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The men looked at one another. For a long moment no one spoke.
Rodrik, the oldest among them, finally broke the silence. "You mean Aegon?"
"Aegon?" Loras blinked, still catching up. His mind had gone straight to Jon's silver-haired son.
Jon nodded and kept going. "What if my half-brother Aegon Targaryen wasn't killed by the Mountain? What if Varys used the secret tunnels under the Red Keep to spirit the boy away? What if that child has grown into a man and now commands the Golden Company that Bittersteel founded? Wouldn't that explain exactly why Petyr is doing what he's doing?"
The room fell quiet as they turned the words over.
They already believed Jon was Rhaegar's son. Even if they didn't know Jon well, they knew Eddard Stark. A man willing to destroy his own honor to protect his family fit Ned far better than any story about him fathering a child on some random fisherwoman while already betrothed.
Rodrik had known Lyanna since she was a girl. He knew she would never have wanted Robert—the man who couldn't keep his cock in his breeches for more than a fortnight.
If Jon was telling the truth, then this young Aegon would have the stronger claim. Rhaegar and Elia's marriage had been a grand, public affair witnessed by half the realm. There was no proof that Rhaegar and Lyanna had ever been wed.
Jon studied the faces around the table. Rodrik looked thoughtful. Robb watched him closely, clearly hoping for guidance. Edmure glanced between the two of them before looking away. Rhaegar Frey looked especially uncomfortable—carrying the same name as the dead prince made him stand out in all the wrong ways.
Still, the Frey was already working through the logic. Varys had been raised up by Aerys himself. It made perfect sense that the Spider would repay that debt by saving a Targaryen heir with a simple switch.
Loras scratched the back of his head, clearly hating how messy everything had suddenly become.
"I don't care whether this Young Aegon is real or not," Loras said first. "In my heart there's only one Aegon—your son."
"Jon, you're my brother," Robb said, voice steady. "And now you're my king. I won't serve anyone else."
"Jon, you are my king," Rhaegar Frey added quickly, beating Edmure to the words.
They had all reached the same conclusion. Casterly Rock, Winterfell, Highgarden, Riverrun, and the Twins had formed an alliance built around Jon. If Young Aegon landed and won, he would never allow that coalition to survive. He certainly wouldn't tolerate a half-brother who already ruled the West and had his own claim to the throne.
Splitting the realm would mean rivers of blood. So they had made their choice: even if the boy truly was Aegon Targaryen, they would not acknowledge him.
Jon hadn't told them the part about Illyrio possibly being the boy's real father. He had given them the worst possible version on purpose—to test how solid his alliance actually was.
He was satisfied with what he saw.
He pushed further, telling them that Young Aegon had sailed all the way to Slaver's Bay hoping to marry Daenerys and borrow her dragons.
The room went very still.
Dragons. Real dragons.
Rhaegar Frey couldn't hold back. "That Targaryen princess's dragons… are they big?"
"It's not about whether they're big or small," Jon said, looking straight at him. "They're the rare kind. One is pure black—like Balerion the Black Dread that Aegon the Conqueror rode. One is silver, like Meraxes. And one is green, like Vhagar in her prime."
He wanted them to feel the weight of it. Daenerys had hatched dragons. She had torn through Slaver's Bay almost single-handed, like a second Conqueror.
"Dragons that are only two or three years old can't be that big, right?" Edmure asked. Since learning Jon was a Targaryen he had been reading everything he could find about the old dynasty. He figured a young dragon was probably only the size of a wagon at most.
Even so, a dragon that size on a battlefield would shatter any army's will.
"We represent more than half the strength of Westeros," Robb said. "When Aegon the Conqueror took the Seven Kingdoms he did it by beating his enemies one at a time. If we stand together we might still win. And Daenerys's dragons can't possibly be as large as Balerion was."
The others nodded. The enemy wasn't at their gates yet. Their alliance rested on both blood and shared interests. None of them were ready to give that up.
Rhaegar Frey suggested they should send someone to Slaver's Bay to win Daenerys's support. After all, they were all Targaryens.
Everyone understood what that really meant: Jon would have to charm her.
Jon was pleased they hadn't wavered. He explained why Daenerys was unlikely to back Young Aegon right away and told them he had already sent people east. That eased the tension in the room.
The most important thing now was to finish cleaning up the mess here and defeat Young Aegon before he could land in force.
If Jon and Margaery's son could hatch a dragon egg soon, that would be perfect. No one would question Jon Targaryen's claim then.
Even if Daenerys did come west, she probably wouldn't turn her dragons against Jon. After all, the restoration of House Targaryen had been almost entirely his doing.
As long as she didn't use the dragons against them, they had ways to bring her and her dragons onto their side.
Dorne still hadn't declared for anyone. Now that Jon had told them about Young Aegon, everyone finally understood what the Martells were waiting for.
"So Jon," Loras said again, "why don't we split our forces and take both the Crownlands and the Stormlands at the same time?"
"No," Jon answered. "We don't need to take the Crownlands. Like Robb said, the Stormlands matter more to us right now. Holding them also keeps the Crownlands and Dorne from linking up. But even though I'm not planning to seize King's Landing, we do need Dragonstone."
Everyone looked confused. Dragonstone had been the Targaryen starting point, but there was nothing left there now except stone and ruins. Why bother?
"My goal is the stone on Dragonstone," Jon said.
The moment he spoke, everyone knew he was about to start talking about the Long Night and the Others again. The atmosphere shifted. Loras even started cleaning out his ear with one finger.
Even Margaery, who shared his bed, still didn't fully believe in the Long Night.
Still, Jon had the strength to take Dragonstone now.
They worked out the plan quickly.
Edmure would lead the Riverlands and Northern armies to hold the Trident—mainly to block the Bloody Gate. If they couldn't get in, the Vale army couldn't get out either.
Loras would continue north, then follow the Trident down to its mouth and link up with the fleet to seize Dragonstone.
Jon and Robb would ride south into the Stormlands and take Storm's End and the rest of the region as fast as possible.
From a timing standpoint, they probably couldn't keep Young Aegon from landing in Westeros. The best they could do was take the Stormlands quickly so the Vale, Crownlands, and Dorne couldn't form one solid bloc against them.
While the lords were dispersing to their new commands, Davos arrived at Harrenhal. He had slipped out of King's Landing and used the safe-conduct Jon had given him earlier to reach Jon directly.
Because Stannis's body had already been cremated, Davos only saw what remained of his belongings.
All that was left was a blood-stained set of clothes. Melisandre's Lightbringer and the armor Stannis had worn most often had been taken by Petyr.
When Davos saw the bloody clothes he broke down completely.
By the light of a single candle, Davos wept until he had nothing left. The long hard ride and the weight of everything that had happened had aged him more than ten years since the start of the War of the Five Kings.
Tears and snot ran down the deep lines of his face like water through the holes in an old sail.
Jon waited quietly until the older man had cried himself out. Only then did they begin to talk.
"Little Stannis is probably still alive," Jon said. "Petyr may have taken him."
Hearing that his son might still be breathing eased something in Davos's chest.
He had thought of his boy while he was weeping, but as long as the king was dead he hadn't dared let himself hope.
"Jon—Your Grace—thank you."
"It's all right," Jon said. "If the only king in your heart is still Stannis, you don't have to force yourself to call me 'Your Grace.'"
Jon had decided to rule through virtue and reward loyalty wherever he found it. Davos would be the example he set for the realm.
When Davos finally called him king from the heart, the rest of Westeros would follow.
Davos didn't realize the larger game Jon was playing. He simply felt his respect for the younger man grow even deeper.
They talked for a long time. Davos told Jon everything he knew about the current state of King's Landing. What he heard only strengthened Jon's decision to leave the Crownlands alone for now.
Before they parted, they made arrangements. Davos's two remaining sons, Daven and Steffon, would be sent to Riverrun for safety. Davos himself would ride south with Jon to help take the Stormlands.