Troubling news

They had spent much of the week following the attack searching the area for anyone who might have had information on the bandits. Lord Tywin, and later his brother Ser Kevan, had promised that they would not leave a single stone unturned in their search for clues as to how the enemy learnt of his whereabouts. It was tiring, but he learned much from watching Tywin command.

By the end of the week, however, a raven arrived bringing grim tidings. Lord Tywin handed him the message that evening in the privacy of his solar, a curious expression adorning his normally harsh face. Once Jon read the scrap of parchment, he felt his stomach curl. His father, King Rhaegar the First of his name, had died in his sleep.

Jon grasped Tywin’s desk for support as he felt the world begin to spin around him, his mind racing and his body feeling feverishly sick. His father, his only surviving parent, the true north for his soul...was gone. The absence was profound and the world did not feel right. Tywin offered his condolences and informed him that the entire Lannister household would join him as they returned to the Red Keep for the funeral.

The next few days passed in a blur, and it was all Jon could do to keep himself together during the trip back home. Myrcella had scarcely left his side, tenderly recalling details of her own father’s **** and offering him every ounce of support she could. Jon was not immune to her kindness and thanked her sincerely, but truly could not stir himself to do more than that.

His whole family was waiting for him when he returned to the Red Keep. Aegon looking red faced, but stoic as he clasped Jon’s shoulder in support. Rhaenys was struggling to hold back tears as she threw her arms around him. Queen Elia, long inflicted with her own ailments, looked terribly pale and moved with a sudden frailty that had been there before. His grandmother, aunt and uncle had all made the journey, but looked far more restrained in their grief. Rhaella looked red eyed, but otherwise kept herself composed, while Danaerys, who had been close with her oldest brother, seemed sadden more for everyone else’s sake. Viserys did not seem saddened or gladdened by his brother’s ****, merely distant, as if lost in some puzzle he could not work out.

Guests from every corner of Westeros arrived to pay their respects as well. Prince Quentyn of Dorne, his father and uncle had come in an act of solidarity for Elia and her children. The Tyrell children and their wizened grandmother all came and spoke quietly with Aegon, no doubt gauging the new king’s character under the pretence of support. Several lords of the Vale and Riverlands offered their wishes of support, but mostly just wanted to be seen by the court as having the impression of loyalty. Rodrik Harlaw of the Iron Islands offered surprisingly beautiful condolences to both Aegon and Jon, and gifted the new king with a history book on Jaehaerys I.

Most surpring of all though, was the three figures clad utterly in black. Brothers of the Night’s Watch, and chief among them, Jon’s Stark uncle Benjen. The grizzled man who shared his features pulled him into a fierce hug.

“I’m sorry this happened lad, the whole of us Starks...we’re sorry,” he said quietly, “I may not have liked the man, but even I could tell that he loved you,” he squeezed Jon’s shoulder giving him a sad smile. “He’s with your mother now, their troubles are finally over.”

Jon swallowed back his tears. “Thank you for coming Uncle...I know this is not your favourite place.”

“Worry not, lad,” he said kindly, “you just look after yourself, and your kin.”

It was a drawn out affair as the High Septon spoke at length of how the Gods give a man limited time in the mortol coil and recall them back when needed. He offered prayers of gratitude for Rhaegar’s reign and lead several members of the procession in a labourous prayer that Jon mostly ignored. Once the act was done, they went to work putting the King to flame, as was Targaryen tradition. Rhaegar looked splendid atop his funeral pyre, and Jon tried to ingrain the picture of his father laying peacefully into his memory before the flames rose and consumed him. Rhaenys openly cried then, and rested her head on Jon’s shoulder as the dragon king returned to the fire.

The deed was done, and the procession began to break up and move towards the Red Keep, where a further feast would be thrown to commemorate the king’s life. Jon walked sombrely back with his brother, the two of them conferring quietly over preparations that would need to be made in the next few days. Eventually they were joined by Lord Tywin, who bowed deeply to them both.

“My Princes,” he said by way of greeting, “would it be inconsiderate if I brought forth matters of state at this time?”

Aegon smiled wearily. “No, My Lord I think it might do me a spot of good to get my mind away from all this...sadness.”

“Of course,” The Lannister walked with them for a few paces, his lean form towering over both men, “It is...indelicate, but I have heard rumours about the King’s Hand.”

The brothers exchanged a glance. Jon Connington had served as Hand for the entirety of Rhaegar’s reign, and had even briefly served in the position for King Aerys before being banished over the sea for the majority of the Rebellion. The man was devoted, but often zealously so. “What about Lord Connington?” Aegon asked.

“It would seem...” Tywin looked as though he was struggling to form the words politely for royal ears, “that Lord Connington had an argument with the King on the day before his ****, quite a substantial one, if Grand Maester Pycelle and several witnesses are to believed.”

Aegon chewed on that for a moment. “What was the nature of their argument?”

Tywin looked uncomfortable, then said, “The Bandit Brotherhood...and loyalty...My Prince.”

“Gods,” Jon groaned, rubbed his eyes in irritation. “I was attacked while in the Westerlands, Egg.”

“What?” Concern danced across Aegon’s face, and then a look of realisation. “It was Lord Connington who requested that Ser Arthur and the majority of the Kingsguard accompany me to the Riverlands to fight these bandits,” he looked back at Jon, “and with you in the Westerlands father was ****.”

Lord Tywin looked at the two of them carefully. “I do not want to make any accusations, but it does occur to me that having a man of dubious loyalty as Hand might be...dangerous,” he looked keenly at Aegon, “especially during such a period of transition.”

Aegon looked shaken by the words, but nodded in agreement. “Thank you, Lord Tywin...I shall think on what you have said...”