Not long after Hidolf's departure, the sea stirred with the slow approach of a great fleet. One by one the ships eased into the harbor, their hulls groaning as ropes were cast and sails lowered. The banner of the golden lion snapped crisply in the wind, bright against the gray-blue morning sky.
Loren was the first to disembark, armored and flanked by guards and knights in Lannister red. His boots struck the planks with practiced confidence. Behind him, sailors heaved a massive wooden cage onto the gangplank, its shape hidden beneath a heavy black cloth.
Aegon had come to greet them himself. The news of the Westerlands fleet had reached him at dawn, and he had wasted no time in riding to the docks. The salt air tugged at his hair as he approached, but the sight awaiting him made him halt mid-stride.
A cage. Enormous. Shrouded in black.
Loren spotted him and bowed low. "Your Highness."
"You must be Ser Loren," Aegon said, eyes narrowed with curiosity as he circled the covered shape. "What exactly have you brought?"
"A small gift from the Lord to Your Highness." Loren lifted his hand. "Uncover it."
The sailors tugged the cloth free. It collapsed in a black heap on the boards, and a deep rumble filled the air. A male lion stood revealed, its golden mane full and burning bright in the sunlight. Its amber eyes flashed as it let out a low growl.
"This is one of the proudest lions of the Westerlands," Loren announced. "We call him Handsome Boy. There is no mane like his in all the realm."
Aegon blinked, though not out of awe. The beast was magnificent, its coat gleaming, its body large and powerful. Yet in the back of his mind rose the image of Sunfyre, radiant gold, wings blazing, the most splendid dragon ever known. Compared to Sunfyre, even this lion seemed an ember beside a star.
Still, Aegon recovered with princely speed. He glanced past the cage toward the anchored fleet, counting the silhouettes of their ships. Then he smiled.
"I have heard Lord Jason keeps two lion-king males. One black-maned, one golden. Am I mistaken in thinking this is one of those?"
Loren's expression brightened instantly, pride warming his features."Indeed, Your Highness. Handsome Boy is one of the pair. The Lord believes his golden mane suits you perfectly."
"A generous thought," Aegon replied. "And fifteen warships as well… my thanks."
Loren dipped his head. "Your Highness is too gracious. The Lord also ordered that the first batch of twenty large cargo ships may remain at your service for one year. The fleets that follow must return to Lannisport as soon as they have delivered their men. I beg your understanding."
Aegon stared at him for a heartbeat, genuinely taken aback. Twenty great ships for a year was no small gift. Cargo vessels were the lifeblood of any growing domain, and their lifespan mattered greatly. Jason Lannister's support was far beyond what he had expected.
"I had thought to send warships to Tyrosh to retrieve people," Aegon said with a faint laugh. "But it seems the Westerlands have arrived in the perfect moment. Twenty ships of war… that is no small help."
"They are yours to command," Loren said.
Aegon's amusement deepened. "Truth be told, the Stepstones are starved of people. Empty lands stretch for leagues without a soul to tend them. I intend to pluck some from the Triarchy."
"Pluck?" Loren frowned. "They are merchants, Your Highness. Greedy and sly to the bone. Are you certain?"
"Not merchants," Aegon said. "Slaves."
Loren froze. His face tightened with unease. "Your Highness… slave trading is forbidden. If the Blacks learn of this, the trouble it may bring-"
Aegon waved him off with a laugh. "Who said anything about buying slaves? I plan only to receive refugees."
He recounted the situation on Tyrosh, how the slaves had risen, how a ragged rebel army now held the island in chaos. The logic was outrageous, yet it fit perfectly together. By the time he finished, Loren could only stare.
"If slaves revolt, they are no longer slaves," Aegon said lightly. "They are rebels. Refugees, if they flee. And if we simply offer ships to anyone who wishes to escape… there is no sale, no coin, no crime."
"I understand," Loren said at last, straightening. "Your Highness acts with remarkable foresight. The Lannister fleet will obey your command."
"There is no hurry. We depart in two days. Rest your men. Tonight I host a feast."
The combined fleet had brought more than ships. Farmers, strong hands, crates of supplies, and chests of gold dragons, all tools Aegon desperately needed. With cargo vessels under his command, he finally had the means to use the gold he possessed.
By evening, he had seen the new arrivals settled and was overseeing preparations for the feast. Lamps were being lit along the wooden halls, and servants hurried across the yard carrying barrels and baskets.
Ser Kraken arrived with a sealed letter clutched in his gauntlets. "Your Highness. News."
Aegon broke the seal. His brows rose within moments, a small laugh escaping him. He read the rest with patience, then set the parchment on the table.
"So the Triarchy are not complete fools after all."
The letter contained three declarations, all newly issued in Essos.
First: the Triarchy had formally declared war on Aegon Targaryen.
The phrasing made him laugh again. Not the Seven Kingdoms, only him. A clever way to avoid provoking Viserys or drawing the realm into the conflict.
Second: the Triarchy proclaimed an Anti-Dragon Alliance and invited all the Free Cities to join, casting themselves as defenders of Essos against Targaryen ambition.
Third: they accused Aegon of secretly supporting the slave revolt on Tyrosh, claiming he sought to abolish slavery on the continent and rebuild a new Valyria.
In three short statements, they had placed two great blames upon him. Lies mixed with truths he had never spoken aloud.
Ser Kraken exhaled slowly. "These declarations are dangerous, Your Highness. We must answer swiftly, or the Free Cities may unite against us."
Loren folded his arms, thoughtful. "Volantis above all. Their slave markets are unmatched. If they march, their strength rivals that of any great lord."
Kraken nodded grimly. "Dragons can win battles, but they do not build peace. Your Highness seeks a land that prospers, not one besieged by swarms of disposable slave soldiers."
Aegon tapped the table, considering. Loren watched him carefully, then gave a small nod of agreement.
"If it were only war, our dragons would ensure we do not lose," Loren said. "But the Free Cities can drown us in legions of men they do not value."
Aegon's gaze sharpened. "It will not come to that. If our plans unfold as they should, the rebels on Tyrosh will soon flow into my hands like blood into a heart. Once I have the people, no alliance in Essos will matter."
With manpower, he could raise an army, build ships, construct fortresses, do anything. And with dragons above them, that army would be unstoppable.
He leaned back, the faintest smile on his lips. "And once we have strength, those Free Cities that think themselves mighty will learn the error of their judgement."
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A/N: Aegon's ambition has begun to stir.As his power grows, so do his foes, traitors, and enemies rising with blades already drawn.
Will he truly succeed… or be crushed before he can claim it all?
If you want to find out, read ahead on Patreon. 19 advance chapters available, the first 2 are free.
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