Chapter Text
The Shy Maid rocked gently in the waters of the Rhoyne, the darkness and the tranquility of the night surrounding it. It was the hour of ghosts, a very appropriate name in Jon Connington's opinion. By now all the other occupants of the Shy Maid had to be asleep, he knew, but he could not sleep, not today and not any other day, not until many hours later, when fatigue would finally catch up to him and force him into a deep slumber that would keep the nightmares at bay.
It was the hardest part of the day, in the silence of the Shy Maid, with nothing to do, nothing to occupy his mind but his memories and his regrets. As he often did in that time, he sat atop the bridge of the Shy Maid, legs crossed as he mulled over his memories, a wineskin in hand from which he took the occasional sip, though never enough to get him properly drunk. The memory of the lie the Spider had created to keep his identity covered still stung him. He would never become a drunk, not while Aegon still drew breath and needed him.
It was for that reason that on this night, he was doing something he did near as often as thinking about the Bells. Planning the invasion, thinking of every possible alliance and rivalry, of everyone who could be convinced to join them or stay neutral. It was a fruitless task he knew, so many things that could change, so many unknowns, especially that damned Spider. The only things he could say with any certainty was that Dorne and the Golden Company would stand with them while the Lannisters and Baratheons would fight them.
But even the endless and somewhat fruitless planning was still better than dwelling on the bitter memories of the past, of the Bells and of his Silver Prince, and above all else, of his failures and the price for them in Sack and at the Trident. He saw those things enough in his dreams, his most common being Robert Baratheon killing Rhaegar in a bloody ford while all around them the Bells sounded. He didn't want to think about that when awake, however, so planning the invasion, mostly fruitless as it was, still seemed a better idea.
His thoughts were cut short however, as he saw a flicker of movement, before the good Septa herself emerged from below deck, her white robes strikingly visible in the night sky, thought her violet eyes weren't, in his opinion a blessing, for those eyes reminded him too much of Rhaegar for him too be ever be comfortable looking into them.
"Can't sleep, Ashara?" he asked her.
"I've told you not to call me that, Jon," she said, but there was no edge to it. There was something of a relief in someone else knowing the truth, of not always having to live in the lie, no matter how necessary that lie was, no matter how painful the memories the truth brought were.
So, a comforting silence set over them, only broken by the sounds of the Rhoyne, passing lazily by them. Wordlessly, the former lady Dayne came by his side.
"Mind sharing?" she asked, pointing at the wineskin.
"Not at all," he said, pointing to a place by his side, where she quickly sat. "So," he asked as he passed her the wineskin, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"It's the anniversary today. It's been fourteen years to the day," she said, before taking a big gulp from the wineskin.
Jon didn't need to ask to know what it was the anniversary of. The Sack of King's Landing was an event Jon regretted almost as much as he did the Trident and the Bells. He still remembered little Rhaenys, a true menace even at three, and Princess Elia, kind and smart Princess Elia, even if she was the wrong choice for his Rhaegar, not that he'd ever say that to his companion. And he knew he wasn’t alone in regretting them. Ashara had lost her best friend in the Sack, while Aegon, though he tried not to show it, lost the most out of them all.
"Well," he said, taking the wineskin back, "to Elia!" he said, taking a sip, before handing it back to Ashara who took a significantly larger sip.
"To Elia!" she said, before taking another one, "and to Rhaenys!" she said, taking another drink, before handing the wine back to Jon, who took another sip in turn. He decided not to comment on the amount his companion drank.
"Fourteen years..." she muttered. "I sometimes can't believe it's been that long."
"Aye. It doesn't feel like it. I can still remember the Bells like it was yesterday. And in a few years Aegon will be leading an army to take back his throne..." he said. Would he be ready for that duty? Would Jon be ready to help him and face his failures?
"To victory and vengeance," Ashara said in a somber tone, taking the wineskin and taking another drink, quickly followed by Jon.
"Do you ever regret it?" she asked after a pause. "Not being there at the Sack?"
"Aye, all the time. There and at the Trident..." he said, almost losing himself in the thoughts of what could have been, if he'd been by Rhaegar's side. Could they have taken on Robert Baratheon together? "Do you?" he asked, though he knew the answer.
"All the time. I doubt I could have done anything had I been there, but it would have been something. Instead, throughout everything I just waited in Starfall, pregnant, while King's Landing fell, Tywin Lannister ordered the deaths of Elia and Rhaenys and Robert Baratheon was crowned King over the corpses of babes. And then..." she said with a pause, which she quickly covered up with another drink, "And then, after I miscarried, Ned Stark returned, my brother's sword and his sister's bastard..." And then she suddenly stopped, her face hard to see in the darkness, but still unmistakably afraid.
"His sister's bastard..." he repeated, as his mind took time to realize what that meant, the terrible realization slowly dawning on him. It felt as if an iron gauntlet hit him, taking all the air out of his lungs. She couldn't mean...
"Forget about it," she tried to say off-handedly. At that, his attention suddenly snapped back at her, ice filling his stomach at the implication.
"There's only one person who could have fathered a bastard on Lyanna Stark" he said, glaring at her, anger and realization hitting him like a cavalry charge.
At that, she only nodded.
"And the Kingsguard... How didn't I figure it out…” he said, the truth making him feel almost hollow. “What else could three Kingsguard be doing in the middle of the desert?" he asked, though more himself than her. "And you never said anything?" he asked, anger coming in to fill that emptiness.
"What was there to say?" she asked defiantly at that.
"What... WHAT WAS THERE TO SAY?" he lashed out at that, rage coursing through him unlike any he had known since the Rebellion. "The fact that there's another Targaryen?" he spat.
"There is no other Targaryen," she replied back, standing up. "He is a bastard, a Snow, not a Targaryen."
"HE!?!?!? Where is he anyways?" he asked suddenly. "What happened to him?"
"Ned Stark claimed him as his bastard," she replied calmly.
"And you let him?" he asked, disbelieving. To leave a child of Rhaegar’s in the hands of the Usurper’s pet wolf… no it was inconceivable.
"What was I to do? I didn't know Aegon was alive, or what the Spider was up to back then, not that I do now," she replied in a small voice.
"And you never thought to tell us? Never thought to tell Aegon that he has a brother who's currently living as Eddard Stark's bastard?"
"I have a what?" came the unexpected voice of Aegon, sleep still clear in his eyes as he made his way up to where they both now stood. "Did you just say I have a brother who's currently living as Eddard Stark's bastard?" he asked, his voice disbelieving.
"Apparently so," Jon answered. "Your half brother, by Lyanna Stark," he said drily.
"This... This can't be real. Tell me it's a jest," the boy looked at them, his look becoming almost dazed. At that, Jon turned his own glare back towards Ashara. Would she ever have told us? he wondered.
"I'm afraid it's true," she replied. "Lyanna Stark gave birth to a son. Ned Stark claimed him as his bastard to keep him safe," she said.
"Keep him safe," he scoffed. A small part of him could almost see the logic behind it, but his bitterness towards Eddard Stark was an old and powerful thing, born in the sounds of the Bells as he, Hoster Tully and Jon Arryn came in to save Robert Baratheon.
"How else would he have been kept safe at the time?" Ashara asked defiantly. "Nobody knew that Aegon survived or that the Spider was on our side."
"Mayhaps," he answered grudgingly. "However, you still could have told us. I understand not telling the Spider, but not even us?" he asked.
"Wait," Aegon suddenly asked, confusion clear in his voice. "How do you know all of this?" he asked as he turned towards Ashara, though at that moment Jon remembered that for Aegon it was still Septa Lemore.
"That's a long story," she replied tiredly. "Mayhaps it would be better if we tell it tomorrow?" she asked.
"Very well," Jon admitted grudgingly, seeing that Haldon too had been woken up by the noise. "Let us go back to sleep, and come morning, Septa Lemore will have a lot to tell us," he said, throwing her a glare, and one to Aegon and Haldon just for good measure, in case they wanted to say anything. It was truly not the time for everything he had learnt and that needed to be said, he decided.
Wordlessly, they all followed him to their cabins, Aegon following him to their own, as both of them quietly tucked into their hammocks. Jon barely slept at all, the memories coming back stronger than ever, and all the questions that needed to be asked. However, for once in the dark of night as he was tossing and turning, there was also a sense of optimism and eagerness as he looked forward to the next day, and when he looked into the past. Rhaegar has another son. Aegon had a brother. It was some of the best news he had gotten in years. Judging by the sounds below him, it seemed Aegon had hardly slept either.
"So, what do we do now?" Haldon asked that morning after Ashara had finished telling everything, a heavy silence having descended upon the bridge where all of them except Yandry and Yasilla stood and listened to all she had to say. Of course those two were only pretending to work while they were carefully trying to hear everything, but Jon didn't particularly mind in that moment.
"Isn't it obvious?" Aegon answered. "I have a brother who's currently in the clutches of the Usurper's servant. We need to get him out of there and get him here with us," he replied as if it was the easiest thing in the world.
"Would that it were so easy," Jon said. He understood the noble impulse to rush headlong with a rescue quest, before the Bells he would have likely done as much himself. However, he was no longer as foolish as he had been then, and he could see the problems in such an approach. "How would we do that? He is located in the North, most likely somewhere around Winterfell. The very heart of Eddard Stark's power."
"I think he'd actually be raised in Winterfell itself. When we met, he said he'd be raised alongside his cousins," Ashara said, her voice slightly cowed. It figured, since otherwise Jon wasn’t sure she would have been helpful. It seemed she cared little for the boy from how she told everything.
"So potentially even worse. Inside Winterfell itself. How could we get him out of it?" he asked Aegon.
"Mayhaps the Spider might help?" Aegon asked, though even Jon could see his heart wasn’t into such a proposal.
"He might," Jon answered. "Or he might use this information to stoke the flames of war in Westeros and sacrifice him to tear the Baratheon allies apart. It would be the politically smart move," he finished.
"You're not suggesting we do that!? He's my brother!" Aegon pronounced, his voice filled with outrage, but also a certain kingly determination that made Jon’s heart swell with pride.
"I am not. Which is why I think we shouldn't involve the Spider into this," he replied. He saw Aegon give a grudging nod at that, realizing the point he was making. The Spider was an ally out of necessity, but he couldn't be trusted.
"Very well, not the Spider. Then we should do it. Me, Rolly, you and maybe Haldon, we go into the North and we get him," he replied.
"NO," Jon stated firmly. "You are too valuable, we cannot risk losing you. You are our King, you cannot take such a risk." He had failed the father, he could not fail Aegon, he could not allow him to come to harm.
"He's my brother. Baelor the Blessed walked through a pit full of snakes to save his cousin, why should I be any lesser than him?" Aegon asked petulantly.
"Baelor the Befuddled walked through a pit filled with snakes and likely lost his mind because of it," Jon said firmly, throwing Aegon a firm look. "And Baelor had heirs, you do not, unless you count your half mad uncle or a bastard brother we've barely realized exists. You will not risk your life for it," he finished, putting as much finality as possible, using the tone he had mastered in all the years the lad had thought him as his true father.
"Aye, he can't go. We might though," Haldon said begrudgingly, interrupting their argument.
"No," Aegon said immediately. "I cannot ask that of you, not when I’m not going." At that Haldon gave him a rueful smile.
"You're not asking us, Griff. However it is still an opportunity we could be wise to use. The boy, while your brother, is also Eddard Stark's nephew, and the secret of Eddard Stark passing a child of Rhaegar's as his own would be more than enough to tear the Rebels asunder. If the boy is with us, then the North might very well be too, or at least they'll be neutral, and their ties with the Usurper broken," he finished.
"Aye," Jon said. "It's a valuable opportunity," and more than that, it was his chance for the first time to truly make a difference. He had been unable to save Rhaegar, or Elia, Rhaenys or even Rhaella, nor could he protect Daenerys or Viserys, and even Aegon's survival was not on him, but on Elia and the Spider. At last he could do something. He could save Rhaegar's son.
"Never thought I'd go back to Westeros without an army by my side," Duck said. "So be it though. Saving a hidden prince does have a very knightly feel to it," Duck said with a chuckle.
"Very well. Me and Duck shall go to White Harbor and then on to Winterfell. There we'll find out all that we can and if possible, rescue the boy," he proclaimed.
"Pardon me, Griff," Haldon said. "But you can't go either. Too many people could recognize you. How many Northmen fought at Stoney Sept? What if you need to go into the castle and face off with Eddard Stark. Are you sure he won't recognize you? You still walk and talk like a lord." At that, Jon just shot the man a glare, but he could see the reason behind what had been said.
"I'll go instead," Haldon declared. "Me and Duck should be able to fit right in with White Harbor and we should be able to blend in passably well in Wintertown. From there... Well I guess we'll wait and see. There's much we don't know. Where is he exactly? What are Ned Stark's intention? We'll go there and find out, and if possible, get him here. And if we fail and get captured... Well, it won't be any big loss, while if we succeed we'll have rescued the King's brother," he replied with a dry smile.
"Are you sure you want to do this Haldon? Duck?" Aegon asked, uncertainty clear on his face. Jon felt much the same. On the one side he could see the opportunity such a moment presented. On the other… sending other people to do such a dangerous task while he waited sat ill with him. Above all else, it reminded him of the helplessness he had felt as he ordered his knights to look through Stoney Sept again and again, but to no avail.
"Yes, my boy, I’m sure," Haldon replied with a fond smile.
"Aye," Duck replied. "And don't worry, we'll be back, won't want to miss another chance to thrash you with the sword."
"Hey! I won the last time," Aegon replied with mock indignation, which broke the weary tension, causing them all to fall into a comfortable silence.
"So once Duck and I depart towards Pentos, I guess we'll see each other again in Ghoyan Drohe once we return?" Haldon asked.
"Aye, that should work," Jon replied. And with that it was decided, and Jon felt both the best he'd ever felt since the Bells but also the most anxious. However, with any luck, in a few months, another son of Rhaegar's would be with them.