The Land of Opportunities: Fire & Blood

…

Prologue

It is the year 1903 in the United States of America the Land of Opportunities, four years after the turn of the century. Our story takes place in the dying Old West where America is slowly modernising and becoming a land of laws and the last few remaining outlaw gangs that still roam the Old West are being systematically hunted down and brought to justice.

It was during this time, that a unique individual appeared seemingly out of nowhere with hair like silver and gold beaten together and purple eyes, wielding a sword that many claimed was magic. This stranger claimed to be a knight from another world, a world that was seemingly less advanced & more medieval than our own and had fantastical aspects such as dragons and the like.

Of course, most men of science, academics and higher learning would say that such a man did not exist and the tales about him were falsehoods, designed to bewitch and beguile the naïve and gullible. But those who claimed to have personally known this man would say that he wasn't the sort to lie or make falsehoods unless it served a purpose.

Whatever the case may be, this would-be knight had helped those who sought his aid and there was no shortage of folks who needed help during those days.

Many tall tales were told about this; of how he assisted a grieving widow bring her husband's murderers to justice. How he found rare treasures lost to time. How he hunted rare and unique animals. How he helped defend towns and settlements from outlaw gang attacks with nothing but his sword and bow.

Historians will say that these stories were merely fantastical exaggerations of the times, but with every one of these tall tales there must be a grain of truth to them.

Whether one chooses to believe this man existed or is simply a story to tell around a campfire, it is up to those who tell this tale and those who hear it to decide for themselves.

If you ever asked for this knight's name, you would be told that his name was Griff, but to those who claimed to have personally known the man, he had a much different and more exotic sounding name.

"Aegon Targaryen."

And so, we begin to tell the tale of the Knight Errant Aegon Targaryen and his journey…

…

Chapter 1: The Funny Man

Essos. The Disputed Lands.

Flags fluttered in the wind followed by the sounds of cheers and the clattering cacophony of hooves hammering earth and splintering crashes of wood and metal. Aegon wheeled his horse, a charger black as sin, around as he took up another tourney lance offered to him. Hefting it in his arm, getting a feel for the weight of it, Aegon looked over at his opponent.

It had been a few weeks since Aegon and his teachers/family had joined up with the Golden Company. They had recently received word from the Spider Varys that war had now engulfed Westeros following the death of the Usurper Robert Baratheon and the trial and sudden execution of the Hand of the King Lord Eddard Stark at the command, or more accurately the whim of the newly crowned Joffrey Baratheon. The Quiet Wolf's eldest son and heir Lord Robb Stark had rallied and mustered his bannermen and levies and marched south from the North and had earned the epithet the Young Wolf after smashing a Lannister host led by the Kingslayer Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard in the Riverlands and captured the Lion in chains. There were other claimants to the Iron Throne such as the Usurper's younger brothers, Stannis, and Renly Baratheon.

Renly didn't last long despite him having a vast number of soldiers and support from the Stormlands and the Tyrells on his side, but he'd been killed all the same in his own tent. There had been many rumours of how Renly had been assassinated floating around, the most common and popular belief was that his newly appointed Kingsguard, Lady Brienne of Tarth had murdered him for rejecting her advances. With Renly dead, the Tyrells had retreated to Highgarden in the Reach and the Stormlanders had merged with Stannis' host, making him by far the largest and strongest contender for the Iron Throne.

With the chaos that had been happening in Westeros, Varys had sent word to Aegon's mentor and father-figure, Lord Jon Connington, to join the Golden Company and have Aegon learn the life of a soldier. A couple of months of drilling and a few skirmishes later, Aegon had been learning what it meant to be a soldier. It was then Captain-General Myles 'Blackheart' Toyne had called for a squire's tourney, for a variety of reasons; one was to reveal Aegon to the Golden Company captains, the second being to give the squires in the Golden Company a chance to demonstrate their skills and give them a chance to earn their spurs.

After being introduced to the Golden Company, Aegon had then taken part in the Tourney. He'd faced off against other squires, riding hard and sure, knocking a few off their horses. Some his lance broke off their shields earning him a point. His opponents had given as good as they got against him, and a few had come close to knocking him off his horse. But whether it was through luck or skill (Aegon liked to think it was skill), Aegon had prevailed and was now facing off the next squire, a pimply dark-skinned Dornish boy that rode a horse that was as foul tempered as him.

Aegon's charger snorted and pawed the ground with one hoof. It seemed like to charge before the herald could even sound his trumpet, and in all honesty, Aegon couldn't blame his steed for its eagerness. He'd have liked to charge out and meet his foe too instead of waiting. After a torturously long moment that felt like an hour rather than a minute, the herald blew his horn and Aegon hardly needed to kick his horse into a gallop for it did so as the horn was called. Setting his eyes firmly on his opponent, Aegon couched his lance, aiming for the chest. His opponent seemed to be aiming his lance at his head. As the lance neared Aegon's head, he twisted his head to the side, narrowly avoiding the blunted tip of the lance and lunged with his own lance. The Dornish boy gave a strangled cry and fell off his horse as Aegon's lance smashed and shattered against his chest, knocking him backwards through the force and inertia.

The crowd of assembled knights, lords, ladies, magisters, and the like cheered wildly as Aegon raised his now shattered lance in triumph while a maester and a team of stretcher bearers carried the dazed and winded squire off the field to be treated.

The next two squires made their passes at each other, giving Aegon a chance to rest his charger. Ser Rolly Duckfield helped Aegon off his horse and helped him pull of his helmet. "You're doing well, lad. I've taught you well it seems," the shaggy-haired knight proclaimed proudly as he offered Aegon a skin of water.

"I like to think so, ser," Aegon replied with a smile, but then his smile faltered a little as he said, "My pardon, but for a moment when I'm tilting against the other squires, it almost feels like they're letting me win."

"How do you mean, my prince?" Rolly asked.

"I don't really know," Aegon replied. "It feels as though when I ride nearer to them, their aim isn't quite as sure or they slow down as they come closer," he said uncertainly.

"Perhaps you're seeing things," Rolly said easily. "I mean, you were revealed to everyone as the lost son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen," he added. "So, mayhap the other squires don't intend to harm you too much?" he offered.

"I'd rather they did intend to, Ser," Aegon said sternly. "How else will I win the respect of the Golden Company captains if the other squires go easy on me?"

"As you say, my prince," Rolly said with a nod of his head. "Anyway, best get your helmet back on and onto your horse. You're up against the last squire," he advised.

"Good," Aegon said with a nod of his head as he put his helm back on, fastening it before climbing back onto his charger. Flicking the reins, Aegon had his horse trot out and he picked up a tourney lance. He looked over at his opponent and spotted the three castles on a field of orange on his shield. House Peake, Aegon thought vaguely, a house that had lost two of its castles in their numerous rebellions. Ages before, during the Dance of Dragons, the patriarch of House Peake had tried to have his daughter who was nicknamed Lady Turnips wed to the then King Aegon III but had failed spectacularly to do so. A wry smirk passed over Aegon's lips under his helm as he thought of denying a house of rebels another victory.

Readying himself, Aegon waited for the sound of the horn and quickly enough, the trumpeting sound of the horn blew. With a kick, Aegon's steed charged into a gallop same as the Peake's did. Aegon and his opponent made numerous passes at each, breaking their lances off each other's shields. One pass, Aegon was nearly knocked off his horse, but he quickly caught himself and pulled himself upright and grabbed another lance and charged again. Again, his lance broke off his opponent's shield, but the same was for the Peake squire.

Soon after, Lord Jon called it a to halt and bade them to present themselves and asked for Blackheart to make the final judgement. Aegon tried not to let his tiredness show as the homely looking Blackheart stared at him and Peake in a calculating manner with hard eyes before speaking loudly for all who were present to hear.

"Both of these young men performed admirably. They've both shown great skill at lances and horsemanship. A true show of chivalry," he said slowly before adding, "But from what I'd seen with my own eyes, it was Prince Aegon who couched his lance more skilfully throughout this tourney. Let it be known that the prince has won!"

The crowd cheered and clapped wildly. Aegon raised his helmet high and gave a beaming smile, elated that he'd won his first tourney. The Peake boy scowled and left the field, muttering curses under his breath.

"Prince Aegon. Approach, please," Lord Jon said, his face stern but proud. Aegon dismounted his horse and stood before his mentor. "Kneel." Aegon did so as Lord Jon drew his sword and spoke, "Aegon Targaryen, do you swear before the eyes of the gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, to fight bravely when needed and do other such tasks, no matter how hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"

Aegon looked up at Lord Jon and nodded his head. "I do, my lord," he said bravely.

Lord Jon then rested the flat of his sword on Aegon's right shoulder before moving it to his left and spoke the words. "In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to protect the young and innocent. In the name of the Maiden, I charge you to protect all women. In the name of the Smith, I charge you to be diligent. In the name of the Crone, I charge you to be wise and serve as a guiding force for all those who come after you. Arise, Ser Aegon Targaryen!"

Aegon rose to his feet and if he had thought the cheering before was loud, this was colossal. "A knight, a knight!" one woman cried out. One man shouted at the top of his lungs, "Ser Aegon Targaryen! The Conqueror Reborn!"

Myles Toyne stepped down from his seat as servants rushed forward, carrying a chest of cedar wood and polished copper. Myles bowed his head as the chest was opened.

"Blackfyre!" Aegon breathed out as he gazed upon what lay within. The fabled sword of Aegon the Conqueror and used by many Targaryen Kings until it was given away. The sword of kings and pretenders. It was beautiful; the blade was all Valyrian steel, dark and smoky, almost black in colour with ripples all along from there metal had been folded a thousand times over. A gleaming red faceted ruby was set in the pommel, beautifully and elegantly cut into a diamond shape while the hilt was fashioned out of smooth and polished dragonglass and the ends of the crossguard were wrought into roaring dragon heads of cold black iron.

'The sword that was lost has now returned to its rightful owners' Aegon thought to himself. He smiled bowing his head in thanks before taking up the sword and was given an ebon wood and leather sheath for it and tied to it to his belt.

Lord Jon then spoke to Aegon in a whisper. "Well done, my prince." Although the exiled Lord of Griffin's Roost face was stern, his pale blue eyes shone with pride and joy.

"Thank you, Lord Jon. I won't let you down," Aegon whispered to him before turning to the crowd and raised his gauntleted hand high and everyone cheered.

Soon, a call for refreshments was announced and Jon said to Aegon, "You'd best get out of that armour for the feast now, boy. I'll see you there." Aegon nodded at this and headed into the camp where his tent would be, intent of taking off his armour and changing into something more suitable for the feast. As he neared his tent, Aegon spied dark cloud growing on the horizon.

"A storm? That's unfortunate," he muttered to himself as he entered his tent where he began to take off his armour and set it aside in a neat pile.

…

Some servants had drawn Aegon a bath, something he was grateful for. He had worked up quite a bit of sweat and dust in the tourney, so a hot bath was certainly a welcome sight. After spending almost an hour in the large wooden tub, scrubbing his skin until it was pink and raw, Aegon climbed out of the bath, dried himself off before dressing himself.

Dressing himself in black trousers, a lambswool shirt and leather jerkin and fine but plain leather boots, Aegon looked at himself in the looking glass. His reflection stared back at him with a small smile present on its lips.

"I'm a knight," Aegon murmured to himself before giving a chuckle. "Still can't believe it," he added before he looked at his sword, Blackfyre, propped up against the table. His smile widening, Aegon tied the sword onto his belt and looked at himself once again in the looking glass.

"Did the Conqueror ever feel this way?" Aegon asked himself. And then there came a rumble of thunder and wind began to blow. The tent flaps began to flap and ripple as wind blew into the tent.

"A storm? At this hour?" Aegon asked himself with a sigh of frustration as he prepared to exit his tent. Then there came a fizzing, hissing crackling sound and a strange scent hit Aegon's nose making it wrinkle as he tried to identify what the smell was. Then a burst of light filled the tent, blinding Aegon forcing him to cover his eyes with his hands and a shockwave knocked him to the ground. Fumbling for his sword, Aegon drew it out and uncovered his eyes to see a bizarre sight before him.

Standing before Aegon was a man. He had ginger hair combed in a strange manner with a thin moustache of red hair on his lips. A wine stain birthmark was over the man's right eye as he looked around. His garb was odd, foreign possibly as Aegon had never seen such clothing before.

Aegon stared at the odd man who smiled cheerfully back and spoke, his accent as foreign as his appearance.

"Ah! Well, this isn't where I was supposed to be," he said jovially.

"Who… Who are you, Ser?" Aegon asked cautiously as he lowered his sword a little as the odd man had not made any outward hostile actions.

The odd man did not appear to hear Aegon as he was looking around Aegon's tent with an inquisitive air. "Seems I must've made a miscalculation. That oughta teach me for not measuring twice before jumping in," he said with a chuckle.

"Who are you? How did you get in my tent?" Aegon asked with a frown on his face.

"Oh, sorry about that, sport!" the stranger said apologetically. "Name's Francis Sinclair. Who might you be?" He held out a hand to shake.

"Aegon Targaryen. Recently knighted," Aegon said as he hesitatingly shook Francis' hand.

"Ah, so I didn't miscalculate then, that's swell," Francis said with a smile.

"Miscalculate? What are you talking about?" Aegon asked in confusion.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told ya, kid," Francis replied. "You'd think I was jazzed if I told ya," he said.

"Pardon?" Aegon raised his eyes at the strange expressions Francis was using.

"Drunk," Francis clarified.

"Are you?" Aegon then asked.

"Hah! I wish!" Francis said with a laugh. "But it's a good thing you're here, because I need to take ya someplace," he added.

"Take me? Take me where?" Aegon asked in alarm.

"It's hard to explain to someone like you, so you're just gonna have to trust me on this, kid," Francis replied. "Where you're going, you're needed," he said.

"Needed? But I'm needed here!" Aegon protested.

"It's gonna be okay. Just trust me on this," Francis said patiently.

"I don't have to trust you and I want you out of my tent now!" Aegon said angrily and he prepared to call for some guards when Francis suddenly punched him in the jaw.

"I'm sorry I had to do that to ya, kid, but I don't got a choice," Francis said to the dazed Aegon. He then grabbed Aegon's shoulder and suddenly Aegon felt a sense of vertigo followed by a feeling of weightlessness. Recovering from the punch, Aegon suddenly realised he was falling through some kind of void that was filled with strange images of people, places and creatures he had never seen before.

Giving a strangled cry, Aegon tumbled through the void before finally he felt himself hit solid ground. Giving a pained grunt as he landed on his back, Aegon looked up to see a clear night sky with the crescent moon shining silver overhead. Slowly sitting up, Aegon cast his eyes around him to see where it was that he had found himself in. It appeared that he had landed on some kind of field that had smatterings of rocks and trees here and there. Long stalks of grass rose from the ground and swayed slightly in the gentle night breeze. Ahead in the distance, Aegon could just make out the silhouettes of some buildings and tiny pinpricks of golden lights.

Rising to his feet, Aegon sheathed his sword and dusted himself off before looking at the distant lights. Cautious, but hopeful for the sight of human company, Aegon walked towards them. As Aegon drew nearer, the buildings came more into focus and they didn't match anything that he knew of. The largest of the buildings measured about two stories tall and was built from lumber and had a roof made of wood slats overlapping each other. Some other smaller buildings were seated nearby and just beyond them was a large yard ringed with a wooden fence. Then walking out from the large house was a man garbed in clothes that Aegon did not recognise; he initially thought that the garb matched that of Francis's clothing, but a closer inspection dissuaded that notion.

The man wore a large broad brimmed hat on his head and a thick handlebar moustache graced his weather-beaten face. A deep scowl was on the fellow's face as he put a hand to touch something resting in a sheath on his belt.

"What'chu doing skulking around 'ere?" the man demanded.

"Good morrow, ser. My name is Aegon," Aegon said instantly keeping his hands where they could be seen. "I… I don't know where I am," he admitted.

"Hay-Gone? What kinda name is that? And how do you not know where you are, feller?" the man asked as he relaxed his stance a little.

"It's my name, and it's a long story," Aegon replied. "Is the local lord or lady of the house present?" he enquired.

Then another voice came out from the house. "Amos? What's going out there?" Striding out from the house was a young woman with golden blonde hair done up in a bun and wearing simple but practical looking clothing. A harried look was on the woman's face as she looked at Aegon giving the impression of someone with too much to do and not enough time to do it all.

"Miss MacFarlane! This 'ere feller just showed up. I reckon he might be a Del Lobo!" Amos stated.

Miss MacFarlane looked at Aegon critically before saying, "Are you a Del Lobo?"

"I don't know what a Del Lobo even is," Aegon said in reply. "What is a Del Lobo anyway?" he asked.

"Well, I suppose that answers that," Miss MacFarlane said dryly. "So, what's your name? And what are you doing out here by yourself?" she asked.

"My name is Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his Name and I met this strange man calling himself Francis Sinclair," Aegon replied. "He just appeared in my tent and said that I was needed where I was going and I found myself not far from here," he then said.

Miss MacFarlane frowned a little before saying, "Well, you don't seem to be lying, so you're either telling me the truth or you've been out in the sun too long."

"Miss MacFarlane?" Amos looked at her questioningly.

"Show our young friend to the guesthouse, looks like he needs some rest," Miss MacFarlane said to him. "Can't let folk say we don't help those that need help," she added as she turned around and walked back inside the house. Aegon looked at Amos who sighed before nodding.

"C'mon, boy, I'll show ya the guesthouse."

Aegon was soon shown to one of the buildings. "Here you are, kid. Ain't nothin' fancy, but you should get a good night's sleep at least," Amos said to him.

"Thank you, ser. It's plenty," Aegon replied.

"Good. Now don't causin' trouble," Amos said warningly. "We got enough of that 'round 'ere," he added as he walked off.

Aegon sighed as he took off his boots and unbuckled his belt. Resting his sword against the side table near the bed, Aegon sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his face.

"What am I even doing here?" he asked himself quietly. "Seven Hells damn that Francis Sinclair!" he cursed before he sighed and lay on the bed.

"I suppose I'll just deal with it as I go," Aegon then said to himself as he closed his eyes and surrendered to sleep.

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: There! First chapter of this is done and dusted. I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter. I know in the past I'd written a couple of RDR/GoT crossovers, but they didn't really pan out so I took them down, one reason being was how Aegon got to the RDR world and I had to have a long think about it for a while and I remembered Francis the Time Traveller Stranger you could meet in RDR2 story mode. It's a bit of a stretch, but I figured that it might be possible that Francis could hop between dimensions as he does with time and that he might be a part of some universal department/agency of time and space, making sure things happen as they are intended to.

Anyways, not much more to say, so I'll leave this here and see you all in the next one.

Be kind to one another,

Angry lil' elf.