"…That's how it happened. Sudden, dramatic—it all caught me completely off guard.
Varys, oh Varys, whether it's true or not, I have to say one thing to him: respect," Daenerys sighed.
Barristan furrowed his brow in thought and asked, "Your Grace, can you confirm whether Jon Connington is telling the truth?"
After reaching no conclusion with the old man, Daenerys began reaching out to the White Knight on the Stepstones.
Through astral projection.
And Little White had already landed ahead of time at the Torturer's Pit—the Royal Navy's garrison.
Uh, basically the wooden house King Viserys built on the bay shore.
"I'm certain of one thing: Jon Connington knows you are my White Knight. He met me claiming to be an old friend of yours," Daenerys said.
"If Ser Connington is certain of Young Aegon's identity, then there's a good chance he really is Rhaegar's child," Barristan murmured.
"Why?" Daenerys asked curiously.
"Because…" Barristan's gaze wavered. After a brief hesitation, he gritted his teeth and said, "Jon Connington was in love with Prince Rhaegar. He wouldn't lie about something like this."
"You're joking?" Daenerys's projected image flickered like a broken color TV with poor reception.
"This sort of thing is actually quite common among Westeros's upper class. For example, Duke Renly and Ser Loras, the Knight of Flowers. Even in Slaver's Bay, in Kaevaen, aren't there many handsome boys?"
Barristan spoke with difficulty, clearly uncomfortable with his own words.
"Westeros definitely needs the High Sparrow to clean house," Daenerys sighed, holding her forehead.
She didn't know that her original self—Daenerys Stormborn—was also a silver-haired little beauty who played both sides.
Barristan awkwardly added, "What happened between Ser Connington and Prince Rhaegar is known only to the White Knights. For the prince's reputation, you'd best not speak of it."
"So you do know how damaging such rumors can be?" Daenerys rolled her eyes.
Yes, while same-sex relationships had become common among Westerosi nobles, the act itself was still not accepted publicly.
The Faith of the Seven strictly forbade same-sex intimacy.
Being guilty of such a 'sin' was nearly as serious as slave-trading.
But after decades of brutal war with the Faith Militant, the Targaryens had practically broken the church's spine.
Royal authority had fully eclipsed religious power, and the Faith had become nothing more than a potted plant in the king's hand—placed wherever he pleased.
With its backbone shattered, the church began to rot from within.
The High Septon became a frequent visitor to brothels. Seducing handsome young boys became their favorite game.
The doctrines in the Seven-Pointed Star turned into nothing more than scrap paper.
If judged from a neutral standpoint, with no vested interest or emotion, Daenerys would have to commend the High Sparrow's actions in King's Landing.
Regardless of whether he sought power for himself, he at least managed to purge the corruption pervading the upper echelons of the Seven Kingdoms.
"In any case, with Ser Connington's love for Prince Rhaegar, he would never let an imposter pretend to be his child," Barristan reiterated.
"Heh, even Varys wouldn't be foolish enough to conspire with Jon Connington on a fake," Daenerys said with a faint smile.
"Back then, Ser Connington and Robert Baratheon were considered equals. With his intelligence, it's unlikely he was deceived," said Barristan.
"Intelligence…" Daenerys gave a bitter smile. "A fool who could botch something like the 'Battle of the Bells'—you expect me to trust his brains?"
"You think the Battle of the Bells was poorly fought? What makes you say that? Ser Connington stood by his honor. That's worthy of any true knight's praise!" Barristan said in confusion.
"Whatever. Smart or not, we have to investigate ourselves. Ride Little White immediately to Dragonstone. Find Brawn and have him go to King's Landing in person.
Young Aegon's stand-in is the son of a tanner from the Blackwater. The tanner was a drunkard and likely had a few sons. The mother died in childbirth.
That identity should be clear enough. King's Landing is not Volantis—there aren't silver-haired, violet-eyed residents on every street corner."
At last, Daenerys spoke with a grave tone: "Tell Brawn this matter is to be known only to the three of us—you, me, and him."
"I understand," Barristan said solemnly.
On one side, the Dragon Queen was full of doubts about Young Aegon's identity.
On the other, Jon Connington and his companions were sleepless, anxiously discussing the queen's indifferent reaction to meeting her supposed nephew.
"She's suspicious of me. I can feel it."
Young Aegon sounded disgruntled, resentful, yet resigned.
"She's being cautious. It seems Varys and Illyrio don't hold much weight in her mind," Connington said with a deep voice.
Septa Lemore sighed, "Varys and Illyrio miscalculated. They arranged everything assuming it would all go as planned, but never considered how to ease the queen's suspicions."
"Why would she doubt me? I am the real Aegon Targaryen!" Young Aegon exclaimed.
Connington frowned and asked, "Tyrion, what do you think?"
Tyrion seemed distracted, lost in thought, and slow to respond to Connington's call.
"Tyrion?" Connington raised his voice.
"What? Sorry?" Tyrion snapped out of it.
"What were you thinking about?" asked Maester Haldon, eyeing him closely.
I was thinking about my dear sister, how she was paraded through the streets like some cheap whore. I was thinking about Jaime, how much he loved her, how he must be in agony. Would he turn into another Maegor the Cruel and burn down the Sept in a blaze of fury?
No… maybe Jaime would just snap that delicate, slender neck of Cersei's.
That woman slept with all three Clegane brothers—and then had them sleep with Tommen's wife.
Jaime was never one for forgiveness.
That day, when Robert brought his entire household north to Winterfell, he got drunk, staggered into the wheelhouse, collapsed on top of Cersei, and ravaged her like the cheapest whore by the roadside—Jaime had already drawn his sword.
If he hadn't stopped himself, Robert would've followed in the Mad King's footsteps.
Cersei had many men, but Jaime had remained faithful to her his entire life.
Aside from her, he had never touched another woman.The stronger the love, the deeper the jealousy, the fiercer the hatred.Perhaps it would be better to let Jaime end that foolish and mad Cersei himself.
Didn't the Dragon Queen, who loathed the Lannisters, still look at Cersei with a certain admiration?Oh, and the Dragon Queen liked me too.
She was right—her dwarf son shooting a crossbow through his father's manhood while he was on the toilet was a tale that every enemy of House Lannister found amusing and delightful.
The Dragon Queen—now that's a ruthless one.So ruthless, so brilliant, so valiant and decisive. Yet this Dragon Queen hates the Lannisters and everything the future of Casterly Rock stands for… What will become of her?
Smack!Clinton slapped Tyrion on the head, snapping him out of his stupor.
"Have you been drinking too much?" he scolded.
"Golden Grove wine from the other side of the world, straight from Arbor—each glass worth a Gold Honor. How could I not indulge a little?" Tyrion rubbed his squashed nose, grinning.
After hearing everyone's questions, Tyrion didn't hesitate and said, "It's obvious. You've all met her yourselves—she's a wise ruler, a queen who looks down upon the world from above.
She's no puppet in Varys' theater. It's not as if she'll believe whatever Varys and Illyrio tell her."
Facing Young Aegon's displeased gaze, he continued with an example:"Think about it. Let's say one day you fight your way to the Iron Throne, and then a middle-aged man with silver hair appears before you, claiming to be Rhaegar Targaryen.
He faked his death at the Trident. The man Robert smashed in the chest was a decoy he planted in advance. The real Prince Rhaegar had been hiding in the countryside, studying statecraft.
Now that he sees his son has conquered the realm, and he himself is ready to fulfill his destiny, he's come to reclaim the throne."
"What would you think?"
"My father was no coward! He would never run from the battle that was rightfully his!" Young Aegon fumed, his nose practically crooked with anger.
Clinton also frowned and snapped, "That's a terrible example! Prince Aegon didn't shirk his responsibility. He was just a baby back then—what do you expect him to do?"
"Crude words, sound logic," Tyrion shrugged indifferently. "You should be grateful that the Dragon Queen is fierce toward her enemies but not malicious by nature.
Look at how she's arranged things for you: a luxurious palace just below the top of the pyramid. Even Maester Saithe and Septa Lemore each have private bedrooms and attendants.
If it were my dear sister instead… well, ha."
"I'm not here to beg!" Aegon growled, clenching his fists.
"Oh? Still holding something back?" Tyrion perked up.
"None of your concern," Aegon snapped, impulsive but not stupid.
After a moment's thought, Tyrion said seriously, "The more seriously someone treats a matter, the more important it is to them.
In other words, if she goes to great lengths to verify your identity, it means you matter to her.
On the other hand, if she embraced you at first sight and readily acknowledged you as Rhaegar's son, then you should be worried. It would mean that to her, whether you're real or fake makes no difference.
So, the real issue isn't the Queen's attitude toward you—which, frankly, has already been quite favorable—the key question is: beyond your silver hair and violet eyes, beyond Varys—who no one in Westeros trusts—is there any other evidence?"
And here, the dwarf miscalculated. The Dragon Queen did take Aegon's claim very seriously. That much was true.
But it wasn't because of any personal affection—it was because she didn't want to be deceived or manipulated by Varys like a fool.
Whether Aegon was real or not made little practical difference to her.If he was truly Rhaegar's son, at most she'd feed him three meals a day. But dreams of commanding her dragons or armies? Pure fantasy.
If he was a fraud? Well…
"You don't trust Varys? He saved your life," Aegon asked, surprised.
"I'd sooner trust the White Walkers than him," Tyrion scoffed, nodding toward Clinton, who wore a contemplative expression. "Ask your foster father. Ask him if he trusts Varys.
Let me teach you something, little prince. If you ever do make it to Westeros, remember this saying—'The loyalty of the Spider is like the love songs of a King's Landing whore.'"
"There's a saying like that?" Clinton glared at him.
"Well, sayings have to start somewhere, don't they? And I'm the one who said it first." Tyrion grinned, tapping his ugly nose.
After thinking for a moment, Clinton asked, "If it were you, what kind of evidence would it take to convince you of Prince Aegon's identity?"
"The dwarf recognized who you were, and from the blue dye in my hair guessed who I was," Aegon replied.
"I've always been a clever man, and a bit of a softhearted one too—easy to believe people," Tyrion said solemnly.
Then his eyes gleamed mischievously. "But still, if there were something like a birthmark, an old retainer from the royal court, or a letter from Princess Elia… I'd be much more convinced."
Clinton turned to Septa Lemore and asked gravely, "What do you think?"
Tyrion looked toward the alluring, long-haired septa in shock and suspicion. "You've been hiding your true identity too? Who are you?"
A flicker of hesitation passed through Lemore's beautiful violet eyes. She said uncertainly, "Ser Barristan isn't here. No one recognizes me. And I don't know how much Her Majesty would believe what I say."
(End of chapter)
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