Dothraki Adventures 28

Aegon's gaze landed on Magister Illyrio Mopatis.

The fat Pentoshi lord was shaking, sweat dripping down his face, his chins quivering.

The dragons behind Aegon shifted, their golden eyes locked onto him, as if waiting for their master's command.

"Magister Illyrio," Aegon said, stepping closer. "You were the one who took in Viserys and Daenerys, yes?"

Illyrio nodded rapidly, his voice oily and desperate.

"Y-Yes, my prince! I have been a loyal friend to House Targaryen! I only wished to see you restored to the Iron Throne!"

Aegon chuckled, but there was no warmth in it.

"Is that so?" His eyes gleamed. "You mean to tell me that selling Daenerys like livestock was in her best interest?"

Illyrio's face paled further.

"It was necessary! A strong Khalasar could have....."

Aegon tilted his head, his voice mocking.

"Could have done what? Carried Viserys to Westeros like a king in chains?" He snorted, eyes sharp as daggers. "You never cared who sat on the Iron Throne. You only cared about who would be in your debt."

Illyrio swallowed hard, his fat hands trembling.

"Mercy, my prince...."

Aegon's lips curled.

"Mercy?" He glanced at his dragons. "Shall I ask them what they think?"

Bahamut, Igneel, and Albion growled, low and deep, as if they understood.

Illyrio fell to his knees, sobbing now.

"Please, please! I have wealth, power! I can be useful to you, Prince Aegon!"

Aegon stared at him for a long moment.

Then, finally, he smirked.

"Perhaps you can."

Illyrio exhaled in relief, wiping his forehead.

"Yes, of course, I...."

"You will return to Pentos," Aegon cut in, his tone sharp. "And prepare my arrival. I will be coming soon, and I expect every gate to be open for me."

Illyrio nodded rapidly, scrambling to his feet.

"Yes! Yes, my prince! I will do as you command!"

Aegon waved him away.

"Go. Before I change my mind."

Illyrio stumbled backward, nearly tripping over himself as he rushed away, eager to escape the Dragon's gaze.

Aegon smiled, looking at the man rushing away. He didn't believe the man would have the gates open for him, but he would send news to Westeros, and that was what he wanted. Let the lords know of his army and his dragons and what was soon coming down on them.

And now, only one remained.

Aegon turned his attention to Ser Jorah Mormont.

The exiled knight stood tall, his expression unreadable.

"Ser Jorah," Aegon said, studying him. "A Westerosi knight… turned exile… turned slaver?"

Jorah flinched but held his ground.

"I know why you are here," Aegon said softly. "You spy on Daenerys... sending letters to Varys."

A ripple of shock spread through the crowd, but Aegon didn't take his eyes off the knight.

"How many secrets have you sold, Jorah?"

Jorah's mouth opened, then closed. Finally, he dropped to one knee.

"My prince... I beg your forgiveness."

Aegon stared down at him, silent for a long moment. The flames flickered at his fingertips again, casting shadows across Jorah's bowed head.

"You are a traitor... but."

Aegon knew. The man had proven useful to Daenerys in the show, which is why he hadn't killed him instantly; he knew the man could become useful to him.

The knight's head snapped up, surprise flickering in his eyes.

"Swear yourself to me. Swear on your sword, your blood, and your life. Serve me alone, or I will give you to Igneel."

The red dragon snarled, smoke curling from his nostrils.

Jorah's throat bobbed, but slowly he bent his head.

"I swear it. By the old gods and the new... I am yours."

Aegon nodded, satisfied.

(At Night)

The Dothraki encampment bustled with activity as Aegon's horde set up for the night. Fires burned bright, casting long shadows over the sea of tents, while the scent of roasted meat filled the air. The dragons lay nearby, their massive forms resting under the open sky, their golden eyes glowing in the darkness.

Aegon did not move, merely watching as Daenerys entered, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders. She was dressed in simple silk, her expression unreadable, but her violet eyes burned with questions.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then, Daenerys finally broke the silence.

"Who are you?"

Aegon's lips curled slightly.

"I believe my bloodrider already announced my name."

Daenerys shook her head, stepping closer.

"I don't mean your name." Her voice was quiet but firm. "I mean, what are you?"

Aegon chuckled, setting Maegor down gently beside him.

"A dragon," he said simply. "Just as you are."

Daenerys studied him, her arms crossed.

"A dragon who wields fire in his bare hands?" she asked.

Aegon's expression did not change.

"I was born of fire," he said. "As were you. But where Viserys was weak, you are strong."

Daenerys's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of her brother.

"And yet you burned him alive."

Aegon tilted his head.

"Would you rather I had let him live?"

Daenerys hesitated.

"He was my brother."

"And he was willing to sell you for a crown," Aegon countered. "Tell me. If he had survived long enough to take the Iron Throne… would he have shared it with you?"

Daenerys fell silent.

She had spent years believing Viserys was the last hope for House Targaryen. That one day, he would take back their father's throne. But as she stood before Aegon, seeing the fire in his eyes, she wondered if she had been wrong all along.

Aegon smirked slightly.

"You don't have to answer," he said, leaning back. "You already know the truth."

Daenerys inhaled sharply, then stepped forward again.

"You called yourself the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark." Her gaze locked onto his. "Is it true?"

Aegon exhaled slowly.

"It is."

She frowned.

"How do you know?"

Aegon's golden eyes gleamed in the dim torchlight.

"Because I was born knowing."

Daenerys hesitated.

Aegon did not give her proof. He did not try to convince her.

He simply stated it as fact, as though it were undeniable.

And yet… in her heart, Daenerys knew.

There was something about him, something she could not explain, a presence that even Viserys had never possessed.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"If you are truly Rhaegar's son," she said slowly, "then… the throne is yours by right."

Aegon laughed softly, shaking his head.

"By right?" He smirked. "Nothing in this world is won by 'right,' Daenerys." He gestured toward the Dothraki encampment outside. "Power is taken. Not given."

Daenerys studied him carefully.

For so long, she had thought she was alone, the last hope of her family. Now, she stood before someone who claimed to be the true heir, a dragon reborn in fire and blood.

And yet… she could not bring herself to hate him.