"Nephew, what are your plans for the future?" Dany asked, staring at the young man whose eyes kept shifting evasively.
"The letter from Illyrio," Young Aegon replied, avoiding her gaze, his tone awkward.
"Heh, nephew, who are you—and who am I?" Dany smirked playfully. "As a ruler, one should humbly listen to advice. But if you follow every script laid out by others, are you still a king at all?"
Seeing the mocking expression on her face, a surge of anger welled up in Young Aegon. He turned to meet her eyes and asked, "Then may I ask what you think of Illyrio's advice, Daenerys?"
"Daenerys?" Her smile widened. "Boy, hold onto that anger—it'll drive you to be better."
Then, her smile faded and she spoke seriously. "Aegon, I don't trust Varys much. But Ser Clinton and Sister Ashara are people of honor and integrity. I believe every word they say.
I'll tentatively acknowledge that you're the son of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia, but there are a few things I need to make clear first."
"Go on," Aegon said, face tense.
Dany raised one finger. "First of all, I believe in the Seven Gods, and I serve as the High Priestess of the Faith in Slaver's Bay. Starting with me, the Targaryen tradition of incestuous marriage ends—immediately."
"Ah—" A collective gasp rang out. Everyone stared at Dany in disbelief.
Ser Clinton glanced at the now-pale Aegon with concern and tried to persuade her. "Your Grace, you and Aegon would produce children of the noblest blood."
Dany waved her hand dismissively. "True nobility lies in character. One day, our lives will end, and only our souls will meet the Seven. What one has done determines the worth and honor of that soul.
Do you believe it or not—my father Aerys and my brother Rhaegar are likely both suffering in the seventh level of hell. Their blood may be noble enough."
"The seventh level of hell!" Clinton and Young Aegon looked at the Dragon Queen in horror, as though she were some stranger capable of dragging them down into the abyss.
Tyrion, on the other hand, was clearly intrigued, his gaze filled with growing curiosity.
"Your Grace," he said with a grin, "do you think my father might be in the same level of hell as King Aerys and Prince Rhaegar?"
"Well…" Dany rubbed her chin and pondered seriously. "My father only burned the elder Stark alive and tortured the elder Lord Stark to death.
All in all, his greatest sin was madness—and madness is an illness, not a crime. The Stranger might let him stay in the second level of hell.
Then there's my dear brother… sigh. Violating the sanctity of marriage is no small sin—he's probably in the fourth level of hell at least.
Lastly, your father. He broke his vows, opened the gates of King's Landing with lies, looted and slaughtered the innocent; he killed poor Princess Rhaella. And for his role in Walder Frey's guest right violation—he's probably in the sixth level."
"Sounds reasonable," Tyrion nodded solemnly in agreement.
"The seventh level of hell—what are you two even talking about?" Clinton and the others looked at them like they were lunatics.
"We're talking about what everyone knows," Dany replied calmly. "Just because you don't speak of it doesn't mean it doesn't exist."
"You're insulting my father!"
Young Aegon clenched his fists, the veins in his neck bulging.
"Your father is her brother, little prince," the Imp said cheerfully.
Aegon turned and glared at him coldly. "You killed your father. You belong in the seventh level of hell."
"Well, the seventh level has its perks." Tyrion shrugged nonchalantly. "On the way down, I'll pass the fourth and sixth levels—I can say hi to your father and mine."
"Aegon, don't blame your aunt. She made a vow not to start any war before the Long Night arrives," Aemon said softly in comfort.
The anger on Aegon's face faded. He looked calmly at Dany and asked, "If the Long Night turns out to be false, and summer comes as usual, then which of us has the greater claim to the Iron Throne?"
The entire room fell silent at those words.
Clinton stared blankly at his foster son, his mouth opening and closing, yet not a single word came out.
"What do you think?" Dany asked, clearly entertained.
"After the Dance of the Dragons, the Great Council established male-preference primogeniture," Aegon said seriously.
"My dear nephew, you do know that only with my recognition of your identity will the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms acknowledge it. No one in Westeros believes a word out of Varys's mouth.
Ser Clinton and Sister Ashara may be upright and honorable, but 'honor and integrity' count for less than a rusty sword in today's Westeros," Dany said with a laugh.
"You—" Aegon's face turned pale as shock and anger twisted his expression. "Are you trying to use this excuse to force me out of the race for the Iron Throne?"
"No, no, no." Dany waved her hand. "The rule I've set is: 'He who ends the Long Night shall be king.' The purpose is to reduce internal conflict and preserve our strength to face the White Walkers.
If I publicly acknowledge your identity and let you take my statement to rally an army across Westeros, wouldn't that ruin my plan to preserve the Seven Kingdoms?
And what would others think?
That I conquered Dragonstone, lulled the lords into complacency with vows, and then had my nephew launch a surprise attack on the Iron Throne?"
"Aegon, the Long Night is real!" Old Maester Aemon's brow furrowed, his voice no longer gentle.
Aegon tugged at the light silk of his Essosi robe and said, "Look at the weather in Astapor—it's hot enough to melt a man. Does this feel like the Long Night is coming?"
"In that case," Dany's eyes gleamed as an idea came to her, "if you follow my rules, once the Long Night arrives, I'll take you to fight the White Walkers myself. If we meet the Night King, I'll even give you the kill. You can be the prophesied one who ends the Long Night—and rule the Seven Kingdoms."
"If you want to go it alone,you're not my son. I have no authority over you, and frankly, I can't be bothered. You're free to do whatever you want, but I won't endorse your actions, and I certainly won't break my oath for you."
"Which will you choose?"
"I..." Aegon's lips moved slightly. He struggled internally for a moment before turning his gaze to his foster father, Clinton.
Clinton frowned in thought, then said, "Her Majesty is not wrong. A sacred vow, once spoken, must be strictly upheld. The question now is—will the Long Night truly come?"
"Her Majesty trusts you all," the Dothraki maid Jiki said angrily. "She recognized Prince Aegon as her nephew based on nothing more than your word. Yet you don't trust her?"
Hmm. Both she and Irri trusted Khaleesi.
When Khaleesi said the Long Night was coming, they immediately started to worry: would the world fall into darkness afterward? Should they stock up on candles? How cold would winter be? How many blankets and how much firewood would they need?
Dany's bloodriders and the Qartheen also believed her right away and began suggesting they slaughter the heat-sensitive southern horses and procure a batch of northern shaggy ones from Vaes Dothrak.
The Dothraki divided the continent into North and South using the Great Grass Sea as the boundary.
Jiki's rebuke left Clinton and the others both embarrassed and ashamed.
"The Long Night... sounds too far-fetched. It's not that we don't believe the Queen, it's just hard to accept," Tyrion offered, trying to be fair.
Ashara swept her beautiful eyes across the dwarf's homely face, finally resting her gaze on the Dragon Queen, whose beauty glowed like moonlight through mist. She asked, "If we don't depart for Westeros immediately, how does Your Majesty plan to arrange Prince Aegon's future?"
"Nephew, what skills do you have?" Dany asked.
"I..." Aegon looked around at his companions, answering with confidence and pride. "Ser Duck taught me martial skills; Ser Clinton taught me knighthood and the art of command; Halton is my tutor in literature, history, mathematics, and etiquette; and Sister Lemore Ashara taught me devout faith and the principles of being a good person—she is my spiritual guide."
Tyrion placed a hand on his forehead, peeking at the Dragon Queen's expression with one emerald eye.
Hmm... Thankfully, she wasn't furious. Her gaze hadn't turned dark, only contemplative.
Varys is really courting death, Tyrion thought. Sending Aegon to the Queen is a clear provocation—he wants her to compare her own past to his, doesn't he?
Tyrion raised a hand and grinned. "And me! I play cyvasse with the prince."
Dany gave the dwarf a sidelong glance and said to young Aegon, "Tomorrow, I will anoint you as a Knight of Glory in my capacity as High Septa, and I'll arrange for a post for you in Slaver's Bay."
"A Knight of Glory? Is that a church militant?" Aegon asked excitedly.
He wasn't even a knight yet!
"You'll understand during the oath ceremony tomorrow."
"Perfect timing. The allied forces are now advancing en masse into Matalis. I expect they'll head straight down the Valyrian Road to Polash.They'll use the ruins of that Valyrian-era city as a stronghold, working with the fleet to launch an assault on Meereen from the east."
"A great war is coming. I can send you to Meereen to gain experience at the front, to put your learning into real-world practice."
Dany, ever the kind and considerate aunt, was helping her dear nephew plan his career.
"Will it be dangerous?" Ashara asked worriedly.
"He won't have to fight or lead charges. He'll be far safer than I am. Of course, he could also do nothing at all—just stay in the Great Pyramid and wait for the Long Night. When it comes, he can go to the Wall and fight the White Walkers."
At this point, Dany asked curiously, "Nephew, your father once said you were the Prince That Was Promised. What do you think about the White Walkers and the Long Night? Do you plan to fulfill your prophecy and face them?"
"I'm the Prince That Was Promised? I had no idea! Besides, I haven't even reclaimed the Iron Throne—why should I help the Night's Watch fight White Walkers?" young Aegon replied, bewildered.
"Alas," old Aemon sighed and turned his head away.
Dany looked to Clinton and asked, "What plans do you have for his future? Share them. Let's compare and try to reach a consensus."
The wrinkles at the corners of Clinton's eyes deepened. He sighed, "Your Majesty won't marry Prince Aegon, nor do you intend to immediately send troops to Westeros. And now there are the White Walkers beyond the Wall. All of this is very different from our original plans."
"What were those plans? Or rather, what was Varys's arrangement?" Tyrion asked.
Clinton hadn't trusted Tyrion, and at first, he hadn't even known the true identities of Aegon and Clinton.
"Her Majesty would marry Prince Aegon, making him a dragonrider, and then..." Clinton hesitated as his eyes swept over the Queen, Jorah, Missandei, Grey Worm, the Dothraki maid, and others, visibly awkward.
"Then what?" Dany asked, frowning.
"Then, when the allied forces defeated Slaver's Bay, we'd immediately lead the remaining Unsullied to Pentos, and from there use Dragonstone as a base to swiftly seize King's Landing," the weary middle-aged man said awkwardly.
"We will not be defeated by the allied forces!" As expected, the officials and generals of Slaver's Bay were outraged.
"Varys and Illyrio's lack of faith in my ability to defeat the allied forces doesn't bother me. But if I really did lose, how many of my men would remain? Would we really be able to swiftly capture King's Landing?" Dany asked doubtfully.
"I have my own trump card. Aunt Dany, I didn't come to you empty-handed," Aegon said proudly.
(End of Chapter)
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