-Chapter 46-

-Chapter 46-

As I gazed at the horizon from the bow of my flagship, a sly smile formed on my lips.

The sea was a chaos of flames and screams; the fleet of Aegon VI, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and all the damn sheep of Westeros, was burning under the weight and ferocity of our assault.

Their ships, once proud and imposing, were now blazing beacons in the falling night, just like the dreams of grandeur of this pretender to the throne.

My thoughts turned to Jon Connington, my own blood. Although family loyalty had an important place in my heart, when it came to my uncle, politics and power had an even greater one.

Aegon, despite his claims, was nothing more than a useless pawn on the chessboard of the Game of Thrones that I had patiently taken upon myself to rebuild.

The rumors that I had carefully circulated throughout the Seven Kingdoms, as well as in the Free Cities, had been my most effective weapon.

Frightening tales of the "Bloody Queen," Daenerys Targaryen, and her dragons devouring everything in their path, had shaken the confidence of the lords of Westeros.

The songs sung by minstrels had become nightmares for children; the Free Cities feared that she would turn her eyes towards them once Westeros was conquered.

I imagined Varys, the deceased spider, whispering softly in Aegon's ear, weaving his web of intrigues and secrets. Perhaps he had told him that I had withdrawn most of my troops so they could prepare to attack.

Perhaps he had spoken of my men's withdrawal to my towns and castles, leading him to believe that his time had come and that he could cross the Stepstones without any problem.

But unfortunately for him, I had anticipated this.

My spies had informed me of every movement of the Golden Company, their changing route, the morale of the troops, the nightly deliberations of Aegon and Connington.

Everything was reported to me, so when I learned that they were sailing towards Westeros, I prepared my own welcome. I eliminated Varys, the only rat who could have reported my plans to this now helpless pretender thanks to my masterstroke.

Of the 20,000 men I had mobilized, I chose to bring with me 5,000 archers, 10,000 sailors, and 5,000 crossbowmen. They were all capable of fighting in close combat, but not as well as real infantry soldiers that I had left in the Stormlands and in the capital.

My second-in-command, Ser Gyles, approached me, his eyes burning with excitement:

"The Targaryens are in disarray, Lord Connington. We have won."

I nodded and said, "We have won, but it is not over."

I observed the ships ready to sink that blocked our path and I ran, to the consternation of my crew, towards the bow of my ship. Like a cat, I managed to keep my balance and then I jumped onto the flagship of Aegon VI's fleet, which was about 50 meters from mine.

I rolled upon landing and felt the boards creak under my weight. I raised my shield to stop three arrows aimed at my head.

I didn't care about the small fry. All I had in my sights were two people: Jon Connington, who threatened my position, and Aegon, who threatened Tommen's status and, by extension, Cersei's and mine.

I didn't know if Aegon was truly the son of Elia Martell or not because I hadn't read the end of the books and in the series, he wasn't even mentioned.

But regardless, I couldn't let this man reach Sunspear alive.

The Martells should know that no matter what, I was ready to do anything for my family and to keep my position and the power I wield as Lord Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Aegon Blackfyre and Jon Connington," I said, locking eyes with my targets.

My uncle's and his adopted son's eyes widened in seeing me. Surely they thought they had managed to put enough distance between us to start fleeing.

My Valyrian steel sword, Griffin Heart, reflected the glow of the surrounding flames as I began to advance.

With each step I took on the damp wood of the ship, the creaking of my boots seemed to announce my arrival as well as that of the Stranger.

The salty wind whipped my face, carrying the cries of the soldiers. Some of pain, others in the fervor of combat, reminding me of the harshness of naval battles.

Jon's gaze was filled with emotion, a heavy mix of rage, surprise, and a glimmer of sadness. His sword, already stained with the blood of my men, was raised in defiance.

'Sorry Uncle, but your path ends here,' I thought silently.

Aegon, at his side, looked at me warily, but his eyes betrayed a certain admiration, perhaps for the audacity of my assault, my jump, and my exploits.

'Who knows?'

"Ronnet," growled Jon, his voice broken by the surrounding tumult, "you are a fool to believe you can stop us here."

"One could say madness is in our blood, uncle," I replied, sketching a sarcastic smile while twirling my sword. "But it's a calculated madness."

Arrows whistled past my ears. Without thinking, my shield held firm before me, repelling every projectile.

I had been trained for this, for these moments where every movement counts, every decision could be the last. But my enhanced reaction speed allowed me to make these moves without any worry.

Aegon leaped first, his sword Blackfyre gleaming in the torchlight. I dodged his blow, striking his shield forcefully, but it held firm, delivering a riposte that I parried with my sword before bashing him with my shield like a bull.

A cry rang out behind me and I saw Jon and ten men charging towards me. Without any effort, I sliced the throats of two soldiers with a single stroke of my sword.

Then, I smashed another's head with my shield, causing him to collapse dead on the ground three meters from me. I plunged my sword into the fourth's belly and then withdrew my sword from his belly in a 360° circular motion.

Simultaneously, six heads flew into the air while six bodies knelt on the ground headless, blood gushing from their necks like fountains.

"Your pride will be your downfall, Ronnet!" roared Aegon, capitalizing on my moment of distraction.

He plunged a spear into my flank that I deflected by grabbing the spear's shaft and planting it in the breastplate of my uncle Jon Connington.

Aegon's cry of grief as he felt his adoptive father's blood flow onto his fingers sent a shiver down my spine. I would have preferred to continue my life of pleasure and castles, but he hadn't given me the chance; it was his fault.

'It was their fault, they should have stayed in Essos,' I thought.

He got up and charged, screaming with his sword, trying to plunge it into my guts.

"You may be a dragon, Aegon," I said, parrying his sword.

"But even dragons can fall from the sky," I said, this time slicing his head off with a clean, assured stroke like paper.

I stood there watching his body convulse violently, and the flames, the sea, and the screams... everything seemed to blend into a single chaos as I fought for the future of Westeros and just eliminated yet another king and another threat to me and mine.