For ThatGirlWithBigEyes, because her stories inspire me. Jen, I don't write as good as you, but here is another short story about our shared fandom, with love :D

The cold wind felt like knives cutting her face, and Daenerys could do nothing but ignore the pain and keep commanding her army from the skies. Her eyes could barely adjust to the dim light of a storm sky as she tried to maneuver Drogon to avoid the strikes of sheer cold that came from the ice dragon's mouth, have him breath fire over the foe, and keep from burning her army and her allies.

"We can't keep doing this," came the shout from her left side, and she didn't have to turn to see the King in the North and her nephew, Jon, atop Rhaegal. "We need to think this through, search for weaknesses."

A crow flew around them. Daenerys marveled at the abilities of the young Stark boy and his control over all kinds of creatures. She supressed a frustrated groan, her mind going to Jon and Rhaegal. While she suffered to control Drogon, Jon and Rhaegal seemed at ease immediately, the dragon taking a liking to the bastard that she couldn't understand at first. When the Stark boy told them he was the son of Rhaegar everything made sense, but Daenerys still felt envious.

"Drogon! Sōvegon eglikta!" the command, yelled in the language of her ancestors, reached Drogon easily and he obeyed. She eyed Jon, noticing he did not have to say anything to Rhaegal for the dragon to follow his will.

It's their Stark blood, she told herself as she flew, overlooking the Battle being fought between men and the ungodly creatures of cold. Daenerys recalled the warnings said to her by the Dosh Khaleen and the servants of the Red God, all of them warning of the same thing: a world ruled by ice and death. She would not let it happen.

"Jon! Bring Aegon and follow me," she commanded, standing her ground when Jon sent her a glance which spoke of protest. They remained still in the air for less than a second before Rhaegal lunched forward and attacked an ice dragon. "Jon! Do as I command!"

The son of Rhaegar ignored her request and she was left alone soaring the sky above him, watching him and Rhaegal dance around the ice beast, Rhaegal attacking with fire and Jon with the bastard sword and the dragonglass spear. Soon, Jon cut the eye of the ice dragon, breaking the spear during the process. It was then that Rhaegal opened his wings at their top length and clawed at the ice dragon's mutilated face during enough time for Jon to climb in Rhaegal's neck to slash at the ice dragon's neck with the valyrian steel sword. Rhaegal got hold of the ice dragon and Jon fought to get into the makeshift saddle again.

Daenerys flew near them, just enough to catch her blood if he should fall, but he didn't, and once he was safe on the saddle, Rhaegal let out a breath of fire so hot it glowed green. The fire made her think of wildfire and her father's alleged obsession with it. Daenerys pursed her lips and recovered herself from the surprise of Jon's actions.

"Do not disobey me again!" she yelled at him with all the might of her title and heritage: she was the Queen, not him. Even if Aegon turned out to be a Blackfyre as many lords thought, Jon would not get near her Throne. "Get Aegon and Viserion. We will fly into the cold."

"I couldn't let the beast here to freeze our men!" he shout at her before flying down into the fight, his dragon burning many wights in their path to Aegon.

Daenerys heard herself shout drakarys no less than sixteen times, each of them burning many wights and even the odd White Walker, before her nephews came back. They circled each other, their minds half in themselves and half in the fighting below.

"We need to fly further north!" She yelled, feeling the wind drying her throat and her breath growing short. "Our fight is there, not here."

Daenerys saw Aegon laugh, his indigo eyes sparkling through wind and snow and hail. "The Targaryens of old believed themselves gods. This is a fight of gods, isn't it?"

She couldn't find anything funny in his statement, but hearing his melodic laughter being joined by that serious chuckle of Jon's was enough to make her smile reluctanctly.

"We are the blood of Old Valyria," Aegon continued, always the one to infuse them with confidence. "We are the three heads of the dragon."

Daenerys nodded and they flew forward, her mind on Aegon's words. As much as they were the heads, and as much as she was the mother of dragons, she would not end this mythical conflict and neither would Aegon.

As they flew into the cold, Daenerys saw Jon and the grave expression he wore. She was sure Aegon couldn't feel the same as her, but there was no doubt that Jon was special. Jon had power beyond their dreams, and his blood was the one who would end the Long Night. He was the Prince that was promised, the defeater of evil. His was the song of ice and fire, but she could not let him take what was hers.

The Iron Throne will not be his to take. I am the rightful Queen, and the dragons they ride are my children. I am the Queen. I am the Queen.