The golden orb in the sky was setting when the young king stood on the stone balcony and stared at the calming waters of the bay. The square brick towers of Pentos were black silhouettes melting against the setting sun. As he looked at the waters wistfully, Aegon listened to the chants of the red priests. He imagined that as they sung, they stood in circles around their pyres and lit their fires as they do from sunrise to sunset. Once he found their singing ominous and disturbing; now they were slightly soothing like the constant singing of cicadas during summer.

Almost dreamily, Aegon reached out as if he wanted to grab the setting sun or the cluster of pink-orange clouds around it. Westeros. The land of green hills, and flowered plains and great rushing rivers. The place Pentoshi, Braavosi and others of the Free Cities called the Sunset Kingdoms. Even the nomadic Dothraki have a name for the beautiful terrain across the Narrow Sea – Rhaesh Andahli, the lands of the Andals. Aegon had another word for Westeros.

Home.

It was strange as Aegon had never set foot on Westerosi soil before. All his life, Aegon lived in Pentos, specifically in Magister Illyrio Mopatis's vast manse. When he remained within the twelve feet high brick walls adorned with iron spikes, he was Aegon. When he wandered the streets of Pentos in the company of loyal men, he was Young Griff, a young man with dyed blue hair. Even in Pentos it wasn't all safe for Aegon to dwell under his true identity. It was true, that there were many in the Free Cities who bore Valyrian features, but how many with violet eyes and a mop of silver hair?

What is it like? Aegon wondered, living in Westeros? Is it like Pentos? Perhaps it was similar – with the exception of slaves of course. His appointed guardian Lord Jon Connington, the former Lord of Griffin's Roost, had told him Westeros had no slaves. Then again slavery was outlawed in Pentos, but Magister Illyrio's servants were practically slaves in all but name. Aegon's thoughts turned to his household which consisted of Lord Jon Connington, Septa Lemore, his tutor Haldon and Ser Rolly Duckfield, a Westerosi exile who trained Aegon in skills at arms. According to the magister, all those men and the septa were Targaryen loyalists.

"You have friends waiting for you at Westeros," Magister Illyrio had told him a number of times. "The Martells, the Tyrells, the Darrys, Rygers, and Mootons, and many more! The smallfolk cry for you too, my king. Men lift secret toasts for your health, pledging their swords and spears to you, and women sew dragon banners and hide them against the day of your return from across the water."

Aegon highly doubted that the last fact was true. When he had asked Lord Jon about it, Lord Jon had snorted. "Smallfolk don't care who is king," the Connington lord had said bluntly. "All they wish for is sun and rain. It's the lords who care. It is true that you have friends, Your Grace. Friends that have been working for the Targaryen restoration since your arrival in this manse. Amongst them, I believe it to be the Martells that are our strongest allies."

The Martells – Aegon's mother's family.

"Is something on your mind my Your Grace?" Lord Connington appeared near the door of the balcony. "You have been standing there for some time."

Aegon turned and looked at his late father's dearest friend. Forty years old, he – Jon Connington – was tall and had a clean shaven face, lined and leathery. Lord Connington's once fiery red hair was now grey and his blue eyes which carried a great deal of sorrow and regret, were pale and tired. Aegon loved that man as his surrogate father, but at times wished he wouldn't stare straight at him with pity in his eyes or worse, sadness. I'm not my father! Aegon wanted to shout. As much as I look like him, I am not him! I won't be him either! He would never abandon his future wife for a pretty face like his late father did.

"Only thinking, Lord Connington," Aegon responded. "We have stayed here for nineteen years. I'm no longer a child, my lord. I'm only wondering when the time is ripe to return to Westeros." It was strange, saying returning to Westeros. "Why would Magister Illyrio agree to house us here as his guests for so long? He'd said that he even contracted two sellsword companies for me too. Why do you believe he would do that, my lord Connington? He is not a relative of mine."

"No he is not," Lord Connington agreed, "but he is an um, ally."

"How did you win him over, Lord Connington?"

"I didn't, Your Grace. It was the Spider who asked him to help you. I heard that the Spider and Magister Illyrio are good friends."

"I see. Why would the Spider assist me?"

"I told you once before my king, that the Spider deplores the violence that the Usurper relished in during the Sack of King's Landing. Your lady mother and dear sister Your Grace, both murdered. You would have been too if the Spider had not smuggled you out."

"Lannisters murdered my mother and sister, not the Usurper."

"He didn't condone Lord Tywin's actions my king. He applauded them. I heard that even now, the Usurper hates your late father."

"And he always will." Aegon had heard that tale many times. "Autumn will not stay forever – unless we plan to stay here for a long winter, we should prepare. I have no desire to fight during winter and die of a chill. Either I'll die in battle or I will die of old age with the Targaryen banners flying in King's Landing once again. I will not die in winter at Westeros due to a chill."

"The day has been selected already my king," Lord Connington promised. "It'll not be long now." He looked uncomfortable. Aegon raised an eyebrow. "Is there a matter I should know, my lord?" he inquired.

"One of the Red Viper's bastards arrived this morning," Lord Connington then said almost reluctantly. "She was talking with Magister Illyrio. If it was a relevant and important matter, Magister Illyrio would travel to Westeros himself or we'd have one of the Spider's regular little birds here. Something must have happened in Westeros. Something significant."

"Perhaps the Usurper has died?" suggested Aegon hopefully.

Lord Connington shook his head. "Better the Usurper is alive when we land."

"Easier to gain more allies?"

"Indeed Your Grace. With the Usurper alive when you land, lords who despise the Usurper will clamour to you. If he dies, his eldest son will be king. Every lord in the Seven Kingdoms would rather take a chance with a young man on the Iron Throne rather than with a Targaryen."

"Even the Martells and Tyrells?"

"The Tyrells yes, the Martells no. The Martells are your family, my king, and all of the Tyrells are ambitious. Targaryen loyalists yes, but with a young king on the throne, they will try and claw their influence on him. It will be tricky for them as I heard the prince is married and more like the grim Lord Stannis than his father – he will not go around sleeping with other women so easily."

Aegon nodded. "My wife-to-be is a Tyrell. The Lady Margaery." He recalled the exquisite rose gold locket he received, which contained a miniature painting drawn in Myrish style, of Lady Margaery Tyrell, a pretty girl with doe's eyes and a cascade of soft brown hair. Obviously Aegon had never met the girl – now Renly Baratheon's wife – but he had heard many words about her. Magister Illyrio Mopatis had called her 'The true rose of Highgarden'; Uncle Oberyn described her as a rose with thorns. Very sharp and pointy thorns. Then again, Martells would never describe Tyrells in an approving light, allies or no.

"A Baratheon widow," stated Lord Connington disapprovingly. "You should be marrying a true maiden Your Grace, not a virgin widow."

"We need the Tyrells," said Aegon shortly. "My Martell relatives alone can't aid us in a Targaryen restoration. Besides, all the other Great Houses are loyal to the bone to the Usurper. Magister Illyrio assured me that when I wed Lady Margaery, she will still be a maiden. Apparently her husband prefers to spend both his days and nights with her brother the Knight of Flowers rather than her."

"Convenient."

Aegon nodded. Convenient indeed.

"Your Grace." One of the magister's slaves appeared. She curtsied and her eyes cast down, said, "Milord Magister asks if you and milord here wish to dine in the Great Hall. Milord Magister has a guest from Westeros and wonders if you are at all interested to speak to her."

Magister Illyrio's guest must be one of the Sand Snakes. "We will dine with my lord Magister tonight," said Aegon promptly. He was eager to hear what news his illegitimate Dornish cousin carried with her. Hopefully it was excellent news, but he knew by now that it was better to expect the worst.


"The spiced duck is well-cooked my lord Magister." Lady Nym speared herself another slice of spiced duck. "It tastes almost Dornish. Very spicy."

The morbidly obese Maester Illyrio beamed. "I have the best Pentoshi cooks in my service my lady." Draining the rest of his wine in one gulp, he began to stroke the prongs of his oiled forked yellow beard. Aegon hated when he did that. It had always looked…obscene. "It was a surprise seeing you this morning," he went on, his eyes fixed on the Sand Snake. "You told me the most ah, fascinating of news – were you sent here by our mutual friend Lord Varys?" Aegon abandoned his own piece of spiced duck and looked at Lady Nymeria Sand expectedly. The Lady Nym Sand's full lips curved into a smile. She was slim and slender as a willow, with her straight black hair tied into a simple, long braid. She had dark eyes like Oberyn's, and was olive-skinned like all of the Martells.

"I bring significant news from Westeros my lord Magister," Lady Nym replied, before looking at Aegon. She dipped her head. "Your Grace. I was not sent here by just Lord Varys. My cousin Princess Arianne had also sent me here."

"Arianne?" Aegon couldn't help but sound surprised. "Why?"

"Prince Doran is dead."

Aegon stared at Lady Nym. Their uncle…dead? "He died quite suddenly," Lady Nym continued, "but peacefully in his sleep. Arianne is now the Princess of Dorne and Lady of Sunspear. She sent me here immediately to assure you Dorne will be behind you even with Prince Doran's death. She has pledged ten thousand spears to your cause Your Grace."

"Thank you," said Aegon, his throat dry. Prince Doran…dead? It seemed a cruel trick. He did not remember meeting Prince Doran, but it was him who concocted the restoration plan with the Spider and the Queen of Thorns. It was he who held onto the belief that the dragons would rule over the Seven Kingdoms once again, and he believed Aegon to be his true nephew. "I will not forget him," Aegon went on quietly. "Prince Doran had done so much for the Targaryen cause."

Lady Nym Sand nodded. "I never knew about his plot," she said stiffly. "I knew naught about it until Arianne told me. Apparently my father also knew about it. I find it difficult to believe the late Prince Doran a conspirator, but it seems he was and not a weak man many of Dorne thought he was."

"How are our Martell cousins, Lady Nym?"

"Well. Arianne is making a progress in Dorne to show the Dornish people that she has no intention of hiding away in the Water Gardens. Quentyn's well too. He is now married I believe, to Lady Gwyneth Yronwood. Trystane is ah, Trystane. I do not know what he does all day. Probably reading, sparring, learning."

"I heard Prince Doran had a Stark girl as his ward. Will she marry Trystane?"

"By the gods no. You have not heard the news? Lord Stark had requested Lady Gwenysse return to Winterfell. Apparently what Robb Stark had done was awful enough to ask for the return of his sister. Word is that Dornishmen are no longer particularly welcomed in the North." Lady Nym sipped her wine. "Then again, no Dornishmen were ever welcome in the North. I wonder if Lady Stark is courageous enough to return to Winterfell."

"She is Lady of Winterfell."

"And pretending to be your aunt Princess Daenerys's Dornish aunt. I must say, it was a clever plan to protect the last Targaryen princess, but thanks to her son's foolish actions, Ashara Stark is now viewed by most of the Seven Kingdoms as an evil, scheming Dornishwoman who plotted to have her bastard niece enchant her own son to be the next Lady of Winterfell. Not only does that further ruin the not particularly kind reputation of Dornish bastard women as it is, but it also wrecks Princess Daenerys's repute too."

Aegon darkened. He was aware of his royal aunt – his last surviving Targaryen relative – Princess Daenerys masquerading as a bastard at Winterfell for her own safety, but wished the Spider had smuggled her to Pentos too. If he had, he would know her well, perhaps feel like a brother to her more than a nephew; now she'd be presented to him as a stranger. It was not a pleasant thought. Moreover, if the Princess Daenerys was here at Pentos at his side, he'd still have quite a treasured and valuable bargaining chip to use to either reward a loyal ally or win a new ally in the Targaryen restoration. Now thanks to the Starks, Daenerys knew herself as Daenerys Sand and was now married. "My aunt's reputation will not be ruined in the slightest," said Aegon stiffly. "When I take the Iron Throne, as is my right, one of my first duties is to ensure Princess Daenerys's name is cleared from all of that scandal. At least when Westeros realises their Daenerys Sand is in truth Princess Daenerys Targaryen, Stark loyalty will be assured."

Lady Nym smiled almost cynically. "Do you know she is with child?"

Aegon shrugged. Princess Daenerys was bearing pups, not dragons. "That isn't much of a surprise," he remarked. "The Starks are always fertile and young Robb Stark did marry my aunt quite quickly according to my lord Magister here. I'd say they married swiftly to ensure their child is born legitimate."

"You are not angry you will not wed your lady aunt, my king?"

"You know I have no desire to marry Princess Daenerys. I'm aware that quite a lot of my ancestors believed in blood purity and all that, but what did that gain us in the Usurper's war? Not many allies. I have no intention of wedding Daenerys – I am to marry Lady Margaery Tyrell after all. I will also ensure my descendants to wed nobles as is right, not their brothers and sisters."

"Speaking of allies, Your Grace, you might gain another one."

"My lady?" Lord Connington frowned. "Another ally? Do not jest."

Lady Nym's dark eyes swivelled to him. "You believe I journeyed all the way to Pentos to jest, my lord Connington? If you do, you are wrong. The Spider is doing what he can to secure His Grace another ally for the Targaryen restoration."

"Impossible," Lord Connington declared. "Unless the Spider managed to bribe all the minor noble houses to the Targaryen cause, I do not believe you my lady. I doubt you won an alliance with House Greyjoy either."

"The Spider did not waste time trying to bribe House Greyjoy. Are you and His Grace aware that Stannis Baratheon arrested his own wife?"

Aegon nodded as his Dornish cousin glanced at him. "A great scandal," he said, remembering Lord Connington and Magister Illyrio talking about it for days. "it's quite shocking too. The great Lord Tywin's own twins committing incest. Did the Old Lion of Casterly Rock disown his golden twins? I heard he wouldn't leave his chambers after his son was sent to the Wall, his daughter to the silent sisters and two of his grandchildren to Oldtown."

"A light punishment," Magister Illyrio spoke. "Lord Stark's influence I believe."

Lady Nym waved her hand impatiently. "That's not important. Lord Tywin's in no position to disown anyone."

"Why?" asked Aegon curiously. He despised Tywin Lannister – it was his order that murdered his lady mother and Rhaenys. If it wasn't for him, he'd still have a mother and sister.

"He is dead. Lord Tywin is dead."


The yellow flame flickered, dangerously low to its stump of a candlestick. As if in a trance, Aegon watched. Tywin Lannister…dead. Not of assassination; not in a battle either. Of shock though! The shock of Lady Cersei's walk of atonement and his golden legacy crumbling to dust. Aegon had dreamt of the day old Lord Tywin would see him sitting on the Iron Throne. First astonishment, then possibly a tint of anger and wonder. Now…Tywin Lannister was dead. He had not been the only one though. According to Lady Nym, Grand Maester Pycelle gave Lady Cersei and her children vials of sleeping draught before they left the Red Keep. It turned out that in truth, they were phials of sweetsleep. As part of his education, Aegon was taught a little about what maesters used to treat the wounded and sick. "A couple of grains will slow a pounding heart," Haldon had informed him, "as well as stop a hand from shaking, and making a man feel calm and strong. A pinch will grant a night of deep and dreamless sleep. Three pinches though, my king, will produce a sleep that does not end." It seemed Grand Maester Pycelle had overestimated the number of pinches he had put in the vials.

"They are dead," Aegon said aloud. "Tywin, Cersei, Myrcella and Tommen." It'd been hard to believe the Old Lion of Casterly Rock was finally dead. Sadly, he had died without the knowledge that his dog Clegane failed in murdering me. His uncle Oberyn wouldn't be happy. He had held onto vengeance for so long and for Lord Tywin Lannister to slip through his fingers…

It would be infuriating to a man like the Red Viper.

For the majority of his life, Aegon considered himself a patient man – not quite as patient as the late Prince Doran, but patient enough. However, after Lady Nym told him that the day of his landing was changed, he tasted impatience. How long was he to remain in Pentos? Every day away from Westeros was another bloody day in the usurper Robert Baratheon's favour. Aegon huffed. Seven months more in Pentos and all because a hysterical woman refused to allow her daughter to be wedded to her betrothed until the betrothed's whore births his bastard and both of them sent away. Unbelievable. By the Seven, winter would probably reach the Seven Kingdoms before he does.

Still staring at the flickering flame, Aegon allowed his mind to meander to the dream of returning to Westeros. He would be a merciful ruler; a benevolent king. When the Iron Throne was his, he would forgive all the lords who sided with the Usurper, even the Starks, Tullys and Arryns. They were only following the orders of their false king as loyal men would. However, they would have to send a child or a sibling each to King's Landing for a year as a token of good faith of course – it was only fair. The Usurper would die (hopefully in battle if it came to it) and both his sons sent to the Wall. Lady Lyarra Stark would remain at King's Landing until it was determined she was not carrying a Baratheon child and then sent home to Winterfell where she would probably be wedded off to a northern lord. What's to be done about the Usurper's daughters though? Aegon frowned. The younger girl could be sent to the motherhouse, but the elder was betrothed to Willas Tyrell. A rather unfortunate situation. Willas was to marry Cousin Arianne after all, but as she was now Princess of Dorne in her own right, she could not possibly wed Lord Tyrell's eldest son and heir.

Shaking those thoughts away, Aegon rose from his cushioned chair, his arms a little sore from being folded against his chest for hours. He quietly walked across his lavishly decorated chamber to the balcony. It was almost sunrise and he liked watching the sun slowly ascend to its golden throne.

By the Seven I will be patient a little longer, Aegon vowed, standing still on the stone balcony as a cold, bitter wind swooped upon him like a vicious bird of prey spotting his morning meal. The Martells craved vengeance and would stand with him even if he was forced to wait in Pentos for another long year and the Tyrells, guided by their ambitions, were always more loyal to the dragons than the stags. Yes, it was best to try and be patient. What was one more year to him when he'd already waited for nineteen?

"I will sit on the Iron Throne as my ancestors had done," Aegon Targaryen said to himself, his violet eyes ablaze with passion. "It may not be today, tomorrow, in a few weeks or even a few months, but I will sit on the Iron Throne…one day."


That marks the end of Part 3! I really enjoyed writing this chapter and I hope you guys enjoyed reading it :) As you know, I'll be uploading the Part 3 appendix shortly.