Victory and Defeat.

With Blackfyre under his sway, ending the conflict was simple. The would-be king readily ordered his men to stand down and after being given orders from Jon to wait in hiding until he sent word, the bandit brotherhood and their foreign backers returned to the shadows for a time. Quickly word was spread that Prince Jon had managed to scare the resurgent Blackfyre villains away and soon he was celebrated as a hero amongst the smallfolk and the nobles alike.

Loras was adoring when Jon returned to their camp, but instead of celebrating in his usual manner he put the Knight of Flowers to question. “Where exactly did you get these concoctions?”

“There is a person in the Westerlands who trades them,” Loras paused, “for the right price.”

Jon nodded. “I’ll need you to return to them, buy as much as you are able,” he smirked, “You’ll be rewarded when this is all done, in many ways.” Loras looked unsure, so Jon reached out and took a knot of his curles and pulled him into a fierce kiss. He let their tongues dance briefly, and then released him. “Return quickly and you’ll find just how thankful I can be.”

The Knight of Flowers looked like he wanted more, but ultimately he did as Jon bid and rode out that same day. Jon wasted no time in making the long journey back to King’s Landing, his mind already abuzz with plans. With no further attacks the journey went much smoother and Jon allowed himself to relax for the first time in what felt like an age, yet when he finally neared the Capitol he was met with considerable traffic as merchants, knights, minor nobles and high Lords all made their way to the city proper in some great pilgrimage.

Jon frowned at the sight, wondering perhaps if another great tourney was being held. He often found them to be too frivolous during times of strife, but he supposed Aegon may have wished to throw such an event in the name of Jon’s recent victory.

He spotted the familiar similarity of House Blackwood and urged his horse over to the wheelhouse, he and his men hailing the Riverlord. The old man frowned at the disruption but smothered the expression as soon as he saw who he was dealing with.

“Prince Jon” he nodded his head, “I have heard tale of your recent victories against those madmen who threatened my homeland. You have my thanks,” he bowed his head slightly, “and my sympathies. I can understand that such news will have soured your victory.”

Jon blinked in confusion. “Why would I have your sympathy, my lord?”

Blackwood looked at him oddly. “For your father, I mean...”

“I’m sorry I don’t follow,” Jon frowned at the man as if he was speaking tongues, “what’s this about my father?”

Lord Blackwood looked stricken at that, his face going pale. His expression only served to make Jon feel more uneasy, and when he spoke the words hit him like shards of ice. “My Prince....your father, the King...is dead.”