[Chapter Size: 2200 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Stormlands.
...
...
On the porch of the following morning, at the edge of the storm, Aegon had just woken up and the first thing he did was look at the sea.
"You look exhausted, my Your Majesty." Varys's calm voice echoed through the place.
The boy who stood there, lost in thought before the castle windows, turned around before seeing the master of whispers walking calmly through his chamber.
"It's you, Varys, you certainly didn't pass through the guards..." Aegon said with a certain caution.
Varys merely opened a smile. "Why are you so surprised, some of our meetings..." He paused. "... Must not have witnesses. And I have a few of my little steps in this place, they know quite slippery places to enter the chambers."
Aegon stared at Varys for a few seconds and nodded, before turning back to look at the sea.
"I was thinking about what we talked about yesterday... What do you think of this Daemon?" he asked, with a certain care.
"An obstacle, indeed, Your Majesty. But I imagine that Your Grace will deal with this with excellence. After all, he may have a dragon and a great army, but you will match him and even surpass him," Varys said with conviction. "The size of Daemon's army may be large, but as much as they show skill in battle, they are not an army trained their entire lives. We still have a chance to defeat them."
"Yes, you're right. I will deal with him. He may have the North, the wildlings, Stannis Baratheon, and the Riverlands, which are now insignificant, but I have Dorne and the Reach. We are even," he spoke with a certain confidence.
"And, indeed, you will win. You will be a better king than any other who has ever set foot in Westeros. An Aegon, the Conqueror, reborn," Varys said, remaining by his side as he spoke those words softly.
Aegon nodded in silence. Indeed, he would conquer everything. He remained silent for a few seconds before entering a delicate subject.
"Tell me... was it him who killed Illyrio, wasn't it? When he appeared in Pentos. Illyrio was found dead the night before the wedding, with his neck broken."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Varys replied. "The neck was broken, as the reports suggest. Daemon dealt with many of his adversaries that way, breaking necks with magic."
Aegon fell silent for a moment, not failing to clench his hand tightly.
"I will avenge him. I will avenge him for having killed Illyrio," Aegon said with hatred this time, no longer with his previous calm, his eyes beginning to well with tears.
Varys watched him with a certain pity.
"I know you will avenge him. You were born for this. My sister loved Illyrio, and they gave us something precious, something that would become a future for all of us. And that something is you. He knew the dangers of the path he was walking and died knowing that his death could have come at any moment. That is why you were relocated together with the Golden Company from an early age. For protection."
This made Aegon let out a dry laugh. "Look at me. A man who barely knew his own parents. My mother died in childbirth. My father... well, my father was someone I met on only a few occasions..." Aegon murmured, looking toward the horizon.
"Yes, but even so, he loved you very much. He did everything so that you could reach where you are today. His dream was always to see you on the throne, and now you have that chance. A chance that none of our ancestors ever achieved. Unfortunately, I was captured by a sorcerer when I was a child and cannot pass our lineage forward. But you will do more than that. You will not only give us a chance to survive, you will conquer something that belongs to us."
Aegon nodded, understanding his words. After all, he could proclaim to the four corners of the world that he was a Targaryen, but he knew that, deep down, he carried a forgotten lineage — a lineage filled with vengeance and wars, one that should have conquered the throne, but had not done so until now.
The last time she had appeared, she had been killed by Barristan Selmy in Essos, and everyone believed that lineage would be destroyed from that point on. But they were mistaken. With blood silently flowing from a woman who had been spared, the last Blackfyre seed gave birth to a pair of siblings who ended up being sold as slaves, swallowed by the oppression of Essos.
The boy became nothing but profit after being sold to a blood sorcerer, torn from his mother while still very young, before she was killed, and his sister was also sold as a future prostitute, still as a child.
The boy grew up listening to his mother's stories, and he still remembered very well how she whispered that he would conquer the Iron Throne one day. All of this was destroyed when he was sold to a sorcerer who bound him with magic, something he came to hate deeply after becoming a eunuch.
In the end, he did not become what his mother promised every night: a conqueror who would bring glory to the Blackfyre name once again.
But there was still his sister. Varys managed to rise and gain enough power to befriend Illyrio, a powerful merchant of Pentos. He spoke about his lineage and even about having a sister and the desires of his plans... Illyrio took interest in what Varys told him and searched for her across Essos until he found her. He bought her and ended up marrying her.
She died in childbirth, but even so gave birth to Aegon Blackfyre.
With the opportunity arising from the Targaryen downfall in the same period in Westeros, the plan began to be formed.
The boy began to be trained from then on to become a king from childhood. He had the best masters and, still in his youth, was placed with the Golden Company, alongside Harry, learning from him, while other teachers and scholars taught him how to rule. Aegon always showed himself to have a brilliant mind and earned everyone's satisfaction as the best candidate.
Illyrio did everything to make his son pass as a Targaryen. Varys was extremely clever about this as well. Even Jon Connington deeply believed that he was Rhaegar's son and, even having spent a great part of his life at the prince's side, never suspected it, serving him with loyalty.
Aegon was confronted with the truth some time later. He went to see his father and had to accept that this was his destiny: one day he would rule the Seven Kingdoms, even if he had to pass himself off as a Targaryen. Even so, he decided that he would do what none of his ancestors had managed to do.
Now, he would have power. He would have the greatest army of the Seven Kingdoms. He would avenge all those who deserved to be avenged in the name of House Targaryen. But there was still one last obstacle, perhaps the only one that truly represented a challenge to him and his mission: Daemon, a sorcerer.
He would get rid of him. Perhaps he would take his dragon. He would deal with Daenerys as necessary. Perhaps he could force her into an abortion and compel her to marry him. There were many possibilities. But it was very likely that he would have to kill her, for he was about to negotiate with the Tyrells, and the girl also sought to be queen. Perhaps that was more important than marrying a Targaryen used by that accursed man.
The man who killed his father.
Daemon. He hated him for that reason more than any other.
"I swear, father, I will avenge you," he spoke with a tone full of certainty.
At that moment, a shadow appeared at the window and, quickly, a dragon flew before them. A dragon with cream and golden hues — the dragon that had chosen him as its rider.
Meanwhile, the other two dragons also cut through the sky. He and Varys did not fail to watch them with admiration, seeing the winged creatures fly toward the sea, dive, and return, as if they were bathing at the very break of dawn.
"With these creatures, you are invincible, nephew," Varys said with satisfaction.
They had had to smuggle Viserys's dead body out of the capital when he was killed in order to perform the ritual. According to some sorcerers, Varys did not like magic at all, but he needed to play with the same weapons as the enemy.
Varys hated Daemon not only for having killed Illyrio or for having appeared out of nowhere and ruined many of his plans. He hated him also because Daemon was the personification of magic.
He needed to be eliminated, not only out of ego, but also to rid the world of something that should never have existed. In this regard, Varys was quite similar to the maesters.
On the other side of the continent, Oldtown was surrounded by ships of the Ironborn. Battles in the streets were happening constantly. City guards tried to defend themselves, while the invaders continued to advance. After breaking the defenses at sea, nothing else stood in the way of the small Ironborn fleet.
A man aboard one of the ships now anchored in the harbor opened a smile as he watched the destruction caused. They had finally managed to breach the city's defenses. Now, the invasion began.
"Look at this, dear niece. Look at our conquest. I dreamed of this day!" the man shouted, beginning to laugh loudly as he forcefully pressed the young woman's hair before him. She remained kneeling, staring at the entire city being attacked.
The man laughing like a maniac had one of his eyes covered by a cloth, an eyepatch, while his men behind him laughed along with their leader. He was none other than Euron Greyjoy, Balon's brother, who seemed to find all of it extremely amusing as he watched the city fall.
Below him, kneeling, was the young woman — none other than Asha Greyjoy, who had left Pyke to join Aegon after hearing an invitation from Varys, saying that this was an opportunity to rise and take her father's place with great support.
However, as she sailed down the western coast of Westeros, she encountered a fleet of ships that approached her. It was none other than her uncle, who had returned after all those years. He was far madder, but also more powerful.
She and her men were overpowered. Asha had her face forcibly covered after being wounded and scratched, recalling that bird sent to injure him in the North with some kind of witchcraft.
However, there, her uncle made a point of displaying his open wounds, while she clenched her teeth. The sea wind struck her face, her wounds burning from it... Her hair was pressed hard as her uncle shook her head from side to side, laughing without stopping.
"I dreamed of this, dear niece," he continued to exclaim. "I dreamed that I would conquer this city, that I would burn the maesters' books and take their chains as trophies! I would sacrifice them, just like you, to perform a ritual. The winged beast will come here. It will come under my control, and I will have the power to conquer Westeros," he said, still laughing.
She did not fully understand those words, but she knew that none of it was good. Whatever gods he followed now, nothing good came from her uncle. There was something strange about that ship. He kept an artifact with him at all times, a kind of horn like a warhorn, right at the center of the deck.
At the seat of the Hightower, the Hightower family watched in frustration as the entire city began to burn before their eyes.
"Quickly, send ravens to the Tyrells! We need their help immediately!" ordered Lord Hightower, who had returned from the campaign alongside the Tyrells after the desertion at King's Landing.
They once again had soldiers in the city, but even so, they seemed useless as the city began to fall. Men fought in the streets, civilians died, and soldiers were slaughtered, while the enemies shouted Ironborn war cries and advanced into battle. They did not know how, but something had changed.
Before, the raiders had not even stood a chance of breaching the defenses.
"My lord, it has been said that Euron Greyjoy is leading the attack," reported one of the men.
"Euron Greyjoy? That brother of Balon? The one who has been missing since the Rebellion, for more than ten years?" Lord Hightower questioned. The man felt a chill and frowned as he looked at the city.
Now, the city was being taken, and no one seemed capable of stopping them in time.
Euron laughed the entire time. That was the city he had chosen as the first piece of his plan. After that, the beast would come. He would conquer it, ride it, and make all of his enemies burn.
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