The Hand

King Aegon, his family and all of his advisors stood solemnly before the body of the late Jon Connington as it laid in state beneath the shadow of the Iron Throne. Rhaenys was inconsolable as she cried on her mother's shoulder and as much as Aegon wanted to calm her down, he was barely able to hold himself together. Within just three moons, he had lost two fathers and he could feel his ice cold facade begin to crack under the weight of his grief.

"How?" He asked the Grandmaester, his voice heavy with emotion.

"Natural causes, Your Grace." Pycelle replied, "The Lord Hand lived quite a strenuous lifestyle. It is not uncommon for men of his profession to die unexpectedly."

Aegon silently pondered the Grandmaester's words. Jon Connington was indeed a heavy drinker and despite his best efforts to be discrete, he was known to frequent the brothel in search of 'male companionship'.

"Your Grace, should I inform the High Septon to start making the necessary arrangements for the funeral?" Grandmaester Pycelle asked after a long while.

"No," Aegon replied, his eyes examining the face of his deceased mentor. Lord Jon Connington looked as if he had aged ten years within a single day, his face marred by lines and wrinkles that were never there in all the years that Aegon knew him. "He was never fond of the Seven. We will have a private ceremony here and then his ashes will be buried at Summerhall, alongside my father."

"As you wish, Your Grace... But uhmm... Forgive me for being so crass but the **** of Lord Connington has left the office of the Hand of the King vacant." Grandmaester Pycelle said crudely, ignoring the still warm body of Lord Connington besides him. "If I may offer my advice freely, there is no man alive as capable of fulfilling the duties of the office of the Hand as Lord Tywin Lann..."

"Two Lannisters on the Small Council may send the wrong message to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. I do not want the other Great Houses to see me as showing favouritism or being indebted to Casterly Rock." Aegon said sharply, interrupting the Grandmaester. Lord Tywin Lannister may be a skilled administrator and capable of turning everything he touches into gold but Aegon would rather trust a pit viper than the Warden of the West, a man who would have gladly slaughtered every Targaryen in the world if Rhaegar had fallen on the Trident.

"That is your prerogative, Your Grace..." Pycelle said a bit too loud in the grieving room. "Your Grace, the choice of Hand should not be taken lightly. After all, what the king dreams, the Hand of the King builds. Dare I say, a current member of the Small Council should take up the responsibility of the office until a permanent man is appointed. A man of experience who has counselled kings for..."

"Very well... Ser Barristan Selmy, step forward." Aegon commanded.

Pycelle's thin lips turned into a disbelieving frown as the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard removed his helm and bent his knee in front of the king. Despite approaching his seventieth nameday, Barristan the Bold still possessed a sharp mind and remained as graceful as a man half his age, commanding the respect and admiration from the lowest of smallfolk to the highest of lords. However, whether he could be capable of fulfilling the duties of Hand was irrelevant to Aegon. A weak king needs a strong Hand, as Aerys needed Tywin. But a strong king needs only a loyal Hand, as Rhaegar needed Jon.

And Aegon intended to build what he dreams, himself.

"I am yours to command, Your Grace." Ser Barristan said as he bowed his head low, knowing full well of what Aegon was about to demand of him.

"Ser Barristan of House Selmy, I name you the Hand of the King." Aegon said as he placed the golden hand chain necklace around the neck of the armoured knight.

"I will serve you with the best of my abilities for as long as you have need of me, Your Grace." Ser Barristan said humbly before rising to his feet.

"Send a raven to Sunspear," Aegon commanded the disgruntled Grandmaester. "My uncle Oberyn would want to be here for the funeral."

"At once, Your Grace," Pycelle said bitterly and bowed stiffly, forgetting that he had a limp and a crooked back as he walked away in anger with Queen Elia taking the opportunity to leave with Princess Rhaenys, hopefully looking for something to calm her nerves.

"How can this happen?" Aegon asked as soon as Pycelle was out of earshot, the Grandmaester had served House Targaryen faithfully for four decades but Aegon didn't not trust him. Only his Uncle Oberyn had the knowledge to confirm Aegon's fears that Lord Connington was poisoned. "Yesterday, he was healthy and fit but now..."

"He had a heart attack last night during the Small Council meeti..." Lord Tyrion started before he abruptly paused at his mistake.

"Council meeting?" Aegon asked, his eyes squinting with suspicion while Lord Stannis and the newly appointed Hand of the King gave an accusatory look at the Master of Whisperers and a very guilty looking Tyrion Lannister. "Why wasn't I informed that the Small Council was meeting last night."

"The Master of Whisperers and the Master of Coin convinced Lord Connington to discuss the drawbacks of your upcoming marriage." Ser Barristan said still staring at the Master of Coin, "It was an impromptu meeting, Your Grace, one which the Lord Hand did not want to burden you with."

"Burden me with what?"

"Rumours and gossips by people of no consequence." said the Master of Whisperers softly, giving Aegon a smile that was both calming and aggravating. "I assure you, My King, there's no need to worry about such frivolities..."

"Frivolities?" Aegon asked again and only Ser Barristan mustered the courage to answer the king.

"The Master of Whisperers discovered that a dornish knight not only publicly claimed that he had relations with the princess but... But also that Princess Rhaenys is pregnant with his child."

"WHAT? Who made such allegations?" Aegon demanded.

"Ser Gerold Dayne of High Hermitage," the Spider replied. "Unfortunately, he said it loudly and he said it often. Even though we can refute his allegations, it is known that the princess has spent an exorbitant amount of time in his company during the wedding of Prince Quentyn Martell and Lady Yronwood."

Aegon felt his chest constrict around his uncontrollably thumping heart. He wasn't an idiot and he knew that Rhaenys had her fair share of lovers before they were betrothed. But Gerold Dayne? Rhaenys of all people knew how much he loathes the smirking knight. A false knight if there ever was one.

"What did Lord Connington say about these allegations?" Aegon asked, even in **** he would still obey the Griffin Lord.

"He ordered Lord Varys to send his agents to High Hermitage and convince Ser Gerold to retract his allegations." Ser Barristan replied, "And if he refuses..."

"Trial by combat." Aegon finishes, his eyes darting towards Ser Gerold's cousin who have remained quiet during the entire conversation. "Do you think it will come to that, Ser Arthur?"

"Gerold is not one to be reasonable especially when he is in the wrong." The Sword of the Morning replied beneath his silver helm. "He is my blood but I'll gladly wield Dawn in defence of the future queen's honour, if you will let me."

Before Aegon could speak, the great oak doors of the Great Hall opened and Ser Aron Santagar the master-at-arms quickly strode in before kneeling before Aegon. "Your Grace, there is an emissary from the Night's Watch. He says that he has a letter for your eyes only."

In the Small Council Chamber

"I have taught Prince Jaehaerys penmanship since he was a boy, this is not his handwriting!" Grandmaester Pycelle exclaimed and the gathered lords of the Small Council looked upon the Night's Watchman with renewed skepticism. Except for Aegon. He sat silently as he read the letter over and over again pondering the implications of it.

Dear brother,
It is with a heavy heart and an injured hand that I write this letter. Cold winds are rising and the dead rise with it. My uncle Benjen has gone missing beyond the Wall and two corpses found beyond the Wall had risen from the dead to slay the Lord Commander in the night. Ghost ripped off the hand of one of them and at the time of writing this letter, it was still moving like some possessed thing. Only fire could harm these creatures who has glowing eyes of sapphire-blue, just as father said they would.

The Lord Commander has called a Great Ranging beyond the Wall to find my uncle; dead or alive. Despite knowing that you will object, I intend to ride alongside Lord Mormont as his squire. I cannot in good conscience sit this one out as I fear that this is the beginning of the crisis that father had warned us about as children. Of an icy darkness that can only be defeated by the three heads of the Dragon. I will find my uncle and end the wildling threat to the realm. And in the process find answers about the Others and whatever else lurks beyond the Wall. Send my regards to mother and send whatever aid you can spare to the Wall.

Your loyal brother,
Jaehaerys

"Jon Snow is Prince Jaehaerys?" Ser Alliser Thorne asked surprised. He was a Targaryen loyalist and had been a member of the City Watch of King's Landing for decades and knew Aegon and Jon since they were troublesome teenagers. However, men only see what they want to believe and Thorne only saw a bastard boy, not the heir to the Iron Throne.

"Where is Jon Snow now?" Aegon demanded with a frown. The easiest way to make him lead an army north was to pretend that his brother had gone missing beyond the Wall but he doubted that Jaehaerys would deceive him like that.

"The Lord Commander has sent a raven from Craster's Keep. Mance Rayder has declared himself 'King-Beyond-The-Wall' and is gathering all the wildlings into one host with the intent of assaulting the Wall. Lord Mormont intends to make his stand at the Fist of the First Men."

"What is the strength of the Wall?" Aegon demanded. "The two castles that my father paid for from his own finances... I've been told that they are undermanned."

"All the castles are undermanned, Your Grace." Ser Alliser said, "But as long as we have a token **** in each, we can better patrol the Wall and stop wildlings from climbing over."

"Climbing over?" Lord Tyrion asked in disbelief. "People are actually **** enough to do that?"

"You've no idea how **** those wildlings are, my lord." Ser Alliser said to the Imp who merely shrugged in his chair and downed another cup of wine.

"Ser Alliser, you shall have the pick of the dungeon. And any man from the City Watch who is willing to take the Black." Aegon stated, "Lord Tyrion, how much gold can we spare to settle and garrison two more castles?"

"Depends on the castles, Your Grace. If they are the same size as the two... Forty thousand gold dragons should be enough to garrison both with a token ****." The Master of Coin replied hesitantly.

"Make it fifty. I'll send word to Lord Stark as well. Defence of the Wall is the duty of the Warden of the North." Aegon commanded as he got up from his seat. There was another thing he needed to do and he was daunted by the task. He had to tell Queen Lyanna, his stepmother/former lover that not only is her younger brother missing beyond the Wall but her greatest fear had come true. Her son is in mortal danger and surrounded by enemies.