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"Your Grace, standing before you is Aegon Targaryen, son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen."
Jon Connington's words landed like a thunderclap in the hall. Daenerys froze, her violet eyes going wide. The dragon-shaped brass cup in her hand hung suspended in midair as if she had not understood what she had just heard.
The musicians, sensing the sudden shift in the air, stopped playing at once.
Daenerys slowly set the cup down. She studied the silver-haired boy in front of her with open hunger, the same hunger of someone who had been starved of family for far too long. Since Viserys's death she had rarely seen anyone who looked like her. Now one stood right before her.
Missandei, standing close at her side, understood exactly what this moment meant. She had heard the stories of Prince Rhaegar for years—from Daenerys herself, from Barristan Selmy, from anyone who still spoke of the man with respect. Many believed that if Rhaegar had lived to take the throne, House Targaryen would never have fallen so low. Many lives would have been spared.
Daenerys's body gave a small, visible tremor. Missandei felt it through the arm she had gently taken.
Everyone watched as the Dragon Queen stared at Young Griff, her expression shifting from shock to something raw and aching. Daenerys was clever. Even while her heart raced, part of her mind stayed cold and calculating. She turned her head slowly toward Barristan Selmy.
She trusted Barristan. He had never lied to her. He had spent years regretting his service to Robert Baratheon, especially after learning what the Mountain and Amory Lorch had done to Rhaegar's children. He had only continued serving Robert because he had already sworn his sword. But the pride those men had shown after the murders had sickened him.
Now, when Daenerys looked to him for the truth, Barristan gave a single, solemn nod.
"Aegon," Daenerys said softly, almost to herself. The name left her lips with something close to wonder.
Tyrion gave Young Griff a sharp kick under the table. The boy rose and walked to Daenerys. He offered her a smile, though it looked strained.
"Aunt," he said.
The moment felt almost tender. Aegon stood nearly six foot three. Daenerys had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. She reached up, cupped his face with both hands, and studied him as though she were trying to memorize every feature. He let her. For a moment the hall was silent except for the faint crackle of torches.
When she finally seemed steady again, Connington spoke quickly, explaining how the boy had been hidden from Tywin Lannister's reach all these years.
"Oh," Daenerys said, nodding. "So it was Varys. When I take the Iron Throne, I will reward him well."
No one missed the way her eyes flicked briefly to Tyrion as she spoke. Tyrion kept his gaze on his plate and ate a piece of greens without comment.
Her answer left the table stiff and uncomfortable. Daenerys could be queen. But she clearly had no intention of stepping aside as the central figure in any claim to the Iron Throne.
She lifted her cup. "I thank you all for coming so far to help me. House Targaryen does not forget loyalty. Once I have finished cleansing the traitors from Slaver's Bay, we will take the dragons and the army and return to Westeros to reclaim the Iron Throne."
The reactions around the table were strained. Connington looked to Barristan and Septa Lemore. Aegon met Daenerys's eyes, then glanced at Connington and Barristan. Barristan shifted in his chair, the wood creaking under him. He looked like he wanted to speak but could not find the words.
They had not expected this. To them, Slaver's Bay was just a foreign land, a temporary stop. Stannis was consolidating power in Westeros with Jon's help. Every month they spent here was a month they could not afford to lose.
Seeing Connington hesitate, Aegon spoke first. He took a drink, then said plainly, "Aunt… we actually came to ask you to return with us. I also came to ask for your hand in marriage. We have the Golden Company. With your dragons, the Unsullied, and whatever lords in Westeros are still willing to support us, we have enough strength to take the Iron Throne."
The bluntness made everyone tense. Grey Worm might not have understood every word, but he felt the change in his queen's mood and did not like it.
In the corner, Tyrion's mismatched eyes moved from face to face. He could already see how this was going to end.
Daenerys set her cup down. The warmth in her violet eyes was fading fast.
"So what you're really asking," she said coldly, "is for me to abandon Slaver's Bay, abandon my people, hand over my dragons and my army, and offer up my womb so you can sit the Iron Throne. Is that it?"
"Your Grace—" Connington tried.
Daenerys's voice cut like a blade. "Barristan. You knew about this too, didn't you?"
Barristan lowered his head. Shame sat heavy on his shoulders. He had let old dreams of restoring House Targaryen blind him to what this actually was—treason against the woman he now served.
Daenerys's hand moved instinctively toward the lion pelt Drogo had once given her, but the pelt was in her chambers. Her fingers closed on empty air. For the first time in a long while she felt truly alone.
Missandei stepped closer and took her arm.
"I will think on this," Daenerys said, voice flat. "But I am tired. The feast is over."
She turned to leave. Connington rose in alarm.
"Your Grace—"
"I said I am tired," Daenerys snapped, the anger finally breaking through. "Which part of that is difficult to understand?"
The doors opened. A young bloodrider entered with a squad of Unsullied, faces hard. They had clearly been waiting.
Whatever warmth had existed between aunt and nephew was gone, replaced by the cold taste of betrayal.
Daenerys walked out without looking back.
The moment she was gone, the table deflated.
"I will go to her when she has had time to calm down," Barristan said quietly, staring at the congealed fat on his plate. The sight made his stomach turn.
Everyone knew the old knight had been dragged into this mess by them.
Then Aegon spoke. "Barristan, Ser… join us. Slaver's Bay is not your home. You want to see House Targaryen restored. Come with us."
Barristan did not answer. He had no stomach for decisions tonight.
They had all been so certain that blood and the dream of the Iron Throne would be enough to move Daenerys. They had forgotten the long list of titles she now carried. She was no longer just a Targaryen princess. She was a conqueror in her own right.
The feast broke up in silence. When they returned to the residence Daenerys had given them, the servants were still polite, but the Unsullied patrols had doubled.
Connington sat by the window all night, unable to sleep.
Over the next several days they tried repeatedly to see Daenerys and were refused every time.
Aegon could not understand why she was so angry. They had helped crush the Sons of the Harpy. They had not come empty-handed. Why would she not at least give him one dragon?
Then came the news that stunned them all.
Daenerys announced that Tyrion Lannister was now her Hand of the Queen.
Connington's group finally understood.
There was a traitor among them.
Tyrion did not even try to hide it. He arrived at their residence wearing the silver Hand pin on his chest, two Unsullied at his back.
"Tyrion, you traitor!" Aegon shouted.
"Traitor?" Tyrion looked around the room, then at the men in front of him. "I never swore an oath to any of you."
Aegon started forward, but Connington held him back.
Tyrion continued calmly. "I am a Lannister who lost his name and wants Casterly Rock back. The queen promised that if I stayed and served her, she would help me take it when she reclaims the Iron Throne. I am grateful you brought me this far. When you leave, I will ask her to give you a ship."
Connington tried again. "She is a Targaryen. She belongs in Westeros—"
Tyrion cut him off, voice rising. "She was born on Dragonstone. She was six years old when she left Westeros. She has never seen its castles or its lands. She was sold like goods by her own brother. She has wandered her whole life. You, at least, had somewhere safe to grow up. What gives you the right to resent her for not handing everything over? You spent years planning your restoration. What has she had? She is a person too. Did any of you ever stop to think about what she wants?"
The words landed hard. Even Connington looked ashamed. They had all been so focused on the Iron Throne that they had treated Daenerys more like a weapon than a queen.
Tyrion took a breath. "I told her what you planned before you ever spoke. You helped her defeat the Sons of the Harpy, but she still sees this as betrayal. My queen does not like being betrayed. Go home. Let the Iron Throne go to whoever the gods decide deserves it."
He turned to leave. Aegon, for once, had nothing to say. Tyrion's words had forced him to see things from Daenerys's side.
Still, pride made it hard to accept. He turned to Connington. "Even without her dragons we can still win. Dorne will support us—my mother's family. And the Tyrells will come to us too. They will never truly serve Stannis after what he did to Margaery."
Connington agreed. They could not afford to stay in Slaver's Bay any longer. Westeros was moving without them.
"But we were not honest enough," Connington said quietly. "We never meant her harm. If we can open a path in Westeros, I still believe she will not stand by and do nothing."
They were split. Aegon wanted to leave and make their own play. Connington still believed they needed Daenerys's dragons to have any real chance.
Septa Lemore watched them both in silence. As long as she was there, at least they would not come to blows.
Then word arrived from Illyrio that changed everything.
Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell, was actually the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.
The argument stopped dead.
Whatever plans they had made no longer mattered. Westeros was about to burn again, and they had already wasted too much time on the other side of the Narrow Sea.