Jon Connington had long been waiting before the gates of the Red Keep.
When he saw Aegon approach with Margaery's hand in his, he stepped forward and bowed solemnly.
"Welcome back in triumph, Your Highness."
Aegon nodded slightly, then turned aside and introduced him to Margaery first. "This is Jon Connington, my future Hand of the King and my right-hand man."
Then he turned to Jon. "This is Margaery Tyrell, my wife."
Jon raised his head, his gaze settling on Margaery.
He studied the woman whom Aegon had personally called his wife-brown hair, brown eyes, a gentle face, yet an air about her that set her apart from ordinary noble girls.
He had heard of the Rose of Highgarden.
But what truly stirred him was Aegon's tone when he introduced her. This was not a king announcing a political marriage, but a man introducing the woman he had chosen.
A trace of relief welled up in Jon's heart.
He knew how many wounds Aegon carried within him. If this woman could bring even a little light into his heart, nothing could be better.
He bowed slightly once more. "My lady."
Margaery released Aegon's hand and gave Jon a proper noblewoman's curtsy, graceful and modest. "I have long heard of you, Lord Connington. His Highness often speaks of you. He says you are the person he trusts most in Westeros."
Jon was about to offer a few polite words when he noticed Margaery looking past him at a small figure by his side.
It was a girl of eight or nine, dressed in clean clothes, her brown hair woven into two little braids. She stood quietly half a step behind Jon.
Noticing Margaery's gaze, the girl lowered her head nervously.
Margaery thought the little face looked familiar, but for a moment