I am 99% sure that I would have had this done a lot earlier today had England not won the Cricket World Cup, but alas they did and so it's a bit later than I had hoped!

Again, I own nothing but Luke. All recognisable names and places belong to George R R Martin or HBO.

The day after the feast was the day that Illyrio Mopatis had decided to air his grievances with Luke. The Targaryen was being seen to by one of the Golden Company's own medics when the Pentoshi Magister barged into his chambers. Ser Rolly Duckfield immediately let his hand fly to his sword pommel, and Jon Connington also watched on with his hand on Truth's hilt, prepared for a fight. The other occupants of the room were members of the Company's spy ring, and the Targaryen Prince did not look happy.

"Magister." Luke said, his arms up as the medic was tying linen around his naked torso. "Were we due to meet?"

"I want you gone." Illyrio said bitterly. "You have brought nothing but destruction to Pentos. Neither you nor your band of rogues will ever set foot into this great city ever again!"

Luke smirked, winking at Jon. Ignoring the magister for a moment he turned to the medic who had just finished tying the bandage. "Thank you." He said quietly. Luke stood up and let the man place a thin golden tunic over his head, covering the bandages. "I saved your life, Pentoshi." Luke told the fat man. "You helped Viserys plot this degrading match, enabling it even. You insult my House by doing so, you insult my brother by treating him like a child." He took a menacing step towards the magister, who ducked behind two robust Unsullied guards. "All you seem to have done in the last year is fan the flames of my brother's ego and bargained for my sister to die in the east."

"Events were made to ensure that House Targaryen regained the Iron Throne." Illyrio argued.

"By angering our two most loyal allies?" Luke asked, an eyebrow raised. He held his arms up again as Blackfyre was strapped around his waist by the medic. "Jon, what was the agreement again?"

"Prince Viserys was to marry Arianne Martell, while Princess Daenerys was to marry Prince Trystane." Jon answered. "While you were to wed Lady Margaery Tyrell once she came of age."

"A treaty which you made redundant." Illyrio accused. "A treaty which was destroyed by the death of Princess Arianne!"

Luke nodded. "The Princess' death is unfortunate true, but Prince Doran would likely have still agreed to an alliance and a betrothal of his remaining son and Daenerys. I also admit my wrongdoing, although the treaty with House Tyrell would have been welcome knowledge before I married the daughter of Magister Rogare." He was growing angrier. "I also had my spymaster do a little digging, cheesemonger. Who was it that you were going to pass off your son as again?"

Illyrio's eyes widened. "I don't know what you mean."

"The boat, sailing along the Rhoyne." Jon answered. "Captained by Myles Mooton. My old friend."

"Ser Myles Mooton died in the Battle of the Bells." Illyrio smiled uneasily.

Jon shook his head. "Liar. He escaped with me, injured and with a mangled arm it's true, but he was in the Red Keep when I left with Prince Lucerys."

"Imagine my surprise when I hear that my troops fell upon the Shy Maid on the way to Pentos to save my sister from a marriage that was beneath her." Luke began. "And imagine my surprise when after extensive questioning, the occupants admitted that you have been plotting against my House for decades."

"Falsehoods." Illyrio defended himself.

"The Septa admitted it." Jon told Illyrio. "Myles admitted it under torture. He told us all about your Black Dragon plan."

"The boy is dead, Illyrio." Luke told him bluntly. "Lemore is dead, the captains Yandry and Ysilla are both dead. Myles Mooton is dead. Your scheme is sinking to the bottom of the Rhoyne along with the Shy Maid and the bodies of its occupants."

Illyrio's eyes began watering, and he narrowed them in anger. "Seize him." He barked to the Unsullied in bastard Valyrian. The overweight guards stepped forwards, spears pointed, but Rolly Duckfield was quicker, slashing out with his sword and snapping the spears, before ending the lives of the Unsullied with swift cuts to the throat.

"You've been kind to my siblings." Luke told the magister who was reeling from the sudden demise of his guards. "So, I shall be merciful and let you live, but I will require some compensation."

"You will have nothing." Illyrio spat. "The Seven Kingdoms will never accept Viserys as their King, you will all be doomed trying to take back a land that rejoices at your misfortune!"

Luke smiled, taking another step towards the magister. "Perhaps that's true, but we will have something that the Seven Kingdoms won't."

"What's that?" Illyrio rolled his eyes.

"Your three wedding gifts." Luke smiled, patting Illyrio calmly on the cheek. "Goodbye, Magister." Luke said loudly as he passed. "Don't ever betray House Targaryen again."

The Magister was left in a state of total shock, as Luke limped out of the room towards the exit of the manse, closely followed by his loyal companions.

It was a slow process, but the walk through Pentos was finally over once Luke and his fellow men arrived into the Golden Company's camp outside of the city. In the distance a steady stream of men was already making their way towards Ghoyan Drohe and the boats, while the last few men packed up the tents that remained. Luke saw Viserys standing over by Ser Jorah Mormont, displeasure clear on his face. He started hearing words as he got closer, leaning heavily on his cane.

"What do you mean they've all gone? I was promised a Dothraki horde!"

"The defeated Khalasar will return to Vaes Dothrak, Your Grace. They will choose a new leader, or leaders, and form their own Khalasars…"

Viserys spat. "So we have no horde? Only a band of mercenaries."

"The finest mercenaries in the entire world, brother!" Luke called out happily. "A band that defeated Khal Drogo himself!"

Viserys turned and nodded. "As you say, brother. But now we have half the men I was promised; how do you propose we take back the Iron Throne with what you have?"

"We don't." Luke shrugged. "We don't have the men nor the allies."

Viserys scowled. "Then what are we doing now?"

"Sailing home." Jon said dryly from behind Luke. "Volon Therys is a fortress, there we will recover, regain our numbers and wait for the right opportunity."

"Wait?" Viserys scoffed. "Your grand strategy to avenge our Father is to wait?"

Luke nodded, and began to explain his plan. "Look at it this way, currently Robert Baratheon is strong. He has the alliances he needs to keep the Kingdoms from splitting, with the Lannisters, Tullys, Starks and Arryns all linked with marriage pacts we'd have no chance."

"Nor would we even when the Usurper dies." Viserys spat.

"I think you underestimate the challenges of successions." Jon smirked. "We've worked at this for over a decade, Viserys. Trust us."

Viserys looked incredulous at the request but gulped and smiled forcibly. "It seems I have no other choice, now that you have gotten us kicked out of Pentos."

The eldest Targaryen stormed off towards his new horse, and Jon stepped closer to Luke. "He's going to be trouble."

Luke nodded in agreement. "It's our job to steer him to make the right decisions, Jon. I'm not risking my all to put Aerys the Third on the throne."

Connington nodded. "I'll accompany him on the way to the barges, perhaps some stories of your elder brother may placate him."

Luke smiled at the thought and nodded, watching his friend and mentor follow the eldest Targaryen. After a moment however, he turned to the exiled Northerner. "You fought well in the battle, Ser Jorah. And I thank you for aiding in my retreat."

"I was just doing my duty, Prince Lucerys." The man bowed. "Your sister deserves a Westerosi Great Lord, not a man who would never have sailed across the Narrow Sea."

Luke nodded his agreement. "She does, but what she also needs is a loyal protector. I can't be there all the time, and I would have her safe. From anybody that means her harm." He told Jorah pointedly.

Jorah nodded, taking out his sword and dropping to one knee. "I would gladly serve the Princess as her sworn shield, if she would have me."

Luke bid Mormont to rise. "It is her you should be swearing yourself to, Ser. Not me."

It took a few hours longer, but soon the camp was taken down and the last of the Company were on the road, and Luke finally felt like he could relax. He was in the back of a wagon due to his wounds yes, but he had his family back and out of the grasp of a scheming, untrustworthy man.

He looked to the right and grinned as he saw Dany riding her new mount. The late Khal Drogo had apparently planned for the filly to be given to Daenerys as a wedding gift, and Luke had agreed with Ser Jorah that it would make a fine gift to her. She had named the horse 'Silver', after its silvery mane. Ser Jorah rode beside her.

"Thank you." Daenerys called over to Luke in the cart. "For helping me escape that marriage."

Luke chuckled, shifting on his pillows. "You never need to thank me, sister."

Dany smiled, her hair bouncing as her Silver plodded along the old Valyrian road. "But I will anyway." She grinned.

"We are family." Luke told her seriously. "I've gone for so long knowing that I had family out there, but never being able to meet them, that now I have you both within touching distance I never want to let you go. You, Viserys, and of course Valarra are my world and I would give my life to ensure that we get what is ours."

"I can't wait to meet her." Dany told him honestly. "I've always wondered what it would be like to have a sister."

Smiling, Luke told her. "She will be delighted to have you as a friend, I am sure."

He saw Dany stare up the line of marching men. "I worry about Viserys." She said honestly. "He seems… different."

"He will be alright." Luke promised her. "I have a gift for you both once we are both at Ghoyan Drohe."

Ghoyan Drohe was a ruin in every sense of the word. It was once a bustling port city, but after the Second Spice War, one of the many clashes between the ancient Valyrian's and the Rhoynar, the city that had once been a beautiful city of canals and fountains with greenery blooming, had become a desolate place of muddy reeds, with swarms of flies hovering over the numerous points of water snaking through the city.

Luke had set his personal campsite in and amongst the broken stones of the largest palace, where the walls were crumbling and sinking back into the earth. He had asked both Daenerys and Viserys to dine with him before they were due to board a barge the next morning, but so far only Dany had turned up.

"How much longer do you think it will be until we're in Volon Therys?" Dany asked as they sipped on some water before the food came out.

Luke thought for a moment. "Likely a few weeks. The Rhoyne is a large river crawling with pirates and worse. We won't be rushing down it, that's for sure."

They spoke about menial things for a while longer, until the tent flaps flew open and in came an irate Viserys.

"You summon me?" He spat venomously. "I am your King!"

Luke stood up, holding his hands up in surrender. "I did not summon you, brother. I invited you to sup. I have a gift for you both after dinner." Viserys eyed Luke coolly, and the younger knew that he needed to give the gifts before dinner to ease the tension that was growing. He moved over to the side of the tent where he had packed the gifts in a wooden box. Picking it up and bringing it over to the table, he rested his hand on the lid and spoke. "Magister Illyrio was going to grant these to Daenerys at her wedding, but by rights they belong to us all as the last true sons and daughter of Valyria. I found out that he had hidden them once it was clear that we were to do battle with Drogo, and well, I stole them from him."

"You stole from our host?" Viserys asked angrily.

"I stole them back." Luke bit back. "They were stolen from us almost 250 years ago by the thief Elissa Farman and are rightfully ours." He waited for a moment and opened the lid.

Viserys' face changed from anger to wonder at the sight of the two dragon eggs in the box. He immediately reached in and grabbed the green one, holding it up at eye level. "Are these real?" He asked.

"Illyrio thought they were stone, but he is no blood of the dragon." Luke told him. "Feel how warm they are to touch?"

"A comforting warmth." Viserys nodded, as Dany picked up the white dragon egg.

"They're beautiful." Dany whispered.

Luke closed the box and put it to one side. "I have a third, but I don't know how they hatch yet. All I do know is that our ancestors had eggs in their cribs and slept with them nightly. Hopefully that is enough, and once they have been hatched no army shall stand in the way of the Iron Throne."

Viserys grinned sadistically. "With dragons we shall be unstoppable." He looked up at Luke. "Well done, brother.

Dany was slightly less formal, wrapping Luke in a fierce hug. "Thank you so much." She whispered to him. Luke just planted a kiss at the top of her head.

"Now, shall we eat? This is likely to be our last decent meal before we reach Volon Therys, it would be nice to eat as a family." Luke said, widening his arms in invitation. Dany nodded, sitting down at the table keeping her egg close to her. Viserys was stood staring at the egg for a moment longer, but even he happily sat down, leading to a rather relaxed evening spent in the company of family.

Once his siblings had retired, Luke went to find Jon Connington. After checking both the command tent and the main feasting area, the Targaryen made his way over to Jon's personal tent. "Jon." Luke said as he pulled open the tent flaps to announce himself.

Jon stood upright from a seat in the corner and bowed his head in respect. "Lucerys. How did it go?"

Luke smiled. "Well, I think."

"You do realise that they could be stone after all? There's no guarantee that they are real eggs, nor that they will hatch. The dragons died out over a century ago." Jon warned.

Luke smirked. "My dreams are real, old friend." He walked over to his famous old chest of black oak that he had asked Jon to keep safe and unlocked it with his three keys. He ran his fingers over the scaly surface of the egg that he had held back. Images of Aegon the Conqueror flying atop the back of Balerion the Black Dread flashed flew his mind as he caressed the egg, before grasping it with both hands and bringing it out. He made his way over to the table that Jon was sitting at and placed the egg down upon it.

Jon took it in his hands. "It's cold." He shrugged, handing the black egg with red ripples back to Luke.

The Targaryen shook his head. "You're wrong." He said lustfully, the egg holding his gaze. "They ooze with warmth."

Jon shrugged again. "Possibly in part due to your Valyrian heritage. But right now, they are useless other than for selling."

"We won't sell any eggs, Jon." Luke bit back.

"Apologies." Jon raised his hands in a light-hearted surrender. "I just fear what would happen if your brother's hatches. He's already unstable, Lucerys. I travelled all the way here with him and my only impression was that I was speaking to your father once again."

Luke looked uneasy but sighed dramatically. "What can I do?" He asked. "He is still my brother, and one of the last Targaryen's left in the world. If I keep the egg from him what damage to our relationship would that do?"

"He's already jealous." Jon warned. "He's not a King, Lucerys."

"And again, what can I do?" Luke asked, more forcefully. "As long as he lives, he is my King." Jon said nothing but looked pointedly at Luke. "No." The Targaryen said firmly, understanding the unsaid request. "No, no Jon I am no kinslayer."

"You would be a much better King." Connington argued. "You inspire men, you are likable…"

"And because of that you want me to agree to the murder of my own brother?" Luke asked incredulously.

Jon shook his head, leaning forwards so his elbows were on the table. "I'm just saying that when the time comes you could win the war, but he will not."

"We will win." Luke answered, his rage bubbling. "There is no me or Viserys, there is us. The Dance of the Dragons showed that all that comes from infighting is misery and death. I am not Aegon II and nor am I Rhaenyra. I will serve my brother whether I want to or not."

Jon nodded, sensing that he should leave before he made things worse. "As you say. If you'll excuse me, I shall see you on the boat at dawn."

Luke nodded, not saying anything as Jon left the tent, before he brought the black dragon egg into his chest and hugged it close, imagining himself hatching it and burning his enemies to cinders.

So, the dragon eggs have been distributed out! They will hatch eventually, but some very important things need to happen before that.

I really wanted to include Aegon VI and the Shy Maid crew too, considering most of the early chapters have been inspired by his chapters in the books. In this story he is a Blackfyre and is definitely dead.

I hope you all enjoyed it. Next time is a little bit of a history filled chapter as the Golden Company sail down the Rhoyne, but we also head back across the Narrow Sea as word of the Battle of Pentos spreads to Robert Baratheon.

Reviews:

DaddyChad: They will follow the Dothraki way and form their own Khalasars.

C.E.W: It is a matter of time, next chapter namely… I'll leave the other part of your review so as not to spoil it.

TheOnlyKing: He's resentful. He's had to sell everything just to survive with his sister in tow, and here comes this confident badass who to Viserys looks like he's been handed his life on a silver plate.

Rolling Mist 13: They really are awesome. I have to thank the Lord of the Rings for inspiration there.

Hail King Cerion: Yeah, I tried to make it a fairly standard victory due to their organisation but also keep the losses realistic.

alec-potter: It's not a Luke/Dany pairing. They may be attracted to one another, but I can promise I'm not going there in this story.

DragonCrusher: No.