The fires of celebration had barely died when the news reached Aegon. He sat sharpening his sword, Ghostfang, when a bloodied rider staggered into the Dothraki camp. The messenger barely had time to catch his breath before delivering the words that made Aegon's heart turn to ice.
Ned Stark was to be executed in three days.
Joffrey, the little bastard king, had declared the sentence himself. And worse—Sansa was still trapped in King's Landing, betrothed to the Usurper's spawn. Arya was missing.
Aegon felt rage coil in his chest like a serpent. Ned Stark had raised him, lied to him, let him endure years of Catelyn Stark's hatred—but he had also protected him. If not for Ned, he would have been murdered the moment he was born.
And now, that debt needed to be repaid.
Aegon's Decision
Daenerys watched him as he paced near the campfire, his mind already in motion, planning. "You mean to go alone?" she asked, her voice soft but steady.
Aegon nodded, his jaw tight. "I have to. An army would be noticed before we even reached the city. I need to slip in, find Sansa, find Arya, and get Ned out before Joffrey can touch him."
Daenerys hesitated. "And what if you fail?"
He met her gaze, and for the first time, he saw something in her eyes—fear. Not for herself, but for him.
He stepped closer. "I won't."
Daenerys studied him for a long moment before finally nodding. She turned to Ser Jorah Mormont, who stood nearby, watching the exchange. "You will ensure I am safe while he is gone," she said. It was not a request.
Ser Jorah placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. "With my life, Khaleesi."
Aegon turned to mount his horse, adjusting his weapons. Daenerys took a step forward, her hand reaching for his wrist before she pulled back. There were no words between them, just an understanding.
He would return.
He had to.
And with that, Aegon Targaryen—Ghost, the last true dragon—rode for King's Landing.