PART III: A City This Darkness Can't Hide

The Red Keep

300 AC

The day had finally come.

Reports had come in from all over the city that Aegon's army had been fast approaching. They would likely camp in the woods north of the city, taking shelter in the forests and structures that had been built there.

Jon Stark had anticipated this, however. And only days before Aegon's army was to arrive, he ordered the inhabitants living north of the city to abandon their homes, burn their crops, and flee to the city, with the added warning that Aegon's men would look to loot and rape. Then he had his men and commanders dig shallow trenches in front of the walls, which would make it damn near impossible for the invaders to breach the walls with a ladder or even a siege tower.

The people had complied, likely having heard of Aegon's approaching army on their own. During the night, Jon had seen more than a fair share of fires burning in the snowcapped forests beyond the gates of King's Landing. And his commanders had each reported more and more smallfolk arriving with their harvested crops and animals.

And on that very same morning, as Aegon's army had been sighted less than half a day away from the city, Jon decided to close the gates and have them barred from the inside.

Starag had had the Manderly fleet, along with any other capable ship in the harbor, rounded up and formed a blockade on the Blackwater Rush, preventing the enemy fleet-which had also been sighted a day earlier off the coast of Dragonstone-from entering the city through the River Gate. He'd requested plenty of catapults, which Jon had obliged.

That morning they'd only been able to train for an hour, and this time Jon had held his own just as well as he'd done before. Then they departed, washed, and changed into their armor. Jon put on the coat of plates and tabard that Tobho Mott had made for him, tied his hair to the back of his head, and set off to see if Myrcella and Tommen were awake. They would need to go to the Maidenvault during the length of the siege.

He felt as if he were an actor about to step up on stage what with his heroic-looking armor. Not even his father wore something as fanciful as this, even if it was nothing as flamboyant as say Loras Tyrell's green and gold tinted armor. It was practical though, and sure to get the men to look his way as he led them into battle.

Jon found both Tommen and Myrcella in a shared room within Maegor's Holdfast. They'd been placed there after the explosion at Baelor's Sept, and it was far easier for Marwyn to check up on both of them at the same time.

Damn near as soon as he opened the door, he felt Myrcella's arms wrap around his waist. "Jon!" She cried into his abdomen. The scar that went up her chin and left cheek had healed somewhat, likely Marwyn's own work. Otherwise, her golden hair looked as pretty as it had before.

She was soon joined by Tommen, who had also hugged him while pointing at the two large direwolves behind him. "Wolf." He said simply. Tommen had received a concussion but had since woken and recovered from it. The boy of nine years was a head shorter than his sister.

Jon continued walking inside. The room was rather spacious, and had two separate beds for the siblings, along with a large square table made of oak, and two armchairs sat by the lit hearth.

Jon sat on one of the beds while Myrcella and Tommen sat with him. He knew the last few weeks had been rather difficult for both of them, and he hadn't found the time to see them as he was busy planning the defense of the city. They'd normally look to their brother during times like this. And he wasn't a sterling role model himself. Jon thought.

"What will happen, Jon?" Myrcella asked, her worry plain to hear.

Jon smiled. "Nothing the two of you should worry about," He said, looking at both of them. He decided to tell it to them in simple terms, with heroes and villains, like out of an adventure story. "A lot of bad men will come in a few hours. I'll keep them away, but I need you both to be strong for each other. And for me." He grinned playfully. "Otherwise you'll make Ghost sad."

Tommen laughed. It was almost as if his mother and brother hadn't died.

At the other end of the room, Ghost had twisted his head almost in confusion. What the fuck are you on about?

Jon ignored his direwolf's questioning glance and looked back to the Lannister children. Both of their moods had lightened significantly. "What about it? Promise?"

"Promise," Myrcella said, her green eyes having smiled at him.

"I promise, Jon." Tommen pledged.

Jon nodded and stood up. "Good." He turned around to face them both. "I'll leave you both with Lya. She'll go with you two to the Maidenvault and protect you, alright?"

"Alright, Jon." Myrcella beamed. She seemed to feel that much safer with a direwolf at her side. "Will we see you after?"

Jon didn't miss a beat. "Of course," He nodded to the door. Outside was their escort. "Now run along, you two."

They hugged him again as they said goodbye. Jon watched them head towards the Maidenvault with half a dozen Lannister men-at-arms and Lya with them at their side. Just before the group turned the corner, his father's direwolf had given him one last glance that Jon could only read as, be careful.

And as Jon now found himself standing within the Great Hall, staring up at the great iron chair that stood tall and desolate just about fifteen feet away from him, he recalled that last look and turned it over again and again in his mind.

Now came the matter of defeating his enemy. The man who had come to conquer the Seven Kingdoms with Fire and Blood.

He'd done all he could to prepare. It was up to the Gods by this point.

"Jon?" His uncle's voice had called behind him.

Jon slowly turned to look over his shoulder. Starag was approaching, wearing a set of grey-blue plate armor that looked almost too regal for the Lord of Bear Island. His pauldrons were steel bear's heads, and he wore his black gambeson coat as per usual. Starag had also tied his hair to the back of his head.

"They'll be here within the hour," Starag said as he walked up beside him. "Connington's sent word. He wants to meet before the Dragon Gate."

Jon nodded his acknowledgment. Just as he had expected. "I'll hear what he has to say." He said as he looked up at his uncle. "Is everything ready at the River Gate?"

"Aye," Starag inclined his head and gave Jon's armor a look-over. "You look good. The maidens will be swooning as you pass them by." he grinned as if there wasn't an army at their doorstep. "Ned would've been proud, you know? So would Arthur if he was here."

Stark dipped his head down and nodded once more. "How could you be so… jovial… at a time like this?" He asked, genuinely curious. His nerves were firing off like the tide crashing against a ship during a storm, even if Jon had the resolve to go out and face his enemy.

Starag had paused briefly, thinking of how to answer that question. "Men are always scared to go to war, Jon." He said sagely. "It's one thing if they look to the next man and feel his fear. But it's another thing entirely if they look up to their leader and see that he is afraid, that he recognizes the odds against them, but is willing to make the brave choice and stand." He paused again. "You don't think I wasn't afraid to sail to Valyria?"

Jon reflected on that momentarily. As a matter of fact, it never once crossed his mind that his uncle had been terrified to cross the Smoking Sea. Everyone had told him he'd fail, everyone said he'd perish. His uncle just kept his usual strong face and pushed forward.

You must be absolutely mad. Arthur's words came back to him then. You must be mad enough to do the things they won't do. To change their beliefs and make them see a whole new world before their eyes. If they see you do the unthinkable, the unimaginable… They will believe in you.

And his uncle had succeeded nonetheless.

Now it was Jon's turn. It was on him to pull off the impossible. To stave off an army of over fifty thousand men, an overwhelming fleet that threatened to tear through Blackwater Bay and breach the city, and three fully grown dragons.

"Besides," his uncle continued. "Someone's got to project light into their lives. Might as well be you." He placed his hand on Jon's shoulder. "Let go of your fear and rise above it. If they see you brave the storm with a smile on your face, you'll hold them together. Understand?"

Suddenly it was all clear. Jon smiled, genuinely. "I understand."

"Good." His uncle smiled back. "You remember where you came from. Remember what it took to get you here." Starag leaned in closer. "And you remember what he did to us. To everyone in this city."

"I do," Jon nodded. He was a Stark of Winterfell. And he would not let this city fall. He refused to allow his father's killers to go free.

Aegon would not have King's Landing. And neither would he get the Seven Kingdoms.

Jon Stark turned to his uncle and grinned. "Thank you, uncle."

"That's why I'm here," Starag said, turning back towards the doors to the Great Hall. "Time to go?"

Jon started walking towards the doors with his uncle, and suddenly recalled something he'd neglected to do for the past few weeks. "You know… Ruby asked me to tell you that she was doing well. Just so you didn't have to worry about her."

As they stopped by the twin bronze doors, his uncle briefly looked at the floor. "I know. She told me as much when I picked up this armor." He mused quietly for a few moments. "But thanks."

Then, Starag suddenly resumed his smile. "Let's show these fools how we do things in the North, eh?"

Jon grinned back at him. "Let's."

Both men walked by the set of swinging bronze doors and never looked back.

The ride to the Dragon Gate had been brief.

Starag had ridden out from the Red Keep with him, along with Jory and a dozen other Stark household guardsmen.

As they passed by the courtyard before the gates of the Red Keep and made their way down Aegon's Hill, Jon had seen the faces of the men, women, and children who had been camping in the streets, and those who lived within King's Landing. All of them were terrified, scared, and… pleading with him.

It almost reminded him of a time not too long ago when he and his father had ridden through the streets of White Harbor, with the men and women who lived there watching on and cheering for his father. For all that he'd done for them to improve their lives, to make them feel safe.

Jon was in more of a hurry, but as he galloped down Aegon's Hill and towards Jaehaerys' Square, he did not fail to notice the hundreds-no, the thousands of innocent folk who had watched him go by, who were placing their hopes with him. Plenty of them had held winter roses, laying them down in his path as he rode by.

Once he made it to the Dragon Gate, Jon had made out the long lines of men who were standing atop the walls and the archway over the northern gate itself. They held their bows at the ready, meanwhile, the rest of the men were setting up the catapults and ballistae that had been carefully placed along the walls.

Jaime, who had already taken command of the Dragon Gate, had come down from the watchtower and approached Jon first. "Eight riders have been spotted. They're making their way here."

"I'll hear what they have to say," Jon responded. "Have the archers ready to fire in case they pull some kind of trick."

Lannister nodded and ordered the men accordingly. Then, he mounted his horse and waited with Jon while the men below the arch unbarred the gate. It took about ten men to heave up the great bar of iron, steel, and wood and set it aside.

When the gate yawned open, Jon instantly made out the clear gap between the treeline and the walls of the city, which was a distance of about over three hundred feet across. By the middle of the field, Jon saw the riders who had been waiting for him.

One of them held a long wooden pole with a midnight black banner and a red three-headed dragon. The Targaryen sigil. Would Aegon be here? Or would he lead his army from the rear, letting his men get killed first?

It was time to find out.

Jon led from the front. Starag and Jaime rode behind him, along with Jory, Ghost, and three other Stark guardsmen.

As he got closer to the enemy escort, he immediately noticed the red-haired woman who was also among them. She wore a shroud and a dress the color of blood, and her skin was as pale as milk. And in her eyes, Jon saw only crimson fire.

The Red Woman who betrayed Stannis… Jon thought. His resolve only hardened.

The other two riders in the front also drew away Jon's attention. To the right, an older, red-haired man sat in his saddle wearing black and gold armor. Emblazoned on his breastplate were two counterchanged combatant griffins both in gold and black, though Jon knew they would normally be in white and red. That's Connington.

And the rider in the middle? Jon knew full well who he was upon seeing the neck-length platinum-silver hair. So Aegon had deigned to come to meet Jon himself after all…

Aegon sat upright in his saddle and wore armor of polished plates of blackened steel lined with silver. Clasped around his neck with a blood-red ruby was a crimson cloak, almost the same as the ones that Jon had seen in portraits of the Conqueror himself. At clipped to his belt, Jon had seen the Valyrian Steel blade that had once been wielded by his opponent's namesake, the very same hand-and-a-half blade that had been taken to Essos by Aegor Rivers damn near a hundred years ago…

Blackfyre.

Jon came to a halt just ten feet away from the opposite party and watched as the Red Woman leaned to Aegon's side, whispering something in his ear. Aegon nodded, and both he and Jon continued their staring match.

For a few moments, nobody had spoken. The silence between both parties was tense and was hanging on a knife's edge.

It was Aegon that threatened to crack it. He smiled at Jon, though Jon looked into the young man's pale indigo eyes and knew, simply from the time that he'd spent in the viper's nest that was King's Landing, that the smile was false.

For that, Jon decided to save them all the time. "Speak." He ordered the man across from him.

Aegon nodded, continuing his false smile. "Very well, Lord Stark." He spread his hands. "You know my demands well, I trust? My army is significantly larger than whatever force you've managed to conjure up. Surrender now, kneel before me and I will show mercy."

Hadn't he threatened to kill me if I was still here? Did they tell him not to go through with it? Or had they told him to give me one last chance? Whatever it was, Jon wasn't having any of it. He was already disappointed in what he saw. At the very least, he imagined Aegon would've been as muscled as Arthur Dayne. Though his opponent was clearly well-trained, he wasn't as impressive as Jon's uncle. "You mean the same mercy you gave to Stannis Baratheon when you had him and his family burned alive?" He asked emotionlessly.

The Pretender's eyebrow had twitched slightly at his piercing comment, and the veneer of his expression began to crack. Oh, he remembered full well what his aunt had said of this Pretender. He was all smiles and charm up front, and behind your back, he plotted his mad schemes and kept his delusions of godhood. Probably wondering how in the blazes I knew that. And beside him, Jon had seen Connington visibly gulp and had a look with what could only be considered shameful. It was still fresh for him.

Jon pressed his advantage. "The same mercy you gave Jon Arryn when you had him poisoned with water from the Ashlands of Asshai?" He knew he was on the right track as Aegon visibly grew uncomfortable. "Or when you had Robert killed in the Kingswood with arrows tipped in Manticore Venom?"

The seed had been planted. Aegon was positively furious now, angry that Jon somehow knew everything about his plans. Jon simply pressed on. "I discovered what your mercy looked like as my father died in my arms, pretender." His insult had visibly struck a nerve. Aegon's temples had flared. "All because of your wildfire stunt underneath Baelor's Sept."

It was the Red Woman who had rescued Aegon. "You cannot win," She said as if it were a plain fact. "My King is the Lord's Chosen. He is Azor Ahai, the Prince who was Promised, born amidst salt and smoke, and has harnessed the power of dragons. You would be wise to surrender."

Jon looked slowly at the woman. She certainly looked more mature than her king.

"Salt and smoke?" Starag quipped. "Is he a smoked fish?"

Behind him, Jory and a few other guards had broken out into chuckles. Jon eased back his smile, forcing himself to remain ice-cold. He continued, ignoring the Red Woman. "Where's your iron tongue, pretender? Your letter had more spark to it, and now you let a woman speak for you."

"Watch your tongue, heretic." The Red Woman's tone was lashing. "The Lord of Light is not merciful to those worshipping false gods."

"Your Lord of Light has no power in these lands," Starag spoke from Jon's side. "The Old Gods hold dominion here." He then looked to Aegon. "And these people you claim to rule over worship the Faith of the Seven. Your chances of converting them are worse than your chances of properly feeding all the men in your army for the next six moons."

And those chances were nonexistent.

Aegon did not have the resources for a prolonged siege. And everyone knew it.

He'd not anticipated that Jon would call his bluff and stay in King's Landing, probably thinking that Jon would run with his tail between his legs. And Jon knew well enough that feeding over fifty thousand men for even three moons on end without proper supply lines would've been a gargantuan task by itself.

"Please," It was Connington who spoke up now. There was pleading in his voice, and age had begun to show in the crows' feet beside his pale blue eyes. And in his greying reddish hair. "There doesn't need to be a battle. Surrender now and your men's lives will be spared."

"Yes," Aegon ground his teeth as he continued Connington's statement. "Your men's lives will be spared, and I'll even let you head back to Winterfell. That's a more than generous offer."

Jon decided to break the news to Aegon. "I didn't come to negotiate with you, pretender." Again, the white-haired eyebrows had flickered in anger. "You can throw all the men in your army at our walls. You won't have King's Landing."

"Overconfidence will be your downfall," The Red Woman warned as if she was reading the future.

Jon ignored her and continued staring down Aegon. "Of course, there doesn't need to be a siege." He nearly smiled as he saw Aegon raise one of his eyebrows. "You and I can settle this together. The old way. Let the gods decide which of us should be victorious."

Aegon had simply let out a harsh bark of a laugh. "Do you believe me stupid enough to cross blades with Arthur Dayne's nephew?" He asked bitterly as if there still remained small hints of jealousy in his next few words. "If only that Dornish wench that you call a mother hadn't spread her legs for the Usurper's Dog would the Sword of the Morning be by my side. He'd be alive and well, wouldn't he?" The False Dragon had snarled.

Jon schooled his features into an ice-cold mask. Aegon continued. "Oh, I know alright about your little expedition to Valyria. Quite brave of you northern dogs, admittedly, to sail into such dangerous lands where your betters had hailed from. What a pity that Arthur Dayne had to die a traitor in a wasteland when he could've served his king."

He did die for his King. Jon noted in the privacy of his mind. It just wasn't you.

"Perhaps he might've been there to protect my aunt, or to have helped me take my rightful throne." Aegon had continued on. "Perhaps I'll take my consolation prize in the rest of his family once I'm done here, hmmm?"

Jon had already been goaded into action by Euron Greyjoy years ago. Jon had learned that lesson the hard way. It wouldn't work this time. This time, Jon was ice-cold.

"I hear Lady Stark is still as beautiful as she was the day she met her late husband in Harrenhal. The same day my father took your aunt as a prize." Aegon spat. "And your sister is said to be just as beautiful as your mother, too. I can have her as a slave, or take them both. As for your dear lady Margaery…" He clicked his tongue. "Once I cut out that pup in her belly, I'll just take what's left of her, keep her around, feed her like a dog, fuck her like-"

Jon had tuned him out. This was Aegon. This was the tyrant who'd just revealed himself and his true colors. The madman underneath the cowl of controlled charm and amusement.

The same man who ordered for barrels of wildfire to be placed underneath Baelor's Sept. The same man who had ruthlessly and discerningly taken apart his enemies from the inside. The same man was currently being hailed as the savior of a cult of fire worshipers. The same man who his aunt had warned him about. The same man who would turn the Seven Kingdoms into a land of ash, fire, and blood. Just like Valyria…

"Well?" Aegon barked. "Say something, Northman! Don't sit there like an idiot. What do you think of my plans? Don't you think they sound remarkable? For one man to have that many Stark women under his belt? Come on, come on."

Jon was not impressed. "Yes." He said emotionlessly. "It's a rather detailed plan, isn't it? It reeks of paranoia, jealousy, and persecution. Megalomaniac hatred and desire for revenge. Probably had to watch those more talented than you from afar while you were growing up, living in the shadows, so to speak. Had to haul rope or mend fishing nets while other boys got to play with swords in-where did you grow up? Braavos? Pentos? Probably back and forth between the two. That gave you a chip on your shoulder, didn't it? Knowing you were better than everyone else while they got to run around and ride horses, fire a bow, seduce pretty girls, or sail to places unknown. Wanting to explore when you were told that you were meant for bigger things, being denied adventure because your caretakers ordered you to do something you didn't want to do. Never had much of a choice in all of it, I gather."

Jon pressed a small, conversational smile toward the Pretender. "I was curious to see whether or not you were as mad as your grandfather, but you exceeded my expectations. As it stands, you'll just need to be put down like a mad dog. Too bad. Sad business." His features were completely stark cold as he said those last few words.

It worked. With each word, Aegon's face contorted with rage. His pale indigo eyes were red with fury, his thin lips drawn back to reveal his snarling teeth. Now, at the very last childhood insult that must have awoken gods know what memories, the False Dragon seemed about ready to leap from his saddle and strangle Jon with his own two hands.

It was then that Jon decided to conclude their meeting. His conclusion was that while Aegon was intelligent, he was a madman with a chip on his shoulder and a large army at his back. There was nothing more to be gained from speaking with him.

Jon gave Connington one last glance, poor fool, and wheeled his horse around. Those behind him had done the same. "There's nothing more for us to talk about. Send your army." He said, not even looking at Aegon anymore.

With Starag, Jaime, and the rest of his escort behind him, Jon cantered his way back to the Dragon Gate, knowing full well that if he allowed Aegon to take the city, Westeros would soon follow in Valyria's footsteps.

Once he was back behind the walls of King's Landing, to the Gold Cloaks of King's Landing, to the Lannister soldiers, to the Stark household guardsmen, and to his commanders.

"Guards! Knights! Men-at-arms! Prepare for battle!"

Author's Note:

YEEHAW!

Jon's gotten a good look at Aegon now, and he's not impressed. Even if Aegon had covertly taken down Robert, Jon Arryn, Tywin, and Littlefinger.

Next up, the battle begins…

See you then.

Extradimensional Dragon: "Justifying" is not the word I would choose.

The whole point of my replying to reviews is to open up a dialogue with my readers (and for them to continue if they so wish). And to showcase my thought process behind my writing.

If you agree with that thought process? Cool.

If you don't agree? Cool.

There are parts of this story that I'm not proud of (and I've already said as much), and all I can really say is: I did what I thought was best at the time, and leave it at that.

And I respectfully disagree with you with regards to characters: I do not enjoy characters who get 'kicked around', I enjoy characters who experience suffering, hardship, and pain so they can ultimately grow into more confident, competent, and superior versions of themselves and go onto improve their lives and make a positive impact on the lives of others. Pressure creates diamonds. This is something your 'larger than life' characters go through in order to become 'larger than life' (or at least something that the best ones go through).

My original argument (for anyone reading this unaware of the context) was about SI characters being jammed into Westeros (or any other Fandom) with knowledge of the future and how I believe that's super gay. You can find all of that in the Author's Notes section of Chapter 70 if you're curious.

That aside, I would like to know which parts of the story you specifically found to be unnecessary. There's always room for improvement. Thank you 💪

And for the rest of you reading, take care, stay hydrated, and keep doing your push ups. See you next time 🔥