A Coronation

The two princes brooded on Lord Connington for much of the night. The man was distant from everyone else during the feast, and more than once he looked on at Lady Elia with distaste, something which only worsened the further into his cups he fell. Jon considered bringing his sister or perhaps even his uncle Benjen into his confidence about the recent suspicions he and Aegon harboured, but ultimately decided against such a thing. Rhaegar had always trusted Jon to protect his family and he endeavoured to so without furthering their worry and grief.

As the night wore on, he did manage to speak briefly with Ser Arthur Dayne, whom his father considered his closest friend. The two stood aside as the others all intermingled and further discussed the recent state of affairs and reaffirmed bonds and alliances in court.

“How did your journey in the Riverlands go, Ser?” He asked mildly, “Egg told me that there was a great deal of resistance.”

The Sword of the Morning nodded, exhaustion clear on his face. “That’s true enough,” he exhaled sharply, “They’ve been cutting through Lord Tully’s patrols and raiding up along the Trident. We did our best to contain them, but I’ve never seen a group as well organised.”

“Even worse than the ones you dealt with years ago?”

“Aye,” Arthur looked disgusted, “if I had to guess, I would say that this lot is being supported by someone wealth and influence. It’s not unheard of, as I told Prince Aegon, the Blackfyres did such a thing, back in their prime.”

Jon made to question further, but a sudden gasp and clang of a fallen chalice turned his attention back up to the dais where his family sat. Lady Elia had taken a fall and the family was quick to rush to her aid. Ser Arthur cursed and moved to help her, he and Prince Oberyn Martell gently leading the Queen out of the chambers and off to her chambers.

By the time the whole commontion was over with and the Maester confirmed that the Queen was in no danger beyond exhaustion, everyone moved to their own chambers for the evening. Jon all but collapsed once he found his bed, and slipped into sleep the moment his head touched the pillow. The sleep was pleasant, but eventually he was torn away from it by the rough shaking of someone.

Jon cracked his eyes open, and found his sister standing before him in the morning light. “Jon! You must wake, this instant!” This was genuine anxiety in her voice, “Aegon...he has had Lord Connington arrested, under charges of treason and Kingslaying. The trial is happening right now!”

What followed was political madness unlike any Jon had seen before. He and Rhaenys entered the Throne Room just as Aegon was hearing a procession of witnesses speak against Lord Connington, who stood in chains and with blades pointed in his direction. Dozens of servants and household knights spoke of Lord Connington’s increasingly erratic behaviour, his conflicts with the king and strange individuals he had been seen with. Grand Maester Pycelle even testified before Gods and Men that he had heard Connington threaten the king, saying that only Rhaegar’s forgiving nature allowed such a slight to pass.

Connington objected several times, shouting his innocence and accusing the witnesses of lying. He was silenced by a mailed fist by a nearby knight. Eventually Aegon had heard enough, pure rage painted across his face. He deemed Connington to be guilty of treason, conspiracy and the **** of the King. The sentence was ****. Even as they dragged the man out to be beheaded, he screamed his innocence, screamed of the love he bore for Rhaegar.

The whole experience had visibly drained the rest of Jon’s family, and when the day came for Aegon to be corinated as king, everyone was ready for things to return to normality. Jon stood though the event, stony faced, with his sister and stepmother at his side, working as support for both. Once the High Septon pronounced his brother King, Jon felt that perhaps they had turned a new page in their lives.

“I’ve a proposition for you,” Aegon asked him that night, as the two of them sat and drank in the new king’s solar. “What do you think of being my Hand?”

Jon snorted, took another cup of wine. “I think there are far better men than I for that lofty position,” he took a mouthful, “but...you know I will always support you, brother. If you want me as your Hand, I’ll do it.”

“I think...I think we can put all this madness behind us,” Aegon sighed, a look of contentment settling across his face. “Between the two of us, father’s realm is secure.”

He left the solar many hours later, more than a little drunk and exceedingly ready to sleep for days. He was just at the door when he felt a soft hand snake around his waist and move down his breeches. Jon turned to find Cersei Lannister right behind him, her breath hot on his ear as she slowly played with his cock.

“Soon,” she whispered, “this realm...will be yours.”

Before he could gain his bearings, the lady withdrew her hand and was off, leaving the Prince confused and frustrated.