“The captain said kneel,” the other soldier barked, resting his hand on his sword hilt.
“I can’t,” I rasped, genuinely hoping they’d just let us be on our way.
Instead, the soldier stepped up and planted a heavy fist directly into my stomach.
“Forgive my friend,” Larys piped up quickly, looking up at the captain.
“He can be… extraordinarily stubborn.”
The plain-faced captain didn’t care.
“They are for Aegon,” he spat.
“Put them to the sword.”
“This is a very lucky day for you, ser,” Larys finally blurted out.
“The reason this man will not swear fealty to Rhaenyra Targaryen… is because he is Aegon Targaryen.”
Well.
The cat was well and truly out of the bag.
“Is that true?” the captain asked.
“I am Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”
Larys looked at me, surprised.
But before the moment could even settle, the captain barked a new order to his men.
“Take their heads! They’ll make a rich bounty for the Queen.”
“Forgive me, my lord,” Larys’s silver tongue immediately started working its magic again, right as I could feel the cold blade hovering over my back.
“But you will lose your own head for such a misstep. This is the challenger himself.”
“The challenged,” I corrected.
“You can name your price for delivering him, and his most trusted confidant, to the Queen as living captives,” Larys kept talking without breaking stride.
The captain took a good, long look at Larys before glancing over at our humble escorts.
“Who are they, then?”
“None of consequence,” Larys replied flatly.
The captain looked at his men and made a simple gesture.
A second later, there was the sound of daggers, sharp yelps, and heavy bodies crashing into the mud.
“What’s the nearest port?” the captain asked one of his men.
“Duskendale.”
“Put them back in the wagon. We’ll take a ship to Dragonstone.” One of the men hauled me up and threw me back into the wagon, not so gently, either.
Larys limped in right behind me, and the door slammed shut, cutting off the daylight.
Soon enough, the carriage resumed its relentless tumbling down the road, and an awkward silence descended between Larys and me.
“What do you think they will do to me when I’m handed to that bitch?” I asked, staring straight ahead without looking at him.
“She will parade you first, Your Grace,” Larys said quietly, his hands folded over the head of his cane.
“To break the spirit of any lords who still fight in your name.”
“And the Wall?” I asked.
“Taking the Black?”
Larys gave a faint shake of his head.
“She lost a son, Your Grace. And Prince Daemon is not a man for half-measures. Even if Her Grace were persuaded to offer you the Wall, you would never reach it. A sudden fever on the Kingsroad. A knife in the dark. You would die long before you saw the North.”
“Then can you do it?” I asked, turning to face him.
“I fear I must ask, Your Grace… do what, exactly?”
“Kill me,” I said flatly.
“If i do it, it’s going to be very long and very painful. A man like you doesn’t just travel with coins, you must have a dagger or some poison on you.”
“I fear I must decline, Your Grace,” he said softly, leaning back against the wooden wall.
“Why?” I muttered.
“You afraid of a little blood on your hands?”
He tilted his head slightly, studying my burnt face.
“I did not reveal your name out of malice, Your Grace. I revealed it to buy us time. A dead king cannot escape. A living one, however… still has options. Duskendale is miles away, and a great deal can happen on a long road.”
“Though I must admit, you surprise me. I never took you for a man who would accept death so readily, nor one who would claim the mantle of the challenged before armed men without a flicker of fear. I fear I misjudged you.”
Larys shifted, his fingers lightly tracing the heavy, metallic outline of the crown resting inside the thick leather satchel on his lap.
“In truth, I had envisioned a rather different outcome. Had you denied your identity, I was fully prepared to name you myself… and hand over the crown in my hands to buy us some time.”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” I said, reaching out and pulling the crown straight from the satchel.
I ran my fingers over the heavy Valyrian steel circlet, feeling the dark metal cold against my burned skin.
“I actually like this thing.”