It turned out that Varys, the Master of Whisperers, had orchestrated a meticulously planned switch, replacing the prince with a peasant boy. A commoner died, but the prince lived on.
This secret reignited a blazing fire within Connington's withered heart. Adopting the alias Griff, he lived in hiding, dedicating the rest of his life and unwavering loyalty to protecting and teaching young Aegon. He gathered exiled knights and maesters from Westeros, raising the boy according to the standards of a true heir to the throne. He endured the hardships of exile and the humiliation of his altered identity, waiting only for the moment to reclaim the realm. In his heart, young Aegon was the undisputed heir to the Iron Throne.
But now, he heard news: Prince Viserys had landed in the Seven Kingdoms with the Dothraki. The Targaryen banner flew once more over Westeros. He believed this was the perfect moment for House Targaryen to unite and reclaim the Iron Throne.
Yet Illyrio stubbornly refused to release the silk cord, repeatedly delaying Aegon's landing. This pushed Connington's patience to its limit.
Jon Connington halted, fixing Illyrio with a stare.
"Illyrio, Varys is dead. Myles Toyne is dead. We cannot wait any longer! Tristan Rivers has been buzzing like a fly in the ears of the Golden Company brothers lately, accusing you of fickleness and cowardice. Now the entire Golden Company is restless, rumors are spreading. If we don't land now, Illyrio, we'll miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Prince Viserys has lit the beacon fires across Westeros. We need your support!"
Illyrio frowned, stroking his handlebar mustache. "Griff, my friend, calm yourself. Wait. Wait a little longer. I've recently made contact with the House of Black and White in Braavos..."
"Wait?!"
Griff's voice rose sharply. "Wait until when? Until Prince Viserys is crowned Lord of the Seven Kingdoms? Until the Lannister lion tears the realm to shreds?"
He lunged forward, his gaze fixed on Illyrio's shifty little eyes. "Illyrio! The nobles of the Seven Kingdoms must learn of the Young Griff's identity—the sooner, the better. Otherwise, once everything settles, who would believe the tale of a Prince 'dead' for over a decade suddenly 'resurrected' from some corner of the Eastern Continent? They'll see us as frauds, as a laughingstock!"
Griff's words lashed at Illyrio's heart like a whip. Did he not understand this truth?
Yet Illyrio harbored deep suspicion toward the Easterner's true intentions. He hoped to eliminate Lo Quen first, then have young Aegon marry Daenerys to gain control of the dragons. At this thought, a flicker of unease crossed Illyrio's eyes.
He attempted to explain. "Griff, my friend, I understand your feelings. But Varys is dead—he was the only one who could perfectly prove Young Griff's identity. He held every detail of the switch, every witness. Now that he's gone, Young Griff's identity becomes a massive liability, a weakness ripe for questioning. But we have another path: we can have Young Griff inherit the dragons. Let indisputable power prove his bloodline!"
Young Aegon couldn't ride dragons, of course. Illyrio knew this well, which was precisely why he needed Young Aegon to bind himself to Daenerys.
Jon Connington's brow furrowed deeply. "You hired the Faceless Men to kill that Easterner? I thought you intended to use their blades to eliminate some key Lannister or Baratheon figure."
He'd heard whispers of Illyrio's private dealings with the Faceless Men, but had always assumed the target was Cersei, Kevan, or Stannis.
Illyrio forced a smile. "Kill the Eastern man, Griff, and our Young Griff can marry Daenerys. Think about it—once she and Young Griff are united, they'll jointly inherit the Easterner's dragons. Three living dragons soaring through the skies of Westeros. Who would dare question the Young Griff's lineage then? Who would dare claim his bloodline was impure? Dragonfire would consume all doubt, his legitimacy rendered indisputable by the dragon's might!"
Griff hesitated, his Adam's apple bobbing. He had assumed Daenerys would marry her brother, Viserys. But Illyrio's proposal sounded undeniably more enticing.
His loyalty lay with Aegon Targaryen, son of Prince Rhaegar. If Aegon could wed Daenerys, who shared the true Dragonblood, it would undoubtedly make the Iron Throne's lineage purer.
Yet a massive question hung heavy in his mind.
He stared intently at Illyrio's small, shrewdly gleaming eyes. "Illyrio, tell me—if this plan is so perfect, why must you insist that Young Griff marry Daenerys before landing? Why not land first, join forces with Prince Viserys, demonstrate our strength and legitimacy, then seek an alliance with Daenerys after that man from the East is dead? Landing now would still allow us to ally with Prince Viserys against the Baratheons and Lannisters. Time waits for no one."
He couldn't fathom Illyrio's true motive for delaying the landing. Was it merely to await the Faceless Men's report? That was far too risky!
When will the Faceless Men strike?
Will they succeed?
All unknowns.
The smile vanished from Illyrio's face as he considered how to explain.
Seeing Illyrio hesitate, Griff's anger could no longer be contained.
"Illyrio, we can't wait any longer. Every day Westeros bleeds. Every day the balance shifts. What news came only days ago? Balon Greyjoy is dead. The Iron Islands are tearing themselves apart over the Seastone Chair. And in the Vale of Arryn, some obscure upstart has actually set a bastard daughter of the Usurper up as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Absurd, and yet it is happening. Across the Narrow Sea new kings are crowned daily and old kings fall. Westeros is a boiling cauldron of chaos. This is our chance and our final deadline."
He drew a deep breath and his chest heaved.
"Unless you can give me, right now, a reason that will convince the whole Golden Company to keep waiting, I'm taking them aboard tomorrow and landing in Westeros. We cannot keep staking our fate on Braavos assassins' knives or on your vague waiting."
"Griff! Have you lost your mind?!"
Illyrio paled. "The Golden Company numbers only ten thousand. Who do you think you can beat with that? Cersei has Lannister veterans and the Crownlands garrison. Stannis will not stand idly by either. You're taking Young Griff to his death."