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Aegon Snow

Hey if you don't stop here to read this story, I took some time to write it so that it would follow an original script. This story tells the story of the unstoppable rise of Aegon VI, Bastard of Winterfell and King of the Seven Kingdoms. As you may have guessed, but this is an SI Jon Snow, I want to clarify that even if the MC is reincarnated as Jon Snow, he is not and will not act like Jon Snow. The Protagonist is a person who has been lucky, he does not deserve it and will not be a holy or divine character, incapable of doing harm or a mistake, he is just a person like everyone else who has been lucky, if you are still here and you are curious about what happens next, I invite you to read this story. If you don't like this story, that's your right and I'm sorry about that, but I will ask you not to judge too quickly and to take the time to read a few chapters before you decide to give up.

Ghostrider0002 · Book&Literature
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117 Chs

-Chapter 100-

-Chapter 100-

-POV MC-

I watched our army struggle to keep the ironborn from crossing, and overall, everything went as planned despite our significant losses on Viserys' side. He managed to push the ironborn back to the sea, but it came at a price—the lives of my soldiers.

I frowned but said nothing because I needed him to play his role perfectly so the ironborn would not see the real movement that would spell doom for their people.

"Order all our men to fall back, especially Viserys and his unit, Ser Gerold," I said, addressing my Sword of the Morning.

"They are winning, your majesty," said Gerold.

"I know they are winning; I have eyes. I am simply asking you to relay my orders without question, Ser Gerold," I told my Sword of the Morning.

He nodded, then kicked his steed, which promptly dashed towards Viserys, who kept slaughtering the fleeing ironborn, their backs to the sea.

"How many men do you estimate we have lost?" I asked my remaining guards.

"I would say 3,000 men," said Sandor.

"5,000 on my count," said Loras.

"A little less than 4,000 soldiers," said Jaime.

"I counted about the same number as you, Jaime. We lost nearly 4,000 men in two hours, but we did not lose so many men in vain," I said, feeling the spiritual connection between my falcon and me growing closer.

"Prepare yourselves; it will soon be our turn to take the stage," I said, observing after several minutes my troops finally falling back as I had ordered.

---

-POV Viserys Targaryen-

"Prince Viserys, the King orders you to withdraw."

I turned towards the voice, which I recognized as that of Gerold Dayne, Aegon's Sword of the Morning, and said to the royal guard, annoyed, "Why? We have won."

"I do not know, and it is not for me to comment on the sovereign's decisions. Whatever he deems appropriate must be carried out without delay. We are but instruments of his will, nothing more."

I frowned, then tucked my frustration away and said, "Pass me the reins of your horse."

"Excuse me?" he said, confused.

"Just hand over your horse to me immediately," I said impatiently.

He frowned before dismounting and handing me the reins. I immediately climbed onto his horse and kicked it to move quickly. I needed answers to understand what Aegon was scheming behind my back again. I had that nagging feeling of being nothing more than a pawn on his chessboard, and it irked me to no end.

---

-POV Victarion Greyjoy-

'Finally,' I thought, seeing that brute withdraw with his men.

I looked around me, and what I saw shocked me to the point that I felt fear for the first time—a sea of blood and ironborn corpses as far as the eye could see.

We, the ironborn, were invincible at sea because it was our preferred environment, but that did not mean we were weak on land; otherwise, we would not have been able to terrorize the entire continent of Westeros for millennia.

But with only 7,000 soldiers, they managed to kill nearly triple our number.

'And without using that gigantic beast,' I thought, looking at the king in the distance, who was watching us from atop his wolf, which was larger than a Golden Company elephant.

"Uncle Victarion."

I turned to see Theon approaching, and I frowned.

'What is this coward doing here?' I thought, annoyed just by the sight of him.

Theon was one of the few who had always been against this invasion and the idea of fighting against the bastard king.

The closer he got, the harder it was to recognize him; he seemed like someone else, someone completely different from the usual arrogant and cowardly Theon.

He stopped two steps away from me and said softly, "He killed Asha."

I held back my emotions and then said, "How?"

He lifted his hand, and I observed the arrow he was holding—an arrow made from Weirwood, with red and black feathers, the tip specially designed so it wouldn't pierce a target completely, ensuring the arrow stayed in the victim's body.

"Son of a bitch."

"Do you still want peace? Do you still want to lick the boots of the man who killed your sister? The sister who saved you from your father's wrath and always supported you…"

"I KNOW!" Theon raised his voice to silence me.

I glared at him, and he lowered his eyes, then raised his head along with his axe.

"He must die. I won't rest until he is dead and buried," said Theon.

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