Aegon’s mind remained focused on the dinner at hand as well as their conversation, continuing to eat as they discussed their plan for the eventual conquest of Westeros by their forces, their kingdom finally unified under the banner of the dragons once more, a new era built in the ashes of the old. Though their family had been brought down once before, they would be able to begin anew, with a new conquest, a new Aegon for a new time. They were in agreement as to the nature of their plan, and what would occur in the future. They discussed a blockade of Blackwater Bay, something he supported, though he knew it would be difficult to ensure the smallfolk inside do not starve. Perhaps keeping supplies for them in case of their defection would be a sensible move, wanting to force an uprising within the walls.

Such future engagements were put to the side, however, by the end of the night. The fate of Volantis would need to be decided prior to any invasion of Westeros. The royal pair were resolute in their decision to break the Volantene lynchpin on the alliance to restore slavery, even if that meant destroying parts of the city. The population of slaves within the city was extraordinarily high, and something would clearly need to be done about it. The pair had set to work building a larger fleet of transport vessels to carry the men needed to assault the shores and begin blockading the city. Aegon had spent much of his time amongst the men of the Golden Company, continuing his training, as well as furthering his bond with Viserion, eventually learning how to fly him, crafting a saddle based on designs he had read about in books written by Maesters, a gift from Varys from a long time ago. He had likewise presented one to Daenerys as a gift one evening, hoping that one day the pair would be able to fly together.

After months of planning, the day they had been waiting for had arrived. The majority of the army set off on ships, with whatever forces who couldn't be boarded marching across the Demon Road as reinforcements for their siege of Volantis. The Targaryen pair often flew above the ships, scouting about for any signs of interception from what remained of Volantis’s fleet, but they were uninterrupted for the most part. Their opposition had ample time to prepare, but perhaps they simply lacked the ability to rebuild their fleet after such a loss. No doubt unrest in the city was at an all time high, as Aegon remembered how slaves in Volantis, when hearing how he was venturing to Meereen in disguise, would often plead with him to ensure Daenerys did not forget about them. Aegon upheld his promise, for what future king wished the world to know his oaths meant nothing?

The Targaryen armies were able to establish a beachhead outside the city walls on western side of the river, knowing that the walls on the Eastern Side would be much harder to assault. They were black as onyx, stronger than steel, or so the story went. The walls guarding the western half were made of stone, still thick, but one that could be assaulted and claimed. The men had built great siege engines, rams and trebuchets, catapults and other weapons of war with the materials they had available, while their fleet blockaded the harbor. They had stayed in the siege camp for two months, preparing for the great assault which would come in the near future. Their Dragons would not act alone, as their overwhelming numbers should be used to advantages wherever they could.

Eventually, the day of the assault came, as the army waited for the sun to arrive at its zenith. Aegon had slept little the night before, knowing that he would be playing a great role in the battle to come. He rose as the glow of sunlight barely crest upon the horizon, early in the morning, too nervous to be able to sleep. It was not his first battle, nor would it be his last, but he always remained nervous before leading his men into battle. Viserion had joined him early in the morning, while the future king placed his armor on, a splendid gold suit of plate and scale, with chain protecting him wherever possible. Upon his left shoulder, a skull of the Golden Company was stamped, upon his right, the three headed dragon of his house. He placed his sword upon his waist, his helmet and gauntlets remaining off for the moment, preferring to place them on before the battle begun, rather than wearing them in discomfort during the battle.

He walked past Daenerys’s tent that morning, wondering if she was awake as well, though he did not wish to wake her on his own. Instead, he and Viserion settled on a small hill overlooking their camp, the king’s mind lost in thought of what would come today. He ran his hand through his hair, having cut it short prior to the battle, his face showing some stubble. His dark purple eyes remained staring at the grass beneath his feet, sustained by the massive river the city was built upon. He kept his thoughts directed inward. He had devised the plan of attack with Daenerys and the other commanders they had gathered to their cause, though he could not shake the nerves which afflicted him before a battle, especially now that he had so much to lose.

CS: A dragon is a dragon

MUSE DASHGAMES

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑   𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐒

Absent-minded  |  abusive  |  addict  |  adrenaline junkie  |  aggressive  |  aimless  |  alcoholic  |  anxious  |  arrogant  |  audacious  |  bad-liar  |  bigmouth  |  bigot  |  blindly  loyal  | blunt  |  cautious  |  callous  |  childish  |  chronic heroism  |  cheater  |  clingy  |  clumsy  | cocky |  co-dependent  |  competitive  |  corrupt  |  cowardly  |  cruel  |  cynical  |  delinquent  |  delusional  |  dependent  |  depressed  |  deranged  |  disloyal  |  ditzy  |  egotistical  |  envious  |  erratic  |  evasive   |  fickle  |  finicky  |  fixated  |  flaky  |  frail  |  fraudulent |  foul  mouthed  |  guilt complex  |  gloomy  |  gluttonous   |  gossiper  |  gruff  |  grudge holding  |  gullible  |  hedonistic  |  humorless  |  hypochondriac  |  hypocritical  |  idealist  |  idiotic  |  ignorant  |  immature  |  impatient  |  incompetent  |  indecisive  |  insecure  |  insensitive  |  lazy  |  lewd  |  liar   |  lustful  |  manipulative  |  masochistic  |  meddlesome  |  melodramatic  |  money-loving  |  moody  |  naive  |  nervous  |  nosy  |  ornery  |  overprotective  |  overly sensitive  |  paranoid  |  passive  |  passive-aggressive  |  perfectionist  |  pessimist  |  petty  |  power-hungry  |  proud  |  possessive  |  pushover  |  reactive  |  reckless  |  reclusive  |  remorseless  |  rigorous  |  sadistic  |  sarcastic  |  senile  |  selfish  |   self destructive  |  self-martyr  |  shallow  |  skeptical  |  sociopathic  |  sore loser  |  spineless  |  spiteful |  spoiled  |  stubborn  |  suspicious  |  suicidal  |  tactless  |  temperamental  |  timid  |  thief  |  tone-deaf  |  traitorous  |  un-athletic  |  ungracious  |  unlucky  |  unsophisticated  |  untrustworthy  |  vain  |  withdrawn  |  workaholic  |

tagged by: @lastxdragon

tagging:  @queen-of-thorns-and-roses @strsinthesky @the-stark-queen @dcvahrend and anyone else who wants to do it! Tag me!

Aegon continued to remain in his seat, his legs crossed as he held the brass goblet in his hand, filled halfway with wine from the Arbor. Perhaps when they had finished conquering the Seven Kingdoms they would establish their own private vineyard on the island, a small retreat for themselves where they could travel to on their dragons. The Arbor has always had perfect weather, or so he had been told.Their children could play amongst the rows of grape growing vines, cheering and reveling in their happiness. Aegon knew that their lives as monarchs would be stressful, but they would find time to enjoy themselves. He would imagine Jon could manage the realm for a time while they were away, or whoever Daenerys would trust with such an important assignment. They would learn to enjoy whatever fleeting moments they could together while they ruled, though most of their time would be spent in the Red Keep. Perhaps they would have to make two thrones instead of the one they would claim, lest they have to sit on the same seat.

Aegon pushed his fantasies to the back of his mind, knowing they would need to focus on winning the Seven Kingdoms before they could consider ruling over them. Even if they would need to strike at Volantis and ensure the safety of Slaver’s Bay, the Seven Kingdoms would always be their mind’s objective, or so he thought. “You are correct, Dragonstone is an important strategic point, but we must ensure our army remains preserved. The Stormlands are not as fertile as the reach, but they will be able to support our armies spread out across Cape Wrath and Shipbreaker Bay. Tarth can likewise be held with ease, most of their soldiers are either in the Frozen north or at the bottom of Blackwater Bay.” He spoke, envisioning the map of Westeros he had practically burned into his mind, spending most of his life studying it and the multitude of houses within it. He would need to know them if he ever hoped to inspire loyalty from them. He had memorized names though he could not put faces to them, hoping one day to truly meet them.

He continued thinking as she spoke of the second part of her plan. “I agree, half the unsullied and the second sons should overtake the garrison that is placed there. I believe Lord Velaryon is a six year old boy, his father died fighting for Stannis Baratheon. His bastard uncle went south to play at being a pirate in the Stepstones. Aurane, I think his name was. The boy might wish to see his father’s death avenged, but their fleet is likely gone. They can be convinced to aid us, I have no doubt of that.” Aegon could imagine the six year old, white hair and purple eyes the same as him. Perhaps his own children would look the same once they grow older. They would be princes and princesses, strong knights and fair maidens. And they would be raised to ensure the realm remains stable.

“Marching north is a good strategy, once we ensure we have a number of castles in the Stormlands we can use to create a steady stream of supplies. Blockading Blackwater Bay will be a troubling task. Even with our ships, the Redwyne fleet is still loyal to the Tyrells and Lannisters. We can cut off their food supply from the land, and force the fleet to mostly be spent ensuring shipments of food make it to the city. It will be a long siege if we do not assault the city walls.” He was not in support of launching an all out assault, as such an attack would be incredibly costly, both in terms of their own men, and the destruction they would likely cause on the no doubt innocent civilians. They would have to ensure the men restrained themselves, but it would be a difficult task.

“I agree, the Dothraki can turn away caravans from the city once we march north. I am sure we can convince many of the Storm Lords to return home to their castles and pledge their swords to us, perhaps even the Reachmen as well. The Dornish will rally to our cause. I am sure Prince Doran would want to see his nephew who he thought once dead, riding atop a dragon to reclaim his family’s home.” He took another sip of his wine, his mind going back to his thoughts on the sack of Kings Landing for a moment. It felt just knowing that he would be the one distributing justice to those who betrayed his family, that they would suffer just as he did. “We will have our vengeance, and the realm will be all the happier for it.”

CS: A dragon is a dragon

Aegon remained seated, his eyes looking towards Varys and his guardian. He was wondering whether they would tell her his secret now that she was outted as the missing Sansa Stark. All of Varys’s companions had a story to them, even those he chooses not to reveal. Sansa was simply the last of them to join him, though he wondered how many would be willing to side with him when he landed with the Golden Company. His soldiers were tough, experienced, far better than the common fodder sent out by the lords and ladies of Westeros. He looked down at the table, thinking as he heard their opinions regarding the placed he believed would make opportune staging points for their expedition.

Aegon wondered what King’s Landing would be like, the home he never knew. He had heard only stories of what it was like from Jon, and a few other members in the company who originally came from there. He had often dreamt of its tall red walls and its high towers, but he knew its people were starving, dying, in perpetual pain from the poor rule of Aegon’s predecessors. He would right the wrongs the Baratheons and Lannister’s had done to his family and his people. It was his duty to bring down the enemies of his house, though the Starks had turned their cloaks on Aerys as well. Sansa was not guilty of her family’s betrayal, just as he did not order the execution of her grandfather and uncle. The Starks and Tullys simply did what they believed was right and just, just as he would do in the future. An enlightened rule would come to Westeros, under the banner of the Targaryen Dragon.

“Tyrosh then. It’s closer to our destination regardless, depending on where he decide to go afterwards.” He spoke in vague terms, unsure if Sansa could immediately be trusted with the information regarding who he truly was, though he knew who she was. He took a piece of bread in his hands, breaking it before taking a smaller piece into his hands. He thought for a moment about Sansa, about whether the rest of his compatriots would choose to reveal his true identity, though he would wait for the moment.

He heard her question resonate in his ears, asking what grand journey they would be undertaking. He looked around to the other members of the table, wondering whether he should reveal such things now or continue to keep it hidden. “Our journey to return to Westeros, Lady Sansa. We will not remain exiles forever. Our return has been the goal of my entire life, ever since King Robert took the Throne away from the Targaryen dynasty. Since I was but a babe, we have worked tirelessly to ensure our return, burdened by glorious purpose and rightful claims.” He stopped himself, looking towards Varys, wondering if he had said too much. He assumed she wouldn’t believe him to be a dead prince, regardless. “We will shape the future of our world, and return to our home in triumph.”

Varys gave the young Targaryen prince an appreciative nod as he came in and explained that he had seen precisely through Sansa Stark’s story. “A fine little story we came up with, but the Stark family seems to share a common weakness for lying. They either have no such skill, or are so limited in it that they cannot stand well against others. There is something noble in that, but in this situations it is infinitely more dangerous than noble,” he explained as he exchanged glances with Jon Connington. “We cannot all have your skills, Aegon.”

When Tyrion and Sansa Stark finally entered, having washed and pulled her hair in a braid, Varys turned to give them a small smile. “Fortuitous news - we have been invited to dine with noble Griff and his son. I believe the two of you have met?” 

Sansa gave Young Griff a little smile. “Yes, we have,”she began, but was unsure how to proceed. What could she say? That he had discovered the truth? 

“And to answer your question, Young Griff, I would never dare to color that beautiful Tully hair with something as tawdry as hair dye. What artistry would be lost.”

Sansa’s mouth fell open. Tully he had said. Not Stark. But…had that not just confirmed it to them all? Even to the taller, blue haired man - whom Sansa supposed to be Sir Griff. 

“Sit down, Sansa dear, let us sup and discuss our dear ship’s destination,” he continued.

Sansa’s eyes flickered to young Griff, the confusion and nervousness in her eyes. She knew that he had figured it out on the deck, but still - saying it aloud felt almost like a curse. Felt like a weapon about to be used against her, and Sansa stood straight up - as though prepared to turn and run.

Guess whose discord just got banned for literally no reason. Guess I’ll be making a new one soon. Thanks Discord!

Add ya boi and say who you are. Mutuals only.

Aegon remained seated at the table, watching as the dishes were revealed to him, the silver lids which covered them being lifted and carried away. He looked over each of the available platters of food, wondering which he would take first. He hadn’t seen any food as well prepared in years, especially since he joined the Golden Company. Aegon ensured no special privileges were afforded to him based on his family’s status. He ate what they ate, slept where they slept, marched in the same order they marched in. He would take the watch from men to ensure they were well rested, letting them sleep and he would stay up until the sun would rise over the horizon. He was an exile, just as much as they were, and he did not demand their respect simply due to some loyalty to his family name. They were not Targaryen loyalists, but men who wanted to return home, just like he did.

“I will be sure to let him know you appreciate his gift, once he finds that it’s missing from his tent.” He smiled, knowing that he was not above a little mischief, especially when he could repay him back. “Perhaps I’ll give him a barrel large enough to swim in for his noble contribution to our house.” He laughed, taking the goblet she had poured for him, taking a small sip before he would decide what he would have for his meal. He took a piece of lamb, the dish she had recommended, as well as a piece of white bread and a pale cheese, one that looked unfamiliar to him. He began cutting a piece of the lamb shank, noticing how soft and easy it was to cut, before biting into it.

“I agree, Volantis is the cornerstone of the enemy’s coalition against us. The Golden Company will march alongside you, though perhaps sailing would be easier. The road to Volantis is not an easy one, hence why we sailed here instead of marching from Myr.” He spoke, taking another piece of the lamb into his mouth. It would not be an easy road to march across, but he was confident they could withstand whatever the pass threw at them, considering their massive numbers and the power of their dragons. “As for the Iron Bank, I agree wholeheartedly. The money lenders would be happy to know that we are able to repay the debts owed by the Iron Throne, and that we are the most powerful force on either continent. Once we return to Westeros, we can ensure that whatever wealth we take during our conquest, as well as here in Essos, can pay off whatever debt we owe to the Iron Bank.”

He pondered her plan for invading at Dragonstone, wondering if that was a good plan. “I am unsure about having our initial landing be at Dragonstone. While it is our ancestral home and close to Blackwater Bay, I am unsure if it can feed all of our men, as well as all our horses and our three dragons. Cape Wrath, in the Stormlands, is very lightly defended, and Stannis Baratheon is too busy in the North to attempt to retaliate against us. We can take a number of castles, avoid starving our army, take Storms End, gather the Dornish to our side, and march north to Kings Landing from there. We can send a contingent of forces, a few thousand, to take the Island from the garrison holding it, but I believe our main force should be on the continent.”

He spoke plainly, but he was not rude in the way he delivered it, rather setting an alternative on the table rather than landing at Dragonstone. While Dragonstone was well located, and could be defended against any opposition from the crown, Aegon simply believed the Stormlands to be a better landing point. “What do you think Daenerys? We should make the decision together. It’s our Throne and our home we wish to retake.”

CS: A dragon is a dragon

Aegon entered into the dining room, passing by the Dothraki standing before the door, his violet eyes looked towards the tan man guarding it, nearly a head taller than him and twice as wide. Once he was let inside, however, he immediately felt more comfortable, happy to see that she had changed just as he did. He noticed her white gown, elegant as could be, accentuating her eyes and silver hair, as he followed her inside. Once she had begun speaking to him and he came inside, he closed the door behind them, ensuring they had privacy as they dined together, wishing to have no other company save her own.

He followed her towards her table at the balcony, noticing that she commented upon the wine being Dornish. “It’s from the Arbor, actually. An island south of Oldtown in the Reach. The Redwynes are well known for all their vintages.” He spoke, not wishing to make too much of a fuss about it, though he felt better to state that it was more special than the Dornish wine she had likely experienced on rare occasions. “Captain Strickland had it brought to him months ago, but I doubt he’ll notice that it disappeared from his tent. Even if he does, I doubt he’ll protest. I’ll have to thank him later for his generous gift on behalf of our...” He wasn’t sure what word could properly describe their relationship, their new bond. “Family reunion.” Was the phrase he eventually came up with, even if they were never united in the first place. He simply didn’t know what else to say, besides their clear romantic intentions for one another.

Once he sat down and surveyed the fragrant dishes, hidden by a number of covers to trap their heat inside, he began listening to his aunt speak of the problem with Volantis and Braavos, the Iron Bank and the Triarchs clearly wanting the slave trade to continue, though perhaps one was forcing the other to endure it. “Westeros can wait for a little while longer, though I do believe we should be somewhat hasty in regards to our return to our homeland. The Lannister’s grip on power remains tenuous at best, and the longer they remain in authority, the more stable their reign shall become. Their alliance with the Tyrells leaves them in a powerful position for the moment, though the Riverlands and North remain a thorn in their side.” He spoke, the spies of Varys feeding him this information. “But Volantis must be dealt with first, to ensure further stability in Essos, and that your subjects remain free once they govern themselves.”

His mind turned to Braavos, the ever illusive Iron Bank having financed the Volantene expedition, likely wanting to ensure domestic tranquility in Essos to ensure they get their money. They perhaps could be negotiated with, brought to see the light of day, rather than believing the status quo is the better way of existence. “The Braavosi simply wish to have their coin, and back the army that will repay their loans. Word has reached me that they even gave loans to Stannis Baratheon. Perhaps they could be persuaded to see the error of their ways without being broken.” Volantis was the current issue at hand, the Triarchy favoring business rather than outright war, yet they sent their fleet to aid the Yunkish armies attack Meereen. They were likely the last member of the grand coalition which could present itself as a threat still.

Volantis could fall, but it would take a siege to bring it down. The slave population would no doubt be their ally in the war to come, but the Volantenes would see that as well. They could see thousands of slaves executed before the Targaryens even arrived at the city walls, simply out of fear of a revolt. They would need to strike quickly, and avoid a siege if possible, though their dragons could overcome the city defenses. “The Triarchs of Volantis cannot be reasoned with. They will need to be removed from power, and Volantis brought to heel. We will give the slaves their freedom, just as you have done for these cities. Once Volantis is liberated, none of the others have the might to reenslave your people, and we will be able to march on Kings Landing, and reclaim Westeros together.”

CS: A dragon is a dragon

Aegon’s lips slowly pulled away from Daenerys’s, feeling her hand let go of his tunic, letting it drop as he pulled himself back. Part of him was still somewhat surprised that he had made such a leap from where they stood mere weeks ago. Perhaps he would have to thank Viserion in some way later for showing him the path to winning the Iron Throne, and overcoming all doubt as to whether he was Rhaegar’s son. His birthright was now closer than ever, and with Daenerys at his side, they would be unstoppable. He was sure they would have to share power, but he would not mind, especially if she would be the woman he would share the Throne with. She had already proved herself more than worthy of ruling by his side. Together they’d restore the Targaryen dynasty, with a large family to carry on their name for a thousand years.

Aegon often wondered about fatherhood, what it would be like to have children. He knew that it was his duty to have children to carry on the family name, but he never fathered a bastard, even if he had been with a few women before. He knew how much family meant to both him and Daenerys, and if they could, he was certain they would have a number of children. He could imagine his future sons and daughters, running around the halls of the Red Keep, filling the rooms with laughter and mirth. He couldn’t imagine abandoning them the same way Rhaegar had left him and Elia. They would be the greatest source of happiness, the way he had seen fishermen with their children. He could teach them so much about the ways of the world, from binding fishing nets or mathematics, or the languages of Essos. Perhaps he could even challenge the Grand Maester on his knowledge. The thought alone put a smile on his face.

“You are certainly correct, Daenerys. They’re quite clear.” He chuckled for a moment, looking towards her eyes before out to the window, being able to see the Pink Pyramid from their current vantage point. She spoke about how the chambers across from hers were empty, and that she was alone on this floor, only making him slight raise an eyebrow in response, wondering just what her intentions were with having him so close to her. He could only guess, and leave his desires to his imagination, though, with what they’ve already done, he wondered how long it would be until those desires and fantasies would be enacted. He would ensure his desires remained subdued for now, even if she enjoyed having him take the lead.

“I’ll make the announcement to my men, and gather my belongings to ensure my move can be done tonight. I’ll have some of the squires move my belongings in while we dine. Besides, I’ll need to make myself look more presentable. I’ll be dining with a Queen after all, and my current attire seems more fit for a group of sell swords, I suppose.” He said with a smile, knowing that he would be able to change, and ensure that he was completely clean, while his men moved all his belongings.

“I’d love for you to give me a tour of my chambers once our dinner is finished, I’m sure it’s quite spacious if your own chambers are anything to go by. I wonder how I’ll be able to repay you for your generosity.” He stated with a smile, standing up from the seat. While he was slightly reluctant to leave her behind at the moment, he knew that he would need time to prepare himself for their meal, and to make the announcement to his troops that he had succeeded, and that soon enough, the two of them would be ruling side by side, as King and Queen, Husband and Wife. Even if they were not betrothed, Aegon knew it was what was needed to ensure their dynasty remained unified. He certainly wouldn’t protest such a match, and after today’s events, he doubted she would either.

“I will see you this evening.” He spoke with a smile, his hand leaving hers as he turned towards the door, returning to camp. He ran into Jon, telling him with a smile of all that he had accomplished today, and that he would be moving into the Pyramid as well, no doubt on the same floor as the rest of their advisors. After letting Jon spread the news of his acceptance and reassuring him that he would likely be her greatest suitor, though he left out their passionate kiss for the sake of privacy, the prince returned to his tent. He quickly went through his trunks of clothing, stripping himself with ease before looking over his more regal clothes.

He perfumed himself with scents of lavender primarily, and other complimentary smells, before dressing himself. He wore a black silk loose tunic made in the style of Dorne or Tyrosh, extending down to his knees and embroidered in silver, with his slightly exposed undershirt remaining a dark crimson color. His pants were of the same material as his tunic, though not embroidered, tucked into his leather riding boots. He looked towards his weapons as he was dressing himself, wondering if he would need them tonight. He took placed his dagger on his belt before wrapping it around his waist, securing his long tunic in place. He placed a silver ring upon his finger, a gift from Illyrio years ago, with a ruby in its center, finalizing his outfit as he returned to the Pyramid. Before he left however, he entered Harry Strickland’s tent, taking from him a bottle of wine he had purchased from the Arbor the last time they were in Tyrosh, leaving him a note saying he would repay him for his gift later. He then quickly left, ordering some of his men to move his things as soon as possible, and that there would be people to guide them to his chambers when they arrived.

He returned to the Great Pyramid by the time the sun had begun passing the horizon, setting into the night sky. He walked towards her chambers, up the many flights of stairs it took to reach her, slightly thankful that he would not have to descend them again until the morning. By the time he arrived, he was certain dinner was ready, knocking upon his aunt’s doors to her chambers. He wondered what they would be dining on together, but the most important thing was their company. The bottle remained in his hand, though she likely had a fair few. It seemed to be a good vintage however, one that he was sure she would appreciate alongside him. When she did open the door, he would greet her with a smile, waiting to be allowed inside. “Thank you again for inviting me, and allowing me to stay under your roof. I promise that I shall be nothing short of a model guest.” He spoke, extending the bottle to her. “I’m sure you already have plenty of red wines, but the Arbor has the finest vines in the world. It’ll let us to think of our home tonight, and how we will return to it someday soon.”

CS: A dragon is a dragon

Aegon’s eyes remained focused on his aunt, his mind thinking of hypotheticals as she spoke to him. He thought for a moment about what would have been the case if his father had lived on the Trident and Robert had been the one who was slain. He would have still been in the Red Keep, safe from harm, while Daenerys would have been born shortly afterwards. Perhaps they would have married, considering how close they would have been in age, and the disposition towards purifying the bloodline all Targaryens had. If that was to be the case, Aegon would have called himself one of the luckiest members of his dynasty. Such things were mere fantasy however, and they certainly would not be the same people had Rhaegar won at the Trident. But, perhaps, they could still join their claims to the Iron Throne, and renew their dynasty.

Aegon could imagine their return to the Red Keep, the bells of the Great Sept of Baelor ringing out in celebration of their return, dragons patrolling the skies as they marched in triumph to reclaim their ancestral home. They could remake King’s Landing into a better city, safer for all those who lived there, rather than the hastily constructed lands which had been erected. It would be a daunting task, but perhaps manageable with the two of them. He wanted a better life for his future subjects, a peaceful one, though it would likely take its time to develop into such a state. He wondered what would become of his Golden Company, knowing they would likely disperse to their homelands once they had reclaimed the Seven Kingdoms.

She had spoken of how Viserys had abused her, blamed her for so many wrongs that had happened to the two of them, all while Aegon was away with Jon. Part of him regretted not being there for her, during those earlier years. He was unsure of how he could have truly helped, but there must have been something he could have done to help her. Perhaps he could have intervened, stopped Viserys from hurting her instead of taking out his wrath on a defenseless girl. “I’m sorry. He had no right to blame you for that.” He held her hand still, wanting to support her now, even if he couldn’t have supported or defended her when she needed it. Her words eventually returned to prophecy, stating that it was a mystery as to why Rhaegar had chosen to believe in the three headed dragon, or that there needed to be precisely three of them. He did not need any more than Dany now, as far as he knew. She was the only family he needed.

She spoke that they need not use titles when they were alone, though he hadn’t responded to that question by the time his lips finally met hers. She wanted to remain casual with one another, to use only their names rather than the lofty titles of Queen or Prince. Aegon could appreciate such a notion, wanting to know Daenerys, rather than the queen who wore the crown, or the breaker of chains. He imagined that once he moved into the Pyramid alongside her, that they would have plenty of time to get to know one another. After all, gathering the necessary provisions for an assault on Volantis would take time, time that could be spend in each other’s embrace.

After their brief kiss, Aegon looked towards Daenerys as he wondered how she would respond. He was still nervous, his heart thumping in his chest, knowing that it could earn him a slap to the face and undo whatever progress he had made with her today. Her hands remained at her side however, as her eyebrow moved upwards, her words filling his ears.

Evidently, his gamble had paid in dividends. He felt her hand grip his tunic, pulling him with force to approach her once more, as though she had only had a taste of him and demanded more, something he was all too happy to give her. He moved himself closer to her, his hands moving to grasp her waist and pull her close, while their lips met for the second time. The Prince could feel his eyes close, wanting to make this slow kiss linger rather than breaking away as he had before. He felt her tongue slide across his lips, an invitation to engage in a far more passionate display of affection. His lips parted, his tongue moving forward to meet hers, touching it, as his right hand moved from her waist up her back. His tongue continued to move towards her mouth, the taste of her lips fresh upon it. Even if it was a slow, passionate kiss, he could feel a more lustful feeling building up, one that he would suppress, rather than indulge in. Fortune had certainly favored him today.

CS: A dragon is a dragon

Aegon continued listening silently as she spoke regarding how Rhaegar was like, her hand remaining in his. He knew it was a rather intimate touch, a small thing, but one that meant something greater to him. He was trusting her with some of his deepest emotions after all, regarding his father, all the resentment and sadness regarding the abandonment he felt, how Rhaegar had left to steal Lyanna Stark away from Robert Baratheon, even if it was in the service of some vague prophecy. Jon had told him plenty regarding his father’s fascination with prophecy and fate, of how he once believed himself to be the prince that was promised, until he realized that such a title would pass on to another. He didn’t believe in many prophecies, though Aegon understood their value as motivators and legitimizing claims for those with the strength to fulfill them.

“It is a mystery then.” Aegon spoke, wondering what he should say as she continued speaking, stating her vision of herself on the trident, riding in full plate as her dragon melted the enemy away in dragon fire, the water returning to the trident. ‘The dragon must have three heads.’ He repeated in his mind, trying to interpret this vague notion of prophecy in his mind, unsure of how it fit together. He and his sister were likely meant to be the first two, but Rhaegar took finding the third into his own hands it seemed, rather than waiting for his aunt’s birth. She was clearly the last key they needed, but with the death of his sister, now they had returned to two. There was still a third dragon, but only two could claim the legacy of the Targaryen dynasty.

“If he was waiting for his Visenya, all he had to do was wait for you. You’ve surpassed even her greatest feats with all that you’ve accomplished here, Your Grace. All of Slaver’s Bay has you to thank for securing their freedom, and soon enough we will make Volantis tremble in fear for daring to aid our enemies.” He could see the smile on her face, especially after he pledged never to leave her, the last of his kin. “Our deeds will be sung in taverns throughout Westeros when we finally reclaim our kingdom, and the westerosi can know true peace under our watchful guidance. They’ll grow fat, old, and happy, thanking the seven our dynasty returned.” Aegon’s dream seemed somewhat utopian, but he truly did want the small folk to have a much better lot in life, especially after having lived amongst them for most of his life. They would be the beneficiaries of his rule, not the lords and ladies who constantly backstabbed and killed one another for personal gain.

She spoke of how she wanted him by her side, in whatever way he wished. He felt her lips press against the skin of his hand gently, though he wondered if it was a show of romantic affection or rather simply to accentuate her point of wanting him to remain close to her. A smile curled on his lips as she moved away from his hand, stating how she would prepare rooms for him and Jon Connington in the Great Pyramid, allowing the two of them under her roof. He would happily accept such an offer, though he wondered what the appropriate response to her show of affection was. “I will gladly accept your offer, your grace. We will happily live beneath your roof, just as I would be happy to remain by your side.” He simply wondered in what way she would wish him to be beside her.

Aegon could feel an amount of nervousness come to him as she pulled away from his hand, noticing that there was only a few feet between them. His violet gaze remained locked on her eyes, noticing they were a lighter, more vibrant shade of purple than his own, wondering whether they belonged to Aerys or Rhaella. While his left hand remained holding hers, his right hand moved to her face, pushing a few strands of silver blonde hair behind her ear, slowly moving down towards her chin.

He leaned forward, not wishing to make too sudden of a movement, but was still nervous about how exactly he wanted to proceed. She had been the first person in Meereen to accept him for who he was, to show him that he had no reason to be afraid of her dragons, and that he was undeniably the son of Rhaegar, and heir to the Iron Throne. She would rule with him as his equal, for he saw no other woman as loving, kind, and intelligent as the one who stood before him. His left hand pulled at her arm slightly, wishing to bring her forward as he tilted his head, planting his lips upon hers for the first time. Her lips were as soft as he imagined, feeling them gently press against his own.

He didn’t know precisely what about her that made him feel like he could be so forward with her. It was a sudden urge which seemed to overcome him, one in which he hoped he would reassure her that she would be safe in his arms with all of her secrets, that she did not need to hide such dreams from the world anymore. She was the only queen he could imagine ruling beside, no one else was worthy of the crown he would place upon her head. After a short time, he pulled away, unsure as to whether she would smile or strike him across the face for his audacity.

“I’m sorry if that was improper, and sudden.” He said. “But I hope that shows the manner in which I want to remain by your side, as your equal, my Queen.”

CS: A dragon is a dragon

Meereen was a city built on a barrel of wildfire, only waiting for the slightest tremor to erupt into a massive explosion of chaos. Daenerys seemed to barely be able to hold the city together, with a stream of refugees coming from Astapor, an uprising set to destroy the new order Daenerys had created, and other threats lurking around every corner from every place in Essos and Westeros, the city was likely one of the most dangerous places in the world. Ships had stopped coming into their port, as the streets seemed ready to run red with blood.

This was the city that Aegon had entered, throwing himself into a lion’s pit it seemed. The rightful prince of Dragonstone had entered the city in disguise as a refugee, along with a small number of his men, while the majority of them remained two days ride away from the city’s walls, knowing they could approach any time they saw it necessary. Aegon and Jon Connington had allowed their hair to return to their original colors, having washed out whatever dye they could get off, and cutting their hair short to try and ensure they restored their old colors once more. There was no reason to hide who they were anymore.

Aegon was here on a mission, to win over the heart of his aunt, to help her settle the issues of slaver’s bay, and together sail to Westeros and restore their dynasty to the Iron Throne. He likely knew it would not be an easy task, to simply approach his aunt and state that he was her nephew, and that they were kin despite never meeting before and the world assuming him dead. He was more or less appearing to her as a beggar, rather than a man with a crown to offer her and place upon her head, but he knew that the situation in Meereen would need to be dealt with before any of those plots could come to fruition. He had ordered some of his troops to slowly leak into the city, spreading themselves out amongst the refugees, pouring out throughout its districts, keeping their ears to the ground.

Aegon himself had gone to find his aunt, having looked for two of her dragons for the last few days. He kept his remaining hair tied back in a knot as he spied upon them, not wishing to draw notice to himself, but waiting for the arrival of their mother, which he was sure would be soon enough. They were the only creatures she could turn to in these troubling times after all, though he could eventually change that.

He watched as she arrived at the dragon’s cave, stroking them and petting them as she remained perfectly calm. He emerged from behind his rock, perhaps twenty yards away, slowly rising. He bore his sword and dagger upon his hip, though he had no intention of using them. He approached the Dragon Queen as he pulled back his hood, revealing his stark white hair and purple gaze, lingering upon her. “Had enough of your palace, your Grace?” He addressed her neutrally, not wishing to threaten her. “I can imagine why.”

Dragons Aflight

starter for @akinguncrowned

Meereen was unstable. At the best of times, it was unstable, but that was beside the point. A rebellion was under the silver queen’s feet and she was doing everything short of massacring the entire population of former Masters to get it under control. The problem was, was that it was looking like the only answer she had. That was distasteful for oh so many reasons. With Jorah banished for his betrayal and Ser Barristan grievously wounded, though not dead, from an attack from the Sons of the Harpy, Daenerys hand was forced. 

An engagement and marriage to Hizdar zo Loraq seemed her only real way to keep the masters from killing every freedman around. And opening the fighting pits. Of which she was still undecided on. She hated the idea of the fighting pits, of men dying for sport, much less war. It was distasteful to the nearly constantly dissatisfied Queen. 

Even her lover, Daario, seemed to agree she should do it. But it felt wrong. She understood fighting for sport, to show who was stronger, but fighting to the death for sport? That seemed ill-advised at the best of times. She was the blood of dragons and she wouldn’t let anyone decide for her the best way to keep the peace!

Her main solas were her dragons. She’d convinced them to stay on the ground, for the most part, to stay near her. She had been tempted to chain them, but what she’d done instead was to find a place where they could be closed in for most of the day, and well-fed. They did get to fly, however, at night and in the evening and early morning. During the heat of the day she had decided, they could stay in a cool cave under the Great Pyramid. They had seemed to agree it was a good way to handle things. 

Especially because both Rhaegal and Viserion seemed determined to be nothing like their bully of a brother who had yet to return after disappearing. 

The trio were outside, at twilight, the silver queen sitting upon a white blanket, while the two dragon’s heads on either side, her fingers running over their scales. Both dragons seemed determined to prove they were better at listening than Drogon and were perfectly calm there beside her.

Dress and Hair

How am I doing with my character?

memesgaloor‌:

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Aegon continued looking through her literature as she spoke that he could read any that caught his attention. He continued looking over the titles, taking one smaller tome written in the common tongue about the nature of dragons. Perhaps the book could help him understand the bond he was feeling with Viserion, and how it would continue to grow and evolve throughout the years they spent together, though Daenerys likely had more experience with dragons than the maester who authored the tome ever did. Regardless, more information was better than less. He would ensure that he read it in his free time whenever available, wanting to keep it with him as a potentially useful source of knowledge.

He set the book on the table, listening to the words that she spoke, as though he was analyzing the sentences and seeing to where they led. He was indeed familiar with the old tale of Daenys the Dreamer, and how their ancestors were spared the same fate as all those in Valyria for her fortuitous vision. “I know of Daenys and how she saved our family, and how the rest of Valyria scorned her for her wisdom.” He allowed her to continue, not wanting to interrupt her as she spoke about her prophetic dreams, wondering whether what she said would be true. He still did not quite understand the nature of her dreams, having been taught in the faith of the seven that certain individuals who could see such visions were not to be trusted, but even so, if her visions had been true, why would he doubt her now? She was clearly opening up a secret part of herself to him, and he would not shut her away.

His eyes looked to the wine glass before him as she mentioned his father. He took a sip from it as his free hand remained on the table, a mix of emotions welling inside him, unsure how to react. He was not angry at her for seeing such visions, after all she could do little to control him, but more a bubbling sense of abandonment that he felt from his father, having left his mother for Lyanna Stark. Even if he was the prophesied child, the one who would inherit the song of ice and fire. He let the words sink in, listening to her as she placed her hand on his. His hand turned, wishing to place her fingers gently in his palms as she spoke of seeing his father die.

“What was he like?” He asked, unsure of what else to say. He would acknowledge her gift of prophecy, knowing she was likely correct. The gods work in mysterious ways to be certain, but he did not know what to make of the words his father spoke to her, what the third head could be and why it was needed. “Why did he leave to seek out the third head? He spoke of how I was the prince that was promised, and that I was born under the red comet as Jon told me, then why did he need a third child?” Part of him still held resentment for Rhaegar for leaving his mother for another, knowing that such things shouldn’t have happened. He would remain calm when he asked his questions, unsure as to what the prophetic messages meant. “Why did he need to abandon my mother? Why did he need to abandon me and my sister? We don’t even know who the third head is.” She spoke about how he died, having heard that the last words to pass through his lips was Lyanna’s name, though that was a rumor he had heard.

Aegon wasn’t sure what more he could say, not knowing whether she wanted their relationship to be defined, though it was certain he had romantic intentions, wishing to unify their claims. He wanted to promise her that he would never make the same choice his father did, that no matter what, he would not leave her should they marry, that he would remain forever by her side, but he did not know whether such a promise was warranted. He gently held her hand in his own, wanting to ensure the vow he made was understood to be serious. “You are my only family Daenerys. I will not abandon you like he did me. I swear it, on the old gods and the new.”

CS: A dragon is a dragon

Young Griff remained seated at the small table, his hands resting on the old wooden planks which comprised it, long having been worn away by others using it. His fingers eventually ceased tapping on the table as he watched Sansa and Tyrion enter, with Varys seated on his right, and Jon Connington seated on his left. Aegon remained quiet as Varys continued to appreciate the skills his future king had shown, able to use his reasoning to deduce that not all things were as they seemed. Truthfully, Sansa was not that talented of a liar, and there were simply too many clues to be left aside if he were to take her story at face value.

“I understand the artistry would be lost, Lord Varys, but such a distinctive feature makes her easier to distinguish. Red hair is something of a rarity, even amongst the Westerosi, or so says Griff.” Aegon spoke, his stormlander accent weighing heavily on his common tongue, the words still having the noble traditional noble pronunciations. His eyes looked towards Lady Sansa, who’s mouth remained open the entire time, knowing that he fully knew who she was, though she did not know anything about him, save for his name and whatever other fabrications he had spun to ensure his identity remained a secret. “Your story for her was mostly sound, Lord Varys, but it’s always the slightest of details which unravel the tapestry you weave. All it took was a single thread.”

Aegon gestured to the chairs across from him, one for Tyrion and one for Sansa, who remained the subject of his gaze. “Your secret is safe with us, my lady, none of the other crewmen know who you are.” He encouraged her with a reassuring smile before he gestured his foster father to distribute food, mostly dried meats, cheeses, and a bowl of stew for each of them. It wasn’t the greatest of meals, but it was what they had on board their ship, that and fish. Aegon handed his guardian his bowl once everyone else had had their fill, producing a piece of dry bread to eat his stew with, before ensuring everyone else likewise had a piece, and wooden spoons to eat their food with.

“As for our destination, Lord Varys, I would suggest Tyrosh or Pentos, and have our friends meet us there before crossing the Narrow Sea. Both of them are suitably close to Westeros to ensure our safe journey, and can provision us with whatever needs we have for our grand journey.” Aegon spoke in vague terms, not feeling comfortable giving away his identity just yet. He had the upper hand, why give it away now when he knew who she was, and he remained a mystery. “I am willing to hear my father’s opinion as well, and yours of course.” He spoke to Varys.

Varys gave the young Targaryen prince an appreciative nod as he came in and explained that he had seen precisely through Sansa Stark’s story. “A fine little story we came up with, but the Stark family seems to share a common weakness for lying. They either have no such skill, or are so limited in it that they cannot stand well against others. There is something noble in that, but in this situations it is infinitely more dangerous than noble,” he explained as he exchanged glances with Jon Connington. “We cannot all have your skills, Aegon.”

When Tyrion and Sansa Stark finally entered, having washed and pulled her hair in a braid, Varys turned to give them a small smile. “Fortuitous news - we have been invited to dine with noble Griff and his son. I believe the two of you have met?” 

Sansa gave Young Griff a little smile. “Yes, we have,”she began, but was unsure how to proceed. What could she say? That he had discovered the truth? 

“And to answer your question, Young Griff, I would never dare to color that beautiful Tully hair with something as tawdry as hair dye. What artistry would be lost.”

Sansa’s mouth fell open. Tully he had said. Not Stark. But…had that not just confirmed it to them all? Even to the taller, blue haired man - whom Sansa supposed to be Sir Griff. 

“Sit down, Sansa dear, let us sup and discuss our dear ship’s destination,” he continued.

Sansa’s eyes flickered to young Griff, the confusion and nervousness in her eyes. She knew that he had figured it out on the deck, but still - saying it aloud felt almost like a curse. Felt like a weapon about to be used against her, and Sansa stood straight up - as though prepared to turn and run.

Aegon’s hands continued to wander along the book cases, knowing how much he loved to read in his spare time. Despite considering himself a man grown, his education would not stop, not until he sat himself upon the Iron Throne at least. He looked over the books she had, the ones written in the common tongue by the maesters of their homeland, noting their titles and what they meant. Most of them were historical tomes, describing the achievements of their ancestors and all their grand accomplishments, and their failures. Aegon would ensure that the two of them went down as the former, retaking their homeland together, and ensuring their dynasty never ends. A new, glorious era could begin for Westeros, with a king and queen who would not bend to the whim of the nobles beneath them, but would bring their dragons down on those who wished harm on any of their subjects. The world was cruel, but they had the power to make it less so.

“You have a lovely collection here.” He added, before sitting down at the table across from her. His plain clothes did not seem to match the setting he found himself in, but he knew he had nicer tunics, coats, and other such items in his camp. Perhaps he would need to bring them here, if he were to stay alongside his aunt. If they were to have the close relationship they envisioned, he would likely be moving in to stay with her, rather than remaining in his own pyramid. She was a beautiful woman, having all the features of their Targaryen ancestors, though she was far more lovely to behold than any woman he had seen before. During all his years traveling Essos, from Braavos to the Rhoyne, her power, beauty, and majesty remained unmatched. What better wife could he imagine, should the two marry.

He took the cup that was offered to him, a smile forming along his face as he gently swirled it, breathing the scent in before deciding to taste it. He took a small sip at first, noting the wine’s strong flavor, a red from some vineyard. Perhaps it was Essosi, though he could not tell. “Varys’s spies seemed to be more focused on what you were doing, rather than the kind of woman and queen you have become. They wished to hear the facts of your rise to power, that much is certain.” He heard her state that she didn’t want Varys to hear anything more of who she was and what she was capable of. “It leaves you to be somewhat of a mystery to me.”

He listened to what else she had to say, something that was to remain between the two of them and never to leave the walls of this room. It was clear she trusted him with this information, perhaps not even something her advisors knew. What he did know was that he would ensure this secret was kept, even from the man he considered the closest thing he had to a father. He looked down for a moment, clasping his hands together as he thought about the gravity of what she would have to tell him. “Very well. I swear to you, by the old gods and the new, that I shall keep what you say from passing through my lips to anyone outside of this room, including Lord Connington.” He knew that oaths were meant to be a sacred bond, one he kept seriously, to ensure that she would be able to trust him. “What is it you wish to tell me, Daenerys?”

CS: A dragon is a dragon

The Princeling’s eyes focused on the table as he finished making his face before his violet eyes returned to Daenerys. His hands moved to the table, having finished his meal, unsure of how things would end tonight. His palms could feel the wood and metal of the table feeling it’s carvings beneath his fingertips. He ran his tongue against his teeth within his mouth, keeping his lips shut as he did so, wanting to make sure they were clean after their large meal.

His eyes remained focused on hers as she began responding to his argument, clearly not in favor of such drastic measures to ensure peace and stability in her city. Perhaps she was simply naive and not willing to do what he viewed was necessary to ensure the master’s could not lift their swords against her again. Even so, she had burned a few master’s today, those from Yunkai, but he knew it would not be enough. The Meerenese would continue their plots in the shadows. They needed to be uprooted.

“They are upset because they view you as a foreigner imposing your code of morality on them. This conflict of yours is greater than mere coin, this is about ideology and ways of life. They want to return to the old ways because it was the way of their fathers and their fathers before them. They will cling to these ways no matter how much money you toss at their feet.” He spoke with clarity, but not wishing to lecture her. There was no anger in his voice, simply direct discussion. He knew that he was right, the masters would rather die than give up their old ways.

“Even if Grayworm doubles his patrols, they will find patterns, they will find ways to work around them. The only way to root out your rebellion is to act rather than wait for them to make the first move. Save the lives of your men. They hold no goodwill towards you, nor will they ever so long as you remain here. I don’t care who’s wife or husband they’re sleeping with. I care about whether they’re plotting against us. And we know that they are. If we can gain that knowledge and discover who our enemies truly are, rather than letting them hide amongst their companions, we will have a safer city.” He had remained calm throughout the conversation. It didn’t matter who was the blood of the dragon, or who controlled the dragons. He knew he was in the right, pure and simple. The masters would always be a threat, always treated with mistrust.

“Not a disease, no, but ideology spreads like a plague, as does sedition. How long did it take the realm to turn against King Aerys? Or to support Daemon Blackfyre? A pestilence might not be a bad example. We are witnessing the early symptoms of something much worse. Murders will lead to greater bloodshed if we do not retaliate with a show of force. The master’s must understand that you are not someone who will let those willing to die for her be murdered in their sleep.” He tapped his fingers against the table, wondering if he should continue on. He didn’t wish to feel like he was lecturing her, but simply speaking his mind regarding the situation.

She was tying his hands, refusing to condone violence and having him be responsible for it. He knew that would be a troublesome addition to his allowance. “Cruelty is already being inflicted upon you, your grace. If you do not place your foot down, only more will come. Ensure that they do not have the capability to harm you or those who love you again. There are slaves who’s chains shall be slapped on once more the moment you leave this city. If you wish to end this cycle of cruelty, you must prevent the other side from retaliating. If you want to break the wheel, you need to destroy its spokes. The masters will not stop fighting until they are broken, that is a promise. End the abuse of your people by their previous captors, and root out those who want us all dead.”

Eventually, she understood that his idea was borne out of experience, not simple wanton cruelty he wished to inflict upon the masters. He would move them tomorrow morning, placing them in a specific sector, away from the gates and any potential exits. All ways out of their sector would be monitored by his men. “I cannot hold my men accountable for defending themselves should someone try to resist with the intent to wound or kill my men. It will be done with minimal violence, but I cannot promise there will be none at all. The master’s will resist.” He confirmed, knowing it was practically a certainty that they would try to fight being moved, but those who fought the most were likely the ones with the most to hide.

She asked him what he would do after slavery was abolished, what could be done in the city. Agriculture was mostly out of the question, as the river was too polluted to be used as any irrigation, and the wells deep within the earth couldn’t last forever. They needed something to trade for food, but what could replace the slave population? “I don’t know. The fish in the bay could provide a food source to sustain the population, but as for trade goods, they should decide that for themselves. I’m not sure the river would be a good source for irrigation and farming, or whether such things would grow here, but animals might be worthwhile, though they’d need to trade for the feed needed for them.” He paused for a moment, thinking, before continuing on. “They will know what they are capable of producing. Now that they have their freedom, they can build the economy, but I cannot predict what they will do.”

akinguncrowned‌:

Aegon heard her rejection come for a second time, believing now that it may be more than she simply said to him. He could only be suspect of her true emotions regarding him after all, considering they were only beginning to get to know one another. Oh how they played this game of courtship, though he was to remain in Meereen for now. Part of him hated the game, but he knew he needed to play it in order for such an alliance to be made and strengthened. “Of course such things take time. They will change and adapt eventually, when they realize the futility of their myriad rebellions. Instead they cling to their old ways.” He spoke, his purple eyes looking towards his empty plate as he thought to himself, knowing this rebellion was already likely plotting both of their deaths.

His thoughts pondered on her rejection for the moment, though she stated her reasoning regardless. The great slaving houses continued to be a thorn in the side of her reign, though Aegon believed that they could be dealt with. “The Rebellion is already underway, how many Unsullied have been murdered so far by the Sons of the Harpy?” He asked, a more serious expression showing on his face. If they were the obstacle to his goal of marrying Daenerys, then he would remove them as quickly and efficiently as possible, should he be allowed to do it. “We already know they’re hiding among the population of masters in the city, most likely from the ancient and powerful ones living in their splendid pyramids. They can move throughout the city, do as they please without suspicion from what I have seen. What do you think we should do about them then? If they’re the source of the rebellion?”

Aegon would wait for her to answer, wondering just what her thoughts were regarding the situation, and any plans she had to take care of their Harpy infestation that would likely be spreading to Yunkai soon, if Daenerys allowed them to return to their homes, something he would advise against, considering having them kept as hostages would make for a far more advantageous bargain should peace be reached. It would be giving away potential leverage should she release them, at least in his mind. He reflected about that train of thought for a moment, knowing he didn’t think such things when he was Young Griff, but as Prince Aegon, he had to. He had to be strong-willed and decisive, otherwise his reign would be as short as Joffrey’s. Strength and authority would bring him to power, and let him rule for years to come. A wise man once told him never to trust anyone, and he kept that close to heart.

Once she had stated her plan, Aegon would likely ponder it for a short while. “I suggest keeping the masters in a separate part of the city where they can be watched, away from any gates on the walls. Restrict their movements, ensure they cannot reach you or anyone you wish to protect. Shavepates and others who have shown their loyalty to you in the past will be excluded, but the rest should all be treated as suspects. My men in the city could watch over their little district, ensure it is effectively quarantined.” He referred to them almost as a disease, one that needed to be treated before it infected the rest of the city. “We should keep an eye on those that resist, or those who seem to know what is happening. Keep them isolated from the men and women you freed, ensure they cannot influence them any longer.”

Aegon pondered the next sentence he was going to say, wondering if she would approve of his second measure. “Once thats done, we could start… asking them questions.” He spoke, taking a sip of the wine that was in his goblet. “We had done that in Myr, when the council of magisters feared many families to be plotting to overthrow them. We had to root out the rebellion, but the contract was eventually completed.” He thought again, wanting to clarify what he meant by that statement. “There will be no violence unless you allow there to be, but this may be the best way to ensure the Meereenese masters cease to be a threat.” He tapped his fingers against the table, wondering if she would even allow such a plan, considering it would be disruptive to the masters living in the city. They would need to cast a wide net, however, and leave no stone unturned. ‘Maybe then we will have enough peace to know one another better.’ He thought to himself, still awaiting her response.

The sound she wanted to make was a snort. The sound she did make was a short laugh. She wished they would figure it out faster. She wasn’t here to be cruel. She just wanted to protect people, to stop bad things from happening to innocent people. “People cling to old ways because it’s easier and well known.” She responded easily. 

She frowned at him as he brought up the dead unsullied. “Only a few.” She was not pleased that he had to bring it up. But she supposed it was her lot to always have to think of these terrible things no matter what she was doing. She was a Queen, after all, it was her duty. 

“They are upset because I have changed how they make money. I am going to teach them new and better ways to do it. In the meantime, Gray Worm has already doubled patrols. I’m not going to march into every pyramid and demand they tell me their dirty secrets.” She was a bit sharp with the last two words, eyeing him. “That won’t build any goodwill, to begin with.” She eyed the man before her. 

His next words made her frown. The fact he wanted to quarantine the people bothered her. “They aren’t a disease. They are people, like you, or me, or your men or the freed slaves.” Her tone was soft, but there was steel behind it. She refused to think of them as anything but humans who deserved some level of respect. She knew they were the threat, but they were still human. 

She didn’t like how he had included his men in this. She would have to depend on them. The more she did, the less she depended on her own strength. It was a slippery slope. One that she was sure he was aware of. Making her dependant on him and his might would make it easier to convince her to do what he wanted. The fear that came with that thought was easily quashed. She was the one with three dragons, not him. It would behoove him not to anger the woman who did command the dragons, even if he was a Targaryen. Dragons cared not for blood but for bond and companionship. Much like their human riders, it seemed. 

I am the blood of the dragon, she reminded herself. “I will not condone any violence. Cruelty only begets cruelty and the cycle has to stop somewhere.” She may have spoken a bit sharply, but she knew it personally. She was going to break the wheel, and if this man didn’t like it, well he would learn to deal with it. She wasn’t a weak woman to be ordered around and directed to do this or that. She wasn’t her mother, locked into an abusive marriage because she was told too. She was Daenerys Targaryen, mother of dragons. 

“Your idea, however, is sound.” She relaxed a little, giving him credit. “But you and I both know your men follow your orders, not mine. If you decide their violence against your men needs to be met with violence, it will be out of my hands.” She had her hands folded in her lap, clasped together. It was a way to contain herself. She didn’t like that part. “So I will be willing to allow the Golden Company to attempt to contain the Masters, but you will do it alongside the Second Son’s. My Unsullied and Dothraki will hold the peace in the rest of the city.” She held his gaze. “I will hold you personally accountable for every hurt that your men give to the Masters.” This was the command of the queen, not the woman. 

“I would rather not have to do such a thing.” That was the woman, there was a softness to her at that moment. Vulnerability. “I will have to…” Do something. What though. Agriculture was an easy thing to start. Aqueducts would give people jobs, farming, dealing with animals, even teaching them art. She wondered if it was possible. Her fingers started to play against each other, as if she was trying to find an answer and couldn’t quite grasp it. 

She looked up at him. “Besides the masters, what would you do with Meereen? I wish to teach them agriculture, aqueducts, farming, animal handling, maybe even encourage art. I know of plants that grow quickly, like rice, and flowers. I want to give them a replacement for slavery.” The idea of the city filled with beautiful flowers was attractive, she wondered if she could have that happen quickly. It would help, she knew, beauty always did, and natural beauty was the best kind.There was hope and vulnerability in her gaze as she waited for his responce.

Heading back to Uni today for my master’s degree. I’ll work on replies soon to all my threads! Hopefully I can find some time once I’m all moved into my new apartment to write some posts. Thank you all for your patience <3