55

Essos sailing at sea (6 months ago before the taking of Storm's End)

Although the pole boats that ply the rivers of Dorne are often brightly painted and exquisitely carved, the Shy Maid is not. Her paintwork is a muddy greyish brown, mottled and flaking; her big curved tiller, plain and unadorned.

She has a broad beam, and her draft is so shallow she can work her way up even the smallest of the river's vassal streams, negotiating sandbars that would strand larger vessels, yet with her sail raised and a current under her, she can make good speed - which can mean life and death on the upper reaches of the Rhoyne according to their captain.

In a cabin below deck was Tyrion Lannister, a man who had unusual luck and a curious gift to survive his assassination attempts.

First, in the Vale at the hands of that crazed bitch Lysa Arryn when her son tried to make him "fly" through the Moon Door and was only spared thanks to his resourcefulness and Bronn's greed or as in the Battle Blackwater Ser Mandon Moore tried to kill him on the orders of his sister Cersei.

"And then his father and sister conspired to execute him for the murder of Joffrey while the little cunt had deserved it. Tyrion was disappointed it hadn't been him, he cared little for that monster, but Tywin knew how to rile the masses and saw it as a sensible way to dispose of the debauched little creature who had bled his beloved Joanna to death when he came into this world." As if I wished her death." Tyrion thought with some rage

Alas, his thoughts turned to Tysha, oh Tysha, his precious ruby.

Tyrion still wept for her, the only woman who had truly loved him for who he was and who he was ... And his father made him believe that she was a whore ... He didn't know that it hurt more to have believed him or to remember Tysha begging for mercy as she was defiled by the Lannister soldiers.

Just remembering that made him clench his fists in anger and made him reaffirm his resolve to take revenge on his dead father by destroying everything that was his legacy, Tyrion will begin by claiming what is his by right ... Casterly Rock.

After his escape, Varys took him to Braavos with a "friend" of his a Cheesemaker named Illyrio Mopatis, with whom he had an interesting conversation ... For the record, at first, Tyrion hoped to travel to Dorne and crown his nice Myrcella as Queen, something that would arouse the ire of his sister, and Tyrion knew the Dornishmen would be quite amiable to the suggestion.

The death of Prince Oberyn in that trial by combat would have been a terrible blow to his father's attempts to unify the seven kingdoms, something for which Tyrion was partially responsible since he had confirmed to Prince Oberyn that Gregor Clegane had been the murderer of his sister Elia. Still, Prince Oberyn, despite his skill at arms, grew wrathful and allowed the Mountain to outwit him and smash his skull.

And now House Lannister had earned the eternal hatred of Dorne and several other Houses when Gregor had admitted before the whole of Kingslanding that he had raped and murdered Elia, Tyrion howled with laughter, imagining the headache his family would face for their treachery.

But no matter how much he hated Cersei and his father, Tyrion deeply loved his nephews Tommen and Myrcella since, unlike their monstrous older brother, they were kind and gentle; they did not deserve to be used as pawns in those games ... Where one would end up killing the other.

Tyrion wasn't Cersei ... At least he hoped he never would be.

So when fleeing King's Landing with the help of his brother Jaime and meeting that fat Cheesemaker, Tyrion decided to go to Lys and hopefully drink himself to death; however, the Cheesemaker's words stirred his curiosity.

And so he began a journey full of dangers, alcohol and women ... Well, not women unfortunately but full of interesting characters such as two knights fallen from grace, an exiled royal guard, a Maester without a chain, a knight who lost his lands and finally a prince believed to have been dead since the end of Robert's Rebellion.

A merrier band could never be found; honestly, Tyrion believed that this journey would be remembered in songs and stories; the only thing he hoped was that they recognised him as something more than a drunk dwarf, although he was hardly more than that between the treachery of his family and the wretched peasants of the city he was wounded in both pride and heart especially when it came to Shae.

Shae, who would have thought that a whore could wound him so deeply? She had been the second woman Tyrion had ever loved, and he was so stupid to believe that she returned that affection ... When she was just another one of his clients. He still remembered the words of that perfumed eunuch Varys when they crossed the Narrow Sea.

"You knew what she was," Varys said in his cloying voice.

"Yes, I knew ... Although I wanted to believe that she was something more." Tyrion thought with anger and sadness when he remembered Shae.

After that, Tyrion thought about how he had killed her when he discovered her in her father's bed, strangling her to death with the gold chain. Shae's death by strangulation had been somewhat ironic in light of his father's earlier threat, "The next prostitute I find in your bed, I'm going to hang her." but it seems that in this case, there was no need for it because Tyrion himself was in charge of fixing his mess for once and in doing so he also remembered his darkest moment of his life ... When he became a Kingslayer.

Those thoughts brought him back to that night he had slain the Old Lion; Tyrion had taken a crossbow from the wall, found his father in the toilet and confronted him about what he did to Tysha. The damned man was still belligerent despite his warnings, repeatedly calling her a whore, which Tyrion saw as the final insult to the only woman who had truly loved him in his entire life. So Tyrion shot his father through the bowels with the crossbow, and he died on the privy shitting himself when the bolt struck; it was rather amusing, and then he remembered the last words they spoke to each other.

You ... you are no ... no son of mine.

Now that's where you're wrong, Father. Why I believe I'm you writ small. Do me a kindness now, and die quickly.

With that, a sleepy Tyrion threw his wine glass to the ground, which shattered it, cursing; he woke up suddenly and, after cleaning the mess, decided to leave his cabin.

"Enough, it's time to move on ... Even though a part of me would like to pickle myself in wine, I must subdue my vice least my new companions throw me overboard," Tyrion thought with some trepidation.

With that, Tyrion sighed, placing the shattered glass on his desk and got up from his bed to leave his cabin and finally went to the Shy Maiden's deck to watch the sunset at sea. A splendid view without a doubt, despite the somewhat deplorable state of the ship still the way the gilded rays flickered on the water like tongues of flame reminded him of Casterly Rock; however, his reflection was cut short when he spied their leader.

Jon Connington was a dour man ... And he couldn't bear his presence. Tyrion had counted half a dozen times when the old knight had threatened to remove his tongue.

Although, fortunately, Jon Connington knew that his tongue was his only true quality, especially when it came to charming fools out of their gold.

The former Lord of Gryphons Nest noticed his presence, and after giving him a stern look, he simply returned to look at the sunset.

"I am an abomination in his eyes, though he hated my father. Connington still holds that Kinslaying is a grave sin, and my drunkenness certainly doesn't help," Tyrion thought with annoyance deciding to get away from the bitter fool and turned his gaze to Aegon.

The young Targaryen was being instructed in swordplay by Ser Barristen and Ser Rolly Duckfield while Ser Jorah watched.

The story of how those two Westerosi knights had ended up there was rather amusing.

The former Lord of Bear Island fell in love with Lynesse Hightower, who was half his age and became smitten with her beauty After Jorah had won the Tourney. Unfortunately, the marriage did not remain happy for long. Having spent her life as part of wealthy House Hightower in Oldtown, Lynesse was unprepared for life on harsh and isolated Bear Island and quickly grew miserable. Jorah attempted to reproduce the lifestyle his wife was accustomed to but only succeeded in driving himself into financial ruin by lavishing her with expensive gifts, hiring a cook from Oldtown, and a harper from Lannisport.

Desperate to pay off his debts, Jorah took part in one of the Seven Kingdoms' oldest taboos, slavery. When that fool Ned Stark learned that Jorah had sold poachers to a Tyroshi slaver, he condemned him to death. However, when the Warden of the North arrived on Bear Island to execute him, Ser Jorah decided to flee to Lys with his wife Lynesse, where he ended up as a mercenary, and the frivolous bitch abandoned him for some pompous merchant prince.

Of all the knights on the Shy Maiden, Tyrion enjoyed Ser Jorah's company the most, perhaps because they were both abandoned by the women they loved, and the Mormonts have never had any conflicts with his family.

Be that as it may, Ser Jorah wandered all over Essos for years until Varys contacted him and put him in the service of King Robert Baratheon, sending him to spy on Viserys Targaryen and his sister and kill them should the need arise in exchange for his service Jorah would have been granted a royal pardon.

But unfortunately, that plan was foiled Jon Snow, Loras Tyrell and Robar Royce, killed the Khal, caused chaos at the wedding and fled by the sea with Daenerys Targaryen to an unknown destination and Varys, the cunning bastard he was sent Jorah to find Aegon and prove his loyalty to the people of Westeros.

As for Ser Barristan, his story is simpler to understand; he greatly admired Rhaegar Targaryen and never felt fulfilled serving Robert Baratheon partly because he killed the Last Dragon and partly because he was a terrible King, yet he still loved him, so he served faithfully until a boar tore the drunken foo to pieces.

After which his sister Cersei and his nephew Joffrey, showing their enormous stupidity, decided to expel Ser Barristan from the Kingsguard for not protecting Robert as if that had been possible drink and hunting do not mix, so his stupid nephew replaced him with Sandor and appointed his brother Jaime as Lord Commander.

Outraged by his removal, Tyrion later learned that Ser Barristan had thrown down his sword and left the throne room. Joffrey ordered that he be arrested for threatening him; however, Ser Barristan managed to enter the Tower of the White Sword to edit his entry in the White Book, duly recording his dismissal, and then he went East where after arriving at Braavos sought information concerning the Targaryens this led him to Illyrio Mopatis who sent him with Connington.

Unlike Ser Jorah and Tyrion himself that damn Jon Connington did not treat Ser Barristan with great respect and charged him along with Rolly to train Young Griff, something the old knight was happy to do.

However, Tywin's youngest son's relationship with the living legend that was Ser Barristan was rather terse, not only because his family usurped the Iron Throne but also because he was a Lannister and Selmy did not have a fair impression of them.

To begin with, he never approved of Ser Jaime Lannister being made a brother of the Kingsguard due to his youth, and when he learned that Jaime had slain the Mad King, he said that Jaime's white cape should be changed for a black one, there is also the fact of what happened in the Sack of King's Landing when his father's army swept through the City and Princess Elia and those children were murdered.

Although despite everything, the old knight listens carefully to his words when Tyrion is not drunk and generally does not treat him with contempt despite knowing what he did to his own father, which means that the knight detested Tywin Lannister or understood the misery caused by the Old Lion and had simply accepted Tyrion had served the realm as well as himself.

Either way, neither of them is really friends with the other, but at least they aren't trying to kill each other ... That was when Tyrion's sight finally turned to the last two men on the ship.

Rolly Duckfield was a brawny man with a shaggy beard and a shock of orange hair dripping with sweat.

Rolly was born in the Reach. His father was a blacksmith at Bitterbridge in service to old Lord Caswell. Rolly's strength and skill with a blade earned him a place in the castle garrison, but Rolly had dreams of knighthood. He resented seeing Lord Caswell's weakling son Lorent become a page, a squire, then a knight; Rolly was upset to see Lord Caswell's wimpy son rise so far without deserving it, but there was nothing he could do besides Lorent was the only son of Lord Caswell, so no one in the castle was allowed to say a word against Lorent. In the courtyard during training, the other squires barely touched him.

On his sixteenth name day, Rolly's father made a longsword for Rolly as a present, but Lorent Caswell saw it and claimed it for his own, saying to Rolly that he was only fit to wield a hammer, not a sword. This caused Rolly to fetch a hammer and break both Lorent's arms and half his ribs. Rolly then fled across the narrow sea to escape Lord Caswell's wrath. He joined the Golden Company as an apprentice smith for a few years and then served Ser Harry Strickland as a squire.

When Connington needed someone to train his son Young Griff in skill at arms, Harry Strickland sent him Rolly. A year later, Rolly was knighted by Connington. Having no surname, Rolly chose Duckfield because he was in a field with some ducks when he was knighted, earning him the nickname Duck.

His skill at arms was excellent, although he could not compete with the likes of Ser Barristan; however, Rolly was becoming a worthy knight; perhaps one day, he would be as skilled as Barristan. And finally, Tyrion glanced at the most important person on the ship.

Jon Connington "The Younger" ... Also known as Aegon Targaryen, the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Princess Elia of Dorne.

According to the tale, the boy himself told him when Tyrion discovered his identity, the infants killed during the King's Sack were the son of a tanner born in Pisswater Bend, a street off King's Landing and the girl was taken from an unnamed Dornish prostitute. The child's mother had died at birth. The tanner sold his son to Varys for a jug of Arbor gold, as he already had other children, but he had never tasted Arbor's gold as for the girl who impersonated Princess Rhaenys, his mother didn't really put up much resistance and accepted the swap, so Varys arranged the exchange between the two babies while Varys took charge of Rhaegar's actual children.

When Tyrion heard that fantastic tale, he assumed that once the impostor babies were killed by Gregor and Lorch, Varys smuggled the real Aegon and Rhaenys across the Narrow Sea, where they were first entrusted to Illyrio Mopatis and then to the Exiled Lord Jon Connington as they were raised, trained and prepared to claim the Iron Throne.

Until according to all of them, Princess Rhaenys went to Braavos to rescue her aunt Daenerys from her wedding with a certain Khal Drogo, but she never returned and was not among the dead of the wedding, she simply vanished as if a cloud of smoke, Tyrion wasn't sure but could there be a chance that bastard Ned Stark will take her along with Princess Arianne and Daenerys Targaryen as well?

"With everything I've heard about Jon Snow, he doesn't seem like a man who would abscond with three princesses, but perhaps the wolf blood finally claimed him, and he whelped some bastards of his own. But that is a mere fantasy," Tyrion thought with some amusement.

One that his instincts told him that that was the correct one ... But hey, it really won't change what happened ... Besides, maybe that was for the best because, according to the boy, his sister was akin to the Queen who never was, so perhaps it was best she wasn't here, or she would make him shorter with her axe.

As for young Aegon, Tyrion could see in him a hope for a better Westeros.

Young Aegon is a slender young man with a lanky build. Tyrion estimated that he must be at least nineteen namedays. And was near the height of his adoptive father, Connington. Though He has purple eyes that look dark blue in certain lights. His eyelashes are long and somewhat feminine, something that Tyrion often mocked him for.

That beardless boy could have any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms, whether he looked like a woman or not those eyes would entrance them,

Young Aegon is a well-educated and intelligent boy; he speaks several languages and is quite versed in history. He speaks the Common Language like a native Westerosi speaker, although he is also fluent in High Valyrian and the Valyrian dialects of Pentos, Tyrosh, Myr and Lys, and the Language of Commerce. However, he is dissimilar to speaking the Volantis dialect, while the Meereen dialect, whose terms are derived from Valyrian and Ghiscari, give him difficulties.

The boy has a decent knowledge of mathematics and somewhat limited knowledge of geometry. He was also taught various songs, although he sounded akin to a strangled cat and couldn't hold a tune. However, Tyrion has noticed that Aegon is, without a doubt, wiser than half the lords of Westeros.

"That boy, without a doubt, seems the perfect Prince, but he is still a boy despite all his knowledge; he has little experience of the world or its dangers." Tyrion thought as he watched the Prince train with Duckfield.

Tyrion continued to watch the quaint little group until he heard the voice of the ship's captain Yendry a so-called "orphan" of the green blood. "

Castaway! "Said the captain approaching Connington seemed to be deep in thought.

And indeed, there was a piece of wood floating ahead, and there seemed to be a tiny figure seemed to be on it.

"What will we do?" Young Aegon asked, waiting for the response of his mentor, who took his time to answer.

"Get him on board ..." Jon Connington said with a sigh after a moment.

"He still has some compassion buried under all that hatred and bitterness," Tyrion thought with a slight smile on his face.

However, a slight chill ran down his spine; it felt as if something sinister and ancient had come aboard.

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Ser Jorah and Rolly helped the stranger to board the boat while Ser Barristan stood in front of Aegon; they could tell by his flowing scarlet robes that he was a Red Priest despite his poor cloth, he carried an exquisite staff of onyx topped with a ruby the size of a child's fist.

That man looked really ... Horrible; there was no other way to put it, he was a man even older than Ser Barristan, but while the Royal Guard had an attractive appearance despite his age, that castaway was the opposite.

His skin was as wrinkled as the robe he was wearing and so white that he appeared more corpse than man, his lips had a bluish hue, and you could see that they were split, when he coughed some water They noticed that he was missing some teeth, his nose was so flat that it seemed to disappear into his sunken face, his head was crowned by a wisp of dirty grey hair.

But the most frightening thing was his eyes. they were bright orange, they looked like two opaque flames, but that only gave him an even more gloomy appearance... That stranger looked like an animal, a walking corpse or a bag of bones wrapped with skin.

However, Tyrion and Jorah noticed one more detail ... The stranger wore a simple ring of pure gold on one of his fingers, which seemed to shine with its own light, it bore no gems or any design intricate and extraordinary, but there was something about it that made it too intriguing to look at.

"Are you well, Stranger?" Jon Connington asked.

"Yes ..." His voice was deep and strangely soft, as if it were a cooling wind.

"Who you are?" Jon Connington continued, now adopting a severe expression.

"Just a humble priest of the red god ... Looking for you," The strange man said, surprising everyone.

"Like Stannis's Red Priestess," Tyrion thought as he remembered Melisandre of Asshai and everything he had heard about her.

"Were you looking for us?" Aegon asked suddenly, and the Priest only observed him for a few moments in which his gaze seemed to pierce the young Targaryen causing him to have the impulse to hide behind Ser Barristan, but he would not be cow by a priest.

The stranger just stared at the boy a moment longer and stood up, thereby acquiring a hunched posture.

"Yes, I knew I would find you; the red god gave me a vision of dragons and blood, and I saw a Red Gryphon and a field of wheat; So I boarded a ship bound for Volantis alas it was wrecked in a storm, but I knew from the visions of my god that sooner or later you would find me, So I stayed at sea under the sun awaiting your arrival Jon Connington, "Said the corpse-like Priest, startling everyone on the boat.

Instantly Connington drew his sword and pointed it at the Priest. In doing so, Rolly, Ser Jorah, and Ser Barristan did the same.

"Who told you about us?" Connington said furiously, but that strange man remained impassive and calm.

"The red god shows many things in the flames to his faithful ..." The stranger said impassively.

"This is not a game if you don't answer ..." continued Jon Connington.

"I know it is not a game, good Ser, for you have risked much, your names, your honour; I apologise if my conduct offends my Lord... But I speak truthfully. I am sent by my god to aid you, my Lord, "That man said in a humble tone, but neither Tyrion nor Barristan trusted him.

"Help us with what?" Connington continued without lowering his sword.

"Help to place King Aegon VI on the Iron Throne," The Priest said calmly, almost as if he was enjoying himself as everyone watched him in shock.

"Who is this man?" thought Tyrion more and more concerned.

"It appears to be a Red Priest," Rolly said without lowering his sword.

"Yes, it appears so, But his presence is rather foul," Tyrion thought.

"I understand your doubts ... That is why I am willing to make a demonstration of my skills with the flames, and I hope that when you see my gifts, you can begin to believe that I am not a spy ... So I ask you to lower your weapons ... I come here as an ally and your friend ... "Said that corpse dressed in silks.

At that time, all Westerosi watched in amazement as that mysterious Priest began to produce a magnificent red flame in the palm of his hand. It danced and swayed and seemed to cover the deck in shadow, and in the fire, they witness many things from the ages past.

They were memories from battles of Robert's Rebellion, the Battle of the Bells, the Battle of the Trident, and the Sack of King's Landing, as well as scenes from the life of Connington and young Aegon with his sister in exile as they grew up and prepared to reclaim the Iron Throne as well as memories from the life of Tyrion, Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan and Rolly.

Everyone looked at the flames with a mixture of bewilderment and horror; no one uttered a word as the memories of their lives were recounted in fire, some glorious others terrible. Then suddenly, the visions ceased, and everyone now looked at the Priest in amazement and fear.

"Do you believe me now? ... I was sent to help you on your crusade ... You can believe in me because I have no intention of harming you ..." Said the mysterious Priest gazing at everyone.

No one could utter words after seeing the Priest's display of power, but Aegon gathering his courage, took a step forward, staring the Priest in the eyes.

"Who are you?" Rhaegar's son asked, struggling not to hesitate to which the stranger just smiled.

"Throughout my life, I have had many names; some I chose myself, others were bestowed upon me for great deeds." The Red Priest said enigmatically.

"And what should we call you?" Tyrion asked without losing sight of any movement from the Priest.

"You may call me ... Annatar," replied that mysterious Priest.

"Annatar?" Jon Connington asked, confused by the strange name.

"Yes, in my tongue, it means" The Lord of the Gifts " Well, I have come to bestow the gifts of the Lord of Light upon you," He said, bowing.

"What gifts are those?" Jorah Mormont asked, staring at the Priest still with his hand on his sword.

"Knowledge and power in equal measure with them, you can put Prince Aegon on the Throne, from this moment on, I promise to help you carry out that goal ..." Annatar said, bowing again.

For a few moments, no one said anything since they were not sure they could trust that stranger who appeared floating in the sea besides seeing fragments of their lives in the flames that he conjured ... Well, that will be something they will never forget. .. However, his offer of aid was sorely needed. Aegon could not subdue the Kingdoms with Dorne and the Golden company alone.

The Lannisters were licking their wounds while Stannis was shattered at Kings Landing, but House Tyrell still retained its strength, the Greyjoys are raiding the coast led by Euron Greyjoy, and as for the other kingdoms, they cannot say it was disconcerting, to say the least, but this Annatar seemed to have the answer.

It was rather queer no man offered power without expecting a reward in equal measure?

Can we trust him? ... Was everyone's inquiry, but then it seemed as if their minds were clouded by the thoughts of those in Westeros who had betrayed them, and the desire to see them pay in blood became too strong, and so they lowered their weapons.

"Very good, Stranger. If you really have the power that you claim, You may accompany us, But should you play us false," Jon Connington started to say.

"I understand, my Lord ..." Annatar said, staring at him.

"In that case ... Ser Jorah give you a room and watch our new companion. We'll talk later ..." Connington said, wanting to end that matter.

"As ordered by Lord Connington ..." The bear said, motioning for Annatar to follow him, and the Priest followed him silently.

"Did we do the right thing?" Tyrion thought, feeling that there was something that was not right, there is something in that Priest that ... Well, the Little Lion does not know how to explain, but the Priest made him uneasy.

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Sauron was led into a modest room by the silent knight and could observe that it was very humble, unworthy of him ... Although it will serve its purpose for the time being.

Finding this merry band of fools was more complicated than foreseen. Because of the arts used to hide the spear of Khamûl from the design of the Valar, the Lord of Mordor has lost much of his strength ... Although he was still far mightier than any man, he must rely upon his guile and wit something he had not done for ages. And now he had passed into the realms of Lord Ulmo, and if he should use his sorceries at sea, the Lord of Waters will discover his presence immediately; therefore, the Lord of Mordor must tread carefully until he reaches land.

In those moments, he has just fulfilled the first part of his plan, to meet the dragon that the Valar left in Westeros ... Now, he must only become dear enough to him to begin instructing him in the dark arts ... Which will be simple thanks to the power of his Ring and the practice he has manipulating mortal kings.

This was one of the diversions Sauron enjoyed the most.

But unfortunately, the time to enjoy his game will come later; now, he must concentrate on what is ahead; the Westerosi, despite being much more primitive than the men of Middle Earth, are much more distrustful from what the Dark Lord knew. And as he had expected, the boy's companions were wary of him, so he had to use a small trick to show them that he was not a simple charlatan; however, that would not be enough for them to trust him, but Sauron knows the hearts of men like any other.

Although one of them, the dwarf ... Tyrion Lannister, Sauron is not at all convinced ... Using his sorceries, the Lord of Mordor could see into everyone's thoughts and hearts on this dirty, miserable ship, and He was confident the dwarf would be bothersome later on, he was sure that his gifts could prove useful, so to his annoyance, Sauron decided to let him live ... For now.

The owner of the One Ring had to adopt a horrible form due to Erú's punishment in addition to posing as a Red Priest of R'hllor, R'hllor, a name that Sauron had not heard in a long time, a fellow Maia who served Varda. And Námo, R'hllor was a mighty Maia, and in fact, he was one step below Eonwe, Melián, Arien, Ilmarë and Sauron himself in the hierarchy of the Maia being as powerful as Ossë and his wife Uinen, although Sauron was sure that if he were to challenge the Lord of fire he could conquer him.

R'hllor had been one of the Valar envoys to guard the Eastern Outer Lands after they were cut off at the end of the War of Wrath. Still, unfortunately for the Valar, this Maia greatly enjoyed the worship that primitive men gave him and neglected his charge. However, he did not abandon it altogether; that is why the Lord of Mordor must be careful when he reaches Esos, he could not allow himself to be discovered, or any hope of revenge would be ruined.

Sauron must be careful not to make his presence known in the Outer Lands as he recovers and corrupts Jon Snow's half-brother and perhaps that fool. Connington that will be his punishment for speaking to him as a common beggar.

For now, the Lord of Mordor will continue in his role as a loyal and obedient priest, helping this company of fools accomplish their aims and slowly but surely dragging and binding them in the dark.

The former lieutenant of Morgoth knew that Jon Snow and his companions would return to Westeros, and when they do ... Sauron will have a surprise prepared for them, thought the fallen Maia gazing at the Ring of power he had kept in his cloak.

Young Aegon seemed to be the one to use it ... Sauron just needed to be sure, he will watch him and his companions for a while, and when the time is right, he will hand over the Ring of his former servant.

Sauron was laughing imagining the misery of Jon Snow and the others when they discover what Aegon will become; from the void, his Master Morgoth must be laughing, he, his apprentice, is following in his footsteps, planting the seeds for a conflict between two brothers just as he did with Fëanor and Fingolfin thousands of years ago.

While searching for Aegon, Sauron had considered revealing the existence of his half brother to him, but decided not to ... It is better to let the Ring consume him first so that he can feel nothing but fear, mistrust and the paranoia of being replaced by his half brother.

Just imagining it filled the Lord of Mordor with glee, and so he set about his task of corrupting the young dragon.

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5 months later

It had been around five months since that strange and sinister Red Priest was found lost in the sea ... Or as he himself said, we found him thanks to the will of the Red God.

Annatar, as he said his name was, had been a rather strange companion ... He rarely ate or drank and hardly left his cabin, and when he finally did, he sometimes spoke with the crew, especially with Aegon teaching him many things like philosophy, math, medicine, and surprisingly blacksmithing and metalworking.

Annatar's knowledge of any discipline was extraordinary, and even Haldon had been humiliated when he tried to put him to the test.

And while Ser Barristan and Jorah were still wary of him, the old fool had proved somewhat helpful when instructing Aegon, Tyrion avoided him altogether, claiming he felt foul when he stood in Annatar's presence.

Although Jon Connington was not convinced that he could trust this ally, the circumstances in his homeland caused him apprehension and made him take risks.

The war in Westeros had finished tearing the country apart, And although Varys and the Cheesemaker had not yet said otherwise, Everyone in the Shy Maiden knew that the time to claim the Iron throne was here.

They just needed to go for their army ... The Golden Company, which was eager to invade Westeros ... Again, only this time they will place the rightful King on the throne.

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The Shy Maiden was moored in one of the worst sections of the long and chaotic river port, between a heeled barge that had not moved in many years and the brightly painted barge of a puppet theatre. The puppeteers were a scandalous and lively group who spent their time attacking each other with speeches taken from their works, more drunk than sober.

It was a hot and muggy day, as everyone had been since the Sorrows passed. The merciless sun from the synapse bathed the shore of the accursed City of Volon Therys, but that was the least of the Shy Maiden's crew's worries.

The Golden Company had camped just over a league south of the city, much further north than he expected, and the triarch Malaquo had come with five thousand men on foot and a thousand on horseback to cut off their path to the delta.

"By the seven hells, where is Haldon?" Jon complained to Ser Jorah, who shrugged.

After all, how long can it take to buy five horses?

"I don't know, sir, but wouldn't it be safer if Prince Aegon was still here on the barge?" Ser Jorah replied.

"Safer, yes; smarter, no. He is already a grown man, and this is the path that he was born to travel."

"And his sister too, although the gods have taken her away from us," Connington thought with melancholy.

Jon Connington had neither time nor patience for objections. He was sick of hiding, sick of waiting, sick of such caution.

"He has made a great effort to keep Prince Aegon hidden all these years. I know that the time will come when he will have to wash his hair and reveal his identity, but not yet, especially in front of a mercenary camp," Jorah said.

"If Harry Strickland wants to do something to him, we won't be able to protect him in the Shy Maiden. Strickland has ten thousand swords at his command; we have Duck, Ser Barristan, and you Ser Jorah. Aegon is everything you would expect of a prince; Strickland knows these are Aegon's men, "Jon replied.

"They are his men because you have paid them; in truth, they are ten thousand armed strangers, not counting the parasites or the pawns. It is enough that one of them betrays us so that they finish us off," Ser Jorah continued.

And that was the truth, Tyrion's head was worth a manor; how much will Cersei Lannister be willing to pay for the rightful heir to the Iron Throne?

"You do not know these men, my Lord. Twelve years have passed since you rode with the Golden Company, and your old friend is dead," Ser Jorah continued.

"Black Heart ... Jon remembered sadly, Myles Toyne was so full of life when Jon Connington saw him for the last time that it was difficult for him to accept that he had died. A golden skull on the tip of a pike, and Harry Strickland has taken his place.

Jon Connington knew that Ser Jorah was not wrong. The men of the Golden Company were mercenaries, no matter how many Knights or Lords they claimed in their ranks, and a mercenary could not be trusted. Still… The night before, he had dreamt of Stoney Sept. He went from house to house alone, sword in hand; knocked down doors; ran upstairs; he leapt from roof to roof while distant bells rang in his ears. The low Ring of bronze and the musical tones of silver reverberated in his skull in a maddening cacophony that grew more and more insistent until it seemed his head was going to explode.

Seventeen years had passed since the Battle of the Bells, but the sound always made a lump in his throat. Some said that the kingdom fell when Robert killed Prince Rhaegar on the Trident, but the truth was that the battle of the Trident would not even have taken place if Jon Connington had killed the Stag at Stoney Sept.

"That day, the bells tolled for all of us. For Aerys, for Queen Rhaella, for Elia, and every loyal man and every decent woman in the Seven Kingdoms. And for my silver prince," Jon thought in sadness.

"The plan was not to reveal Prince Aegon's identity until we had Dorne's support," Ser Jorah said.

"That was when we had Rhaenys with us and Daenerys Targaryen free to marry Aegon to prove her identity; without her, we only have Aegon and Varys' word ... which is nothing," Connington said with frustration when remembering the disappearance of Rhaegar's daughter.

"Why did I let her go with so few men?"Jon wondered angrily.

"Magister Illyrio had no way of knowing that Ned Stark's bastard son would foil the wedding," Ser Jorah said.

"Just as I had no way of knowing that the Beggar King would die young or that Khal Drogo would die even before him. Not many of the fat man's plans have come true. I've been dancing to the tune of the oaf for many years, and What use has it been? The Prince is already a man; the time has come to… "Said the Old Gryphon grasping his sword.

"Lord Grif ... it's Haldon!" Yandry, the Shy Maiden's captain, called loudly to make himself heard over the bell of the puppeteers.

And it was him. The Half-Maester looked hot and dirty, with dark spots on the armpits of his light linen robe. But he was pulling the reins of five horses, and that was all that mattered.

"Get the boy, the dwarf, Rolly and you upstairs ... Make sure he's ready", Connington ordered.

"As you wish, my lord", replied the bear knight reluctantly.

"This is how it must be," Connington thought, weary of this damned heat.

He had a great deal of respect for Ser Jorah, but that didn't mean he would need his approval. His mission was to gather information, but not all the information in the world would seat him on the Iron Throne. Jon had failed Prince Rhaegar once, but he would not fail his son as long as he had breath left.

He did not like the horses Haldon led at all.

"Is this the best you have found?" I mumble in frustration.

"Well, yes. And you better not ask how much they cost. The Dothraki are on the other side of the river, so suddenly, half the population of Volon Therys has decided that they would rather be elsewhere, so horse meat is going through the roof. "The Half-Master defended himself.

"I should have gone," Connington thought sourly.

Haldon was knowledgeable and cultured but too shy to impose himself; bartering was not his strong suit.

Jon sighed.

"Anyway, they will have to do. The camp is little more than a league to the South," said the Old Gryphon.

The Shy Maiden would have carried them much faster, but he preferred Harry Strickland not to know where he and the Prince had been. Nor did he like the idea of splashing through the mud of the shoals of the riverbank: that was how a mercenary and his son could present themselves, but not a High Lord and his Prince.

The Prince came out of the cabin with Ser Jorah and the Imp, and Jon Connington examined him from head to toe. He wore a sword and dagger, gleaming black boots, and a black cloak trimmed with blood-red silk. His hair had been washed and cut, and it was freshly dyed dark blue. Around his neck was a delicate broach of obsidian set with three large rubies the size of his finger Magister Illyrion had given it to him as a gift.

"Red and black, the colours of the dragon ... It's perfect," The old Gryphon thought with pride.

"You look like a prince ... If your parents saw you, they would be proud of you," Jon said, placing a hand on Aegon's shoulder.

"I'm sick of dying myself blue; I should have washed it once," Aegon complained.

"There is less now. Are we going? Your army awaits you. "I would also like to regain my true colours, although his previously red hair had turned white. He patted the boy on the shoulder affectionately.

"I like the way that sounds… My army. But is it really my army? Of course, they are mercenaries, but Tyrion constantly warns me not to trust anyone. "The smile that lit up his face lasted only an instant.

"It's clever advice," Jon said sagely. Of course, it would have been different if Black Heart was still in charge, but Myles Toyne had been dead for four years, and Harry was very different. But he couldn't tell the boy; the dwarf had already sown enough doubts in him.

"Not everyone is what they seem, and princes have more reason than anyone to distrust, but if you go too far, mistrust will poison you, embitter you and make you fear everything."

"The best is a middle ground. May men earn your trust with loyal service, yes, but be generous and open your heart when they do. "

"I will remember." The boy nodded.

The Prince was assigned the best of the three horses, a great capon of a very light grey, almost white. Jon Connington, Haldon, Ser Jorah and Tyrion Lannister rode alongside him on lower saddles, and in the case of the latter two, they shared the same horse. The road ran south under the high white wall of Volon Therys for the first section but then left the city behind to follow the winding course of the Rhoyne between groves of willows and fields of poppies, next to a tall windmill whose blades they creaked like old bones.

They reached the Golden Company by the river as the sun was setting in the west. Arthur Dayne himself would have approved of this camp: compact, orderly, easy to defend ... They had dug a deep trench around it, and the bottom was strewn with stakes. The stores were arranged in rows, separated by broad avenues. The latrines were located next to the river so that the current carried the waste away. The horses were to the North; Behind them, two dozen elephants grazed by the water, tearing reeds with their trunks. Jon Connington eyed the massive grey beasts approvingly.

"There won't be a war steed in all of Westeros that can hold out against them." Connington thought with approval

Cloth-of-gold battle banners flew high from their flagpoles at the perimeter of the camp. Below them, sentries with spears and crossbows at the ready, patrolled, alert to anyone who approached. Jon Connington had feared that the company had been neglected under Harry Strickland, who had always seemed more concerned with making friends than imposing discipline, but it is evident that his fear was unfounded.

As they reached the entrance, Haldon spoke a few words to the sergeant of the guard, who sent a messenger to fetch the captain. The man who arrived was as ugly as the last time Jon Connington had seen him: a big-bellied, shambling hulk of a man, with a seamed face crisscrossed with old scars. His right ear looks as if a dog had chewed on it, and his left ear is missing entirely. He wears a lord's ransom in golden arm rings, one for each year he has served with the Golden Company.

"Have you been made captain, Flowers? ... And I thought the Golden Company had standards," Connington said.

"Worse than that, you bastard ... I've also been knighted, you, on the other hand, look horrible, even for twelve years dead. And that blue hair? When Harry said you were coming, I almost shit myself. And you, Haldon, son of a bitch, how nice to see you. Are you still going around with a stick up your ass? And these three must be… "Franklyn Flowers said.

"My squire and his companion ... The other is Ser Jorah Mormont, a knight from Westeros. May I present to you Franklyn Flowers.

The Prince and Ser Jorah nodded to him.

"Flowers is a bastard's last name. You come from the Reach, Tyrion said suddenly.

"Yes. My mother was a washerwoman at Cider Hall who was raped by one of the Lord's sons. Strickland has summoned the officers to his tent; we have the bloody Volantenes waving their spears and demanding to know our intentions. "Flowers gestured for them to enter.

In front of their tents, the men of the Golden Company passed the time playing cyvasse, drinking and catching flies. Jon Connington wondered how many of them knew who he was.

Very few. Twelve years is a long time.

Not even those who had ridden with him would recognise the exiled Lord Jon Connington, the fiery red beard, in the wrinkled, clean-shaven face of the mercenary Jon Connington, with his hair dyed blue. As far as most of them were concerned, Connington had killed himself drinking at Lys after being expelled from the company, disgraced for stealing from the war chests. The shame of that lie still stung him, but Varys had been adamant that it was necessary.

"The least we need is that they sing the praises of the brave exile. Those who die a heroic death are remembered for a long time, while drunks, thieves and cowards are soon forgotten," The eunuch had told him with a chuckle.

"What will a eunuch know of a man's honor? ... If I live long enough to seat the boy on the Iron Throne, Varys will pay for that humiliation and many others, and then we will see who is soon forgotten," Jon thought with anger.

The captain-general's tent was made of cloth of gold and surrounded by pikes topped by gilded skulls. One of them, larger than the rest, showed grotesque deformations, and underneath was another the size of a child's fist.

"Maelys the Monstrous and his brother," Connington thought with some disgust.

The other skulls bore some resemblance, though some were cracked or chipped from the blows that had killed them, and one had sharp teeth.

"Where is Myles's?" Jon Connington asked almost without meaning to and holding back tears.

"That one, the one at the end, wait, I'm going to announce you," Flowers said.

He entered the store and left Jon Connington before his old friend's golden skull. In life, Myles Toyne had been ugly as sin. His famous forebear, the dark and dashing Terrence Toyne of whom the singers sang, had been so fair of face that even the king's mistress could not resist him; but Myles had been possessed of jug ears, a crooked jaw, and the biggest nose that Jon Connington had ever seen. When he smiled at you, though, none of that mattered.

"A captain-general should be feared by friend and foe alike. If men think me cruel, so much the better," Jon recalled those words with a smile.

The truth was very different. A soldier to the core, Toyne was fierce but always fair, a father to his men and always generous to him.

Death had taken away his ears, nose, and warmth. Nevertheless, his smile was still transformed into a dazzling golden grin. All the skulls smiled, even Bittersteel's on the high spike in the centre. "Why the hell is he smiling? He died alone and defeated, shattered in a foreign land," Connington thought.

On his deathbed, he commanded the men of the Golden Company to boil the flesh from his skull, dip it in gold, and carry it before them when they cross the narrow sea to retake Westeros. The captains-general who have since led the Golden Company have followed Aegor's example.

He could have been one of those successors if his exile had passed differently. He had been with the company for five years and had risen to the honourable position of Toyne's right-hand man. If he had stayed there, it would have been likely that the men would have turned to him after Myles' death and not to Harry Strickland. But Jon Connington did not regret his chosen path.

"I will return to Westeros, and not as a skull on the tip of a pike," Jon thought with some satisfaction.

"Come in, everyone can come in", Flowers said, ushering them into the tent.

The senior officers of the Golden Company rose from their stools as they entered; old friends greeted him with smiles and hugs, the new ones, in a more formal way.

He could perceive the daggers that were hidden behind a few smiles. Lord Connington was in his grave and undoubtedly considered by many to be the best place for a man capable of robbing his brothers in arms. If Jon had been in his place, perhaps he would have thought the same.

Ser Franklyn took it upon himself to introduce him to the others. Some of the mercenary captains, like Flowers, had bastard surnames: Rivers, Hill, Stone ... Others bore names that had been great in the Seven Kingdoms. Jon met two Strong's, three Peakes, a Mudd, a Mandrake, a Lothston, and a couple of Cole. Not all of them were authentic, of course. In free companies, anyone could choose whatever name they wanted, but regardless of what they chose to call themselves, the mercenaries displayed a kind of barbaric splendour. Like many other professional soldiers, they carried all their riches with them: jewelled swords, inlaid armour, thick torcs, and fine silks were everywhere to be seen, and each of those present wore enough gold bracelets to pay a lord's ransom. Each bracelet denoted one year of service in the Golden Company. Marq Mandrake, whose pockmarked face also sported a hole in his cheek where he had been burned to erase a slave mark, also wore a chain of gold skulls.

Not all captains had Westerosi blood Balaq the Black, a summer islander with light hair and skin the colour of soot, commanded the company's archers, just as in the days of Blackheart. He wore a magnificent cloak of green and orange feathers. The ghoulish Gorys Edoryen had taken Strickland's position as paymaster. He wore a leopard skin over his shoulder, and his blood-red hair fell down his back in oiled ringlets, though his pointed beard was black. Jon Connington didn't know the new spymaster at all, a Lyseni named Lysono Maar with violet eyes, ashen hair, and lips that would have been the envy of any prostitute. At first glance, Jon Connington had been about to take him for a woman. His nails were painted purple, and his earlobes were the ears studded with pearls and amethysts.

"Ghosts and liars. Revenants from a forgotten war lost causes, failed rebellions, a brotherhood of the failed and the fallen, the disgraced and the disinherited. This is my army. This is our best hope." Jon Connington thought in dismay as he examined their faces.

He turned to Harry Strickland. He did not look like a warrior. Portly, with a big round head, mild grey eyes and thinning grey hair that he brushes sideways to cover up a bald spot, he was sitting in a folding chair with his feet soaking in a bucket of saltwater ... And next to him was someone whom they would never have imagined finding there ... Annatar.

Jon Connington, Aegon, Tyrion, Haldon and Ser Jorah just stood in silence staring in disbelief at the Red Priest who was next to Harry Strickland ... A place of honour.

"What does this mean?" Jon asked, unable to believe that the Priest was there when the last time they saw him, he was inside the Shy Maiden, and the Priest only smiled grotesquely.

"Did you really think I would leave you alone in your company, my Lord?" The Priest answered in a soft voice.

"But how..?" He tried to ask a shocked Tyrion Lannister and Jon Connington had to agree with him.

"We had to travel a significant amount of distance horse, and he was on the boat when we left, and there were more horses, there was no way he could get there faster than us ... Did you use your witchcraft?" asked a terrified Connington.

"From what I see, the words of this ... Red Priest are true, he arrived here a few minutes before you and warned us of your arrival, at first we did not believe him ... But he described Lord Connington so precisely that ... Well, we decided to listen to him, a decision that was the right one in the end, "Harry Strickland said, looking at Annatar cautiously.

"Even they are afraid of him", Connington realised as he glanced around the store.

"Please ... it is not necessary for you to fear me we all share the same cause, that is why we are here; I have decided to provide my services to this company that is why you can trust me," said Annatar in such an attractive tone that for a few moments everyone wanted to follow him. And the tent was silent for a few moments.

"Forgive me not getting up ... The walk has been exhausting, and I blister easily. It's a curse, "Harry Strickland said suddenly, snapping everyone out of their reverie.

"It's a sign of weakness. You speak like an old woman," thought Jon coming out of his daze.

Since its founding, the Stricklands had been part of the Golden Company as Harry's great-grandfather had lost his lands by allying himself with the Black Dragon during the first Blackfire rebellion. "Golden for four generations," Harry used to boast as if four generations of exile and defeat were a source of pride.

"I can make you an ointment for the blisters, and there are certain mineral salts that harden the skin," Haldon said.

"It is very kind of you ... Watkyn, wine for our friends." Strickland gestured to his squire.

"No, thanks ... We prefer water," Jon Connington chimed in.

"As you wish ... And this must be your son" The captain-general smiled at the Prince, who showed no fear.

"He knows? What part of the truth would Myles tell him?" Connington thought in disgust.

Varys had insisted on the need for secrecy. So only Illyrio, the eunuch, and Blackheart knew of the plans they had drawn up between the three of them. The rest of the company ignored them completely; what was not known could not be escaped. But that was over.

"There is no father who can aspire to a better son, but this boy is not my blood, and his name is not Jon Connington. So, my lords, I present to you Aegon Targaryen, eldest son of Rhaegar, Prince of Dragonstone, and Princess Elia of Dorne, who will soon, with your help, be Aegon the sixth of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms "Jon Connington said, unable to hide his pride in Aegon.

The announcement was received in silence. There was a throat clearing. One of the Coles refilled his glass from a flask. Gorys Edorye, fiddling with his curls, muttered something in a language unknown to Jon Connington. Laswell Peake coughed, and Mandrake and Lothson exchanged glances.

"They know it ... They knew it from the beginning ... He turned to Annatar, but Connington only looked into the haunting orange eyes of the Priest to see that he was not responsible, then the Gryphon turned his gaze towards Harry Strickland.

"When did you tell them?"

The captain-general wiggled his toes in the bucket.

"When we got to the river. The company was uneasy and with good reason. We put aside a simple campaign in the Disputed Lands, and in exchange for what? In exchange for sweating with this shitty heat while our coins melt and our swords rust, while we reject important contracts? "

That news made Jon Connington's hair stand on end.

"Contracts? With who?" Jon asked in curiosity.

"With the Yunkai. The envoy sent to woo Volantis has already launched three free companies into Slave Bay. He wants us to be the fourth, and he offers us double what Myr paid us, plus a slave per head, ten per officer and a hundred select maids, all for me. "

"For that, thousands of slaves are needed. So, where do the Yunkai plan to get so many? " Jon Connington asked, intrigued.

"From Meereen. Watkyn, a towel. The water is getting cold, and my fingers are like raisins. No, not that towel, the soft one. "Strickland beckoned to his squire.

"You'd reject it, of course," Jon Connington said.

"I told him I'd think about it… Watch your fingers. Imagine they are thin-skinned grapes, boy; you have to dry them without squeezing them. With gentle strokes, without rubbing. That, that is it. A direct refusal would have been very unwise. Men would wonder if my brains melted. "Harry winced as his squire rubbed his feet.

"Soon, you will have work for your swords," Connington said.

"Really?. I suppose you already know that your young Targaryen Prince is considered dead in Westeros ... No one can prove his identity, so you won't attract new allies ... They won't support an impostor, "Lysono Maar intervened.

"They are correct; we needed Aegon to marry Daenerys Targaryen so that there would be no doubts about her identity and for Rhaenys to marry Willas Tyrell and secure the Reach, with the power of Highgarden, we could have given a terrible blow to the Lannisters and the Baratheons ... But it seems that both were swallowed by the earth," Jon thought, dismayed at remembering Rhaenys and her fierce temperament but her dedication to her cause, but at that moment, Annatar took a step forward leaning on his cane.

"I told you that the Red God supports this company. Therefore you should not despair, the gifts of the Lord of Light... They will supply the allies that you long for in your war," Said the Red Priest with such assurance that many of the captains began to speak.

" What does he mean," Jon Connington thought suspiciously.

"In that case, they still have me… Daenerys is Prince Rhaegar's sister, but I am his son. I am the only dragon you need, "Aegon said, taking a step forward.

"Brave words ... But think carefully what you say," Connington said.

"I've already thought about it. Why will I spend the rest of my life running away while someone else sits on my throne? It is time to take back what belongs to me by right ... The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros," Aegon said with surety.

"I love it... This kid has heart." Franklyn Flowers laughed.

The captain-general looked at him as if he had just been slapped.

"Has the sun rotted your brain, Flowers? We need a way to prove his identity; if we had Daenerys Targaryen with us and she accepted our little Prince as a consort, the Seven Kingdoms will recognise him, but that young woman disappeared on the day of her wedding there are rumours that she was kidnapped by a northern bastard, so without her, the lords of Westeros will mock young Aegon and brand him a Blackfyre "The Captain-General said without hiding the fear in his voice.

"This man is afraid to fight; how could they have chosen him as Black Heart's successor?" Jon Connington thought indignantly.

"So let's leave immediately? ... The triarchs will love to see us depart; make no mistake; They will even help us get passage to the Seven Kingdoms. No city likes to have an army on its doorstep, "Flowers said.

"He's right," Lysono Maar pointed out.

"By now, we can be sure that the lions have lost a lot of power, their armies are exhausted and scattered, they know nothing of our Prince. As soon as we raise the banners, many will rush to join us, "Flowers continued.

"Some ... Yes, it is likely but not many ... I do not doubt their skills, my brothers in arms, but we alone cannot take the Kingdom," Said Harry Landless.

"The first Aegon took Westeros without eunuchs. So why shouldn't the sixth do the same?" said Lysono Maar, clearly unsettled.

"But the plan ..." Strickland cautioned.

"Which plan? ... The fat man's plan? The one that changes every time the moon turns? First, Viserys Targaryen was to join us with fifty thousand Dothraki screamers at his back. Instead, the girl turns up missing, and we haven't a clue where she went. Now that plan is in ruins as well. I have had enough of Illyrio's plans. Robert Baratheon won the Iron Throne without the benefit of dragons. We can do the same. "Lysono Maar said.

.

"The risk… Strickland shook his head stubbornly.

"If my Lords allow me ... I would like to join the conversation", Tyrion Lannister spoke suddenly, gaining everyone's stares.

"A dwarf?" Tristan Rivers asked.

"Yes, a dwarf but not just any dwarf, my Lord... Before you, I present myself as Tyrion of House Lannister," He said, bowing before the incredulous knights until murmurs began to sound like "The Curse of Tywin Lannister".

"It's a jest?" Flowers asked in disbelief to Jon Connington, who just glared at the dwarf as he nodded, clenching his fists.

"What is the son of the 'Old Lion' doing here?" Asked Harry.

"I am a companion of Prince Aegon, and I wish to see him on his Throne as Rightful King; I also have pending matters with my sister ... For this, I have decided to put myself at the service of Prince Aegon."

"Why should we believe you? ... The Old Lion was responsible for supposedly extinguishing the Rhaegar Targaryen line in addition to looting King's Landing ... Why would his son want to return the Targaryens to power?" Trystan Rivers asked.

"Because I detest my family ... All of them, and nothing will give me more pleasure than to see them begging for mercy ... Although in the case of my Father that may not be possible as he is currently rotting in the seven hells I made sure of that," Tyrion said in a low voice causing many to look at him with fear.

"And how could you serve us Imp?" Lysono Maar scoffed after a few moments.

"With my tongue, my Lord… I can explain to Your Highness how my dear sister Cersei thinks if that can be called thinking. I can explain to you, my Lords, how to defeat my brother Jaime in battle. I know which Lords of Westeros are brave and which are cowards, which Lords are loyal and which craven ... I know that Lords can be bought ... I can aid you in securing Alliances as your friend Connington can attest I'm also quite good at tumbling, so there is entertainment provided you give me wine," Said the dwarf leaving the room in silence.

"Lord Tyrion is my political advisor ... and he's quite good," Aegon said in Tyrion's defence.

"Having a Lannister here is very risky ... Almost as much as invading Westeros," said Harry.

"The risk is not so bad now that my father Tywin Lannister is dead. The Seven Kingdoms are ready for conquest. Another child king, my nephew Tommen occupies the Iron Throne, he is even younger than the last, and there are more rebels than autumn leaves, "Tyrion said.

"Explain ..." Tristan Rivers said.

"If we were to go to Westeros, I would tell them to disembark in 'Stormlands' to make a show of force to the Lords of Westeros and raise the banners of Prince Aegon. Then he would ask Dorne for help; the Seven Kingdoms have never been riper for conquest. The Iron Throne is occupied by a child; the North is in chaos, the Riverlands are ravaged; a rebel has occupied "Storm's End" and Dragonstone. When winter comes, the kingdom will starve, and who is left to face all this? Who will rule the Seven Kingdoms? None other than my dear sister. There is no one else. My brother Jaime is thirsty for battle, not power. He has eluded all possibility of governing. My Uncle Kevan would be an acceptable regent if forced into office, but he will not seek it out on his own initiative. The gods gave him the character of a follower, not a leader. Mace Tyrell would take the sceptre willingly, but my family will not step aside to give way to him just like that. And Stannis is hated by everyone. So who do we have left then? Cersei. Just Cersei," Tyrion explained.

... Westeros is war-torn and bleeding, and I have no doubt that my dear sister is treating the wounds right now ... with salt. Cersei is as gentle as King Maegor, as selfless as Aegon the Unworthy, as wise as Mad Aerys. She never forgets a slight, real or imagined. She takes caution for cowardice and dissent for defiance. And she is greedy. Greedy for power, for honour, for love... Tommen's fragile reign is sustained by all the alliances that my Lord Father forged with such care, but she will soon destroy them, from the first to the last. So let us venture to Westeros; let us raise the banners of Prince Aegon, and men will run to join your cause. All: Lords great and small, and also the common people. But don't delay too long, my lords. These circumstances will not last. The tide that raised you will soon recede. Make sure you get to Westeros before my sister falls and someone more competent takes her place. "Tyrion finished speaking, leaving the room in silence.

"Damn clever dwarf" Jon Connington thought with admiration and annoyance.

"Still, alone we have no chance victory", Strickland insisted.

"We will not be alone, it is as the dwarf said… Dorne will join us, I have no doubt. Prince Aegon is as much the son of Elia as he is of Rhaegar. "Jon Connington had grown weary of the captain-general's cowardice.

"Certain. Who is left in Westeros to face us? A mad whore who couldn't tell a sum from her own tits, "Aegon said.

.

"The fox will have the support of the Kingslayer, make no mistake about it, Prince, and both will be backed by the wealth of Casterly Rock. Illyrio also says that this boy-king is married to a Tyrell, so we would also face the power of Highgarden.

"Damn," Jon Connington thought desperately he had hoped for an alliance with Highgarden.

.

Laswell Peake rapped his knuckles on the table.

"A century has passed, but some of us still have friends in The Reach. " Maybe the power of Highgarden is not as much as Mace Tyrell imagines."

"Prince Aegon, we are your men. Is that what you want? That we sail west? " Flowers asked.

"That's right… If we move fast and attack well, we'll get a few easy triumphs before the Lannisters realise we've landed. That will make others join our cause, "Said the Prince.

Rivers and Flowers smiled approvingly, while others exchanged thoughtful glances.

"Better to die in Westeros than on the Devil's path," Peake said.

"I prefer to live ... Live, and get some land and a good castle," Marq Mandrake said laughing.

Franklyn Flowers tapped the hilt of his sword.

"As long as I have a chance to kill a few Fossoways, I'll sign up."

They all started talking at once, and Jon Connington knew that the tide had turned in his favour.

... I did not know this side of Aegon ...

It wasn't the wisest course of action, but he was sick of prudence, sick of secrets, sick of waiting. Win or lose, he would see the Gryphon Nest again before he died, and they would bury him next to his father.

One by one, the men of the Golden Company rose, knelt, and laid the sword at the young Prince's feet. The last one was Harry, blisters and all.

When they emerged from the captain-general's tent, the sun was tinting the western sky red and casting scarlet shadows on the golden skulls strung on the pikes. Franklyn Flowers offered to take the Prince around the camp to introduce him to his boys, and Jon Connington agreed.

"But remember: as far as the Company is concerned, he has to remain Griff the Younger until we cross the Narrow Sea. Then, in Westeros, we will wash his hair and give him proper armour, " Connington cautioned flowers.

"Understood. Come with me. We will start with the cooks; you always have to meet the cooks. "Flowers clapped Young Grif on the back.

As they walked away, Jon Connington turned to the Half-Maester.

"Take the horse, return to the Shy Maiden, and bring Ser Barristan, Ser Rolly. We will also need Illyrio's chests, all coins and armour. Thank Ysilla and Yandry; they have already finished their role. When his highness is in his kingdom, he will not forget them."

"As ordered, my lord."

Jon Connington walked into the tent assigned to him by Landless Harry. He knew that the road ahead was fraught with danger, but so what? Every man had to die. All he asked for was time. He had waited so long that, no doubt, the gods would grant him a few more years, the just ones to see on the Iron Throne the boy he had raised as a son, to claim his lands, his name, and his honour; to silence the bells that rang in his dreams every time he went to sleep ... He would cross the Narrow Sea and see the Griffin's Nest again. Then he would end the line of the Usurper and return the Iron Throne to Rhaegar's son.

Then Lord Connington could die satisfied.

But without him knowing, the entire conversation and oath of allegiance were closely observed by the Red Priest, who was his "ally", an ally who only smiled sinisterly when he saw how things were resolved with his help. While caressing with his bony fingers that peculiar gold ring that at that moment shone like a merciless dark flame.

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Planning the invasion was simple; carrying it out was more complicated by the storms at the end of autumn, which forced them to wait for the right moment to set sail; otherwise, they ran the risk of losing a significant number of men before even starting.

"I will not repeat my past mistakes ... This is not for my personal glory," Connington thought as he saw his Prince's army prepare to march to Westeros while they managed to get the elephants into ships. While he could see Ser Barristan and Tyrion Lannister with his Prince, who was watching everything with a bitter expression on his face.

"He should be happy his exile is over; what's wrong?" Jon Connington thought curiously and approached him.

"Prince Aegon.. is something wrong? I thought you would be happy with how things worked out, "Jon asked, confused.

At first, Aegon did not reply, but in the end, he lamented.

"I am, it's just ... I was thinking of my sister Rhaenys, I was thinking of Rhae ..." He sighed sadly, and Connington nodded.

"Of course, his sister was everything to him; they vowed to always take care of each other and return to Westeros to regain what was theirs together ... And it seems that Rhaenys will not be able to fulfil her promise, "Connington thought as he remembered Rhaenys.

She had been a little girl who spent her time weeping and scared for having been separated from her mother and father, which was even more unbearable to tell her about their deaths, that was terrible, by that time, Jon Connington already had his heart hardened by his exile Not to mention that he hated her mother ... But even then, he couldn't help but feel compassion for the little girl whose life was destroyed by that rebellion.

While growing up, Rhaenys showed a fierce, disciplined temperament as some said her ancestor Visenya Targaryen was her admiration, and this led her to become a warrior only that instead of using a sword, she preferred the axe.

At first, Jon tried to dominate her and turn her into a true Lady because he knew that Rhaenys was the key to some marriage alliance that would help them in their mission ... But she did not allow herself to be constrained, and Jon accepted after some agonising years that she would never sit whispering in court while weaving ... No, her place was the battlefield; her refusal to wear dresses was a clear indication. Jon was not a fool; he did not see problems permitting her to use weapons since he had seen what the world was like with those who did not know how to defend themselves. But Rhaenys was an impulsive, temperamental, and foolish girl.

Still, he wished that she could better control her impatience and temper since that could get her killed in the future... But sadly, he failed; now Aegon is alone in the world because of his failure with his sister.

"But no more Rhaegar, Rhaenys and Elia I failed you all when my desire for glory prevented me from capturing Robert Baratheon at the Stoney Sept, and House Targaryen fell as a result, but now I will not make mistakes with your son I swear to you that before my life ends, I will see that he sits on the Iron Throne," Connington thought with conviction.

Placing a hand on Aegon, his mentor tried to comfort him.

"Don't think about it; if your sister were here, she wouldn't want you to show weakness in front of your men", Jon said.

"Where is she? .. What has become of her?" Aegon asked.

"She's probably dead," Jon thought but didn't want to say anything at that moment they saw the most sinister companion of his company approaching.

Annatar.

Ever since he was suddenly found in that tent, Jon and the others had determined that this man, this Priest was strange and terrifying; he was really beginning to wish he'd never rescued him from the sea.

But even so, Annatar had shown to have great power, real power, a power that could be very useful to them in Westeros even so Jon Connington and everyone else feared him and did not trust him completely ... Even so, it seemed that somehow that walking corpse had a tongue of silver and gold, his oratory skills were of such value that with a few prayers they were enough so that fear and mistrust will be appeased.

"Prince Aegon ... Lord Connington, Lord Tyrion, Ser Barristan ..." He said, bowing.

"Annatar ..." Aegon said.

"It seems that things are going according to their course, my Prince, that pleases the Lord of Light and me..." Annatar said in a sweet tone.

"Do you think we will win?" Aegon asked.

"I have no doubts, young Prince, trust your soldiers and listen to the advice of your guardians, you will not have to worry ... I assure you that in a year you will be King ..." He said, bowing.

"What is your aim priest?, the chances of victory are narrow at best; why do you raise the child's morale in this way?" Connington thought with frustration, and a glance at Ser Barristan and the Imp indicated that they both felt the same way.

"What do you want ... Lord Annatar?" The dwarf asked, gaining the Priest's gaze, who only stared at him for a few moments before returning his attention to Aegon.

"I come to say farwell to Prince Aegon" The Priest said, surprising everyone.

"You're leaving?" Aegon asked incredulously.

"Just for now ... I still have a mission to fulfil here in, Essos ... and unfortunately we must be parted, it is of vital importance. That is why I must fulfil it but rest assured that it is for your good."Annatar said apologetically.

"I don't like this, I don't like this man ... But we need his power ... What is he planning?" Connington thought.

"But do not despair my Prince ... I will give you something that will help you a great deal," Annatar said with humility in his voice, but Connington and Tyrion perceived traces of emotion.

The Priest put his bony hand into his clothes and took out of them a gold ring, but it was not an ordinary ring.

It was the most magnificent Ring they had ever seen.

It was a ring carved of fine gold and set with a pure black stone, it was decorated with fine lines, finer than the finest lines of a feather running along the Ring, outside and inside: it was a beautiful design line of fire that seemed to form the letters of a fluid script. They glowed brightly and yet remote as if coming out of great depth.

Clearly, the Ring was forged by a master blacksmith of almost incredible talent ... And everyone was staring at it with rapt attention.

"A ring?" Tyrion Lannister asked.

"Yes, but this is not a simple ring, my Lord; it is a ring used by the ancient Dragon Lords of Valyria for their conquests", Annatar said before the surprised group.

"Their conquests?" Asked Aegon curiously.

"Yes, these rings were created by their ancestors with dragon fire and very ancient magic to subdue inferior beings to their will; with the magical power contained in them, they were able to establish the Freehold and many other wonders, And now I give you that same power for your conquest of Westeros, Prince Aegon, "Annatar said, placing the Ring in front of Aegon and he instantly took it from his hand without question.

"Tell me, if this ring is so great and it was in your hands all the time ... Why did you wait until now?" Tyrion Lannister asked, clearly distrusting and not believing a word.

"My Lord Lannister, no one gives a power like this just like this, Prince Aegon has the blessing of the Lord of Light ... But for my part, I wanted to be sure of his integrity and strength; in our time together, I have seen that our Prince is young, yes, but strong and resolute... He may still have to learn many things, but he has what it takes to become a powerful and wise monarch. I was merely waiting for the right moment… "Annatar said with a hideous smile on his face.

"And what should I do?" Aegon asked.

"When you put the Ring on. You will know it will take a great deal to master its power, but you shall be mightier than Aegon, fairer than the young dragon, and wiser than Jaehaerys," Annatar said, his eyes burning like the sun.

"You seriously expect us to believe that one ring can do all of that?" Connington asked, annoyed.

"Of course not ... When the Prince wears the Ring, Lord Connington will check it ... Well, I must leave, it is a long journey that awaits me, and the sooner I go ... The sooner I will return to your side, Your Highness. "Annatar said, bowing and starting to walk away.

"Where will it go? .. If I may ask?" Ser Barristan asked, speaking for the first time.

"To Braavos ... There is something I must take care of there," Annatar said.

"Will you be back soon?" Prince Aegon asked.

"As soon as I can, Your Highness, farewell ..." Annatar said before disappearing into the night, leaving the Westerosi to gaze at the beautiful Ring.

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Sauron was pleased when he finally gave up that horrible and nauseating appearance he would sooner perish again than appear as a man.

That grotesque appearance was the most human he could acquire; the Lord of Mordor spent much of his way to Braavos, cursing Erú for having taken away the capacity to take fair forms he could have appeared as an elf, and the deception would have been far easier especially when it came to that sword swallowing Gryphon.

That fool sees himself as wise because of his age and the tragedies he lived through, but in reality, he is vain and selfish, bitter at the loss of his love, regardless of the role that his so-called "Silver Prince" played in the fall. From his own family, Jon Connington is quick to judge and pass sentences based largely on first impressions; despite his age, he was still that vain boy who yearned for the cock of the silver prince in his ass; it was rather amusing filling his head with nightmares of his greatest failures.

As for the boy, Aegon, the Lord of Mordor must acknowledge him; he is cunning, shrewd, patient, cultured, thoughtful and prudent ... He has the characteristics of a true king though he wasn't without faults.

The boy had a streak of arrogance that even he wasn't aware of himself, which wasn't a surprise considering the pompous Lord who raised him, but that ... was all Sauron needed.

The Ring that he gave to Aegon Targaryen and that once belonged to Khamûl was no longer like the other Mannish rings; it was much more powerful Capable of magical feats that even those rings created by Celembridor could not equal and only surpassed by his Ring, the Ring is undetectable to anyone who is not equal or more potent than Sauron so that no elf ... Not even that arrogant and proud Galadriel could perceive it.

He never intended to travel to the "Outer Lands" of the far East as there was nothing of interest in them, so the fallen Maia could not understand why the Valar bothered to shepherd on those weak, corrupt and primitive men who they began to worship false idols for thousands of years so that if they wanted to increase their influence there, But the interference of his former master and the defeat of his troops in Isengard, together with the resurrection of Jon Snow. They had humiliated him a great deal; the Lord of Mordor was not going to leave things like that; Jon Snow and the Valar would pay dearly for humiliating him by freeing one of his servants and denying him the Palantiri.

Jon Snow's half-brother, Aegon, will be the instrument of his will; in their time together, he had subtly instructed the boy to worship power above all else and not want to share it with anyone ... not even with his blood.

When Jon Snow and his companions return home ... They shall know his vengeance, But now, it's time to focus on the present.

After all, Sauron must aid his servant.

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Braavos is the richest and probably the most powerful of the Free Cities. It is located in a lagoon in the extreme northwest of Essos, where the Narrow Sea and the Shaky Sea meet. Braavos is also known as Braavos of the Hundred Islands and the Secret City, a name also attributed to the city of Nefer, the last remaining city of N'ghai. Braavos is sometimes referred to as the "bastard daughter of Valyria".

All gods are honoured in Braavos, and therefore there are many temples and shrines in the city. Most of the temples are located on the Island of the Gods in the centre of the city, but there is one that is feared among the others.

And for the next three weeks, the Enemy of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth waited for all the inhabitants of that temple to return; Sauron had learned the importance of not leaving loose ends.

Sauron knew the men of Essos very well because they are the ones who unknowingly properly preserve the teachings of his Master Morgoth; the most evidence of this was this guild of death-worshipping assassins and much further east the City of Asshai, the City that was built thousands of years ago in the image of Angband.

Sauron knows the history of the Faceless men rather well, and it amused him.

"Those fools consider that death is part of the natural order of things and a merciful end to suffering, which is true ... But not in the unusual way that they preach, death is more than the end ... It is the freedom to say your destiny ... But those fools have never understood nor will they," Sauron thought with amusement.

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Once Sauro felt that every last of those assassins had returned to their house on a moonless night to discuss their new tasks, the Lord of Mordor knew his time had come.

The House of Black and White sits upon a rocky knoll made of dark grey stone. It has no windows and has a black tile roof. Its steep steps of grey stone lead down to the shadowed dock. Besides the front door, there are also secret tunnels and hidden passages that allow entry to the temple. A winding stair leads to the garret, and a steep wooden ladder reaches the rooftop's door and a lofty perch.

The knoll upon which the temple sits holds many passageways cut from the rock, with a maze of vaults and tunnels located beneath the temple proper. The vaults and storerooms contain armament and clothing; the possessions of people who die in the temple are separated by the servants. The sleeping cells of priests and acolytes are located on the first level beneath the main floor. The sleeping cells for the servants are on the second.

The holy sanctum lies on the third level, which is only available to priests. A heavy iron door leads to steps which descend below the canal. At the bottom, another iron door leads to a chamber filled with the collection of hanging faces used as disguises by the Faceless Men. One side passage is walled with bones and supported by columns of skulls, and another passage leads to steps which descend even further.

He assumed a hooded and sickly form, horrible indeed… but useful at the moment.

Sauron in disguise approached the carved wooden doors, ten cubits high. The door on the left was bone-white weirwood; the right, shiny ebony. In the centre of each was a carved full moon, ebony for the weirwood door and weirwood for the ebony door.

"Valar morghulis," He said in a clear voice ... And the doors opened for a visitor for the last time.

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The temple proper has rows of long stone benches and a rough stone floor, and hard stone beds are located in shuttered alcoves at the walls. In the centre is a black pool of poisoned water ten feet across and lit by dim red candles. Statues of gods stand around the room. There are tall statues of thirty gods in all. Among them are Bakkalon, the Black Goat of Qohor, the Hooded Wayfarer, the horse god, the Lion of Night, the Merling King, the Moon-Pale Maiden, the Stranger, and The Weeping Woman. There are no services or songs of worship within the temple.

So many false gods.. so much stupid that Sauron just wanted to laugh at Erú and the Valar.. but no, not yet ...

In the centre of the temple, he found the water he had heard before: a pool just over three yards in diameter, black as ink, lit by dim red candles. Next to him was a man wearing a silver cape, and you could hear his sobs. The Lord of Mordor watched with amusement as he reached into the water and caused scarlet ripples across the pool a swallowed the draught before collapsing lifelessly.

Sauron remained silent and walked away from the pool, watching those people die of their own free will until a figure approached him.

"They are so eager to die," He thought with amusement.

He was a tall man with a kind elderly face and wore a hooded robe with black on the right side and white on the left.

"Valar morghulis," The man said softly in the common tongue.

"Valar morghulis", Sauron replied, following the custom of those primitives.

"Have you come to seek the favour of the Many-Faced God?" He asked gently as if suicide is a sweet thing.

With a smile, Sauron nodded.

"Come closer and stranger, this is a place of peace ... Here the suffering ends ..." Said the old man with a smile so kind that Sauron wanted to tear his lips off... But he had something else in mind.

"Is that true? ... Does all the suffering end here?" Sauron asked, feigning ignorance.

"That's correct, just look at all who drink from the fountain ... Stop suffering, if you have great sorrows and pains that afflict you ... Drink now and let the pain end ..." Said the man smiling.

"And you have not been tempted to drink from that well?" Asked the Lord with feigned curiosity.

"We live to serve the God of Many Faces, and we will all seek his favour... Why do you ask stranger? ... Do you come to seek our help and not alleviate your sorrows?" Said the old man kindly but now with a severe face.

At that moment, Sauron decided to end his charade; he had no use for these simpering fools, but he knew that they must die.

All the members of this order who are unknowingly servants of their Master were there, and as much as Sauron wanted to let them spread his message of ignorance and darkness, the Lord of Mordor knew that some foolish lord would seek to slain his thrall and so he would remove the obstacle.

In front of the kind man, the hood that covered the hunched old man fell to the ground while that old man seemed to have vanished. Intrigued and in mysterious fear, the old man slowly lifted him off the ground and suddenly felt excruciating pain in his neck as she spat blood and heard a monstrous growl.

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Soon in the House of Black and White, where there was only silence, screams and groans of pain were heard, no one got to know for a long time what happened there, only that many, many years later, the Inhabitants of Braavos managed to enter by force. They were surprised when they found the fetid and nauseating aroma of thousands of skeletons covered with flies, some wholly torn to pieces and with dried black blood ... As if a wild animal had torn them to pieces.

There were claw marks on the floor as if a huge lion had made them ... or a monstrous wolf.

Climbing to the upper levels of the temple, the terrified inhabitants of Braavos could find many more corpses with dried blood on the walls and mutilated. In all the rooms, it was the same ... Corpse, after corpse ... Everyone wondered what kind of monster could have entered this place of death and do something like that? ... So horrendous.

But they did not find any answer ... Or perhaps they did not want to see it They only knew that the dreaded Order of Faceless Men had been slaughtered to a man, one unknown day went to meet their god and the fear that they caused in people disappeared with them ... Well, no one should worry about dying under mysterious circumstances anymore.

--------------------------------------------

After removing another obstacle, a weary Sauron reverted to cloud form and began his return to Middle Earth ... Killing those assassins was amusing. Now no Lord of Westeros dissatisfied with Aegon will be able to slay him without brining ruin to themselves.

Sauron knew that the faith of the seven must be crushed as those old fools abhorred magic in all its forms and would seek to challenge the boy especially when he begins using dsrk sorceries.

But Sauron would let the young man deal with them; with the power of his Ring, Aegon will be able to finish off those men without further help.

The Lord of Mordor never intended to return to Westeros ... However, that is no longer necessary; once the Ring begins to consume the boy, Sauron could provide counsel regardless of distance; in addition to the Ring, Sauron would provide his servant aid.

Troops dark creatures of all kinds Orcs, Goblins, Trolls, Spiders, Wargs, Vampires and Werewolves ... As soon as Sauron returned, he intended to begin raising them in secret and find a way to send them to Aegon when the time was right.

But for now, Sauron's mind was focused on returning to Barad-Dûr to rest and regain his lost power.

He had already planted the seeds of darkness in Westeros; it's just a matter of waiting for them to bloom for when Jon Snow and his companions and lovers return home.

With those dark thoughts, the Lord of Mordor, in the form of a cloud, continued to fly over the sea, hoping to return to his Dark Tower and prepare for the coming war.

Notes:

Thanks to Great_red