Chapter 470 - A Second Aegon Targaryen?

Chapter 470: Chapter 470 - A Second Aegon Targaryen?

[Chapter Size: 5000 Words.]

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Third Person POV

King’s Landing, 300 AC.

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The fire at the brothel caught everyone by surprise shortly after the commotion.

No one knew exactly how it had started, only that the flames engulfed the establishment with terrifying speed, while the men and women who managed to escape, as well as those who had been out on the street, swore they had seen, shortly beforehand, men wearing armor marked by a blue snowflake over a white field. They killed all the Martell guards who had been protecting the prince at the entrance.

The news immediately put the Red Keep on alert, men were sent to the scene and it was not long before something even worse reached the ears of the court: Prince Oberyn Martell and his beloved, Ellaria Sand, had been found dead among the rubble, their bodies embracing one another amid several other corpses.

It shocked all of King’s Landing.

Throughout the rest of the day, men scoured the city for the supposed Arcticans, searching the gates, the streets, the alleys and even near the harbor, but no one found any sign of them.

Varys had also disappeared, although almost no one had noticed it at first, with only the council demanding his presence for information. A ship was leaving the harbor at the time of the fire and heading south, carrying with it those who had supposedly carried out the attack without the guards noticing, after slipping out through a hidden passage in the brothel.

Varys could not help but let out a sigh as he remained hidden in another part of the city, surrounded only by some of the children who served as his little birds.

Now he needed to disappear as well.

He needed to vanish before Jon Arctic began investigating what had truly happened, and Varys had no doubt that he would do exactly that, he had planned everything, even taken note of how the birds seemed to follow certain people, his little birds had noticed that the birds would never go to the brothel following Prince Oberyn, and Varys knew of an exit from the Tower of the Hand, a secret tunnel, that led directly to the brothel, which was why it had been possible to create this situation.

The ship sent south would be the most obvious trail for Jon Arctic to pursue, men had been placed aboard precisely so they would be seen leaving King’s Landing and, with luck, Jon would focus his eyes and animals in that direction while the real group traveled by land.

Behind him, Oberyn and Ellaria remained bound, staring at him with silent fury, Ellaria was in the same situation beside the prince.

"We have to leave the city soon." Varys explained to some of his men. "And no one can see us, not even the animals... We cannot remain out in the open any longer than necessary."

He knew enough about Jon Arctic to know that hiding their tracks from ordinary men would not be enough. That man could see through the eyes of animals, hear through them and turn seemingly insignificant creatures into his own undetectable spies, any bird perched in a tree or rat hidden among the stones could mean that Jon was already watching.

That was why Varys needed to disappear completely. After what he had done, there was no longer any room for caution or hesitation, he needed to make that move because Dorne was essential to his plans. Without the Dornish, he did not believe Aegon could win that war.

After speaking with some of his contacts, they managed to leave King’s Landing hidden inside a completely enclosed wagon, without a single opening that would allow light to enter, moving slowly along the road while the sound of the wheels and the constant swaying accompanied the silence within.

"Forgive me for all of this, Prince Oberyn." Varys said after some time.

The Dornishman merely glared at him angrily, while gagged.

"I do this for the Seven Kingdoms. Soon, Westeros will finally have a king worthy of ruling it."

Oberyn seemed to want to respond, but Varys was not interested in arguing. In his mind, the numbers still gave him some reassurance. His beloved nephew would rule with the support of three dragons and, no matter how powerful Arctic’s army was, no force remained invincible forever.

Even if the rumors were true and Jon also possessed a dragon, it would still be only one against three.

They could win...

And once again, the court descended into chaos over the following days.

Tyrion merely watched as another mystery unfolded before them, while his father shouted at men, guards and informants, demanding to know how a prince of Dorne could have been murdered practically beneath their noses without any of those responsible being found.

The problem was not merely Oberyn’s death. It was who had supposedly killed him.

Cersei, on the other hand, seemed almost radiant at the news, saying that now the Dornish finally had a reason to march against the Arcticans, as though Dorne did not already have enough reasons to hold a grudge against them as well. Tyrion’s sister’s only concern was having assassins close to Joffrey.

Their father did not share her enthusiasm. And Tyrion knew why, something was very wrong, the more he thought about it, the stranger everything seemed.

Arcticans entering a brothel in the heart of King’s Landing, wearing armor bearing their own symbols in broad daylight, murdering none other than Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand, setting the place on fire and then disappearing without leaving any trace?

That did not look like a covert operation. It looked like someone desperately trying to make sure everyone knew ’who was supposed to take the blame’.

A little crude, Tyrion might even say. It would not be impossible to imagine that it had been his own sister’s doing, some grand act of stupidity by Cersei trying to set Dorne and Arctic against each other and accomplishing exactly that, but he had no proof that she was involved and Varys’s disappearance indicated that the situation was not so simple.

Tywin was also searching for the Master of Whisperers, sending men after any clue to his whereabouts, but up to that point they had found absolutely nothing.

Either way, the days continued to pass without any answers emerging. Varys had disappeared completely and that began to worry everyone, perhaps it really had been the Arcticans, but there was still the matter of it having been done far too openly, as though they had desperately wanted to announce their presence.

The Tyrells were also quite concerned about Oberyn’s death and its possible consequences, but there was not much time to investigate, the wedding had finally arrived and Joffrey and Margaery were going to be married.

What no one in King’s Landing knew was that Jon had already begun his own investigation on the very day of the incident...

The news of Oberyn and Ellaria’s supposed deaths had caught him by surprise, while they were descending toward the heart of Highgarden, even more so when he had been unable to find Varys anywhere through the animals scattered across King’s Landing. Even the memories seemed to offer nothing but false leads, and it was a time-consuming process to go through each animal, see their memories... He found nothing that could give him a clue.

His greatest lead ended up being the ship that had left the city on the same day as the fire and, because of that, he gave an order to Serume, the kraken that was on the eastern side of the continent, stationed in the waters off Dragonstone. Since the island lay farther north, any ship could pass it on its way south.

Either way, the kraken went south after the ship. In the middle of the sea, the men aboard that vessel did not even have time to understand what was happening.

The water began to churn around the hull before enormous tentacles emerged from the depths, seizing the vessel and making the wood creak violently, men screamed and ran across the deck when the first mast was broken, then another tentacle struck the side and began tearing the ship apart.

Watching through the eyes of the enormous kraken, Jon realized that those men were merely mercenaries from Essos.

He did not find Oberyn.

He did not find Ellaria.

And, most importantly, he did not find Varys.

All that ship contained were men hired to wear Arctic’s symbols and then flee King’s Landing, a charade that confirmed his suspicions that someone was trying to place the blame on him. And he strongly suspected it was Varys.

None of those men left the sea alive.

Jon felt no remorse for that, they had used the name and symbols of his kingdom to murder people and try to provoke a war, but their deaths also meant that he could not interrogate them. Even so, he examined every corpse he managed to find among the wreckage, searching especially for the face of the Master of Whisperers, without success.

Varys had disappeared completely.

As though he had planned in advance how to escape even Jon’s eyes.

The meeting at the brothel had been well executed by the Master of Whisperers and there was a plan underway and, whatever it was, it probably involved the south.

That was why Jon began sending more birds in that direction. If Varys intended to do something, he would find out. At the same time, he knew that the merchant ships were about to leave Pentos. He would have someone important to Varys there.

And the Arctican ships had been in Pentos for a few days. After leaving Braavos a few days earlier, they had finally appeared before Pentos, leaving the city faced with hundreds of vessels stopping off its coast and flying banners that had not been seen there for quite some time.

An eagle flew from Braavos to Pentos, and the Magisters were already waiting. Most people still did not know, so they were quite surprised by Arctic’s reappearance.

The fleet remained out at sea while only a single vessel advanced toward the harbor to make the introductions, where the Arcticans were received by men who were clearly nervous about their arrival.

The Minister of Finance had already returned to Arctic accompanied by more than a dozen ships to escort him, he had to prepare some documents regarding Braavos.

Meanwhile, the Minister of Trade and the Minister of Diplomacy continued advancing south and were disembarking at the port of Pentos at that moment.

"We are here to resume our trade", declared one of the Arctican representatives as soon as the greetings were over.

The men of Pentos exchanged glances. "It is certainly a surprise, we did not expect you to appear at this particular moment after so long. Magister Illyrio will certainly wish to speak with you."

"You do not need to go all the way to my mansion to greet me." A voice interrupted everyone as many guards arrived and Illyrio Mopatis appeared with a friendly smile, all the Magisters of the city were behind him as well.

"It is fantastic that Arctic has returned, please, let us go to my home so that we can talk." With that, the group moved on to renegotiate their old contracts.

Illyrio Mopatis had received the arrival of those men with a certain outward calm, but inside... The Arcticans had returned, and for him, that was bad, very bad.

Illyrio repeated that to himself as he paced back and forth ever since the fleet appeared. If the Arcticans were there, it meant that his plans could go wrong before they even began, he had never imagined that things could truly reach that point and frowned as he considered his options.

No, he could not let that happen. Aegon was already heading west and should soon meet him. There were rumors that the Arcticans had returned to Westeros and were attacking the Westerlands, information brought mainly by sailors and later confirmed by his contacts with Varys, but Illyrio had not expected to find a fleet of theirs there, in the middle of Essos.

They had been in Braavos and certainly most of the news would take time to arrive, depending on merchant ships to spread it throughout the Free Cities, but Illyrio had learned about it earlier through one of his contacts, whom he had ordered to report immediately any sighting of Arctican vessels farther north.

Now they were in Pentos.

They had crossed an enormous distance from Braavos to there and, apparently, intended to continue advancing south.

Illyrio had a few options. He could simply flee and meet Aegon, his son, earlier than planned, but there was also a great opportunity before him, he could obtain information about the man who would probably be Aegon’s greatest enemy in Westeros and, at the same time, delay the Arcticans.

This was especially important because it would not be convenient at all to allow that fleet to encounter the Golden Company, which at that very moment was sailing from southern Essos toward the Stormlands, even though he was certain they would stop first in Myr and Tyrosh.

But Illyrio could not take the risk, it was already common knowledge throughout the world that the Arcticans were invincible at sea given their weapons.

Even if Aegon had three dragons flying above his fleet, they could not take that risk, so he needed to keep the Arcticans occupied, learn as much as possible about them and, when the right time came, leave to meet Aegon.

Varys should also be making his own move with the Dornish soon. Since Dorne’s position continued to trouble them both.

Illyrio did not completely understand why the Martells seemed so reluctant to support Aegon, perhaps it was because Jon Arctic had taken Doran Martell’s pregnant bastard daughter, something that should have caused precisely the opposite effect and awakened Dorne’s anger.

Or perhaps the problem was that girl herself. He and Varys had discussed it several times after learning that Oberyn had simply allowed her to leave after a conversation in Volantis.

When questioned later, the prince had merely replied that he had let his niece be happy, because she wanted to remain with Jon Arctic.

That had never seemed sufficient to Illyrio. That bastard girl might not have been as simple as they had imagined all along. They thought that as soon as they showed Aegon with his Valyrian coloring, the dragons, the king’s sword, Dorne would follow them.

But the bastard seemed very special to the Martells, she had always been treated very well, throughout her entire life in Dorne receiving the same treatment as Arianne Martell, and she carried the child of a powerful king, back then, when Arctic was still in the midst of his rise.

But it seemed deeper, like another possibility. One that had also begun to trouble Varys.

That bastard had lightly tanned skin and violet eyes.

Could she be Rhaenys? The idea had seemed absurd when it first arose, after all Rhaenys Targaryen had been dead for many years, her small body had been found in the room during the sack of King’s Landing, alongside her mother. Not even Varys had been able to confirm it, perhaps because he had not paid much attention at the time either.

And it was ironic when they themselves intended to present the world with a story not very different from that. Claiming that Aegon should also have died that night.

However, according to the story he and Varys had constructed, the child had been replaced by another baby brought from Lys, allowing them to be switched while the true prince was taken safely to Essos and later raised under the protection of those preparing his return.

So why would it be completely impossible for something similar to have happened with Rhaenys as well?

Illyrio pushed the thought aside for now.

There were too many questions and too few answers, but perhaps that was precisely why he should not abandon Pentos yet.

In the end, he decided not to leave as he had planned. He remained in the city and personally received the Arcticans, he would take advantage of that opportunity to observe them, discover what they knew, what their plans in Essos were and, above all, how much they knew about the events that were about to engulf Westeros.

After that, he would meet Aegon.

Before that, however, he needed to speak with Varys.

Then he and the first group of Arcticans finally moved into the mansion, all escorted by men wearing Valyrian steel armor, something Illyrio could not observe without feeling a certain envy.

The Arcticans had discovered the secret of Valyrian steel, most likely during that journey when they entered Valyria.... there was no other explanation. How could a kingdom created in the far north possess such a vast quantity of that metal if it had not learned how to produce it? That was enough to leave any rich or powerful man consumed by greed.

And it did not seem to be a matter of a few rare pieces. There were at least a dozen men before him wearing full suits of armor made from that material, accompanying the same representatives of Arctic who had visited Pentos years before, when they came alongside their king to negotiate and, later, returned on other trade missions.

"Let us begin, my ministers of Arctic." He began as soon as they reached a room. "But I must say, I am surprised that you have returned after being absent for so long, I even began to imagine the worst."

"I imagine so, Magister", one of the ministers replied in a diplomatic tone, but looking at Illyrio with a certain amusement.

That immediately made the man realize that they probably already knew that their arrival had not been completely unexpected. And, knowing what those people were capable of, Illyrio had stopped discussing his plans openly a long time ago, not even in closed rooms.

The most important decisions were now handled through parchments and destroyed immediately afterward, all out of fear that some animal might be close enough to hear, even though they still did not know exactly what the true extent of Jon Arctic’s abilities was.

"Please, let us sit and talk. I imagine your ships are loaded with goods and I can assure you that Pentos is quite interested in acquiring them", Illyrio said.

The Arcticans nodded and followed him inside, talking as they walked.

Illyrio immediately began doing what he had planned.

He would try to delay them as much as possible.

He bought large quantities of their goods, burning through a considerable portion of his own coffers to keep the Arcticans interested in the city while the ships were unloaded one after another. Little by little, he also began to observe that fleet more closely and realized that half of the vessels seemed to be filled with soldiers.

By his calculations, there were at most ten thousand men there.

According to the information he possessed, there were still another twenty thousand Arcticans somewhere, although the original number he had heard years ago had been much higher, something close to forty-five thousand. Perhaps they had lost many in the war they fought in the North, perhaps they were simply scattered across other places.

Illyrio became particularly fascinated when he heard accounts of the war against the dead and also about the conflicts in Westeros, but the Arcticans proved to be extremely cautious.

They spoke openly about many things. Stories. Journeys. Trade. Battles that had already ended. But whenever Illyrio tried to draw out any truly important information, details about numbers, positions, routes, objectives or future plans, they easily steered away.

They answered without truly answering. Everything remained deliberately vague.

During those days, he ended up buying far more than he had initially intended. Ice, above all, was a product he did not want to give up and, as much as he hated to admit it, he also appreciated many of the other goods brought by Arctic.

They were extraordinary manufacturers, capable of producing things that made even him and his fellow Magisters spend fortunes, despite knowing that the gold would eventually end up in the coffers of a kingdom that could very soon become their enemy.

And who could deny the quality of their cigars, their fabrics or their drinks? The ice itself could turn any drink into something far more pleasant in that climate, and every time the Arcticans returned they seemed to bring some new product to introduce.

Another thing that caught Illyrio’s attention was discovering that not all those goods belonged entirely to the Crown.

He had not negotiated only with the ministers, some men traveling with the fleet had also taken part in the negotiations, representing their own businesses within Arctic. When he learned that a large portion of those products was manufactured by companies/families, independent of the royal family, he was genuinely surprised.

Their king had simply allowed other men to manage those businesses. Of course, the Crown collected its taxes and Jon held a share of the companies’ profits, but he did not try to personally control every workshop, plantation or profitable enterprise that emerged within his kingdom.

According to what they explained to him, the king believed that placing competent people in charge of each business ultimately generated far more wealth than trying to maintain a monopoly over everything. And that would lead to even more trading companies emerging in Arctic.

It was a strange way of thinking to Illyrio.

Any king who discovered such a profitable source of wealth would probably try to keep it for himself, he himself would certainly do so if he were in the same position, but apparently Jon preferred to let his men rack their brains managing the businesses while the Crown collected its share and benefited from the growth of all of them. The king wanted to see Arctic grow as a whole rather than concentrate all the power in the kingdom’s crown.

At the same time, Illyrio could not stop thinking about how that war would continue from that point onward.

Varys was still trying to secure Dorne for their side and hoped to achieve the same with the Stormlands, but Arctic was far too dangerous to be treated as merely another enemy kingdom, more dangerous than the armies the Seven Kingdoms could field.

What troubled Illyrio most was precisely what he had just witnessed, there were soldiers sailing aboard hundreds of ships while, in that same fleet, merchants continued conducting business as though a war were not taking place on the other side of the world.

When he asked the ministers about it, they simply laughed and shrugged.

The war was the responsibility of the king and his commanders.

Their job was to negotiate.

Illyrio still had difficulty understanding how that kingdom managed to separate things in that way, one part of Arctic could be waging wars in Westeros while another crossed Essos selling fabrics, ice, drinks and all kinds of goods as though nothing were happening. To the point of placing 10,000 men who could have been fighting in the war with them aboard the ships...

Either way, Illyrio managed to keep the Arcticans tied up in Pentos for at least three days before they finally turned their attention toward leaving for the south.

The problem was that on that very same day something changed. Illyrio was saying farewell to the ministers when a large force entered the city, without anyone understanding and with nothing able to stop them, they went to the mansion, with even the ministers wanting to understand what was happening.

"An order from the king himself. That man, Varys, is up to something on the continent and the king demands that we keep Illyrio imprisoned in our prison until we know what Varys is planning." The man said in a loud and clear tone.

Illyrio did not even know how things had ended up like this, but soon he found himself being dragged by force toward the ships, his Unsullied tried to stop them, but they were all killed, while a simple explanation was given to the other Magisters.

Illyrio was thrown into a prison aboard one of the ships, his shouting and demands were of no use.

All his planning over the last few days had ended up giving the king enough time to see what had happened in King’s Landing and issue his order. He was unable to pass along his information, his entire mansion was searched, documents and everything else were confiscated.

"So you had a replica of Blackfyre made?" A royal guard went to see him at the end of that day with a document.

Illyrio’s eyes widened, they had found the document he had kept from the creation of the sword. Since the true sword was impossible to find, he had one made himself by gathering a large amount of Valyrian steel, finding a competent blacksmith from Braavos and signing a contract with him, the very same paper that was now in that man’s hand. The sword in Aegon’s possession could now be declared a fake...

At the same time, the man began to laugh, asking where the sword was, Illyrio refused to answer, despite the man finding it hilarious that he had done such a thing, for some reason he did not know.

Either way, the Arcticans’ time in Pentos was enough for the Golden Company’s fleet to avoid the misfortune of encountering the Arcticans in the middle of the ocean.

And that would have been a ridiculous way for everything to end, the conquest they had waited nearly two decades for.

Between Storm’s End and Dorne, they finally reached the continent of Westeros. The ships financed by Illyrio and by other men from whom he had sought investments carefully made their way toward the coast, remaining at a distance while they waited for nightfall, until they finally began to advance and secretly came ashore.

The initial plan was simple, first they would conquer Storm’s End and establish their position there, then they would gather the entire army while waiting for Dorne to finally join them.

They took great care to come ashore during the night and capture any soldier or man who might report their presence, keeping them prisoner while the camp began to be raised on Lord Connington’s lands.

A boy walked through the newly formed camp wearing a necklace with a glowing stone, while at his waist rested an extremely valuable sword, rubies decorated its scabbard and hilt, but it was the blade itself that truly drew attention.

Blackfyre.

Its presence said more than any crown could at that moment and, wherever he went, men stopped what they were doing to greet him.

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

Aegon seemed to enjoy every second of it.

"You seem excited, Aegon." Jon Connington approached with a proud smile.

"It is the first morning I have seen Westeros, it is difficult not to be excited."

"I do not blame you for that", Jon replied with a smile full of affection, almost as if he were looking at his own son. "After all, this is the first time you have seen the land that belongs to you by right and that you will soon rule. So look carefully around you, Aegon, all of this belongs to you and we will deal with anyone who tries to prevent you from taking what is yours."

Aegon observed the lands around them for a few seconds before looking back at him.

"Do you think my brother in the North will do that?"

The question made Connington’s smile fade slightly. Aegon had already received enough information to know that Jon Arctic was in Westeros and that his kingdom had begun to act openly in the war.

"If he listens to reason, no", Connington replied. "He will kneel before you. Whatever he has built in the North, his wealth, his armies or anything else, he will have to share with his king, you." There was a certain disdain in his voice.

Connington had heard many stories about the Arcticans over the past few years and had even tried to approach them during his time in Meereen, but, by the time he arrived, the kingdom’s main representatives had already left.

All he found were a few men involved in the city’s trade and construction, when he tried to discuss political matters, he received an answer that still bothered him.

None of them had the authority to make decisions on behalf of the kingdom.

For Connington, however, it mattered little what Jon had built beyond the Wall. Arctic’s military strength, its wealth, its ships and everything it had conquered should, in some way, serve Aegon, after all, before them stood the true king of Westeros and the elder brother.

If Rhaegar’s son with that Northern woman refused to acknowledge that, then he would discover that even a kingdom considered invincible could bleed.

There was a first time for everything. And perhaps Arctic’s first defeat would come precisely through what the other kingdoms feared most.

A roar tore through the sky.

Connington raised his eyes as three enormous shapes passed over the camp, their wings cutting through the air while the soldiers below stopped to watch them.

Aegon’s three dragons.

His prince had dragons and, when the time came, he would use that power to destroy any enemy who stood in the way of his right to the Iron Throne.

Connington followed the creatures with his eyes until they began to move away, then turned his attention back to Aegon.

Rhaegar would be proud of his son.

At least that was what Jon Connington wanted to believe.

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