First off, this is my very first attempt at writing a story, so you might notice some back-and-forth between first-person (“I”) and third-person (“He/Aegon”) POV.
I’m still figuring out which perspective works best for this story, so I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments on which POV you prefer!
Second, a quick heads-up on the story trajectory: the next chapter will be the final one that sticks strictly to the source material from the show and books.
After that, we officially diverge into full fanfiction territory!
Thanks again for checking out my work.
“Just hire the fucking ship,” I said as we sat down in the square of Rook’s Rest.
Larys didn’t say a word.
He just pulled out a fresh, bright red apple, something that had no business existing in a ruined place like this, and set it down on the stone in front of me.
“And what ship might that be?” a familiar voice asked.
“Seven hells,” Larys muttered.
I looked up at the newcomer.
“Tyland?” I rose to my feet.
“Your Grace,” he said, stepping forward.
“It is good to see you alive.”
“Likewise,” I said, extending a hand.
He took it with a tight smile.
“I’m sorry about your brother. I heard about Jason. You have my condolences, and my word that his death will be paid back. If it’s in my power”
“You honor my family, Your Grace,” Tyland said quietly.
“Jason died doing his duty to your crown.”
“We heard the Triarchy was defeated. Is that true?” Larys asked.
“Defeated?” Tyland smirked.
“If that was a defeat, Rhaenyra won’t survive many more like it. The Velaryon fleet was gutted. Spicetown and High Tide were sacked and burned to ash. And better yet, Prince Jacaerys was brought down. Killed along with his dragon.”
“Finally. Some good fucking news!”
Tyland froze in shock, a stunned, awkward smile breaking across his face.
“Your Grace,” Larys sighed smoothly.
“This is highly inappropriate. Jacaerys was your nephew. War or no war, bastard or not, decorum”
“Fuck that,” I snapped, glaring at him.
“Wasn’t Jaehaerys her nephew, too?”
“Your grace” tyland begun
“Aegon,” I corrected.
“I am sick of these meaningless titles. You’re both forbidden from using them until my arse is back on the Iron Throne and my sweet sister and her litter of bastards are dead.”
“Very well,” Tyland said, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips.
“I must say, I am deeply relieved to find you clear-headed and standing. I feared the war and its tragedies had broken your spirit, but seeing you like this… it gives me real hope.”
“It is a gift from the gods, Lord Tyland,” Larys murmured softly.
“The Seven do not simply destroy. They burn away the soft, useless flesh until only cold iron remains. They took his dragon, his skin, and his…. A divine exchange, I should think.”
“Well then,” Tyland said somberly, taking in Larys’s words before turning back to me.
“If the gods have forged iron, let us not waste it standing in a dunghill among thieves and cutthroats. I came here after the Gullet to secure transport and tally our losses. What is your excuse? Why are you two rotting in these ruins?”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“Come with me to Lannisport, Aegon. You will be fed, cared for, and hidden behind Lannister steel and flesh while we gather our remaining strength.”
“Pardon me, Lord Tyland,” Larys interjected softly, “but Aegon cannot go to Lannisport. We are heading to Dragonstone. No one would ever think to search for him there.”
“And do what?” Tyland asked, staring at him in utter disbelief.
“Hide among commoners in the dirt? He is the King!”
“Aegon,” Larys called out softly, leaving the choice to him. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
I stared down at the red apple Larys had set in front of me.
Drawing my dagger, I sliced it into four clean pieces.
I handed one to Larys, passed another to Tyland, and bit into my own while they both waited.
“You have been very kind and loyal, Ser Tyland, but I fear I can’t accompany you to Lannisport. As the Westerlands have been largely unscathed during the war, if I go there, you will suffer. When dragons fly above us, where will we run off to then?”
“Your Grace… Aegon,” Tyland tried to speak.
“I miss my wife,” I interrupted.
“I miss Helaena. I miss her dearly. I want to see her, and she is locked in King’s Landing. I may have never been a good husband, the Mother forgive me, but the thought of her in that den of whores, bastards and cutthroats… if anything happens to her, I will burn it all. We go to Dragonstone.”
“As you say,” Tyland sighed.
“I have horses nearby. We can leave now.”
“The sooner the better,” Larys agreed.
“This place is not safe for us.”
The three rose and walked toward the mounts.
There were no stables or stable boys in the ruined square, no law or order at all, so Tyland had been wise to keep them close, lest they be stolen or butchered by scavengers.
As we reached the gate, I saw the same crazed girl and her companion sitting against the stone.
I pulled my horse to a stop, reached into my tunic, and held out my hand.
In my palm was the fourth slice of the red apple.
The girl stared at it in disbelief before taking it with trembling fingers.
“Gregor, we must hurry!” Larys called out sharply, glancing around at the lingering crowds.
Aegon ignored him, looking down at the girl and her companion.
“We are heading toward Maidenpool. There is some semblance of law there. Would you like to come with us? I swear we mean you no harm.”
“The Gods look down upon the ruins of men, and for once, they do not turn away in disgust. Ambition and treachery are as common as dirt, but a broken king who learns to bleed for others is a rare and terrible thing. In the ash of your own ruin, you chose not to drag your loyal subjects into the fire, but to shield their homes from the sky. You bore the bitter weight of your past failures without excuse, offering quiet regret for a wife you failed to cherish, and the precious blood you failed to protect. Yet amidst a graveyard of thieves and cutthroats, you still carved a piece of mercy for a broken child. The Gods have watched cold iron replace your soft flesh, yet within that armor, a true heart still beats. In their divine mercy, a God has bestowed upon you a reward.”