-Chapter 45-

-Chapter 45-

-POV Aegon/ Young Griff-

My mind was racing, every fiber of my being screaming that it was time to act. I had spent my entire life in the shadows, hiding, preparing for this moment.

But now that we were ready to invade Westeros, my advisors, led by my adoptive father Jon Connington, were telling me to wait.

"Ronnet has become too powerful," said Jon. "The Stormlands are firmly under his control, we should try to rally him because without him, our cause is doomed to fail."

I stood up abruptly, my anger exploding, and said:

"I am a Targaryen! Dragon blood flows in my veins! How can you suggest we hide and wait?"

Jon seemed torn, his eyes reflecting deep pain:

"Aegon, I understand your anger, but we must be cautious. Attacking now would be suicide."

"And allying with Daenerys? Is that what you're suggesting?" I said sharply.

The faces of the advisors were tense. The idea of an alliance with my aunt was tempting, but the news reaching us from her was clear… my aunt Daenerys wanted the crown for herself. Throughout Essos, everyone knew the story of the mother of dragons who, with her savage husband, had murdered her own brother for the crown.

I didn't want to take the risk of her feeling threatened by me. Even with dragons, if I am king before she can reach Westeros, dragons or not, she won't provoke a second war unless she is truly mad. I could marry her and the house of the dragon would be united again.

'But only under my direction'

"She has dragons, Aegon," pleaded one of the advisors.

"She wants to rule alone," I retorted, clenching my fist. "How can you be so naive? To her, I am nothing more than a boy who doesn't have enough men to take even one kingdom, and who covets her 'due.'"

A heavy silence fell over the room. I could feel the weighty gazes on me, but my mind was already racing, devising plans to rally the North or the Iron Islands, or both. But for now, I need to find my true family. Only they could give me what I want… the Iron Throne.

"Sunspear," I murmured.

Jon frowned: "What?"

"Prince Doran… I will negotiate with him. He hates the Lannisters as much as we do, maybe even more. If I can win his support, then we have a chance. We'll have 50,000 Dornish spearmen plus 20,000 men. With that many men, all the lords unhappy with the Lannisters and Ronnet Connington would join us within a week."

Jon seemed about to protest, but I raised my hand to silence him:

"This is the best option. We cannot wait; every day that passes gives our enemies more time to prepare."

He sighed, running a hand over his tired face:

"Alright, Aegon, but be careful. Doran is a shrewd player, never underestimate the Martells."

I nodded, my determination strengthened by the hope of conquering the kingdom of my ancestors:

"I will, and I promise you, Jon, I will reclaim my kingdom, for us, for the Targaryens."

With those words, I left the room, leaving behind worried murmurs but also, I hoped, a renewed sense of hope.

Sunspear awaited me, and with it, the first step towards reclaiming the Iron Throne.

---

-5 days later-

Ahhh

A scream tore through the calm of my sleep, yanking me from my dreams.

At first confused, I didn't open my eyes right away until I heard the clinking of swords.

I woke up abruptly, this time fully alert to the sounds of clashing swords and men shouting.

A moment of confusion followed before Jon burst into my cabin and yelled:

"Aegon! Wake up! They're attacking us!"

'Who?' I thought.

My head was still numb with sleep, but the urgency in Jon's voice got me on my feet immediately.

I grabbed Blackfyre and my light armor, quickly putting it on, and ran to the deck of the flagship, "The Black Terror." The magnitude of the situation became clear.

The sea was a chaos of ships, flames, and screams.

I could smell the burning flesh all around me as I saw that our fleet was surrounded by three others.

Three distinct fleets were encircling our ships, trapping "The Black Terror" and our fleet in the middle of a vise.

To the south of our position, I quickly spotted and recognized the floating banners of House Redwyne, heavily armed ships ready for battle.

To the north, it was even more disconcerting, the banners of House Connington, who to my knowledge had no fleet. And coming from the west, the banners of House Velaryon, gliding on the water like silver serpents.

'My own blood attacking me for those bastards born from the entrails of that Lannister bitch,' I thought, dismayed and furious.

"It's a trap!" yelled Jon, his voice almost drowned out by the crash of the battle:

"We have to fight our way out of this hell!"

My heart was pounding. It was a well-orchestrated ambush, each fleet arriving simultaneously from a direction to encircle and catch us off guard.

The archers were already releasing their volleys of arrows, while the sea rams began striking our ships.

"Organize a defense!" I shouted to my men.

"Arm the catapults and prepare for boarding! We are not defeated yet!"

The men, inspired by my courage and the momentum of my voice, began to organize, repelling the assaults, but the numbers were against us, and for every man who fell among them, at least five of ours died.

'We won't make it, the soldiers of the Golden Company are not sailors.'

The Redwynes were masters in naval combat thanks to their centuries-old culture of import-export, which often required the ships escorting precious cargo to fend off pirates at sea trying to rob them.

The Conningtons, despite their betrayals of their true liege, were formidable and well-organized, and their ships were all of great quality.

The Velaryons, with their knowledge of the strait, were adversaries not to be underestimated and surely the originators of the battle plan.

'Allied to bring down their master,' I thought, seeing all the banners gathered here to kill the last son of Rhaegar Targaryen, namely me.

The fight seemed desperate, but I refused to yield. I fought alongside my men, sword in hand, repelling every attacker who tried to board "The Black Terror."

Unfortunately, it was clear we were outclassed. The ship was surrounded, every attempt to break through was repelled.

Jon approached me, his face covered in sweat and blood.

"Aegon, we must consider retreating and breaking through without our other ships. If we stay, we're dead. As long as you stay alive, we still have a chance to come back for revenge, for everyone's revenge," said my adoptive father, looking clearly exhausted.

My chest tightened at his words, fleeing was not in my nature, but he was right.

It was better to live to fight another day. The soldiers of the Golden Company were not sailors, and it showed. They were helpless against the powerful Connington archers and crossbowmen who had easily split our fleet of 100 ships.

"Signal all ships to retreat towards the strait!" I ordered, my throat tight.

The trumpets sounded, signaling the retreat, but escaping would not be easy. Arrows rained down from all sides, and every ship that tried to escape was boarded or sunk.

It was a massacre, but with determination, we managed to break through the Velaryon formation, allowing a few of our ships to escape.

I took one last look back, seeing "The Black Terror" in flames, before jumping onto an allied ship and heading east.

The defeat was bitter, but I silently vowed to avenge. The Redwynes, the Velaryons, and even the Conningtons would all pay for their betrayal.

CRAAAACK