The Game of Cyvasse

A Heavy Dream

At the old summer palace, he hugged her again. Frowning, sitting by leaning against an apple tree, she refused to look at him. The same silence would always fall between them, separating them, as a great wall separates Pentos from the dangers outside.

"Where are you going," she broke the silence, curved lines, due to her frown, adorned her unusually large nose.

Happy that she finally addressed him, he quickly replied, "Disputed Lands. Same as always. Some Lysene pirate has declared himself king of the north coast. He's disrupting trade. Myr wants us to get rid of him."

She fell silent again. She did not share his enthusiasm for war and politics. He kissed her hand, then said cautiously, "Eira, I know how you feel. But fighting down there will prepare me for crossing the Narrow Sea."

He continued to kiss her body, carefully and gently, and she soon reciprocated. They made love, under the canopy of the tree, as one. He was happy again. She was with him, in his arms, her scent caressed his nostrils, and her warm touch revived every sensation in his body. She clung to his back with her powerful arms, while he firmly held her legs with his right arm, feeling the muscles dance under her soft skin.

Eira was with him, but suddenly he was not alone. The ground under his feet was unstable, and strange voices echoed everywhere, "Grab the rope", followed by "watch the sails". Command followed command. As in every dream, Aegon would eventually realize that he was dreaming and at the same moment he opened his eyes.
....

Rays of the rising sun pierced into the cabin, tinted purple by the Bravosi windows of the ship. Every trace of his body hated the reality now, her image as clear as it was in the dream, now slowly faded, disappearing into nothingness.

"A heavy dream," Jon spoke to him in a mundane voice, sitting in the corner of the cabin, at a small table, studying a large number of maps. The cabin was filled with maps of Westeros.

With a slight smile, Aegon replied to him, somewhat unconvincingly, "yes, I relived the old campaign." He could successfully hide his true face from everyone, except Jon. The Griffin always broke his facade.

Now for a moment, he stopped looking at the maps and measured Aegon with a long look. "I don't remember taking Eira into battle." At that remark, Aegon frowned and turned his gaze away. He retorted sarcastically to Jon, "for someone who led the royal army, you have a strange need to constantly look at maps. Don't we know them by heart."

Jon was not deterred, he again directed his attention to the maps and continued to speak, "some are newer, with more marked roads and settlements. Illyrio paid dearly for the novices to steal them from the Citadel." Aegon was not too interested in intrigue and plots, Illyrio and Varys were better at that. The Master of Whispers, however, whom he had never seen, and only met through letters and instructions, as much as possible to discover a man in that manner.

"I'm the last one to give advice, but I think you should talk to Haldon or the septa" Jon continued in a quiet tone, marking something on one of the maps.

Pouring himself a glass of Dornish wine, in an attempt to clear his mind, Aegon wanted to be patient and say nothing. When it came to Eira, he mostly didn't want to say anything. However, with a slightly irritating voice, he replied, "I know what they would tell me. Trust in Mother's mercy, Father's steadfastness or forget the past, look to the future", he tilted the glass of wine and looked at the empty glass, "Haldon would probably pour more wine. Or he would say to change the sort. Gold Arbor is best for escape". He sat down again, , stretched his left leg and leaned back on the couch and looked thoughtfully at Jon. "No, today is time for training, a lot, a lot of training. If they are not already awake, wake up Duck and Thunderex, and tell them to join me on the deck."

....

The dull thuds of blunt swords echoed with the creaking of the slippery deck. Aegon skillfully dodged the attack of two opponents, focusing more on Thunderex, whose attacks were more powerful and precise, better planned. Ser Rolly, although clumsier and without a too ornate style, was still a dangerous adversary. The sailors, busy with hard work, would pause for a moment and neglect their duties, to be able to follow the dance of swords. The ship lost its calmness, due to clumsy handling. The captain and officers were furious and cursed the sailors, driving them to their duties.

With the sound of sparring, he would return again to six years in the past and the happiest year of his life. He remembered everything, the pirate king marching in chains through the streets, followed by detachments of the Golden Company. The colorful crowd screamed excitedly, throwing flowers at the sellswords. The smell of triumph was felt on every corner, and the sound of victory echoed through the wide paved streets.

"It doesn't get any better than this," he heard Haldon as halfmeaster led two whores, to unknown. Duck, then still just an ordinary squire, had just as much fun. Jon and Aegon seemed to be alone in their desire not to seek female company. Squeezed in that great turmoil, he wanted only to return to Pentos, to return to Eira.

Soon Aegon parted from the Golden Company and boarded the first ship for Pentos. The calm summer sea made the journey short and uneventful. In a trance, he relived that day, the moment when everything stopped being important. For the first time in his life, he thought that he did not want the Iron Throne, a new life became visible to him.

Brown hair and purple eyes. He looked at his own eyes. When Eira greeted him, she was the old one, unburdened, the same girl he had tried to win over since he knew himself. Delusion, he would think now, but then he looked at a new world. Their daughter was sleeping in his arms, while Eira gently leaned on his shoulder. A world of their own. Alienated from wars, noble houses, titles and sellsword companies.

He wanted to escape, from Illyrio, from Jon, from obligations, to escape from himself and what he was, to escape from the blood that flowed through his veins. Their happiness was only theirs, but soon they were followed by odd looks and whispers. Unspoken dissatisfaction. A former orphan cannot be a queen.

She is entertainment, a comfort, an ease that the young king can take to bed. Delusion, he thought again, delusion in which he was chained. A lesson he had to learn.

Jon was silent then, but Aegon knew he thought the same. Mace Tyrell has a daughter, an ideal alliance, and more men than any other lord in the realm. Balon Greyjoy has a daughter, a bit older, but ships, yes ships. In the end, Arianne, and Dornish spears. His uncle Doran had promised unconditional support, but for people like Illyrio it was incomprehensible that people would give anything for free. Jon was typically distrustful of anyone. Marriage would solve the doubts. Now it seems that only Aegon was delusioned, persistent and innocent. Jon would say, "Toyne and Strickland will not fight alone for your throne, they expect Westeros to rise."

Strange, how many problems one death can solve. His guardians sighed in a relief, bu almost the same moment they continued foward, as if nothing had ever happened. Aegon didn't. He stood under the canopy of an apple tree, next to a small green hill, while he watched in the distance a girl with brown hair and purple eyes. Aegon wondered now, how was Elia, in Pentos. The old Aegon would want to take her with him, but no, now he doesn't need weakness.

A sudden blow to the chest brought him back to reality, he lay on the floor and tried to catch his breath. "Kid, are you okay," Duck looked at him confusedly, and a little scared. He leaned on his training sword and quickly got up. "Yes, I have to let you hit me sometimes," Aegon smiled at Ser Rolly. This game is the only place where he is willing to do that.