send men in from the sea," Visenya said as they studied the map laid out in front of them, indicating the docks.
"They'll be guarded," Aegon pointed out.
Rhaenys raised an eyebrow. "By the Second Sons or by slave soldiers?"
Aegon eyed her and then nodded slowly. "Slaves, most likely."
"The masters have clearly heard what happened in Astapor. Do you think the slaves have too?"
Aegon smiled. "Send word to the ships. Have them send a small raiding party to the docks with weapons for the slaves and a message from us."