At the old summer palace, he hugged her again. Frowning, sitting by leaning against an apple tree, she refused to look at him. The same silence would always fall between them, separating them, as a great wall separates Pentos from the dangers outside.
"Where are you going," she broke the silence, curved lines, due to her frown, adorned her unusually large nose.
Happy that she finally addressed him, he quickly replied, "Disputed Lands. Same as always. Some Lysene pirate has declared himself king of the north coast. He's disrupting trade. Myr wants us to get rid of him."
She fell silent again. She did not share his enthusiasm for war and politics. He kissed her hand, then said cautiously, "Eira, I know how you feel. But fighting down there will prepare me for crossing the Narrow Sea."
He continued to kiss her body, carefully and gently, and she soon reciprocated. They made love, under the canopy of the tree, as one. He was happy again. She was with him, in his arms, her scent caressed his nostrils, and her warm touch revived every sensation in his body. She clung to his back with her powerful arms, while he firmly held her legs with his right arm, feeling the muscles dance under her soft skin.
Eira was with him, but suddenly he was not alone. The ground under his feet was unstable, and strange voices echoed everywhere, "Grab the rope", followed by "watch the sails". Command followed command. As in every dream, Aegon would eventually realize that he was dreaming and at the same moment he opened his eyes.
….
Rays of the rising sun pierced into the cabin, tinted purple by the Bravosi windows of the ship. Every trace of his body hated the reality now, her image as clear as it was in the dream, now slowly faded, disappearing into nothingness.
"A heavy dream," Jon spoke to him in a mundane voice, sitting in the corner of the cabin, at a small table, studying a large number of maps. The cabin was filled with maps of Westeros.
With a slight smile, Aegon replied to him, somewhat unconvincingly, "yes, I relived the old campaign." He could successfully hide his true face from everyone, except Jon. The Griffin always broke his facade.
Now for a moment, he stopped looking at the maps and measured Aegon with a long look. "I don't remember taking Eira into battle." At that remark, Aegon frowned and turned his gaze away. He retorted sarcastically to Jon, "for someone who led the royal army, you have a strange need to constantly look at maps. Don't we know them by heart."
Jon was not deterred, he again directed his attention to the maps and continued to speak, "some are newer, with more marked roads and settlements. Illyrio paid dearly for the novices to steal them from the Citadel." Aegon was not too interested in intrigue and plots, Illyrio and Varys were better at that. The Master of Whispers, however, whom he had never seen, and only met through letters and instructions, as much as possible to discover a man in that manner.
"I'm the last one to give advice, but I think you should talk to Haldon or the septa" Jon continued in a quiet tone, marking something on one of the maps.
Pouring himself a glass of Dornish wine, in an attempt to clear his mind, Aegon wanted to be patient and say nothing. When it came to Eira, he mostly didn't want to say anything. However, with a slightly irritating voice, he replied, "I know what they would tell me. Trust in Mother's mercy, Father's steadfastness or forget the past, look to the future", he tilted the glass of wine and looked at the empty glass, "Haldon would probably pour more wine. Or he would say to change the sort. Gold Arbor is best for escape". He sat down again, , stretched his left leg and leaned back on the couch and looked thoughtfully at Jon. "No, today is time for training, a lot, a lot of training. If they are not already awake, wake up Duck and Thunderex, and tell them to join me on the deck."
...
The dull thuds of blunt swords echoed with the creaking of the slippery deck. Aegon skillfully dodged the attack of two opponents, focusing more on Thunderex, whose attacks were more powerful and precise, better planned. Ser Rolly, although clumsier and without a too ornate style, was still a dangerous adversary. The sailors, busy with hard work, would pause for a moment and neglect their duties, to be able to follow the dance of swords. The ship lost its calmness, due to clumsy handling. The captain and officers were furious and cursed the sailors, driving them to their duties.
With the sound of sparring, he would return again to six years in the past and the happiest year of his life. He remembered everything, the pirate king marching in chains through the streets, followed by detachments of the Golden Company. The colorful crowd screamed excitedly, throwing flowers at the sellswords. The smell of triumph was felt on every corner, and the sound of victory echoed through the wide paved streets.
"It doesn't get any better than this," he heard Haldon as halfmeaster led two whores, to unknown. Duck, then still just an ordinary squire, had just as much fun. Jon and Aegon seemed to be alone in their desire not to seek female company. Squeezed in that great turmoil, he wanted only to return to Pentos, to return to Eira.
Soon Aegon parted from the Golden Company and boarded the first ship for Pentos. The calm summer sea made the journey short and uneventful. In a trance, he relived that day, the moment when everything stopped being important. For the first time in his life, he thought that he did not want the Iron Throne, a new life became visible to him.
Brown hair and purple eyes. He looked at his own eyes. When Eira greeted him, she was the old one, unburdened, the same girl he had tried to win over since he knew himself. Delusion, he would think now, but then he looked at a new world. Their daughter was sleeping in his arms, while Eira gently leaned on his shoulder. A world of their own. Alienated from wars, noble houses, titles and sellsword companies.
He wanted to escape, from Illyrio, from Jon, from obligations, to escape from himself and what he was, to escape from the blood that flowed through his veins. Their happiness was only theirs, but soon they were followed by odd looks and whispers. Unspoken dissatisfaction. A former orphan cannot be a queen.
She is entertainment, a comfort, an ease that the young king can take to bed. Delusion, he thought again, delusion in which he was chained. A lesson he had to learn.
Jon was silent then, but Aegon knew he thought the same. Mace Tyrell has a daughter, an ideal alliance, and more men than any other lord in the realm. Balon Greyjoy has a daughter, a bit older, but ships, yes ships. In the end, Arianne, and Dornish spears. His uncle Doran had promised unconditional support, but for people like Illyrio it was incomprehensible that people would give anything for free. Jon was typically distrustful of anyone. Marriage would solve the doubts. Now it seems that only Aegon was delusioned, persistent and innocent. Jon would say, "Toyne and Strickland will not fight alone for your throne, they expect Westeros to rise."
Strange, how many problems one death can solve. His guardians sighed in a relief, bu almost the same moment they continued foward, as if nothing had ever happened. Aegon didn't. He stood under the canopy of an apple tree, next to a small green hill, while he watched in the distance a girl with brown hair and purple eyes. Aegon wondered now, how was Elia, in Pentos. The old Aegon would want to take her with him, but no, now he doesn't need weakness.
A sudden blow to the chest brought him back to reality, he lay on the floor and tried to catch his breath. "Kid, are you okay," Duck looked at him confusedly, and a little scared. He leaned on his training sword and quickly got up. "Yes, I have to let you hit me sometimes," Aegon smiled at Ser Rolly. This game is the only place where he is willing to do that.
….
The moon hung high in the night sky as the ships sailed through the dark waters of the Bay of Crabs, guided by the faint light of the distant shore. Evening stormy wind was hitting the ships. Sailors were walking on all sides, like ants performing tasks, trying to calm the ship and prevent a collision with another ship or with rocky cliffs. Prevailing darkness enveloped everything, taking away the moonlight.
Finally at home, Aegon thought, looking at the vague patterns of the coast. This Land was his, and yet, he felt nothing special, no new and overwhelming excitement. Before him, again, could be the shores of Disputed Lands, where he had landed several times. He wondered, did his namesake and predecessor Aegon feel the same, when he landed on the other side of the peninsula, at the mouth of Blackwater into the sea. But Aegon, First of his name had dragons. This Aegon doesn't, he taught.
Wind lifted the hood from his cloak. "It's time," Jon said behind him, "The boat is ready."
Hundreds of boats set off for the ships. Duck squirmed and sleepily grumbled, combing his short brown beard, "One thing to tell you, friend. In Reach it is not, o brother, so fucking cold." He paused to better grab the oars, then finished, "Gods, nor gloomy. Where did the moon disappear." The knight was right, the moon had disappeared under the clouds and the already dark night had become even darker.
Their boat slid smoothly down the sandy shore. Aegon stood frozen, as if his legs had been cut off. He couldn't move. Why now? He shouldn't have cared, Westeros was just a new task, and yet, a burden loomed over him. Others didn't notice his ordeal. Except Jon, Jon notices everything. The old griffin gently put his hand on Aegon's shoulder and Aegon instinctively jumped out of the boat.
Nothing spectacular happened, no holy providence, the Warrior did not appear in the sky to light their way. Only the exiled prince stood on the shore, the shore of the land that belonged to him. Belonged was a word Aegon did not know. Most of his gold he earned with a sword in his hands. A roof over his head, luxury and comfort, different kinds of lessons, he paid Illyrio with blood that flowed through his veins or with a future crown. The fat man was always cheerful, by his words the greatest Targaryen loyalist, but Aegon saw through the curtains of other people's desires.
The shore was filled with people, officers were shouting commands, hurrying to form companies and cohorts as soon as possible. Sailors were bringing boates back to the water. Ten thousand men had to disembark. Larger ships were carrying wagons with supplies. The men of the Golden Company were quickly unloading the heavy cargo and, as always showing, they had a reputation for a reason. Both the cargo and the people were arriving on the shore, all in good order. Homeless Harry was as good at logistics as he was bad on the battlefield. By dawn, all the troops would be on the shore, except for the cavalry. Otreyes and his two cohorts of cavalry would wait for the morning. Horses do not swim well in the dark, especially if they all have to go to the same point.
The boots of thousands of soldiers marched through the fishing village. The Targaryen red three-headed dragon on a black field adorned the spears. Harry was unsure about that, "Golden banners are tradition," he complained to Illyrio. magister did not answer him, instead he opened the chest with gold and opened the curtains that hid the maids, in scanty costumes. If Toyne were alive, he would never have allow changing the banners. Yet again, if Toyne were alive, Aegon would be more confident in the success of the campaign. Luckily, Jon took over Harry's deputy position, which Harry didn't object to too much, except for false indignation that it should have been Balaq, commander of archers. As if Balaq was interested in the position at all.
"As soon as we find firmer ground, we will make a camp," Harry said musically, as he proudly watched the men in golden armor march. Jon looked at him grimly, Aegon thought that every moment with Harry was irritating to Jon. Three unknown figures approached the hill where Aegon stood with Jon and Harry. Thunderex led two fishermen. They looked depressed and scared, their eyes directed to the ground. "This one on the left said he was the chieftain of the village."
With a half-shaky voice, an old man with a rare beard and yellow teeth asked Jon, "Are you men of Lord Stannis?" Of the three of them, Jon looked most like a leader, Aegon thought.
Frowning, Jon snapped at him, "Well did you see the banners?" He pointed his hand at a snake, an unsteady wavy column of soldiers.
The other fisherman seemed equally irritated by his leader's answer. "These are dragons," said the other man, with thin eyebrows and a green coat, looking at Aegon, looking at his short silvery hair and purple eyes.
"Dragons" exclaimed the chieftain, gaping at the marching soldiers. The old man probably wondered if he was dreaming.
Fisherman in the green coat continued, paying no attention to the astonished old man, now looking at Jon again, "I fought at the Trident, under Lord Brune, when I came home, the stags took my boat."
Jon Connington's straight eyes looked at the fisherman. "Many lost a lot then," Jon said calmly, "no one is alone in that."
Harry Strickland was not too interested in the past. "No one is allowed to leave the village.", he said, "The roads west are forbidden. If you want to sell or give something, you can come to me." The emphasis was on giving. Harry always emphasized giving. The former paymaster's storage's were filled with gifts from tribal leaders and small graph chiefs. Changing ways of the captains of the Golden Company seemed impossible, but it was necessary. It will be impossible task to win the support of westerosy lords, if Harry and Balaq demand tribute at every corner.
"Why did you think we were Stannis's men," Jon asked the elder, but directing question to the fisherman in the green coat.
"…because his ships patrol around the coast. Not only sails, with stags, but also pirates from Lys, We don't even go over Gullet anymore.", said Fishermen.
The latest reports from Varys say that Staninis has barricaded himself on Dragonstone. As Master of ships, he sailed with most of the royal fleet from King's Landing. King Robert was not touched by that at all. Varys always emphasized how much the usurper neglects his duties, not coming to the Small Council meetings. Convinced that Stannis found out the truth that led the former Hand of the King to the grave, both of them, Varys believes that Stannis went to get away, beliving his next.
If the fishermen's claims are true, Aegon knew, it only means that Stannis also wants the throne. More kings, easier the way ahead of him. With a disciplined and skilled army like Golden company and with Dornish spears, he could destroy any enemy individually.
And with Dotrakhi he than remembered, the dowry that Daenerys was supposed to bring. In the decorated gardens of the magister's villa, Jon was furious at Iliryo for that decision. "Forty thousand horsemen savages are no different from forty thousand beasts released on the seven kingdoms", he said angrily. And he was right, khal Drogo would behave like any khal. Dothraki are not allies, they do not follow previously agreed agreements.
They would conquer the kingdom for Aegon and then devastate the kingdom before his eyes. Jon argued that it was better to try to marry Daenerys to a son of the great house. Marriages and blood, Aegon thought, so different from greed and gold in the Nine free cities. Daenerys could not be saved. The great Khal had already taken her away. Asking for return of the gift was unthinkable.
Aegon had never met his uncle and aunt, Jon later told him, that Aegon was as dead to them as he was to the rest of the world.
He looked east, where the sun was rising over 300 Braavosi and Pentoshi ships.
Today he will rise too.