Davos
"He did what?" Davos choked on his beer when the barman did a fast and excited recounting of what transpired.
"He knighted him, just like that, then made him his newest Kingsguard!" The barman exclaimed joyously. "In my tavern too. Oh this'll boost business for sure! The place to drink and be knighted by kings. I need to rename this place…" He trailed off while Davos joined his fellow men of court at their table.
"Well?" Tyrion asked. "Aren't you glad now that you followed me into the city? It's far more exciting here than in the Red Keep whenever the court is empty."
"Excitin's not always a good thing." Davos slumped down into his chair and drank deeply from his beer. Damn, it was good to have something to drink from the city again. It was cheap and warm but it was familiar to him and he liked it. But if he did have a choice before him, he'd take Northern ale any day. "I almost got used to the feelin' of peace and quiet before you lot announced yourself gettin' here."
"Our deepest apologies for disturbing your peace," Varys the Spider said while taking half a sip of his cup and grimacing the taste, "but so long as the Iron Throne stands with someone sitting on it, peace and quiet shall never live long in Westeros."
"Well then," Tyrion said with a raised mug, "here's to your departure back to Dragonstone, a home away from home and the noise. You shall be missed."
Varys delicately picked up his mug and clonked it together with Tyrions, Gendry and Davos joining them, but he only took a small sip and scrunched his eyes at the taste of the beer.
Gendry had downed his entire cup. He didn't order the same as Davos, he took the good beer for himself, same as Tyrion and Varys. "It's a stupid looking thing if I say so. But whoever forged it did a damn good job keeping it clean. There should be rust in every nook and cranny but not a damn speck of it, especially so close to the sea air."
Tyrion leaned in with an optimistic brow raised. "I like to believe it was an enchantment of the Balerion's dragon fire that did that. No impurities will stain the blades of the Iron Throne."
"Probably," Gendry agreed, "I've always wished I could get me a piece of that iron, even enough for just a ring. To say you've forged steel touched by the fires of the Black Dread would be legendary."
"Aye, it would," Davos said after another swig. "Any ravens from Storm's End? Are the people alright with the Reachmen in your lands?" As Olenna proved she would always reward favors and help to her family, Gendry was no exception for his feat of ripping the iron bars that allowed Loras to escape. With the Stormlands having lost so much in the wars, she sent food and men to help revive the lands.
Gendry tensed just a little. "It's a bit of a weird situation. A lot of the people aren't too happy about seeing soldiers they fought against in the Rebellion, but they want the food and the help. They're a stubborn lot. My reports have said that we got less men that can fight than the Night's Watch does."
"Fewer," Davos corrected.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Tyrion chuckled. "I sometimes like to think of the Stormlands as the southern North. Your people are proud of their strength, they just dress like everyone else south of the Neck-"
Varys raised a finger up in silence with a smirk. "My dear," he spoke in a calm tone, "you hide yourself well but not everyone is blind to your concealment. Join us, why don't you?"
"Er…" Davos began but before he could speak someone had stood up two tables behind Varys and Tyrion and walked over. It was Arya Stark. Gendry sat up and his cheer became dull and stern.
"You are quite the sneak, little She Wolf," Varys chided, "but you are still only a young woman with much to learn."
"I've learned from the best," Arya told him with an apathetic look.
"I have heard much about what you have done. Traveled with the Night's Watch, served as cupbearer to Lord Tywin under his very nose, and hostage to the Hound in the Vale, but after that it got muddled. The only thing I can say without a true confirmation is that you had an encounter with the Faceless Men."
"Did your spies also tell you that I was the one who killed all the Freys? Or how I killed Walder after feeding him a pie made out of his own sons?"
Varys only looked more intrigued while everyone else drew back slightly. "You certainly have changed from the little girl chasing cats in Red Keep."
"And you're still a man who can't get hard from his own smugness."
Tyrion chuckled loudly. "I'll need to remember that one."
The three of them kept on at it, either driven by the beer or just their sheer wit and ego to get at each other's necks, but Gendry retreated to himself and Davos scooted away to see to his unofficial ward.
"Something on your mind, lad? Perhaps troubles with your duties, something wrong with the steel making? Or perhaps too upset with yourself to talk with a pretty woman?"
Gendry sighed at the third question which meant Davos was right on the gold with his assumption. He noticed at the Crossroads Inn that Gendry and Arya were close as friends with one of them giving the other eyes that men give to the most desirable of whores. But then one day they… simply stopped being around each other.
"You should talk with her. I can see that she wants to with you."
Gendry scoffed. "Sure she does. I know she wants to but I keep getting the feeling that it's just going to end how the last conversation went."
"Sounds familiar. I felt that way with my wife at times until I actually found the stones to address the matter. Don't get me wrong though, I'm no silver tongue, but with her I know just how to say the right things to make her smile the perfect way that makes me happy I married her."
"Aye, I bet that's nice. I wish I could have that. But I can't be with her because she doesn't want that."
"If you made that clear to her all at once then of course she wouldn't. These types of things don't just come to you if you ask for them immediately. They take patience and understanding, a damn lot of understanding. Take it a little bit at a time, lad. I mean, just look at her." Both Davos and Gendry turned their heads at the same time and looked at the little Lady Stark. She was certainly more resembling the King than her older sister and little brother, a warrior no doubt, but also a pretty young thing.
Arya saw them both looking at her and locked eyes with Gendry for a second before turning away back to Tyrion and Varys.
"Anyone with an ounce of salt to their wit would know that those eyes aren't the same as some drunkard looking at a selection of whores. Those eyes got true desire in them, lad. Don't let that slip from you, but don't try to take hold of it so as to never let it move."
Staring down at his drink, Gendry sat in silence before downing every last drop in one swig and nearly slamming the mug down. He got up, walked around the table to Arya's side and spoke calmly. "Could I have a word with you outside, please?"
Arya didn't say anything, she just got up, taking her ale with her, and followed him outside.
Davos sighed and felt a small pang in his heart. He thought of his late son and how he never had the chance to have these talks with Matthos. If Shireen was alive, he probably would have had to help her with this too. Seven Hells know what Stannis or Selyse would have said to her about duty and all that mattered was mothering children.
But Davos did not let himself feel sad. Not until all was safe and he could return home knowing that he did everything he could that he could not for his son and the girl who deserved to be a daughter to him.
Arya
When Gendry had asked her to talk, she felt her body stiffen, but her heart did not pound in her chest, her breathing did not quicken, and neither was she flush in her cheeks. Arya was keeping herself calm and composed as much as she could until she could decide what it was she should feel from what Gendry had to say.
He led her aside to an empty half alley that was secluded off from the busy street and clean of filth and dirt, going in between buildings and turning a corner to a dead end out of sight and sound of passers by. It was probably meant for just stashing away storage given all the wooden crates and barrels.
She continued to take sips from her drink as things progressed in awkward silence with Gendry fumbling with his fingers together. "I…" He started with his eyes down to the ground, "I didn't mean to be all like I was then."
Arya set her mug on a barrel next to her and leaned against the alley wall with her arms crossed. Is that what this was going to be, an apology?
Gendry finally stopped fidgeting with his hands and looked at her. "I don't know how to say what I mean. I know I need to but…"
"Stop," Arya said with a raise of her hand, "I understand that both of us jumped to some fast conclusions, but if this is just going be some lengthy, apology so we smile like giddy little idiots then don't start, because that's not what I want from you and I don't think it's what you want either."
"I don't know what I want! I mean I do, but…" Gendry hissed and made fists so tight that Arya could hear scrunching of his leathery skin. "I don't know where to start."
"Then how about I start?" She suggested and Gendry nodded to her, his hands softening. "You made things sound like an ultimatum that day without actually giving me an offer. And I think I did too in a way. But that's not what I meant and I know it's not what you meant either. I'm a fighter, Gendry. I'm an assassin, I'm a Water Dancer, and I can be No One, but what you're looking for, I don't know if I can be. I don't want to be that. I thought that with you I wouldn't have to because you know what I want and I'm angry that I didn't know what you wanted."
"What about now?" He asked. "Do you know what I want? I'm Lord of Storm's End but I'm still Gendry the Smith. Gendry the bastard!" He grew seemingly desperate and frustrated, not the calm bull she knew. "I mean… look at me! His Grace at least grew up a bastard in a castle. I'm not a proper man of nobility and status, so why would I want a woman just like that?!"
Arya felt her feet go cold as though she was plunged into a pool of ice water. "What…" It was all that could come from her lips.
He wasn't done. "Seven hells, Arry, I couldn't handle some dainty maiden trained how to curtsey proper or position the many forks at a fine feast…I didn't even own a fork till I was eight for fuck's sake! I had to make one for myself if I wanted to eat with Tobho!"
"Gendry… calm down," begged Arya, her own heart beating wildly.
Gendry took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. "With everything that's going on, it feels like everyone is expecting me to stay at a running pace with it all, do things as soon as possible. Fill the boots of being a lord, learning my vassals and numbers, work on the steel, do my duties and get a wife, all of that. I don't know if I have the right to do things slowly when the world's going to the Seven Hells."
Arya stepped forward and took his hand in her, keeping her eyes locked with his. "Everyone has a right to rest, especially you, and Jon, and everyone else doing everything they can to keep the world together. It's not an evil to do what you want to, only people who work for nothing expect that type of goat shit from us."
"But why does it feel wrong to do anything but that?"
"Because you are a good man, Gendry. If you feel you haven't done enough, then you probably have done more than you think. I know you have, and I admire that of you. You are going to be a true Lord that nearly every other with the title fails to be." Arya heard Daenerys' advice in her head at that moment to go for it. "So how about you slow down right now, and show me what that's like?"
Gendry gazed intently into her eyes. Funny, she never noticed how deeply blue they were until this moment. But that was the last thing she thought of when he cupped her cheeks and pulled down to her lips, kissing her passionately. Arya was surprised at how good this felt and how good he was at it.
Her first kiss in an alleyway in Flea Bottom, and who in Seven Hells cared? This wasn't one of those stupid stories about dashing knights and princesses, but just two people being who they were for each other.
And was it glorious.
The kiss broke and both of them gasped for air. Gendry was about to say something but Arya pushed herself onto him. "Shut up," she rasped and started kissing him again, this one being even better than the last. It was like an animal instinct guided her every movement with her lips and her tongue. He tasted strong.
It was what she imagined him tasting like.
"Arry…" he said again.
"Shut up," she hissed once more, moving for the ties of his trousers. "Shut up and take me, stupid." Her other hand grabbed his, taking it to the ties of her own breeches. "Fuck it all, I want you."
"Me?"
"Yes, Seven Hells, you!" Her growl was cut off with another kiss, one that had her mind swimming. Oh, yes…
This was going to be sloppy and hard, Arya knew just as he hefted her into his arms, planting her against the rough brick wall. It scraped at her tunic-clad back, but she cared not as she felt something poke at her nethers. "I love you," Gendry murmured, strong yet gentle. Classically him.
Never did Arya think she would say such words to any man, but damned if they didn't tumble from her lips as he pushed his length inside, making her gasp and whimper. Her head was swooning like a bloody maiden. "I love you too…" At some level, she always had.
Davos
The drinks had been paid for graciously by Lord Varys despite not even finishing half of what he ordered, the Spider was certainly a wine drinker, and at least two of the three men departed with full bellies. That was a good afternoon and a great joke about the jackass and the honeycomb.
"Well," Tyrion began as he stretched his arms up and yawned, "I do think it's time to return. Much to do and all."
"Aye," Davos agreed, "Just need to make sure Gendry's got things handled… where'd he get off anyway?" It couldn't have been far unless Gendry and Arya went for a walk. In the corner of his eye, Davos spotted the entrance to an alleyway that looked perfect for some privacy and not too far from where the liquor could be continuously supplied. He wandered over to the entrance and took two steps in before halted when he heard the faint sounds of two lucky people interlocking in heated passion, and guessing by how loud those stifled moans came from the lady, it was an enviable experience.
He hoped that it was just two commoners of Flea Bottom but Arya's mug was sitting on a nearby barrel.
"Oh for fuck's sake," he rolled his eyes and turned around. That was supposed to be taking things slowly? A chuckle left his lips without meaning to. "Ah, to be young and in love again." He was sure his second son had been conceived in a Flea Bottom alley, so how could he complain?
And he and his wife were just as much in love as back then, even moreso.
"What is it?" Tyrion asked.
"Not a damn thing," Davos growled, putting his hands behind Tyrion and Varys to pull them with him and leave the two young lovers to do as they would.
He slowed to a halt when he spotted a group of men down the road, all of them wearing King Robert Baratheon's colors. Stormlanders here? Perhaps they came to see the new Lord Baratheon… but then why were they dressed in armor?
Sansa
"You're pretty, can I have some of your hair?" a little boy asked who was no older than five.
Sansa blushed at how adorable his manners were. But she was also surprised that he requested her red hair and not Daenerys' silver strands. "Are you asking for a lady's favor, little knight?"
She was going to pluck a few strands from her head, but a large hand grabbed at her shoulder and pulled her up.
"Get behind us," the Hound growled and walked forward with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Many of the children the women were meeting scattered, crying from fear, and Sansa saw why once she looked where Sandor and Ser Jorah were both watching.
A group of men had appeared from an alley onto the road leading to the steps of the ruins. They were all dressed in the old Baratheon colors of black and yellow. Were these Gendry's men?
"City Watch isn't in sight," Ser Jorah said through his teeth.
"They never are when you need them," Sandor mumbled and took a step forward. "Best thing you can do is fuck off," he told the men gathered.
A man wearing a gorget and spaulders over his Baratheon tunic drew a sword and pointed it at them. "Just the dragonspawn, that's all. The rest of you can leave. Only she has to die and then the bastard king." Sansa noticed Daenerys flinch, a flash of fear on her lips. Thinking for a split-second, Sansa reached out and squeezed her hand. Daenerys squeezed back.
No one was leaving her behind.
"You all fought for King Robert," Ser Jorah said, "as did I, and any man who did can say he was horseshit with a crown compared to King Aegon. Queen Daenerys is not her father."
One of them spat on the ground. "You two can leave," he pointed his sword at Sansa and Ser Jorah, "we got no quarrel with Northerners."
Sansa cleared her throat. "You harm Queen Daenerys, and you will." Daenerys squeezed her hand again, while Lady Missandei seemed slightly surprised at her conviction.
The leader shook his head. "Fucking traitors." By now, the smallfolk had fled and Sansa found her hand gripping the dragonbone handle of her dagger.
Ser Jorah and the Hound drew their swords fully and stepped back as a great battle cry sang out from the Baratheon men, all of them sword drawn and charging.
Jon
'Jon!' the Raven yelled.
Jon flinched at the sudden exclamation in his mind and brought a hand to his forehead.
"Your grace?" Ser Wallace asked, "are you alright?"
"Sh!" Jon shushed then whispered. "What?"
'Daenerys and Sansa are going to be attacked by Robert's loyalists!'
"Dammit," Jon hissed under his breath, turning and looking down the streets, "where are they?"
"Who, your grace?" Remus asked.
'The Sept of Baelor. Run and follow the ravens above!' looking up, Jon spotted a flock of ravens flying just above the rooftops.
"Follow me!" Jon ordered, "and be ready for a big fight!" He took off running down the streets that he did not know, following the ravens that flew overhead, guiding them to the fight. "Bran," Jon huffed as he ran, "bring Ghost to me." He kept running and as they passed down other streets, Beric had called out to Goldcloaks they passed.
"City Watch! Rally to the King!"
'Jon, hurry!'
Jon couldn't wait for the others. He took off faster, leaving them behind. The only time he ran this hard was in the north, away from the horde that chased them over a frozen lake. He turned down an alley corner and when he came out the other side finally saw the ruins of the Great Sept of Baelor. He also saw ahead a group of men rushing to get there as well, all of them wearing chainmail and plate armor and carrying weapons.
Not letting himself slow, Jon followed the ravens into another alley that emptied out into a road where people were running away from the ruins. At the end of the road, Jon saw Jorah and the Hound with swords drawn.
The instant the sight of flickering light caught his eye from a brandished sword, Jon pulled his cloak off, drew Blackfyre, and clenched his teeth. He swung fast and strong at the arm that held the sword, pivoting with the momentum in a spin and bringing his own blade low at the knee, Valyrian steel slicing through armor plate and severing the limb just as he did the arm. The Loyalist fell on his back in a scream, holding his severed arm to his eyes as he reached to clutch his leg, but Jon did not give him the chance to linger in suffering and impale his heart as quickly as he took the limbs.
The momentary scream brought all eyes to him but in those split seconds the men recognized who had joined their fray, Jon had dashed forward and met the blade of another.
"It's the Bastard King! Kill him!" someone shouted out.
Blackfyre's edge was unmatched in this fight, cleaving through tempered steel like bone and slashing into the man's face deep enough that he had cut through brain and killed him.
The other men took forth to their new opponent, a large, fat man came first with a sword held in both hands, swinging down fast and light as a proper fighter would - but Jon parried the first strike with such strength that it pushed back the loyalist, opening his opponent to a kick in the stomach hard enough he keeled forward only to meet Blackfyre's blade go through his neck.
Jon grabbed at the man's head as the body went limp, pulling him up to use as a shield when a sword was lunged at him only to meet the dead body in the ribs, trapped. With the sharp twist, Jon pulled Blackfyre free, half decapitating his human shield, and slashing into his opponent's sword arm. Another scream erupted the streets of King's Landing, but two others swarmed Jon as the wounded fell back.
Another Loyalist attacked above while a second attacked at Jon's legs. Jon dodged to the left at the only split second he could, barely escaping the first one's attack. He was able to sweep his foot at the leg clean, making him fall forward to his knees. Jon turned as slashed Blackfyre, taking head completely off next and immediately charging at the other man. There was no defense made fast enough for the Loyalist, as Jon had thrust Blackfyre into the skull of the pathetic man.
With a quick pull, Jon freed Blackfyre and turned his eyes to one of the men before. This man who came with a pure will to murder was now overtaken with fear and pain.
"Please," he whimpered, "don't do it… don't kill me!"
Jon stopped when he saw someone else rushing forth to join the fight. "You'll wish I did."
A snarl broke through as a Ghost lunged forth and sank his teeth into the man's neck, thrashing him side to side and biting deep into flesh and bone. There were several cracks heard and the gurgling of blood before the man's body went limp with death.
Jon turned his head and saw at least a dozen other men coming. He looked back over to Jorah and the Hound. They were fine without him and he was better without them.
Gripping Blackfyre, Jon charged forward, yelling out a battle cry and leaping into the air to dodge a spear that was thrust at him when he got within range.
"Mad Blood!" One of the men shouted, but not the man Jon impaled with Blackfyre. He drew the dagger from his side and parried a war axe that was meant to chop him in the shoulder before sliding the dagger up close to his attacker's body and sticking it to the hilt in the man's neck.
Jon pulled Blackfyre free and swung so hard at the first sword in front of him that it cleaved the steel apart and the end of the Valyrian blade sliced halfway into the owner's head.
A growl came from Ghost as he leapt into the fight and ripped into the arm of another man, terrifying two others to back away but only one was spared from being gutted at the belly by Jon who followed through by stabbing into the man's heart.
"Protect the King!" Beric's voice came and his other men finally arrived to help him with ten Goldcloaks. But more of these attackers were coming. "City Watch, to Lady Stark's party!" Beric ordered before lighting his sword with his flames.
Dodging back from a sword, Jon then stepped forward and stabbed his attacker in the neck while taking hold of the very sword that nearly got his left leg, disarming in death. With each hand armed now, Jon fought harder. His legs and lungs were starting to burn because of how fast he ran to get here. But he wouldn't stop, not until each of these men were dead.
Daenerys
The last man attacking them met Ser Jorah's blade, earning a beheading with one clean cut. But even with their attackers dead, Ser Jorah and the Hound did not calm down. It was then that Daenerys had realized her dagger was drawn and her hands shaking. This was not like that attack in the Fighting Pits, not by cowards hiding their faces behind masks and blades under their sleeves. These men were in armor and carried swords and axes. They didn't cover their faces and that made it worse. The anger and hate in their eyes was so clear to see. They wanted her and Aegon dead at all costs.
"Do you think we're clear?" Ser Jorah asked.
"I doubt it," the Hound said, "best get back now then to wait and see."
Jorah nodded and turned to the women he and the Hound protected. His face had a spatter of blood and Longclaw was stained red from tip to hilt.
"Khaleesi, are you alright?" Jorah asked.
"Yes," Daenerys finally breathed. She looked over to Missandei, Sansa, and Margaery. Missandei had backed into the corner with Margaery and was being held by Sansa who had her own dagger drawn in front of them, watching. Sansa nodded to Daenerys, picking Margaery and Missandei up and leading them with the others.
"Lady Stark!" a pair of Gold Cloaks came forward with several others behind them. "We'll escort you and the others to the Red Keep immediately."
"Keep your eyes open," Sansa ordered with a voice that almost cracked, "and move fast!" Their guards were raised the moment they relaxed the slightest as another man who was younger than the rest came rushing over to them with a sword drawn. Jorah and the Hound raised their swords up, but the man stopped.
"It's alright, the King told me to join you."
"He was with the other two following the King," one of the Gold Cloaks said, "who are you?"
"Ser Wallace Oakstar, and I'm the new Kingsguard for King Aegon."
"What?" Sansa asked. "Since when? I've never seen you before."
"Since about ten minutes ago. Long story, but I was knighted, named, and accepted into the Kingsguard by the King. I swear it." Well when he put it that way, it wasn't long at all. He stayed at the van of the protection formed around the women and Sansa could only shrug and nod at the Hound.
"Let's move!" The Hound barked.
As their party began to leave the sight of the battle, Daenerys looked around at every alley corner, every window, and every door for someone to just suddenly appear with a blade or a crossbow.
They made it to the horses who thankfully had been ignored. Instead of rising separately, Jorah mounted his first and had Daenerys mount behind him, the same with Sansa and the Hound. Two Goldcloaks accompanied Margaery and Missandei on their horses.
Before they set off, Daenerys turned her head when she heard shouting coming from behind. Around the corner of rubble where she and the others were at, King Aegon, his wolf, and two of his men were standing in the middle of dozens of dead bodies as another group of men came at them.
Aegon was covered in so much blood, and he was fighting all with such anger in his eyes. With a great roar of rage, he buried Blackfyre in a man's skull, completely fearless.
The horse lurched forward and Daenerys lost her glimpse of her nephew, the party hurtling through the city. She held tight to her protector as they rode fast into the city. The Hound took the lead and when they got back to crowded streets, his powerful, booming voice cleared their way as he shouted for people to move.
It only took a couple minutes before they crossed over the bridge and under the portcullis of the Red Keep. the moment they all dismounted, Sansa shouted loudly for all to hear. "The King is in danger! Go to the Sept of Baelor and do your duty! Protect your King!"
Dozens of men immediately stopped what they were doing. Armored or not, any man who had a sword or spear either took off in a run for the bridge or the stables for a horse. At least thirty men rode out into the city and more were following, including Ser Jaime riding as fast as he could with his white cloak billowing in the wind.
"Come on," Sansa tugged on Margaery's arm and led all of them back into the castle and into her solar. Sansa immediately poured a cup of wine and drank deeply. She gasped when she finished and looked at the other women in the room. "Anyone else?"
"Yes," Margaery walked over without missing a beat and poured a cup for herself.
Daenerys didn't hesitate either and as didn't Missandei. She never knew just how terrifying the rage of war was. She had only ever been astride Drogon, far from the faces of her enemies. She never saw her enemies close enough to see the white of their eyes.
None of them said much, Sansa paced back and forth, Margaery sat in silence, and Daenerys stared out to the part of King's Landing she could see through the window. Seven Hells, every minute passing felt like a bloody hour.
The door suddenly burst open and Arya Stark came running in, not saying a word as she hugged Sansa tightly. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Arya," Sansa hugged back.
"I should have been there!" Arya was practically stomping around the chambers, her clothes rumpled, hair askew, and eyes manic. "I could have been there!"
"Arya," Sansa tried talking to her sister, "you couldn't have known. No one could have…" Sansa's face relaxed and she looked at Daenerys. "Qyburn didn't know of this or he would have said something. What about Varys?"
Daenerys shook her head. "Nothing, I swear. Who were they?"
A knock on the door. It was Ser Jorah. "King Aegon has ordered the court assembled. He's on his way back. Should we-"
"Yes," Daenerys said.
Ser Jorah bowed and waited outside.
"It's alright now," Margaery said. "Whoever they were, they failed."
Together, everyone made their way to the throne room, assembling quietly and listening to the murmurs of the court as they waited for Aegon.
The doors of the throne hall swung open and a great collective gasp went across the court of nobles. Aegon didn't clean himself of his fight. He remained covered in blood and sword still drawn, a glowering expression on his face. Ghost followed behind him, the underbelly of his white fur was colored the crimson of blood as was his mouth.
"Your grace," Ser Brynden said, "the blood-"
"Don't worry," Aegon said evenly, "none of it's mine." Without another word said, he sat on the Iron Throne but was silent. No one said anything, no one had the courage. It wasn't until a quiet whine from Ghost came that Aegon blinked as it was like he came out of a trance. He took a deep breath and sat up. "Today there was an attack in the city. Men who fought in the Rebellion became too afraid that Queen Daenerys and I are too much the blood of the Mad King. They're all dead now, and what could have been a tragic end to either of us was avoided. But I don't believe for a moment that the numbers who attacked today are the only ones who wish to see the descendants of the Mad King wiped out. So I say this to be said once again throughout the realms. We are not the Mad King. But if you refuse to approach with wisdom and calm, bearing steel and teeth unjustly, then I will meet your challenge. Be it ten or a hundred or a thousand… I'll kill them." It was as if the entire throne hall dropped in temperature, a gust of winter wind echoing through it. "I'll kill them all myself."
Daenerys didn't know what to think of such a warning so fierce and unyielding. Aegon said it so that he would not seek a fight, but he would certainly end it if it came. His anger was so clear to all, some might think he was wrong about what said. The only person who gave such a visible reaction was Ser Jaime of all people, sharply turning his head at Aegon and looking visabley afraid… but only those paying attention would have noticed his hand tightening on the hilt of his dagger.
But then it happened again, through the unblinking stone-faced demeanor of the King of Westeros, a tear fell from his eye, cleaning the blood from his cheek, leaving a trail. That single moment changed how Daenerys saw him. His words were true, but his desire became known. Now she believed it. He was the greatest swordsman and he hated it. Whereas many powerful men before him on the Throne sought to gain their glory and renown with combat and death, Aegon was the opposite.
He didn't want it.