Chapter 9: King of the Heart

"Is it Valyrian steel?" Edavro asked, admiring Aemond's impeccable armor.

"I wish it were," the dragon replied, reclining on his bed while his squire cleaned the armor. "Few men have had the fortune of wearing Valyrian steel armor. It's more common in swords. There must be about five in Westeros."

"How do you know so much about Westeros? You've never been there," the young Dothraki questioned.

"I've read every book that talks about the Seven Kingdoms," Aemond took his wine goblet from the side of the bed. "Blackheart always said that if I wanted to rule them, I had to know about them. He spent his whole life preparing me to rule, and now I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean? You have an entire army with the purpose of taking you to the Seven Kingdoms."

"But all I've known my whole life has been war, killing other people," he took a sip of his Lyseni wine. "I doubt I'm ready to rule."

"But you will be, Your Majesty," Edavro stood up with a smile on his face. "You were crowned king only recently. You'll learn to rule as I will learn to fight, and you will be the best king there is."

"You're right, Ed," he said with a smile, standing up quickly, though he then reproached himself for the speed as he felt dizzy. "And you'll help me. Go to the storage and order them to prepare a food cart, then find two horses."

"Your Majesty?"

"Do it, and I'll explain later," the Dothraki obeyed and disappeared through the tent entrance.

That conversation made Aemond, for the first time, think that he was a king and that he shouldn't ask permission for anything. When he saw something he didn't like, he would do everything in his power to change it. So, when Edavro returned, the king took him and five other men to the streets of Tyrosh, with an elephant pulling the food cart. It was past midnight, but he didn't care and ordered his men to feed anyone who looked hungry. He, for his part, took a basket of food to an orphanage with Edavro by his side.

"I must take care of my people, right?" he said to his squire in a friendly tone while giving milk to a child. He needed to win his people over.

Now he had the power to do it, and no one could oppose him, not even the city's archon, as he was cornered by the Golden Company.

Seeing the children happy to have real food, Aemond smiled and thought that if this was what it felt like to be a king, he wanted to be one forever. He promised himself that he would give the same happiness to the people of Westeros, and he would go without food if necessary.

That night, wars, enemies, conquests, and anything that wasn't about smiling over a delicious bowl of freshly made soup didn't matter. The dragon sat cross-legged in the middle of the room, with all the children around him, and began to tell them the Dance of the Dragons, though with a more childish and humorous touch. He pretended that his hands were the dragons and occasionally simulated explosions or roars with his mouth, giving them a better idea of what a real dragon was like, and the children, amazed, cheered when their favorite dragon won a battle. It was for this reason that Aemond decided to skip the part where that colossal creature fell from the sky and crashed into the sea, dying in its depths.

The orphanage staff, and some other interested people who joined in, looked at him with appreciation, comparing him to any other ruler they had had, and no one had ever come to orphanages to feed the "filthy" children, covered in dirt and stinking, but there he was, a king sitting among them, with a girl on his lap, telling them stories of the past with an intensity that made them laugh.

It was a cold but lively dawn. The entire company was at the port of Tyrosh, unloading horses and elephants to load onto the ships that would take them away from the shores of Tyrosh. The mercenaries hummed some old company chant while they worked. Some had sneaked off to brothels to have a woman before the journey, as the ship rules were clear: no prostitutes on board.

Aemond, for his part, helped Rylon load the horses onto a ship, knowing that the most difficult task would be boarding the elephants, but they had done it before, so they could do it again.

"A few days ago, I went to speak with the Archon of Tyrosh," he informed his friend, as he had not spoken to anyone about it yet. "I told him about my idea to replace the Triarchy with Myr and Lys. I think it's the best idea because I won't be in Essos forever to maintain order among the Free Cities, and the Triarchy always worked well."

"You know that if they ally against you, we'll be in serious trouble, right?" the brown-haired man said, pulling two more horses.

"We have a contract with Myr; I doubt they would oppose our request," he admitted, but if he understood correctly, Rylon suggested having a backup plan, something to get them out of trouble if needed. "I'll promise them a safe trade route with the Slaver's Bay."

"I thought you hated slavery," the brown-haired man remarked, walking back towards the port via the ship.

"I do. I find the idea of life as property appalling, and if it were up to me, I would end it, but it's the only way they see the world."

"You're the king; show them another way."

"They don't see me as their king."

"Well, they should start," Rylon stopped to look seriously at his friend. "Aemond, you're the king of the Seven Kingdoms, but you need to start with these cities. Show them who's in charge. Let them fear the name Blackfyre."

"Rylon, I know you're talking about using force, but the fewer men who die and the more we gain, the closer we are to returning to the Seven Kingdoms, and the closer I am to sitting on the throne."

"Do you know why I want you to sit on the Iron Throne?" the brown-haired man asked, stopping what he was doing to look intently into his friend's eyes, who shook his head. "Years ago, during Robert's Rebellion, I lived in a house on the beach at Starfall with my father and my older sister," he cleared his throat. "My father was a butcher, and that morning he sent me to fish; I remember crabs. I was in the canoe maybe three or four hours, until the sun exhausted me and I decided to return. I walked all the way along the shore with my bucket full of crabs until I reached home, but there I found four soldiers, all around my father's body, drinking our water. As soon as they saw me, they pushed me, took my bucket, and went off to eat the crabs I caught that day. I ran to my father's body, and he was still alive, but beaten, bleeding, and with a dagger stuck in his heart," he swallowed bitterly. "With his last breath, he pointed to a side of our house. He pointed to the body of my sister, wrapped in a cloak with red and gold colors and with a spear stuck in her."

"I'm so sorry," Aemond said quickly, feeling sorrow for the story.

"I tried to bury them, but they were too heavy for a five-year-old, so I laid them side by side as best as I could and left," he smiled ironically. "I walked along the main road trying to get to Sunspear, but I was actually going the opposite way. I couldn't get out of my head the men with the lion on their chests who killed my only family. And I promised myself I would kill every Lannister I came across. Aemond," he looked at him, "I chose you to be my king because I believe you're the only man capable of taking me to Westeros and killing all the Lannisters with me," he continued walking, not before giving instructions to the men carrying an elephant. "I'll be by your side even if we are Herrath, you and I, because as long as you have hope, I will too."

"We will avenge your family, Rylon, I promise you."

"If Khal Drogo doesn't get there first," the Dornishman added.

"What are you talking about?"

"Didn't you hear?" the platinum-haired man shook his head. "They tried to poison Daenerys Targaryen, and after that, Khal Drogo promised to give the Seven Kingdoms to her and her son."

"Great, now I also have a khalasar on its way to Westeros," he grumbled.

"They're Dothraki, Your Majesty; in all these years, they've never been on a ship. They won't do it now."

"Either way, we can't lose track of them," both reached the dock where others were loading the ships. "If we wake up surrounded by a horde of Dothraki, we will be in trouble. But for now, we need to focus on getting enough gold to build a fleet large enough to carry twelve thousand men."

After a full day of sailing, the Golden Company finally assembled completely on the shores of Essos.

From his ship, Aemond saw the camp before him. It was ten times larger than the one they had in Tyrosh, and the noise of the men preparing was considerably louder. It was then that the king felt that everything he had done had finally led to this moment. As the soldiers of the Golden Company prepared for the journey, their destiny and that of the Seven Kingdoms were intertwined with every effort.

He'd been through many battles, fought against many enemies, but now he faced a different challenge: to unite his forces and take what he believed was rightfully his. As the sun set over the horizon, the camp became a sea of flickering lights, with the Golden Company ready to set sail for Westeros.

With a deep breath, Aemond Blackfyre knew that the time had come. The next chapter of his life awaited him, and he was determined to make his mark upon history, no matter the cost.