He enters the tent and finds Samwell Tarly tied against a post. One of the stationed guards bring him a chair and he sits, careful not to jostle his son too much.

His former friend seems to realize that he's no longer alone and almost beams in relief as he sees who has joined him.

"Jon, thank the gods you're here," he sighs in relief. "I feared Daenerys didn't tell you."

He doesn't say a word. He just stares at the man who was the catalyst of his and his wife's destruction.

"Oh. You have a babe," the overweight man says surprised. "I have two boys. Little Sam and Little Jon. I named him after you."

He still doesn't say a word simply continues to stare at Sam.

"Jon you have to let me out of here. I know you're the King, you could let me go and…"

"Do you remember what Maester Aemon once told you?" he interrupts having had enough of the other man's talking and instead looks down at his babe.

"What?"

"I had come looking for you, you had just finished reading Daenerys's exploits to the old man. Do you remember what he said?" he asks again, feeling his anger begin to boil in his blood.

"Um. I….I don't," Sam confesses.

"He said 'a Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing' do you remember that?"

"It rings a bell. But Jon what does that have to do with…"

"It wasn't until I was banished beyond the Wall that I realized how true those words were," he lets out a sad chuckle as he rocks Rhaegar a bit. "There I was… the last Targaryen…all alone in a frozen wasteland… left to go mad in grief and sorrow for killing the only remaining blood I had left."

"Jon?"

"One of the only things I could think of is if Daenerys felt the truth of those words when I pushed her away when I was made to push her away by others," he looks up and into the eyes of Samwell, "by you."

"Jon… she… she was mad… she was evil," Sam stutters out.

"No, she wasn't. Not until we helped Bran make her so," he says coldly.

"Bran is a good King. He… he reveals who people really are," the man stammers.

"Does he?" he asks sarcastically. "Tell me did he reveal how much of a sniveling coward you are? How treacherous and opportunistic you've always been?"

"Jon…"

"Because if he didn't he can't be as truthful as you claim."

"W…What happened to you?" he asks.

"Death happened. My death at the Wall, the fight against death itself, the death of the woman I loved along with my firstborn which she carried in her womb," he watches as some horror form on Samwell's face.

"B…Bran never told us she was…"

"Of course he wouldn't. What kind of good king would manipulate everything so that a pregnant woman could lose all her friends, her dragons, her armies, the man she loves and finally her life and that of her unborn child by its father's hand?" his voice dripping with venom.

"Jon. I'm sorry your child had to die but it was necessary to stop Daenerys," Sam argues.

He stands abruptly, knocking his chair over and startling his son.

"Necessary? It was necessary for a child, MY CHILD to die!" he exclaims and the two guards burst in. With a single glare they know to leave the tent and continue their watch.

"Y… you h…have a new child right th…there in your arms," he stammers and his blood boils even more.

"You can't replace one child with another," he says in disgust. "What would happen if something happened to Little Sam or your other son? Would you just say 'let's just have another one'?"

Sam doesn't look at him and he understands that yes that's exactly what he would do. He feels ready to explode when he feels a tug against gambeson. He looks down and little hands are playing with whatever they can reach. The babe has a carefree look on his face and a sense of calm fills him.

You were right, Dany.

He takes a deep breath, still feeling the dragon ready to bring fire and blood inside, but contained enough to not snap.

"Jon," he looks up at the man who was once his brother. "You did the right thing, you can still do the right thing. I'm sure Bran will forgive you. Let you keep your child and head back North. Daenerys… she's the real threat… she's a Targaryen."

The fire ignites.

"What are you..." he can't even finish his question in pure disbelief.

"You… you did it before. I'm sure you can get close enough to do it again," Sam says with some hope in his eyes. His own blood boils and he walks over to the bonded man grasping onto his tunic, just the memory of Arya in her tent stopping him from choking him.

"You want me to kill my wife, my Queen, the mother of my child?" he asks, shaking Sam as much as he can given the bonds and the babe in his other arm.

"The gods flip a coin, Jon. Obviously, hers landed on madness. Just remember what she did to Kings Landing, to Casterly Rock. She'll burn anyone who doesn't bow to her as she did to my father and brother," the man argues.

"Your father was a cruel man. You spent so much time at the Wall telling me how he mistreated you, how he threatened to kill you unless you took the Black all while your asinine brother stood by and allowed it to happen, happily reaping the rewards Of your forced exile," he growls.

"They didn't deserve…"

"They were traitors and were executed because of it," he tells him.

"Y…you would have…"

"Burned them both," he reveals, shoving the man towards the ground.

Thankfully this shuts the supposed Maester up.

"Targaryens aren't mad. We're ruthless, passionate, cruel when necessary. Aye my grandfather was the Mad King but Dukensdale, loss after loss of his children and the scheming around him pushed him to that point," he says, surprisingly defending the Mad King.

"Everyone has the ability to go mad, Sam. Mad from grief, mad from loss. Mad from joy, mad from passion. The only difference is that we Targaryens have power. Power that no one else has nor ever will have," he explains to the man.

"Wh…who are you?" Sam stammered out, fear in his eyes.

He can't help but smile at the question.

"I'm Aegon Targaryen Sixth of my Name, Rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. You committed treason in Winterfell when you said I would make a better King. You betrayed me when you agreed to send me to the Wall and make Bran King. You broke your vows to the Nightswatch," he lists.

"So did you," Sam answers.

"Don't you dare compare me to you. I died at my post, my watch ended," he growls.

"And after? You were sent back to the Wall and yet you took a wife and had a child," Sam points out.

"I never spoke my vows," he reveals. "After what I did how could I stand before any gods and vow anything? I had committed the greatest of sins. I deserved no absolution."

Rhaegar begins to fuss in his arms and he decides to end this.

"You'll be taken before the rest of the generals and interrogated for what you know. Then you will be put on trial," he tells Sam. "Once you're found guilty you'll face the Queen's justice, just like your family did."

He turns walking out of the tent, not giving Sam the opportunity to say anything. He finds Ser Davos waiting for him.

"Davos?" he questions.

"Sent to check on you, to make sure the prisoner was still alive," his Hand answers, concern filling his face.

"He is but not for long. Summon all the generals and prepare them for interrogation and trial," he orders.

"Charges?"

"Treason, desertion of the Nightswatch and attempting to plot against the life of the Queen just now," he lists and he can see the shock in his advisor's features.

"At once. But are you alright Your Grace?" Davos asks.

"I… I need to find the Queen," is all he answers and it's all Davos seems to need to hear.

Davos wraps his arms around him in an embrace and he feels the urge to let all the emotions from the past few days overwhelm him. To cry and collapse in the arms of the last father figure he has.

But he is still the King.

He holds his advisor for a beat more before pulling away and putting his regal façade on.

"Go on lad, I'll gather the generals, set them up in the proper tent I'll excuse you both by stating you want a fair trial and that neither of you can be present to keep this objective. You go and settle yourself, tell her whatever happened in there and let go," Davos says and he agrees.

He finds her in their tent and he can tell she's realized something affected him. It's one of the rare times that she calls in one of the nursemaids and hands Rhaegar over to the women. As soon as they're alone he can't hold it back.

The anniversary of Dany and Lya's deaths, hurting Arya, seeing Samwell and being told to kill his wife again.

He sits on their bed holding his face in his hands, pulling on his hair, nearly ripping it off his head as he releases a sound. A sound of anger, regret, and anguish mixed with dragon and wolf. A sound he's sure most of the tents around him hear.

His wife's arms wrap around him but he doesn't feel much relief.

"I… I need…" he says through clenched teeth.

"What? What do you need?" Dany asks but he's sure she already knows.

"To burn. To burn it all," he answers. He looks up at her face and sees pure understanding.

She tugs on his hand and he follows her lead towards Drogon. She climbs up the dragon and not for the first time does he miss his mount.

The emerald green scales beneath him, the heat, the speed, the power the dragon had possessed. He still remembers the pure joy the dragon had when he had accepted to be his rider. The way he tested him in the air, the dives, the turns. But eventually, he remembers the pain. The pain that came from the rejection not just of him but of the dragon's mother. The pain as the bolts struck him and plunged him into the sea. Now, all that's left is emptiness. A hole in his soul where something is missing, where a bond that once had the potential to grow was shattered.

The fire returns.

He climbs onto Drogon needing to burn something, anything. He prepares himself to sit behind his wife as is the custom but she won't allow him to. Instead, she gestures towards the space in front of him.

"It won't be like Rhaegal. You'll still need me to be with you but Drogon is willing to listen to your commands. To help you handle your dragon," she explains.

He'll thank them both later. Right now however he can only offer her a nod before quickly straddling the dragon and ordering him to take off.

He flies them towards the sea, needing to release his anger and flames on something. As soon as the water is below them he orders Drogon to release his flames.

He screams as the sea below him steams as fire makes contact with the waves. He wants to watch something burn but knows he can't. He can't risk hurting anyone, of making people fear them even more, so for now, this will have to do.

They keep making these passes for what feels like hours. Going up and down the western coast of Westeros. And the entire time, Dany keeps her arms wrapped around him. During one of the passes her hands begin to wander and the more they do the more his blood boils. Not for destruction but for his wife. Its when it becomes unbearable that he orders Drogon to land. He's not entirely sure where they are but he doesn't care. He needs his wife. He needs to feel her, to bury himself in her, to pour himself in her.

He finds them a secluded spot and kisses her with everything he has.

As they start desperately tearing at each other's clothing he needs to say these words to his wife.

"I love you, Dany. More than anything," he says against her lips. "I will never make the same mistake."

She kisses him back.

"I know," she answers as he kisses her neck. "I love you too."