The Lion And The Dragon

Affections I Held Dear and the Black Dragon - Jon Connington POV

The night sky was beautiful. I counted all the stars I could see to help myself sleep, but in every star I saw my Rhaegar. My friend. The king who should've been. My dragon prince. I had cursed Robert Baratheon many times, and rejoiced at his death. Yet it is my fault that death didn't come to him. I could've served him fire. If I had burnt Stoney Sept, he'd die. Rhaegar would be alive. Aegon wouldn't have to fight for his throne. And that usurping whore wouldn't sit on the Iron Throne.

But I was an honourable fool who didn't want the villagers to suffer. I know I did the right thing, morally. But I can't bear the cost. Rhaegar. I had failed you. I'm sorry. I will see you in the Seven Heavens, and if you are in the Seven Hells, I'll jump there and burn for eternity. While I am still alive I will take care of your son and seat him upon your throne. Because you are my dragon prince, and I am yours to command. Or, I was.

I had thought about Aegon as well. I had raised him, groomed him for command and adored him in a way I'd adore a son. He's beautiful, just like you, Rhaegar. Your long, silver hair and your beautiful purple eyes, Lady Elia's tan skin, mixed with your pale one. Yet he's bolder than you were, true. He has your voice, gentle, yet serious. He plays the harp beautifully, just like you. I taught him your songs, though I can't play as well. When he plays, I'm in a trance. I remember the great feasts your father sometimes held, when he wasn't completely mad and cruel. You'd play the harp, a song so sad, that when you were finished, all the women would weep. Not the men, of course.

I had spent a sleepless night thinking about the past, the present, and the future. I was awoken from my daydreaming by a harmonic sound from the room next door. Aegon was playing his harp. I had listened, and heard his voice. For a split second, I thought it was Rhaegar. He was singing in High Valyrian, the very song of love and doom I had taught him. He makes me think of you, my dragon prince. But he's not you. You were one of a kind. He's your son, and I'll protect him.

Why am I getting a bad feeling about everything? Four days later after my little overthinking lying in bed, we were told about signs. Prophecies about a mummer's Dragon, a black Dragon? Nonsense. Aegon, my Rhaegar's son, he's legitimate. I know it. I heard the Spider and Illyrio talk about Serra, Illyrio's beloved wife who had died of the plague. Aegon had told me before that the name sounded strangely Valyrian. Illyrio has paintings of her everywhere, I showed them to Aegon when he was older, just to show him that the woman possibly couldn't be a Valyrian. He believed me, but I knew I might have been lying there. That "blonde" doesn't look natural. It's probably just yellow dye. But who could've she been, and why does she matter to Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his Name?

It's like 282 AC all over again. I'm failing everyone who depends on me. Rhaegar at first, but now Aegon is upset as well. I can't in my good conscience allow an invasion yet. It's too early, too few houses support us and Cersei's rule has been steadily stabilizing. We need something, just a minor issue, to come Cersei's way. I pray. That rarely happened before.

It was night. I heard a noise outside, and went to look. I went to the stables and saw Aegon.
"Your Grace. Weird seeing you in the stables at this hour." I smiled at him.
"Griff! Would you fancy a ride with me? I'm dreadfully alone. I couldn't sleep, and didn't want to wake anyone with my harp." He had already saddled a horse, dressed in fine royal attire, not the riding clothes he usually wore.
"I'd love to, but I need to change. You should as well."
"Why?"
"You'll damage your robes, Your Grace."
"I have others." He mounted the horse and waited for me as I changed into proper attire.

It was such a beautiful and silent night, disturbed only by us talking and the occasional sound of Aegon's laughter whenever I said something he found too serious. He rode fast and with grace, just like his father. I loved his father. I admit it now. My dragon prince. I'll repay you this way.
"My dear Griff, what's on your mind?" Aegon asked with genuine interest, seeing my serious face.
"The past, the present, and the future." I only answered.
"You are horribly serious, Griff. Enjoy life while you can, it doesn't last long. Dream big."
"You don't dream as big when you get older. You'll understand that eventually. When all your dreams have died and everything has failed you, you'll see you can't enjoy life as well."
He shuddered. "Brr, that sounds terrible. I don't want to be old, like you."
"I'm not that old, Your Grace. I have counted only 2 and 40 namedays." I defended myself.
"And I have only counted 1 and 20. But how you will." He smirked at me, riding faster.
"Well you certainly act and look younger." I tried my best to deliver a backhanded compliment.
"Do you have me for a child?"
"Sometimes I do, Your Grace."

I had urged my horse to move faster, and Aegon did as well. It looked like a chase.
"On the order of the King, stop!" He playfully yelled at me as I was moving faster than him.
"A King not crowned is no king at all." I had yelled back.
"You bastard, Griffin! Now this is war!" He urged his horse to move even faster, but mine couldn't anymore.

Long story short, he caught me. We "wrestled" for a bit, but I had forced him to "yield". It was overall a fun night, and I went to sleep content. But then...
Looks and acts younger. Mummer's dragon. I won't admit it even if there's every single piece of evidence in my face. This must be Rhaegar's son. Please, Gods, I pray that this is Rhaegar's son.