A Crown for Aegon (ChatGPT)

[(Pyke's Great Hall - The drafty stone chamber echoes with the clatter of dishes as the unlikely gathering sits around a salt-stained table. Prince Daeron and Princess Elia occupy the high seats, flanked by Viserys and Lyanna Stark. At the far end, young Aegon Snow (now Greyjoy) and his betrothed Asha exchange wary glances with the royal visitors. Servants scurry with platters of roasted fish and suspiciously dark ale.)

Viserys: (raising his tankard) To family reunions! Awkward, tense, and likely to end in bloodshed—just like old times!

Asha: (grinning) Finally, someone who speaks my language.

Lyanna: (ignoring them, to Elia) You look well.

Elia: (smoothly) Dornish wine and spite do wonders for the complexion.

Daeron: (pinching the bridge of his nose) Seven hells.

Aegon Greyjoy: (stiffly) My lords, my ladies. Welcome to Pyke.

Elia: (studying him) You have your father's bearing.

Lyanna: (sharp) And my brother's stubbornness.

Viserys: (snorting) So he's doomed either way.

[(An uncomfortable silence falls. Asha kicks Aegon under the table, prompting him to speak.)]

Aegon Greyjoy: (clearing throat) The Ironborn have accepted my rule. Mostly.

Daeron: (dryly) "Mostly" being the operative word.

Asha: (shrugging) The ones who didn't are feeding the crabs now.

Elia: (raising a brow) Efficient.

Lyanna: (defensive) He's learning to lead.

Viserys: (leaning in) Oh, he's doing splendidly! Only three attempted rebellions this month!

Daeron: (ignoring him) You'll need to attend court in King's Landing soon. Officially pledge fealty.

Aegon Greyjoy: (stiffening) I'm to kneel?

Elia: (calmly) You're to survive. A smart lord knows when to bend.

Lyanna: (muttering) Like Rhaegar should have.

[(The temperature in the room drops ten degrees. Viserys chokes on his ale.)]

Daeron: (coldly) Careful, Lady Stark.

Elia: (surprisingly gentle) He was many things, but never stupid. Just... tragically romantic.

Asha: (breaking tension) Gods, you southerners are exhausting. Can't we just arm wrestle for dominance like normal people?

Viserys: (brightening) Finally! A sensible suggestion!

Lyanna: (standing abruptly) If you'll excuse me, I have a kingdom to run.

Elia: (standing as well) I'll walk with you.

[(The table freezes as the two women exit together. Viserys whistles low.)]

Viserys: Well. That's either going to end in tears or a stabbing.

Daeron: (to Aegon) You'll marry soon, then?

Aegon Greyjoy: (nodding) Once the royal tour concludes.

Asha: (grinning) Don't worry, princeling. I'll make an honest Ironborn of him yet.

Viserys: (raising his cup) To new beginnings! And to hoping the women in our lives don't murder each other!

[(Outside, the crashing waves drown out whatever sharp words Elia and Lyanna exchange—but when they return, neither bears fresh bloodstains. A small miracle, by Targaryen standards.)]

[(Pyke's windswept courtyard - Morning. The salty air carries the scent of burning peat as Prince Daeron checks Drogon's saddle straps. Nearby, Elia's ship is being loaded with supplies for their journey to Winterfell. Viserys leans against a stone pillar, watching with amusement while Lyanna and Aegon Greyjoy stand stiffly beside Asha, who's sharpening a dagger with unnecessary vigor.)

Viserys: (grinning) Don't look so glum, nephew! At least you're trading fish stew for venison.

Aegon Greyjoy: (grimacing) And one prison for another.

Lyanna: (sharp) Winterfell is not a prison.

Asha: (snorting) Says the woman under house arrest for eight years.

Elia: (diplomatic) The North has its... charms.

Daeron: (dryly) Such as snow. And more snow.

[(A tense silence falls. Somewhere, a seagull cries like a dying man.)

Viserys: (clapping hands) Right! Who's up for a quick round of "Who Can Upset Father the Most"? I'll start - Aegon, ever considered changing your name to 'Aegon Targaryen' just to watch Tywin's face?

Lyanna: (growling) Don't.

Aegon Greyjoy: (to Daeron) Will you at least tell my grandfather I'm ruling well?

Daeron: (mounting Drogon) I'll tell him you haven't burned anything down yet. That's progress.

Elia: (to Lyanna, quieter) He'll be safe. Ned's a good man.

Lyanna: (stiffly) I know my brother.

Asha: (mock whispering to Aegon) Notice how no one's denying it's a prison?

Viserys: (laughing) Oh, I like her!

[(Drogon spreads his wings, sending servants scrambling. Elia boards her ship with one last unreadable glance at Lyanna. The two women who loved Rhaegar in different ways exchange nods - not quite friends, not quite enemies.)

Daeron: (calling down) Try not to start another rebellion while we're gone!

Aegon Greyjoy: (muttering) No promises.

[(As dragon wings and ship sails disappear into the mist, Viserys throws an arm around Aegon's shoulders.)

Viserys: Cheer up! At this rate, by next year you'll be given the Twins as punishment and we can all laugh at the Freys together!

Lyanna: (storming off) I hate this family.

Asha: (grinning) I'm starting to love it.

[(The salty wind carries away the sound of clashing swords from the training yard - the Iron Islands' version of a farewell party.)]

[(Winterfell Courtyard - Afternoon. The crisp northern air carries the scent of pine as Drogon's shadow darkens the courtyard. Prince Daeron dismounts just as Elia's carriage rolls through the gates. Ned Stark and his family stand in formal welcome, though Catelyn's smile is tighter than a bowstring. Little Rickon hides behind Bran, eyeing the dragon warily.)

Ned: (bowing) Prince Daeron. Princess Elia. Winterfell is yours.

Catelyn: (perfectly polite) We've prepared the guest chambers in the family wing.

Daeron: (nodding) Well met, Lord Stark. Lady Stark.

Elia: (graceful) Your home is as beautiful as I've heard.

Sansa: (curtsying) Oh! Princess Elia, your gown is—

Arya: (interrupting) Is that dragon gonna eat our sheep?

Robb: (elbowing her) Arya!

Daeron: (amused) Only if they're rude to him.

[(Arya immediately sticks her tongue out at Drogon, who huffs smoke in response. Bran's eyes go wide with wonder while Rickon squeaks and clings to Catelyn's skirts.)

Ned: (clearing throat) Shall we—

Catelyn: (overbright) Dinner will be served shortly. I trust the accommodations will be... adequate for royal guests.

Elia: (smooth) After a week at sea, any roof is a blessing.

[(An awkward silence falls. Somewhere in the distance, a direwolf howls.)

Robb: (blurting out) Did you really burn the Greyjoy fleet?

Daeron: (dry) Only most of it.

Arya: (grinning) Can I ride your dragon?

Catelyn: (horrified) Arya!

Elia: (laughing) I like this one.

Ned: (rubbing temples) Perhaps we should—

Sansa: (suddenly) Princess, is it true southern ladies learn water dancing?

Elia: (winking) Only the dangerous ones.

[(Catelyn looks faint. Ned exhales through his nose. The Stark children buzz with excitement while Daeron and Elia share a look of quiet amusement - this, at least, is going better than Pyke.)

Daeron: (to Ned) Lead on, Lord Stark. I could use a drink that hasn't been watered by seawater.

Ned: (relieved) This way.

[(As they walk toward the Great Hall, Bran tugs on Elia's sleeve.)

Bran: (whispering) Do all Targaryens have dragons?

Elia: (softly) Only the interesting ones.

[(Arya whoops and races ahead, nearly colliding with a startled servant. Somewhere above, Drogon sneezes, setting a haycart briefly aflame. The Starks don't even blink anymore.)]

[(Winterfell's Great Hall - Evening. The long oak table groans under platters of roasted meats and steaming bread. Torches flicker against the stone walls as the unlikely gathering shares a tense meal. Ned sits stiffly at the head, Catelyn maintaining perfect poise beside him, while Daeron and Elia exchange quiet words. The Stark children fidget - except Arya, who's trying to balance a knife on her nose.)

Ned: (clearing throat) The Night's Watch reports... unusual activity beyond the Wall.

Catelyn: (tight-lipped) Superstition.

Daeron: (setting down his goblet) My father doesn't think so. He's stockpiling dragonglass at Dragonstone.

Robb: (leaning forward) Like in Old Nan's stories?

Elia: (nodding) The same.

Arya: (dropping her knife) So we get to fight ice monsters?

Catelyn: (horrified) Arya!

Sansa: (whispering) That's not proper dinner talk!

Bran: (eyes wide) But what if they're real?

Ned: (firm) Enough.

[(An awkward silence falls, broken only by Rickon chewing loudly.)

Daeron: (to Ned) Your sister's managing well at Pyke.

Catelyn: (stiffening) Lyanna always had a talent for... unconventional situations.

Elia: (smooth) As does your uncle Brynden. We visit Riverrun next.

Ned: (relieved at the topic change) The Blackfish is a good man.

Robb: (grinning) He taught me how to disarm a man twice my size!

Arya: (immediately) Show me!

Catelyn: (pinching bridge of nose) Seven help me.

Daeron: (amused) Your household is... lively.

Ned: (deadpan) You have no idea.

[(Just then, a direwolf howls outside, making Rickon jump and spill his milk. The adults share a look - some things, whether ice monsters or family drama, are best left for tomorrow.)]