"Your Grace, your fare."
The Braavosi merchant wore black from head to toe. His words were polite, but his face held not a shred of warmth. Black was the color of dignity in Braavos, perhaps his heart was black as well.
The moment they left Duskendale, the captain could no longer wait to demand payment.
"Do not think my price excessive," he added coolly. "These are times of war. Ships are rare, and rarity has value. Had I delivered you to the fleet of Corlys Velaryon, I would have earned far more."
The threat was clear.
"I am a queen," Rhaenyra Targaryen said stiffly, forcing a smile. "And I keep my word."
With visible reluctance, she handed over her crown.
No matter how much it pained her, survival came first.
Aegon watched in silence. Let this teach her something, he hoped, if not wisdom, then at least caution. If not… then power might eventually need to pass into his own hands.
"Greedy swine," Aegon thought, watching the Braavosi captain admire the prize.
The crown was a gold circlet set with seven gemstones of different hues, passed down from King Jaehaerys I Targaryen to Viserys I Targaryen, and then to Rhaenyra herself. It was a symbol of Targaryen legitimacy, honor, and blood.
Now, it was nothing more than passage to Gulltown.
Such was the skill of Braavosi opportunism.
At sea, only three powers truly mattered now: the Sea Snake, the Triarchy, and Braavos. And of them all, the Braavosi fleet, untouched and unweakened, was the strongest.
Aegon knew this too well. Westeros and Braavos would one day clash again, over the desolate Stepstones.
Civil war among dragonlords, Aegon thought grimly. And the world laughs.
The Dance of the Dragons, this spiraling, blood-soaked civil war, had drained House Targaryen of both riders and dragons, and grievously weakened Westeros itself.
Braavos would only grow stronger for it.
And history would soon prove that the sea itself would burn with war.
Only a handful accompanied the queen and prince aboard ship.
Three Queensguard. A few ladies-in-waiting.
The gold cloaks who had once fled with them all remained behind in Duskendale, unwilling to face the terrors of the sea and the dangers ahead. They knew of the queen's break with the Sea Snake, and feared crossing paths with the Velaryon fleets.
In chaos, loyalty is revealed, Aegon reflected. Human feeling is thin as water.
Bound for Gulltown, the Braavosi merchant ship Valarand was driven by fierce winds toward Driftmark.
Rhaenyra clutched her son in terror, scarcely daring to breathe.
When they spotted warships flying the silver seahorse banner of House Velaryon, she dared not show herself at all.
If I'd known this would be the end…Aegon nearly cursed his foolish mother aloud, then swallowed the words.
Stupidity can be forgiven. Stubbornness can be endured. But stupidity mixed with stubbornness is ruin.
Corlys Velaryon commanded too much respect, too much power. To make an enemy of him had been madness.
Now those beautiful Velaryon fleets no longer served the Blacks. They had become a deadly blockade upon the sea.
By fortune, or perhaps by the faint shift in fate, danger passed them by.
Aegon felt it keenly: his luck was improving.
As they slipped past Driftmark, Dragonstone came into view. Rain-dark clouds hung low above it. The harbor lay deserted, no ships, no movement. Even the brothels by the docks were dark and lifeless.
The most brutal betrayal awaited there.
They had escaped just in time.
"Safe… for now," Aegon murmured as the ship turned north, away from Dragonstone.
The first crisis had passed.
So long as they did not set foot on that island, everything remained possible.
Suspicion had chained everyone in place: Rhaenyra feared the Velaryon fleet; Aegon II Targaryen feared it just as much. His dragon Sunfyre could no longer fly, half-dead and broken. Dragonstone's defenses were fragile, and Aegon II dared not risk sailing out, lest the Sea Snake seize him at sea.
The tides carried them away, from Driftmark, from Dragonstone, ever northward.
"When we reach the Vale, everything will be better," Rhaenyra said at last, gazing at the dark horizon. "Your sister is there as well."
"I look forward to meeting her, Mother," Aegon replied gently. "We will win."
Inwardly, he sighed.
Politics was never Rhaenyra's strength. Even Daemon Targaryen and Corlys Velaryon together had struggled to carry her. Better that she rule symbolically, while others handled the real work.
To stand at the highest place, Aegon thought, one must see the farthest.
"We will win," Rhaenyra echoed, trying to believe it herself.
She had lost everything, father, husband, her sons... Only the Iron Throne remained.
Once the Vale and the North march, she told herself, all will be well.
An incompetent mother. A queen who hinders more than she helps. The Greens, House Hightower, House Baratheon, House Peake. The Ironborn. The Triarchy. Braavos. Then plague. Then winter. Then the extinction of dragons…
Aegon's thoughts stretched far into the future.
My life will be one step from disaster, always.
Unless he reclaimed power.
Unless he mastered the demon dragon.
Otherwise, even victory would leave him with nothing but a shattered realm.
At last, the ship reached the Vale of Arryn.
Gulltown rose before them, white towers gleaming, graceful and proud. The Vale's greatest port, ruled by House Grafton, watched over by Arryn kin and wealthy merchants.
A natural harbor, sheltered by pale hills, lay on Crackclaw Bay, southeast of the Eyrie.
"We've arrived," Rhaenyra said, tears spilling freely as she pointed to the banners flying above the harbor. "Lady Jeyne Arryn remains loyal."
Quartered banners still flew.
The Vale had not abandoned her.
For the first time in months, Rhaenyra felt she might sleep in peace.
"I see them, Mother," Aegon said softly.
He took in the banners: Black and red, the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. Blue and white, the crescent moon and falcon of House Arryn, his grandmother's line. Sea-green, the silver seahorse of House Velaryon, her former husband's house.
A striking, divided standard.
Irreconcilable with the golden dragon of Aegon II.
Before disembarking, Rhaenyra clasped the hands of the Manderly brothers.
"Please," she said earnestly, "carry word to Lord Cregan Stark. The Green threat still looms. Remind him of the Pact of Ice and Fire."
Without dragons, soldiers mattered more than ever.
"We will deliver your words exactly, Your Grace," the brothers answered in unison. "The North remembers."
They departed at once for White Harbor.
"Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, rightful ruler of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, favored by the old gods and the new, arrives in the Vale with her heir, Prince Aegon Targaryen of Dragonstone!"
The Queensguard unfurled the preserved quartered royal banner. Dock officials, recognizing it at once, rushed to summon Gulltown's leading figures.
[Major Event Completed: Flight to Gulltown successful.
You have reversed the fate of yourself, Queen Rhaenyra, the Queensguard, and her retainers.
Attribute Enhancement Opportunity ×1 awarded. ]
Aegon closed his eyes briefly.
He had survived the dragon's jaws.
The game had truly begun.
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A/N:
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