Chapter 12 Part 1

108 AC - Lys

Johanna Swann POV

The ink wetted the parchment as Johanna's hand moved across from left to right in laces, in bows, and in sharp lines, so swimming was she in her thoughts and in her words that she barely registered the door knocking.

"Come in" she called out absent-mindedly as she continued to write instructions on what to purchase from the trip to Volantis.

With the upcoming Dohaerys festivities, a festivity to which she'd won the rights to provide the entertainment, her very first victory in high society, she needed to make sure that it was a resounding success.

A clearing of throats made Johanna blink out of her thoughts, her quill still in her hands, and she looked up and she saw that it was Kriritte, her assistant in most matters these days. Much needed too, she mused, for her council was the sword of steel she wielded against their foes. She eyed the elder woman for a brief moment.

Kriritte, or Ritte as she liked to call the woman, was a beauty, firm rose petal pink lips that stood out against her pale though marred skin, marred with ancient scars that did not take away from her beauty, a beauty of a kind of wildness emboldened fiery red hair that flowed silk strands of captured fire.

Though, she was far from a delicate thing, aside from the scars that spoke of a difficult past, like so many of the other girls in the pillow houses of Lys. It was in her eyes, you see. Blue eyes that still burned with blue flame even now, even after years Johanna had bought Ritte her freedom.

But then, Johanna considered, it must be the wildling blood in her. Where the other girls chose to set aside their pain, Ritte never forgot. Never forgetting the bite of winter. The bite of hunger. And neither did she forget the freedom taken from her.

Even when she was beaten into seeming submission or when she was tied and forced upon, she never lost that ferocity of her people. Her own. The same kind of ferocity that Johanna thought wolves must feel when they smelled warm blood on snow.

Six and ten years a pillow house slave failed to burn that out.

No, Johanna thought, her ferocity never dimmed, only changed into the patient kind.

The vengeful kind.

She almost pitied Belan Ostos for the fate Ritte had planned for the slaver.

"We have a guest…the chequered kind."

Ah…well, it was about time.

"Uthrik?" she asked and Ritte shook her head.

"No, it's a different one. Brown-haired. Walks like a fighter." Ritte paused for a second as her hand went up to her face "Scarred. If barely" she said as she slid down the right side of her chin with a finger.

She eyed Ritte for a moment which the woman understood and gave her a little nod of assurance which made Johanna relax. Nothing was askew with their guest, she accepted, having successfully given the answers to the security phrases.

So a knight then most likely. Or mayhaps a guard.

She idly wondered if her letter had been too straightforward, too easy to read between the lines of the importance of her request as she expected him to just send a merchant or a sailor like he usually did.

She hadn't thought she needed reinforcements, not for a while at least, but it was certainly welcome if it came sooner.

Johanna placed the quill down and spoke calmly, her face a mask of amiability as she eyed the red-haired woman "Has he been entertained?"

Ritte's lips twisted slightly into a faint sneer "He's fucked out." Ritte said bluntly, like usual. "He got his fill with Mira before I came in." Johanna nodded in understanding, noting the man's choice in a Dornish girl. Aegon's men, sailor, merchant or knight, as respectful as they were, were still that. Men.

"Call him in in ten minutes." Johanna said after a few moments and Ritte's sneer twisted into a faint smirk. She'd make him wait for a little while.

Ritte left and the ten minutes passed by quickly and soon enough her guest was being led into her solar. She eyed the man named Danton carefully.

He was young, she thought, no more than five and twenty. He was fairly average in height and his stature, underneath the barely hidden chainmail underneath his shirt, was nothing impressive either. Even his face, lightly browned by the sun flanked by short strands of brown hair on either side of his head, was forgettable too.

Except for that scar that was a little hard to see even so close.

"Lady Johanna" Danton said with a low dip of the head and she smiled beautifully at the man in seeming gratitude. "I am here on the Prince's behalf."

Johanna took a few moments before she nodded serenely "Thank you for coming. I appreciate the urgency with which the Prince has acted." She paused for a moment before she gestured him inward before she turned towards the table "Would you like a drink, good Ser?" she asked as she glanced over her shoulder.

"No milady" Danton refused and she noted the term he'd used for her. Milady.

She had long since been anything but a lady though Aegon's men unfailingly referred her with such terms. She even thought that some of them even meant it.

Mayhaps, she mused to herself, this one did too given his lack of correction of her calling him a ser. "The Prince" Danton began as she finished pouring herself a glass and he continued when she turned around to face the man.

"The Prince was surprised by your message" Danton said and she could tell that he was being careful with his words. That was good at least. At least the Prince chose smartly…especially given the importance of her request.

"The situation has changed." Johanna told the knight as she walked towards the desk and leaned against it, her glass in both of her hands as she looked at the man.

Her position was not quite precarious but it was also far from secure and with the moves against her by the Lorys family, one of the major families that owned a significant portion of the pillow houses in Lys, she needed his help.

The knight narrowed his eyes and she took it as a prompt to continue "I've made some…ambitious decisions. Decisions that do not sit well with a number of powerful families" she paused for a moment as she eyed the knight, carefully gauging his reactions.

She was impressed, really. His reactions were muted, careful, and she wondering who this knight really was. He looked Westerosi, that was for sure, but she couldn't tell if he was highborn or common.

His accent was common enough but his words, the way he spoke, acted, was not.

"Is your position compromised?" Danton asked, and she hid her surprise at the question before she shook her head.

"No" she answered and it was truthful too. It wasn't anywhere near that but trouble was brewing, and it was brewing hotly. She learnt not to ignore that instinct.

The noble families of Lys were like any other, quick to find insult and quicker still to lash out to threats. They were plotting against her and it would only be a matter of time before they decided they could get rid of her without repercussions.

"But it can quickly turn" she said before she drank of her glass, her eyes always on him. After she stopped drinking, she continued "I will need more support"

There were not many of Aegon's men in Lys, nothing but a dozen guards supplemented with a few dozen more former slave soldiers she'd purchased, and should things get violent, she didn't think they'd be able to put up much resistance.

Normally her men would have been enough but the Lorys family were a wealthy one, and a family that often had a representative in the conclave in the past. She wouldn't be able to get her men in position to cut their throats.

'If only it was a few years later' she thought to herself. She might have been able to poison them instead. As it was, her influence amongst the slaves was nowhere near enough to indirectly attack them and neither was her influence amongst the noble families strong enough to ensure she wouldn't raise their ire should they discover her retributions, however slim that chance was to be.

"How many men did you bring? The men on your ship may be enough."

"If it is bad enough that you need to ask for more help, three score won't help you." Danton answered as he shook his head before meeting her gaze once more.

"You believe they will attack?"

"Yes" she answered easily

"They're unhappy and may be unhappier still should I continue to find favour." And her pillow houses were beginning to eat at the income of a number of pillow houses. Envy was rising as much as resentment was and her rise in the social spheres of Lys was being noted by all. The people and the nobles alike.

They'd always noted that it would, in accordance to their plans, though it was happening faster than they thought, than even she thought. The heir to the Dohaerys family became enamoured with one of her girls, Lora, and through Lora, now his concubine, she was finding more and more favour by the ruling families of Lys.

The plan had always been to do it slowly, to win over the influential families and the people, until the moment was right but when an opportunity arises as it had done now…

It had to be taken if only to solidify her position in the upper echelons of society.

Danton considered for a long few moments until he nodded "Very well. I and the three score of men will remain." Danton halted before he eyed her meaningfully "The Prince has given me authority to do so but do know that searching eyes are aplenty. This is not what the Prince would have wanted. Not at this stage."

Johanna nodded serenely, a mild look of regret on her face. "I know."

The Prince had wanted things to go slowly so that they could avoid attentions until the moment was right, years, decades from now. "I will be more careful next time."

"See that you do." Danton said brusquely "The Prince has put much faith on your shoulders." Danton said with narrowed eyes.

"Faith you think is misplaced?" Johanna prodded as she lifted her glass to her lips even if the thought irked her so.

"It does not matter what I think. I live to serve our Prince."

He was opinionated, she thought to herself, he was finding it all distasteful. 'How hypocritical' she sneered inwardly, given that he'd lain with one of her girls.

"How knightly." Johanna said mockingly before she drank of her glass and after she consumed it, she levelled a look at Danton whose expression had tightened slightly.

"Do not be concerned. Our Prince's faith in me will not be betrayed. I owe him a debt that cannot be repaid." Johanna told the knight with a clipped tone before she stood up away from the desk "The three score will be enough, for now, but I may need more."

Danton shook his head "No more will come. The ship will return to inform our Prince but no more will come. Not for some time."

"Because of the problems with the Pirate King." Johanna lightly probed and she caught the look of alarm on his face before he stared at her piercingly.

"You know?"

"It is known amongst the families of the conclave." Johanna confirmed the man's worries. "It is a sore point for some." The Mopanar family were concerned and by proxy so were their allies. The war in the Stepstones was proving to be costly especially with the involvement of the Braavosi.

Lys was not like Tyrosh, with its formidable trade guilds and their industry, or Myr with its famed artisans and their goods that was sought after as far as Yi-Ti.

Its pleasure houses were its main industry, the port between the East and the West, and it greatly depended on frictionless waters between the East and the West.

And the war with Prince Daemon Targaryen, his conquest funded by Braavosi gold and supported by the Velaryon fleet, was impactful to Lys. Not overly much but enough to be noticed. Westerosi, Braavosi and even Pentosi ships were hardly seen at their ports in the past few moons.

The Qarthene, the Ghiscari, even the Yi-Tish were coming in less numbers with word of the dangerous waters of the Stepstones spreading even to the far east.

Whilst their economy was far from dented, years of this would not be welcomed and she even thought that Lys would be happy enough to concede the Stepstones in return for trade to resume although she doubted they'd ever say as much.

She also didn't think Myr antagonising Prince Aegon would be enough to sour Lys on the Triarchy – the Mopanar family did not have that kind of influence – but she did think it a grating issue for the family given how the Prince was a major income for the family and subsequently a major income for many more minor noble families.

The man's expression darkened even further "Are the Lysene involved?"

Johanna shook her head. "They are not the kind to get involved in spats, especially with the Prince." The Mopanar family was however influential enough in the politics of the city to disallow others to ruin that prosperous relationship with Prince Aegon.

Plus, she had the impression that the Triarchy was merely a means to an end.

And considering the way the Braavosi were supporting Prince Daemon's Conquest, she wasn't sure if that end would last beyond a few more years.

She expected it to all to come to an end sooner rather later, to be truthful.

Mayhaps not in spirit but surely in name, the alliance may remain, but only to sustain cordial relationships with the more powerful Tyrosh and Myr, both of whom would not take betrayal of any kind well.

Mayhaps that would change, when Lys was in a position to seek out other alliances.

"If that changes…" 'If the Lysene disposition to the Prince changes…'

"You will be the first to hear of it."

The Prince had a number of locations in Lys where information could be delivered. With the permanent arrival of Danton and his men, she imagined that a few more would spring up in Lys.

Danton looked at her for a long few moments before nodded "Very well. I will send a few men discretely to bolster your guard. Through them, you may contact me. It would be best that I and my men remain at a large distance."

"You'll reside at one of the shops." Johanna stated more than asked.

Corinth had a few shops that sold their wares, particularly their porcelain wares, one of the more popular wares sold on Lys. Most had only been familiar with the Yi-Tish kinds yet these ones, ones that were very clearly Lysene in design was very popular amongst both the nobility and the freemen.

"Aye." Danton confirmed before he inclined his head "With your leave, milady."

Johanna gave it and she watched the man retreat away, even as she could hear him descend down the steps. Soon enough Ritte walked in. "Did Mira learn anything?"

Ritte shook her head "Who exactly he is? No" she said before she met Johanna's gaze "She did say that he was extremely courteous and even gentle of his own will."

Johanna hummed. How odd. Given the impression she had of the man just from their conversation, she thought that he was the kind not to take to pillow houses.

He was a ball of contradiction and she wondered how he'd come into service for the Prince. And even more so, she wondered why the Prince had to send such a man when before he'd been happy enough to use merchants who, albeit had discretion, were not as…careful as Danton was.

Mayhaps things were changing, she mused to herself and she considered what that would mean for their plans…for her people.

"We can put a man on him?" Ritte suggested, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Johanna shook her head.

"No. It would be unseemly." Plus, she thought it would not go over well at all should it be learned of. She also thought she'd learn enough about the man, and by proxy about his connection to the Prince, in the coming moons given that he was staying.

Johanna met Ritte's gaze. "He is an ally."

Ritte scoffed but she didn't say anything else, knowing better. She'd heard enough from Ritte's scepticism about the Prince and whatever she'd say wouldn't be new.

She knew that Ritte's trust in men was gone, if it had ever been there. To her, the Prince was useful, and only useful until he was no more, which Ritte believed would be when Lys was under their control.

Ritte left shortly afterwards and she returned to her seat though she couldn't find it within her to continue her work for the day and instead, she went towards a hidden part of the desk where she kept but one thing.

She placed the letter on her desk, the words written in Common though to anyone who could read it, it would appear nothing but gibberish.

It was only after she was freed and taught the deciphering keys, had she been able to read the letter that she'd heard that unforgettable evening by Uthrik.

'To Lady Johanna of House Swann.

I am Aegon Targaryen, son of Baelon Targaryen, grandson of King Jaehaerys, first of his name, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

I first heard of your plight when word reached Kings Landing that your Lord Uncle refused to pay the ransom for your safe return. I will not mince words.

It was a scandal when the court heard of it but it was soon forgotten as Lords and Ladies lost interest in the story, having already had cast their feeble minds on the next scandal.

To much of my shame, so did my House forget your plight.

However, I have never forgotten. I could not forget. For how could I forget the fate of an innocent fifteen year old child?

You were failed, Johanna of House Swann.

You were failed by your kin. You were failed by your countrymen. You were failed by the Crown. Words cannot express the depths of sorrow I feel at your fate nor how you must feel betrayed by your own people. By your own kin.

I will not try.

Instead, I shall do my best to rectify your fate should you allow me to.

You are now a woman grown. By my estimation, you are nine and ten years of age. Four years you have suffered the indignity of slavery.

And it is now that I finally have the gold and the influence to end that indignity.

I will not lie to you. Your Lord Uncle will not have you back. I believe you understand this. He believes you tarnished goods. He is a fool for believing so and a greater fool for abandoning his brother's daughter on such a matter that was out of your control

So I will leave the choice to you what you wish to happen. In every choice, you will be free. That is and will be unchanged. How you express that freedom, is your choice.

So the choices I present you is thus.

You may join mine and my lady-wife's court.

Or if you desire a place in Kings Landing, I will find you that place.

Or if you wish neither of those choices, I will have you taken to Braavos and given enough gold for you to find your place.

Those are the easiest choices I can give you.

And if you're curious what I mean by easiest choices…well, I have one other choice for you. It is a great challenge and it is a challenge that is mayhaps too much to ask.

But I will ask you to consider it.

I cannot fully detail what this challenge is, even in such secrecy, but I will say this.

There are and will be more like you, innocent girls, and boys, taken from their homes and their families, forced into slavery and indignity.

It is my hope that I can help some of these innocents and that is at the heart of the challenge. I believe you will understand a little what it is I might be asking of you.

And you may wonder 'why do this?'. 'Why go through all this effort?'.

You would be right to wonder and I hope that you do.

Such thinking would serve you well.

My endeavours are not completely pure hearted. I am not that virtuous.

But I believe that people deserve a chance and it is my hope that one day people will receive that chance.

Mayhaps you find yourself in agreement with me when we meet. Think on your choices and if you have another choice you wish to make, I will consider it.

Prince Aegon of House Targaryen.

She remembered how she felt when she was read the letter by Uthrik.

Disbelief. Shock. Anger. Hope.

Her eyes closed as she remembered how rooted she was on the bed when the letter was read out to her. It upended everything. She was forgotten. That is what she had believed of herself. What she had grown embittered about.

She lost her parents at the hands of the pirates. She lost her freedom and was made a slave. And she lost her maidenhood at the hands of the pirates that captured her, after her uncle refused to pay her ransom, despite fighting bitterly but it was to no avail and in the end…in the end it had broken her more than her uncle's refusal had.

The rapes afterwards by the other pirates were nought but a blur.

Only after she arrived in Lys, to this very pillow house she now owned, did she regain some semblance of herself. The women had nurtured her back to health and taught her everything she needed to know to survive and to thrive.

The best bed slaves were afforded the best foods, the best wines, the best everything.

She became one of those best bed slaves. She learnt how to bend men, even angry and forceful ones, to her will and make them gentle in ways they didn't know to be.

She softly caressed the letter. She thought that this had been her lot in life now. That this was the best she would ever have. Until Prince Aegon looked for her. Until he shattered her new world just as ably as those pirates had done to the old.

No one cared in her own home country and anyone who had cared was long dead and their bones at the bottom of the seas. Save for one Prince. A third Prince who shouldn't have even known about her lest come all of this way to offer her freedom.

The moons since that day had gone quick, having found herself freed within a few days, with means she'd only learnt moons later when she'd learnt several other Westerosi slaves had been freed by the Prince's men, and she had trouble committing to a choice…although, Johanna mused to herself, she probably had always made the choice…she just wasn't listening to her heart.

Lys…Lys had become her home. The ugly and the beautiful.

The girls and the women that she'd worked with, she'd broken bread with, who she'd nursed and who'd she'd cried to and who'd comforted her…they'd become her family. Her people. She did not want to abandon them.

She already missed them those moons she'd been away from them.

She'd met with Prince Aegon and told him that she wanted to hear the fourth choice though he'd surprised her when he all but interrogated her ceaselessly, asking her what she remembered of her lessons with the Stonehelm maester, what she thought of the pillow house that had been her home for past four years, what she thought of the Lysene and so much more, some of it that hadn't made sense at the time.

It had been exhaustive and she still remembered vividly the comment he'd made about how she was reacting to his behaviour…demure yet seductive, he'd said, all whilst answering with a level voice.

He'd apologised with a contrite look after all of that, saying that he needed to be sure that she was the right person for what he wished for Lys.

It seemed that she was.

He told her of his plans for Lys – You've been powerless all of your life. Now you have the chance to have all the power you desire and it will be for the good of the people – very rough plans she might add that was only refined years later, but she knew back then that she wanted it. She wanted it all. It was dangerous, she knew, and if the Lysene nobility knew of the conspiracy that she was leading, she knew she was a dead woman.

As would be all of her girls and her followers.

But that was life. Without taking risk, you were doomed to wither and die.

Johanna folded the letter and returned it to its secret place. She'd begged Uthrik not to take it with him, pleading that she'd keep it safe. A soft smile crept on her face. It had gotten Uthrik in great trouble with the Prince, he'd said a few years later.

Her mind returned to the memories of her agreement to the Prince's plans and her swearing her loyalty to the Prince. He wasn't like any man she'd met before.

In truth, she thought privately, it was almost as if he was two people wearing the same skin…an opportunistic man who could be as cold as the winter breeze considering what must be done in Lys and on the other, a man who was too good to believe could exist with what she'd seen him do for the slaves and the children.

Mayhaps that was why she believed that their plans for Lys could work. Two faces that mayhaps could make sure their plans were destined to succeed.

It was working thus far, after all, even with this minor hiccup. The Lorys family would not be the end of her or her dreams. She would see to that, she thought as she shook her head before picking up the quill and once more began to write.

----------------------------------------------Break----------------------------------------------

108 AC – Port Corinth

He gazed out at the ceiling, the faint light of the sole candle flame illuminating only the corner of their bedroom. He'd been awake for a little while now, possibly quarter of an hour, and he was fairly certain he would not be able to go back to sleep.

It was likely several hours before dawn too, which has been around the time he'd been waking up for the past few days, often not getting more than five hours sleep.

He was restless, restless on the eves of war, restless with thoughts of lost voyages.

He slowly got out of bed but it seemed like it wasn't gently enough as Gael stirred in bed, so much so that her head slowly rose. "Aegon?" Gael murmured more asleep than awake. Aegon smiled faintly as he covered her with the silk bedcover.

"Rest" Aegon whispered quietly as he leaned over and he kissed her on the forehead.

She let off a pleased hum before she fell asleep almost as soon as she'd stirred.

He remained standing for a few moments, simply watching her sleep, before he got dressed into his clothing and light armour after which he made his way out of their bedroom and out into the hallway. His eyes went towards his children's bedrooms who were next door to their own and quickly checked up on them, one by one.

When he had the fort built, construction that took several years to finish even with concrete – though it was somewhat different from concrete given that it was lain instead of poured –, and he made sure that the rooms to his children were mere moments away. Their rooms were at the highest point of the fort and was only accessible from one entry point. None of the rooms also had any windows, such was his paranoia, and were as secure as he could make this temporary home.

After being satisfied with the sight of his sleeping children, he left their wing of rooms towards the entrance doors that led to the exit of the apartment esque wing.

He undid the locks from within and was met by three of his men who stood guard on this shift. "My Prince" the guards saluted before he set them at ease.

"I'll be going for a flight." Aegon paused for a moment as he looked upon the playing cards that was on the table before he added "I will be back at dawn."

"Of course, my Prince." The lead guard said and soon enough he left them to continue out towards the dragon stables which was directly connected to the apartment. He reached out to Mīsaragorn who responded eagerly to his own eagerness for a flight.

He walked down the stairs and arrived at the dragon stables that was alight with torches underneath a starless night. The stables were a very large open area in the middle of the fort where each of the dragons had cave like homes built for them, and saw the dragonkeepers and half a dozen guards at the far end of the large stable.

He considered the parallels of the stables with the dragonpit of Kings Landing.

He never liked how far the dragonpit was from the Red Keep.

The dragons did not pose a danger to their riders and honestly, neither did the dragons pose a danger to the rider's family or even the servants if they kept their distance…in most normal circumstances.

Normal circumstances being that the riders develop a proper bond with their dragons. Over the past eight or so years, Gael had developed such a proper bond with Liāzmariña, and he'd made sure his children did so too with their dragons.

With such a proper bond, came also restraint amongst the dragons themselves.

Dragons were intelligent beings, smarter than any other animal he knew off safe for humans themselves, and they also picked up emotional nuances of their riders, which meant that cohabitation without the need to separate them was more than possible.

His gaze went towards the far side, several hundred metres away. The other entry point to the stable lead to the rest of the fort complex where he and his family spent most of their time when they were in the fort which was a lot more pleasant.

He exchanged a few words with the lead dragonkeeper, an aging man who'd worked at the dragonpit of Kings Landing, who informed him that they were running low on meat for the dragons.

"I'll have Mīsaragorn hunt for a few whales this afternoon." Aegon told the old man.

Whilst Gaelithox, Castorys' golden dragon, Polaerys' grey-blue she-dragon and Tyraxes, Valarr's black dragon, Shrykos, were all old enough and large enough to hunt for their themselves, he was reluctant to let them go without his children guiding and teaching them to hunt non-livestock.

Their Summer Islander neighbours would not take well to dragons preying on their livelihoods, especially since so few cattle and goats were reared on Walano.

It was partly why he was focusing on making sure the dragons developed a taste for whale, dolphin, shark and tuna meat. Thus far, it seemed to help.

His attentions turned towards the black serpentine head that stuck out of its cave, a low rumble escaping its throat. Aegon looked towards the old dragonkeeper, silently telling him to attend to Shrykos, and the old man bowed his head before departing to attend to the needs of Valarr's dragon.

The corner of his lip rose in faint amusement as he watched the old dragonkeeper direct his younger fellows to get the cleaning tools.

That need being specifically dragon excrement that needed to be taken out of Shrykos' abode. Valarr's dragon preferred to dump his waste at the back of the stable rather than what most of the other dragons preferred, which was to dump their excrement in flight.

Why Shrykos did so, none of them knew, especially since none of the dragons were chained into their stables and could freely fly out, but Aegon thought that Valarr's playfulness probably influenced Shrykos in some form or another.

Finally, Mīsaragorn strode out into the open ground out from his stable, the ground shaking dully as Mīsaragorn walked upon his wing fingers and hind legs.

Mīsaragorn had grown larger and larger over the past five years, so much so that he was either as large as Caraxes or only slightly smaller than the Blood Wyrm, who was three and ten years Mīsaragorn's elder.

The old dragonkeeper suggested it would not take Mīsaragorn long to grow to the size of Vermithor, mayhaps another ten to five and ten years, and if that growth sustained after that, it was possible that Mīsaragorn would reach the size of Meraxes by the time he was sixty or seventy years of age. Maybe even Vhagar decades later.

The other interesting point the dragonkeeper mentioned was that Polaerys' she-dragon, Tyraxes, was growing as faster than Mīsaragorn at his greatest growth rate, and by now it was catching up to Gaelithox and Shrykos, both of whom had hatched in the cribs of Castorys and Valarr when Tyraxes was three years younger.

He'd wondered if it was because how Tyraxes was hatched with blood sacrifice and pyre set aflame with dragon flame from Liāzmariña and Mīsaragorn.

The egg that Tyraxes had hatched from had turned into stone not long after they departed Dragonstone and away from the fires of Dragonmont.

Liāzmariña had yet to lay any clutches and as the boys grew, Polaerys was beginning to feel left out as Valarr and Castorys visited and fed their dragons.

Aegon knew that it was possible to hatch dragon eggs that turned into stone.

Daenerys had done it with blood sacrifice and maybe because of some kind of magical shenanigans that came from the red comet.

As he delved deeper into magic, he realised that it was a crude yet effective way.

Feeding the flames of a pyre with the flesh of a living person, flames that have always been associated with life and creation, along with the flesh of a dead person, the symbol of death, underneath a symbol of magic, a red comet, it all culminated in feeding, offering enough magic, life and death to ignite stone cold eggs back to life.

Fire made flesh.

Flesh made of fire and magic and death.

He did not think that event was a fluke at all and was certain that Daenerys probably had some help, divine or mayhaps with the help of Blood Raven, in carrying out that ritual during the precise moment of that Red Comet, whether she knew it or not.

Not for the first time did he lament not reading the damn books.

Fortunately, he knew enough about magic by then to figure out how he can get Polaerys' stone dragon egg to hatch.

Valyrians, most specifically Dragonlord Valyrians, were likely nearly as magical as Children of the Forest were. That was becoming clearer the more texts and evidence he gathered. The simple truth was…

House Targaryen was chimeric.

Genetically speaking, of course.

When it is said that Targaryens are kin to the dragons, it should be noted that it is literal. Just as a Child of the Forest should be considered in a very literal sense too.

The ancient Valyrians, long after they tamed the dragons, were infamous for practicing vile blood magic and dark sorcery. Gogossos was a prime example of this evil act where they would mate beast and man to create half-man creatures.

Would it be a surprise to anyone to think that the ancient Valyrians already had a wealth of knowledge on how to do that because they had done it to themselves, mayhaps in order to develop characteristics that dragons could smell and sense to make dragon-bonds more 'natural' thus removing the necessity of dragon horns?

In any case, with that kinship, the, for a lack of a better word, 'magicalness' of their blood was orders of magnitude greater than the blood sacrifice of a normal person.

The innate value of dragonlord blood, in terms of life and in terms of magic, was more valuable in rituals for magic than the sacrifice and death of an ordinary person.

Daenerys, should she have shed her blood onto the stone eggs, quite possibly could have hatched the eggs underneath the red comet and gotten the eggs to hatch as well.

He remembered something about Melissandre sacrificing Robert Baratheon's kids to the pyres to see into the future or something like that because they supposedly had King's Blood but he wondered if she sacrificed the poor children because of the Targaryen blood instead of some kind of esoteric, wishy-washy notion that there was something 'divine' about being King.

In any case, he'd worked with Gael to draw out some of Polaerys' blood to smear it onto the stone dragon egg before having both Liāzmariña and Mīsaragorn set a pyre aflame on which the stone egg had rested upon for over two days.

Dragon flame was similarly orders of magnitude more magical than anything else he knew of, safe for Weirwood Trees. Beings of Fire and Magic that could spit out explosive napalm like nothing else. If there was anything magical enough like the occurrence of a red comet to provide the 'fuel' needed to spark, it was their flames.

And it worked. The stone egg hatched and as soon as Polaerys picked up the drakeling, the bond had been established.

Hmm. Whilst the method was proving to be successful, and possibly led to larger dragons, he also considered that it might have been the influx of magic at that early stage that could be more important than the method in which dragons hatched.

But then again, he could just be plainly wrong on both counts and that it was nothing more than chance and whimsy that factored into the growth of dragons.

After all, Mīsaragorn had been a runt until years later and somehow began to grow rapidly after Aegon recovered a little from his depression and nihilism.

Mīsaragorn lowly rumbled and gruffly warbled as he set his great serpentine eyes on Aegon, drawing his attentions, and the corners of Aegon's lips ticked upwards as he walked over towards his impatient dragon.

He placed his hand on Mīsaragorn's warm snout as his dragon arched his neck and placed his body closer to the ground so that Aegon could climb atop.

Aegon obliged and began to climb atop his dragon and soon enough he was strapped into his saddle. Mīsaragorn extended out his wings, wings that filled up almost a third of the width of the stables and after several earth shaking steps, Mīsaragorn began to flap his wings and took them away, out into the starless night.

An hour or so later…

The wind howled mutely against his ears this far up, and the sounds of Mīsaragorn's fleshy membrane wavering against the push of the wind were louder this high up above the clouds.

It was a comforting sound, the sound of beating wings.

A sound that combined with Mīsaragorn's soft breathing that he could feel through the saddle itself. He could feel the inhale, and the exhale and the resultant sharper sound of thin membrane shaking against the wind after that exhale, and it was a symphony of peaceful music that he cherished so very much.

Peaceful music, he mused as his gaze remained affixed onto the stars that hung so very far in the night sky above the clouds, that seemed only fleeting with all that was going on…with all that needed to be done.

For a little while, he could forget about everything.

Forgetting about long term plots with distant aims, forgetting about war, forgetting about the West, and simply fly under the stars with the wind smashing into his face.

It wasn't long before the sun crept out of the horizon, slowly hiding away the stars with its light and Aegon sighed knowing that it was time to return. He directed Mīsaragorn to return as they were likely hundreds of miles away from home.

Mīsaragorn roared before he changed direction to the south to Walano, to home.

'Home…' Aegon obsessed on that word…on the notion as they fly towards Corinth.

Corinth wasn't home.

Not quite. Not for him…not for his people.

Aegon straightened in his seat slightly before he glanced with a hard look towards the side of his saddle, and he kept glancing at it even as they landed a few miles from the town of Corinth atop a hill near the farming fields as the first lights of down licked at the world.

"Home…" Aegon said with a tired sigh in his voice, the urge to resist to unravel the major source of his restlessness slowly breaking apart.

He could remember it as if it was yesterday. He'd been so excited, so certain, and he still was to an extent, that there had to be another landmass, another continent, that he based much of his family and his people's future on that certainty.

Whilst the common folk did not know exactly where the lands he'd promised them were, there were still too many people who knew of his 'dream' of lands in the West and anything short of finding it would make him lose face and credibility.

Both of which were dangerous things to lose in such a brutal world even if he'd worked hard in tightening the loyalties of his people to him and his plans. Naturally, it helped that objectively the common folk from Dragonstone were substantially better off.

But unfortunately, the longer the Lady Dawn and Discovery were away, the longer they did not return, the more the pressure grew on him to abandon his drive to the West and to settle for lands that he knew were achievable to be made theirs.

Aegon's expression tightened as a dark shadow flashed across his face.

He hated the idea of settling anywhere subpar and he hated that it was becoming a reality sooner than later and he hated that they'd have to settle somewhere in Essos.

Aegon's hands tightened on the handle of the saddle and the soft sound of leather creaking filled his ears as he zeroed into that idea.

He didn't want to settle in Essos, especially on the mainland.

It was a losing strategy.

And truthfully, that was because of for one reason and one reason only.

The Faceless Men

He'd seen what they could do and he honestly feared them.

Not because they could kill him but because at any stage, at any point, they could destroy what he was building and they could kill his family with near impunity.

He had no defence against them and the only thing he might have working in favour for him was that the price for his and his family's heads was too high for anyone to be capable of paying.

But would the price be still too high should he be perceived to be an intolerable enemy by a coalition of Free Cities? If he stomped on the Free Cities, if he became a neighbour in either the Valleys of the Painted Mountains or in the lands of the old Kingdom of Sarnor in Northern Essos?

He would not be able to live cordially with slaving cities on both sides of his lands and he expected some kind of response should he destroy Slaver's Bay and disrupt the slave trade.

And living cordially with the slaving societies was not an option he could accept because he knew the consequences of turning a blind eye. Values he was instilling into his burgeoning society would erode away and blend in with the societies around them.

Just as China and India influenced Asia.

Just as the Phoenicians and the Minoans influenced Greece and the Levant.

Just as Greece influenced Rome.

Just as Persia influenced the Arabs.

And just as Rome influenced Europe.

That left only Moraq, both Moraq islands as the truly viable option to settle.

Lightly settled with only Faros and Port Moraq as the major settlement totalling somewhere around eighty thousand in population dotted with numerous villages around the western coastline that were small in numbers due to the constant slave raids which grimly made it a relatively easy place to conquer.

But both islands were poor.

According to the reports, the islands lacked natural resources beyond wood, coal and iron, which he suspected was why it was never truly settled by either the Ghiscari or the Yi-Tish. The plains that it boasted in the north was semi-arid with only a few plains suitable for intensive farm whilst in the south there was dense rain forests.

The major redeeming qualities was that it would be a veritable hub of commerce and trading, with a little work, and that Yi-Ti had much of the resources that his people would need and he could conquer Qarth and the neighbouring cities with relatively little attention from the rest of Essos who rarely cast their eyes that far East.

It was a solid 'B' grade land and truthfully not the worst option to have.

But it was not the best option.

Returning to Westeros was obviously out.

The more time he got to think about the Hive Mind trees and their bitter servants, the more suspicious he was getting about their view towards humanity in general.

It didn't help that the Dance seemed to be well on its way based on the reports he was getting from Selyse and the others in Kings Landing.

Truth to be told…

He reached out towards the hidden pocket beside his seat and took out a roll made out of thick reed and placed it in his lap. He undid the fastening loops before he opened the top of the roll and he took out the map that had lain protected within.

He did not think anywhere in the Old World was the right place to settle.

He eyed the rolled up map with a tired look, a look akin to weary worn leather, and he swept his hand heavily across his face before he, moments later, returned the reed roll into the pocket and opened up the map and gazed upon it with accusing eyes.

He really hoped that he wasn't wrong and that there was something West.

It would be perfect…a new land…a new beginning…a new system of governance.

It was…idealistic. 'The Land of the Free'.

Say what you will about the Americans, but they knew how to create dreams and principles that echoed through time. Ideas were hard to kill and founding such a nation on such principles would be difficult to destroy or alter.

He'd have the time, the freedom, the legitimacy, to shape and craft the society he wanted to create, a society that could last generations and a society his family could maintain and rule whilst working together to change the rest of the world in safety.

And yet…chances were, such ideas and dreams were nothing but a pipedream, nothing but a lost attempt to reshape what it means to be Valyrian.

Mīsaragorn growled with animalistic intent and Aegon snapped out of his dark thoughts. Aegon smiled faintly as Mīsaragorn reared his head towards him.

"I know, my friend." Aegon said as he rolled up the map before he extended out his hand and affectionately tapped the steel like scales of his companion.

"I'm not losing hope" he said with a faint smile though it was fleeting.

"There is still time."

That was true enough, he mused to himself a little more hopeful.

With their looming war in the Basilisk Isles, which was sure to take many moons, mayhaps even a year could pass before he returned.

Anything could happen, he mused to himself as his eyes trailed across the features of Westeros, of Essos, of all of the Known World…and of the features of Sothoryos that had their origins from old Summer Islander maps held in the libraries of Prince Jalla's family Palace.

He might be proven right by the time he returned, greeted by the sight of the Lady Dawn and Discovery from their voyage West having found their new home.

His hand traced across the map he'd had made which included the features of the copies of those ancient maps, and he stared at the Western coastline of Sothoryos that went south a thousand leagues, a coastline that his people had confirmed to be accurate and had followed down south several hundred leagues more.

A coastline that may well extend thousands of leagues before they went around East.

His people had not seen an end to the western coastline of Sothoryos and the Summer Islanders, in their maps or in their oral chronicles, hadn't either.

According to the oral historians that kept track of the stories and accomplishments of their people, the maps – though the ones he'd seen were not the originals and had been made only a few centuries ago from other copies which themselves were copies of other copies – were made during the height of their era of exploration.

An era of exploration that had lasted for almost a century and had seen the Summer Islanders travel from the southern coasts of Westeros and Essos establishing contact and trade with the native peoples of those lands.

Yet…they hadn't only explored towards those parts of the world.

No, they had done much more than that.

Aegon's eyes drifted towards the northern tip of Sothoryos that trended down southward on both sides of the continent. Their people had travelled further south than anyone else had in millennia, as far as he could tell, on both sides.

Almost to the same degree as they gone to Westeros and Essos.

But…

But the only difference was that many, many of their explorers had gone lost when they went south and west, and those that had returned claimed that the oceans were depthless and could grow as tall as mountains even when the skies were clear whilst there were obscure songs that warned of coasts of storm.

When three Princes never returned, the oral historian had said their people believed their gods had spoken and that they should abandon the exploration to the south, a belief that the Summer Islanders still held today, and a belief that was reinforced whenever the Summer Islanders did set foot on Sothoryos, a continent that felled Summer Islander, Ghiscari and even the Valyrians with all of their magic, alike.

Which hadn't happened, according to the oral historians, for many, many lifetimes.

The Summer Islanders even had poems about the continent.

One particular eerie poem about the continent detailed the story of a crew that once walked at the edges of Sothoryos that were sucked into the dark forests with sweet song that preyed on the natural curiosity of the Summer Islanders, only to find themselves trapped by a great evil for all of time.

From all of the histories he could gather, Essosi and Westerosi, he didn't think the Summer Islanders were likely all that far off from the truth as his mind went towards the mysteries of Yeen.

And what a mystery Yeen was, he mused to himself.

The name Yeen was also a mystery that he could find no origin for. It lacked any etymological links to Ghiscari, Valyrian or the Summer Tongue. It could be a Yeenic word or a derivative of it but he was doubtful given how old Yeen likely was.

No one knew the origins of the ruins, or the people who may have built it. Some claimed that it was older than time itself and in a certain way, it was probably true.

Rumoured to be thousands of years old, it was quite possible that it was one of the first cities in Planetos' history, especially given the continent that it was on.

And it was also made from oily black stone, the same kind of oily black stone found in Yi Ti and in Asshai, an irresistible link to the ancient civilisation of the Empire of the Dawn. Was Yeen the first to create it and were they the first civilisation to fall into ruin because of the use of foul magic, foulness that still lingered today?

He shook his head after he sighed, shaking away those thoughts of mystery and magic and instead refocused on the map once more.

Despite all of the stories and poems of doom and horror about Sothoryos, he had far more on his mind when he'd seen those ancient maps for the first time.

He'd seen something familiar in them. He'd felt something deep in his core.

He leaned forward in his saddle, his hands slowly clawing at the map before he relaxed and traced alongside the western coastline of Sothoryos past the inland indent with his index finger, a coastline that was about trending southward at about forty degrees.

A shape he was very familiar with.

It was unreasonable. Hopeful.

But…

It was not utterly, not totally, and not completely unreasonable.

It was a feeling that he could not shake. Even now with the ships still lost.

A feeling of surety that he had never felt as strongly as then.

And as his people confirmed the shape of Western Sothoryos, only a few years after they settled in Wallano…he'd felt more assured than ever about his beliefs West.

Beyond being the coked up apocalyptic version of Africa and its diseases, it was the shape that had given him hope, that had given him the idea, the belief, that there was truly something west of Sothoryos…west of the Summer Islands.

His gaze went towards Westeros and western Essos, his gaze following the contours of East Westeros, the 'teeth' of Westeros, and the western coastline of Essos.

He hadn't even thought at all about the shape of the continents or about tectonic plates until he'd seen the Summer Islander maps of Sothoryos, the trigger that made everything to begin to click in his mind.

It was so clear to see that, once upon a time, millions upon millions of years ago, Essos and Westeros were connected entirely, rather than simply at the foot as they apparently had been some thousands of years ago.

Once upon a time, Westeros and Essos were completely one landmass.

Much like how Earth had been.

When he'd returned to Westeros, he'd requested from Oldtown books on the matter of earthquakes and he'd gotten them…that is to say that there were very few instances of earthquakes happening.

And despite his immense distrust of Oldtown, he didn't think they would lie about something as mundane as earthquakes, fact or legend, so that meant it was very likely that the tectonic plate that Westeros had sat upon pulled away from the Essosi plate.

He gazed at the rugged coastline of eastern Westeros. It was also quite possible that the western parts of the Vale and most of the south of it had merged with northern parts of Westeros, a bit like how India had collided with the Asiatic plate.

He turned his gaze towards the Bone Mountains.

And a bit like those mountains, Aegon mused to himself.

It was quite possible that there had been, or still was, another tectonic plate at the far end of Essos, the Asshai plate, that was being pushed against the western Essos plate, creating the Bone Mountains. Though he wasn't sure what could cause the so called the 'Great Sand Sea', some chasm that was deep as the Bone Mountains were high.

He looked away from that mystery and he traced his hand across the other mountainous region. The Painted Mountains. They could also be a result of tectonic plates, though their elevations were significantly lesser than that of the Bone Mountains and more on par with the Vale Mountains.

It reminded him a little of the Alps or mayhaps more apt to consider them to be akin to the Scottish Highlands…just a few hundred million years less further along when it came to erosion. A thin smile grew.

Another mirror amongst a house of mirrors.

Whilst the main odd ones out geographically wise were Westeros and Ulthos, where neither had easily direct mirrors, the people of Westeros did.

The Dornish were clearly some sort of hybrid of North Africa and Spain, the Reach, the Westerlands and the other Kingdoms all variants of European peoples in culture and in appearance. The Northerners, or rather First Men were some kind of Celtic, Anglo-Saxon hybrid with similar traditions as that of ancient England and Scotland.

A Game of Thrones might have been some kind of juiced up War of the Roses plus probably a whole load of other historical wars, but the people of Westeros was very clearly fashioned after Western Europe.

And Essos…with its Roman, Assyrian, Mongolian and even Phoenician inspired peoples west of the Bone Mountains, along with the Far East civilisations east of it, it was clear that Westeros and Essos were the equivalent of Eurasia.

The Summer Isles and Naath were the West African civilisations with influences of the Caribbean cultures…and quite possibly were the representatives of all of Sub-Saharan Africa given the magical toxic wasteland that was Sothoryos.

And, Aegon mused, if one looked at the northern coast of Sothoryos and Slaver's Bay, you could see that the pieces fit, just as Moraq could fit into the eastern parts of Sothoryos.

A Planetos version of Pangea, he thought as he looked at it with a critical eye.

Which meant, he thought as his eyes looked at the map with sharpness...

The local versions of the Americas could exist.

Given that so many of the places, people, even the tectonic plates were familiar…

Why would the West not be similar? Mayhaps not in geographic shape but certainly climate, resources…location…

He sighed heavily before he turned towards the rising sun. The main problem he had with his theories, a problem he still hasn't solved, was Ulthos.

Ulthos was as equally concerning as the missing crew of his ships West was.

It poked holes in his overlays.

Even now, years later, he did not have an equivalence for this mysterious continent.

Was it like South East Asia? Was it like Australia?

…Was it like America?

Was he completely and utterly wrong about the West? Could the Sunset Sea just be a massive watery desert that puts the Pacific to shame?

His hand went up to his beard as he turned back towards the map, towards Ulthos, unconsciously picking at it as his eyes bored into the map that lay in his lap.

The Yi-Tish had never really explored it, from what he was able to understand from all of the books and the reports his sailors gave to him about what the Yi-Tish traders and scholars knew, despite it being on their very doorstep…relatively speaking.

And without knowing how far East Ulthos went…he didn't know how much land there actually might be on this world, this world that was the same size as Earth.

He turned his gaze back towards the Seven Kingdoms and traced his finger along the measurements he'd made of the continent based on the known dimensions of the Wall which was a hundred leagues which was about three hundred miles.

Which meant that the Seven Kingdoms were about two thirds to five sixths the size of Australia and if one included the Lands Beyond the Wall, it was very likely that Westeros could have a land area of anywhere between 1.25 to 1.5 times of Australia.

Essos, west of the Bone Mountains was anywhere between 1.5 to 2 times the size of the Seven Kingdoms. You could say the same for the lands East of the Bone Mountains, which still had Eastern regions that were not completely mapped out.

So in total, the landmasses of the Seven Kingdoms and Essos accounted for 4 or 5 Seven Kingdoms which can be anywhere between 10 to 15 million square miles.

Earth, for comparison, had about 60 million square miles of land, which mean there was anything between 45 to 50 million square miles of land that were unmapped.

Planetos was not Earth, that was obvious, but there were far too many similarities, in both people and in climate zones those same peoples inhabited, to ignore that there was a high likelihood that similar lands existed in the unexplored regions.

And if one considered, for arguments sake that Sothoryos was anywhere between 3 to 6 times the size of Westeros with Ulthos to be considered to be about the same as Sothoryos, it still left anywhere between 9 to 14 million square miles of land should both Sothoryos and Ulthos be 6 times as large as the Seven Kingdoms.

His gaze went towards Shivering Sea.

Ibb and the Always Winter region, which he suspected connected Westeros to Essos, probably accounted for a significant portion of that land, and probably the South Pole as well given that there has been evidence to suggest the rotating gyres of Planetos was the same as Earth, but even so, there was still huge amounts of land area that was unaccounted for.

That was if Planetos was like Earth in terms of land area.

Which wasn't obviously guaranteed.

Still, he thought to himself as he thought on the Lady Dawn and Discovery that were out west, he was at least comforted by evidence that he had not been baseless in his suppositions that there was undiscovered land out West.

The accounts of strong winds pushing against the Lady Dawn and Discovery in the early moons of exploration, suggested clearly that winds and the ocean currents were about the same as that of Earth, earning another tick for his belief that there was another landmass somewhere West.

Aegon rolled up the map though he held onto it for a few moments as he looked towards the rising sun.

He also hadn't ignored the possibility of what it could mean should he be right…and the choice he would have should the worst of what he feared was also true.

The chances…the chances of finding civilisation on this landmass was high.

Especially if it was anything like the Americas.

Aegon's expression turned grim. He wasn't quite sure if he hoped that there were no people or if he hoped that there were people. The chances that the landmass was like Sothoryos was rather high, given that it was likely that it would sit at or slightly above the equator where Lady Dawn and Discovery were mapping out last he knew.

If there were people, chances were that it was a habitable place and brutally…if it was anything like America, chances were that it wouldn't be his people that would die of disease and sickness…and war.

Aegon's expression lost its grimness and a difficult expression instead made its way onto his face. He'd thought about it…about what he'd do if there was a civilisation on this landmass…a weaker civilisation.

Would he replicate what had been done in his own world? Destroy the civilisations completely purposely with arms and disease, regardless of how alien or inalien and savage or civilised they may seem? Could he do it? Condemn those people?

He knew no civilisation established itself without bloodshed…or advanced.

It was delusional to think otherwise.

Should their people make landfall on their land, war was more than likely, especially if the civilisations were anything like the Native Americans or the Aztecs.

Of course, there was also the possibility that these people were more advanced than his people…either in technology or in magic. For all he knew, they could be some unholy mix of Old Valyria and the Children of the Forest.

Aegon shook his head before he leaned forward and tapped Mīsaragorn's scales. "To the fort, my friend." He said and soon enough they were airborne once more.

And, as the fort came into view, Aegon pushed thoughts of West and possibilities out of his mind. There was no point thinking about it. There was still much more that needed to be done in the immediate future.

For now