Chapter 5: The Golden King

The dragon crossed the camp quickly, with heavy and long strides, eager to reach the main tent as soon as possible for some answers. When he arrived at the main tent, where all the commanders usually gathered, he saw an inert body lying on the central table, surrounded by several men.

"What did he die from?" Aemond asked Haldon, who was closely examining the deceased's pupils.

"I don't know yet," the man replied. "I haven't found any wounds, marks of strangulation, nor did he have any diseases."

"Poison?" Herrath suggested.

"The only poison that doesn't leave immediate evidence is manticore venom. We should wait a few hours to see if his blood turns black, but that would only delay things."

"You take care of finding out what killed him; we'll handle the rest," Aemond declared, referring to himself and the other commanders at his side. "Let's help Haldon move the bodies to another place." Each took an end of the makeshift stretchers holding the corpses until the platinum-haired man noticed a clear absence among the commanders. "Where is Connington?"

"Who?"

"Griff," he corrected quickly, though everyone stared at him in confusion.

No one let the mistake pass, and Aemond's headache was too intense to argue. So, he explained to the commanders everything about Aegon and Jon while the eight men helped move the bodies to a tent far from the camp, giving Haldon the freedom to study them as peacefully as possible.

They searched for Jon and Aegon, but found no trace of them. When they checked their tent, all their belongings were still there, which raised suspicions of a quick escape, while others remained convinced that they might find an excuse that wasn't as drastic as fleeing. But everyone chose to save the debate for the afternoon meeting they had agreed upon, which, to many, felt eternal.

"We're here to choose a captain, not to debate what Griff or Jon Connington, or whatever his name is, is doing," complained one of the commanders, Royland, the drunkest of them all.

"Royland is right," Harry Strickland supported him, standing up in front of the central fire. "We need to choose a new leader, and I believe it should be someone capable. Someone whose family has been in the Golden Company for generations, someone with enough experience…"

"That's why," Rylon interrupted him as he stood up, knowing that Harry was actually talking about himself, "most of us agree that the new leader should be the man who has been prepared for this position all these years." He glanced around quickly and then pointed at Aemond, who looked at him incredulously, wondering what he was supposed to do.

"And what about the true heir to the Seven Kingdoms?" came Griff's, or rather Jon's, deep voice as he entered the tent, followed by Aegon, both with their natural hair colors, reddish and platinum. "Aegon of House Targaryen, the sixth of that name, son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Princess Elia Martell, rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," Jon introduced, while the young man behind him, dressed in Targaryen colors, drew all eyes.

"That reminds me of someone," Royland began again, after taking a long swig from his wine bottle. "'I am Viserys Targaryen, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms… and blah, blah, blah.'" After his words, the laughter of those present filled the tent.

"I am not like Viserys," Aegon interjected, stepping in front of Jon with a soft voice.

"Oh, no, of course you're not," Royland continued, standing up. "At least he had the guts to introduce himself, invite us to dinner, and then endure our laughter. You didn't come on your own; you've lied all these years, you came where you weren't called…"

"I have gold; I will hire you."

"Hmm, well, Viserys didn't have gold, that's clear," Royland took another swig from his bottle. "But we can't accept any contract until we have a new Captain-General…"

"You won't need one anymore," the Targaryen replied. "With me, you will return to Westeros and will never have to accept another contract."

"That's enough," Aemond intervened, speaking for the first time all afternoon. "We are choosing a captain, not a king, Aegon. We are mercenaries." His voice was calm, but inside, he burned with anger. He wanted to pounce on that boy and slit his throat for killing Myles.

"And I am hiring you."

"We would never work for a Targaryen. It was you who brought us here in the first place," Royland added.

"I will return your home," Aegon declared confidently, stepping forward. "I didn't take it from you, but I will give it back. When I reach Westeros, when I have the Seven Kingdoms, I will give you what's yours."

"I think you're forgetting something," Rylon interrupted, stepping forward as he saw he had captured Aegon's attention. "In this tent, each and every one of us has the same claim to the Iron Throne. It doesn't matter if we are sons of kings or thieves; no one will go to Westeros and see the Seven Kingdoms kneel before him. And if you think that, let me tell you that you are a fool." He took a deep breath. "We are all exiles; men who were stripped of our homes, who had to flee from our families. And it was you, Targaryens, who caused this. You took what was ours, you made us mercenaries. So let me tell you that I will never trust a Targaryen."

"This company was made up of exiles who still want to return home, wasn't it?" Aegon spoke again. "I promise to see your home again. I promise to give it back to you. Are you so stubborn that you would squander it for a promise?"

"That's what sets a Blackfyre apart from a Targaryen," interrupted Duncan Darry, a gallant man in his fifties. "The Targaryens have broken promises since the dawn of time. It is impossible to return to our home while you Targaryens sit on the Iron Throne. It has been a place for usurpers for too long."

"Silence," Aemond ordered, standing up from his seat, with a furious gaze fixed on Aegon. "Listen, I don't care what you want or what you say. I only care about making you pay for what you did to Blackheart," he said bitterly, moving closer slowly but still keeping a considerable distance. "You killed our captain, and that is paid for with a life."

"Are you threatening me, Blackfyre?" Aegon asked with a brazen smile, which even annoyed Jon Connington, who looked at him sternly. "You? Do you even want the Iron Throne enough to face me?"

"I don't know if I want the Iron Throne, but I don't want you to have it," he replied, stopping a meter away from his opponent. His stern expression quickly turned into a somewhat sarcastic one. "Both of you are part of the Golden Company, so we will hold a vote, then we'll talk. Is everyone in agreement?" He looked at his companions, and they nodded.

However, Jon could see that something was coming. Aegon would not win, and it was obvious. When it came to the Golden Company, a choice between Targaryens and Blackfyres was indisputable.

"Very well, I accept. I, Royland Myers," he raised his bottle in the air, looking Aemond in the eyes as the situation calmed down, "vote for Captain-General, His Majesty Aemond Blackfyre, the fourth of that name and all that." He smiled at the one named. "Who supports the true heir to the throne?"

All the members of the company present raised their hands in support, while only three people kept their hands down: Jon, Aegon, and obviously, Aemond.

"Who votes for the Targaryen?" Royland asked, pointlessly, as Aemond had clearly won, but he wanted to mock. "No one? Really? What a pity."

"Run," Jon Connington pushed Aegon out of the tent, and then two mercenaries rushed at him, throwing him to the ground as they watched Rhaegar Targaryen's son flee into the sunset towards the city of Tyrosh, where it would be easier to hide.

Soon, the mercenaries had him bound, face down in the sand, with one man sitting on his back to prevent him from attempting any foolishness.

"Aemond, Aemond, a few words," Royland urged with his bottle held high and a smile on his face, encouraging the tradition of the Captain-General's inaugural speech. "Go ahead, Your Majesty."

Aemond, on the other hand, had just been named Captain-General of the Golden Company, his company. They had chosen him, allowed him to fight for them, for his throne, for his home. He was overwhelmed, not understanding what was happening until Royland's words brought him back to reality. He was not ready.

"I…" He took a deep breath, carefully considering what to say. "You chose me. I didn't demand anything from you, nor do I now. You don't owe me loyalty just because of my name, and if that's the case, don't give it." He began to walk in circles around the fire in the middle, occasionally brushing his fingers against the flame, feeling no pain at all, alerting those present, but no one said anything. "Before he died, Myles told me that being king was my destiny. Maybe my blood says it is, but I don't want to be king of the Seven Kingdoms. It means nothing to me." Everyone was astonished, left in complete silence. "I want to be your king. I don't want to fight for a senseless revenge. I want to fight so that every man in this company returns home. I want to eliminate those who stripped us of our homes, our lands, our freedom. I say we fight shoulder to shoulder as brothers against whoever stands in our way back home." He stood still, looking at each of them one by one. "That is all I have to offer you. No more contracts, no more mercenaries. A people."

"That is enough for me," said Herrath, drawing his sword and kneeling in reverence. "Your Majesty."

All the commanders followed suit, bending the knee before the platinum-haired man, accepting him both as captain and as king. It was the first time since Maelys Blackfyre that the Golden Company had accepted a man as king, for Maelys's son, and Aemond's father, Aemon the Grey, had never contributed anything to the company except alcohol and prostitutes since his wife, Alanna Celtigar, died in childbirth, and when his only son was six years old, he contracted Greyscale in a foolish adventure to Valyria.

However, for Aemond, everything had happened too quickly. In one afternoon, he had been made Captain-General, a king, had Jon Connington as a prisoner, Aegon Targaryen had disappeared, and after imprisoning Jon, the commanders dispersed throughout the camp to inform the mercenaries of the new changes.