AN: Next will be Jon (Aegon) III.

Daenerys III

She watched as the fireplace crackled, the flames engulfing her three dragon eggs in their tender caresses.

Another two months had gone by and her bond with her niece and nephew was ever-growing, but so were fears and doubts. The relationship between the siblings was deepening as well, which was something she was elated to see. She missed her Viserys dearly, despite everything. He had been her blood and the pain of his loss ached in her heart every day.

Reaching a hand into the fire, her fingertips brushed over the hot, shining scales of the eggs. Every day she would watch them, care for them. There was a deep, deep connection between her and the lives in these eggs. She felt them calling for her, she felt them asking her to break them free, but she did not know how.

But I will.

She got back to her feet and stepped away from the fireplace. From outside she could hear the siblings. Walking towards the front door, Daenerys opened it and peered outside to see a sparring match between Aegon and Rhaenys. The edges of the blades had been thankfully blunted, so she wasn't overly worried about the aggression they showed. With Rhaenys, it was pure and utter drive and passion. She was fuelled by a desire to not just be good at what she did. She wanted to be the best she could be. She needed to be for them to achieve their goals.

Aegon was a bit harder to discern in that regard. He had the desire to prove himself as well, to be the best he could be, just like his older sister. However, these past weeks and months, there was underlying aggression and intensity to the way he trained that made her worry. Was it because of the attempted assassination of his brother? She had to guess that it was so. It was understandable, of course. Not being able to help a family member in need must be incredibly frustrating for a man like Aegon. He was, after all, the kind of man to cross the narrow sea to prevent his aunt from being sold to a Dothraki Khal – an aunt he had never seen before and had only just heard of no less.

'What kind of a man would I be if I had not cared?' he had said. What kind of a man, indeed.

And it was this, which rooted fear in her.

Aegon made an overhead swing, Rhaenys sidestepping it quickly, twirling her spear and hitting Aegon in the back – hard – with the blunt end. Stumbling and wincing, he turned on quick and light feet, blocked a jab from Rhaenys's spear, then another. His aggressive intensity shone through again. Furious swings – neither wild nor blind, but hard, strong and fast – with his sword forced Rhaenys into a defensive position. With each block from her, wood began to splinter from her spear's handle. The sheer force with which the blunted blade crashed upon the handle was enough to eventually break Rhaenys's weapon in two. Daenerys did not have enough experience with weapons to tell whether the old wood played any role, or if Aegon had done this on his own. She could not tell if it mattered how blunted the sword's blade was or if the spear handle had already been damaged and weakened before.

Nevertheless, it was an impressive sight.

"I just died, I suppose," Rhaenys said dryly. "That's now twelve wins for you to my six. Congratulations, little brother. Well done."

"Thank you, Rhaenys." He rubbed his back. "That will bruise. You hit hard."

"Says the man breaking my spears. I have two left."

He scratched the back of his head bashfully. "I apologize."

Rhaenys chuckled and threw an arm over his shoulders. "Fight for our cause with this ferocity and you can break all the spears you want."

Daenerys watched them with a smile, almost feeling like what she imagined to be a proud mother, and stepped aside to allow them in. However, she did not miss Aegon's silence when Rhaenys made that comment.

It had been a difficult road for the siblings and was still such. There were instances still when Rhaenys would needle him with barbs against his mother and she still rarely used his Valyrian name out loud and opted to call him 'brother' or 'little brother' instead. Still, these moments were few and far between, only erupting after being bottled up for too long.

And Aegon, her sweet nephew, tried his best to show eternal patience, yet he too could only take so much. He had proven more than once that his tongue could be just as sharp and poisonous as Rhaenys's.

No, their road was difficult still, but they were getting ever better.

She followed them inside, Rhaenys tossing the broken pieces at the makeshift rack and starting to strip her tunic while still in the hallway. Aegon averted his eyes quickly and hastened his steps as he went to the men's bedroom, while Daenerys snickered as she followed Rhaenys into the small bathing chamber.

"Do you think he has ever even touched a woman?" Rhaenys asked her. "There'd surely be whores in Winterfell."

"I doubt it," she said, watching her niece strip fully naked and sink into the now lukewarm water she had prepared for her earlier. "He blushes like a virgin boy still and is much too honourable a man to lay with whores. He just does not strike me as a man to visit pillow houses."

Rhaenys hummed in thought. "Mayhap."

"Have you ever lain with a man?" Daenerys asked her niece. Rhaenys was, after all, at an age when she would be married and most likely pregnant with her first, possibly even second child already.

"No. I had no visitors and spent my days hidden. I studied poisons and how to wield daggers."

Her niece gently cleaned herself with the soap, running it over her bronze skin. She was a beautiful woman.

"Of course," Daenerys said. "Dalliances must have been far from your mind."

"Not necessarily," Rhaenys admitted. "I had and still have desires. There just never was an opportunity to explore those with a man."

Daenerys nodded. "I understand." She took the soap from Rhaenys and began doing her back.

"I assume you, as well, haven't given your maidenhead to a man yet?" Rhaenys asked.

"No, I have not," Daenerys said. "Had it not been for the proposed marriage with the Dothraki Khal, I am sure Viserys would have taken it."

"Would you have wanted him to?"

"It would have depended," Daenerys replied after a moment of short consideration. "Had he still been the loving brother he used to be, then I would have given him everything. The way he had been in the end, however…" She took a breath. It was not a thought she liked to entertain, but it had lingered at the back of her mind for a while. The fear had taken root when her brother's anger had, and it had lingered for the longest time. "Without the Dothraki, he would have eventually taken it, regardless of my willingness. I am sure of it."

"I apologize, Aunt Daenerys," Rhaenys said, her voice low. "I shouldn't have asked."

"'Tis fine," Dany said. "I miss the brother I used to have and know that he has found his peace as I have found mine."

"I'm glad. Do you think my brother will stand with us until the end? Until we have the throne?"

Daenerys sighed. "That is the big question, is it not?"

"Sometimes I believe he'd be content with us just spending the rest of our lives here."

Cocking her head to the side, Daenerys considered the idea. "Under different circumstances, I, too, would not have minded living the rest of my days with the rest of my family in peace."

"But?"

Daenerys placed the soap next to the bath and her soapy hands on her niece's, naked shoulders, marvelling at the soft skin. "But a Targaryen does not belong in the dirty slums of Braavos. A Targaryen does not have a whore for a neighbour. A Targaryen belongs on the Iron Throne."

"And we will take back what is ours with Fire and Blood."

"Yes." Daenerys dried her hands with Rhaenys's towel. "With Fire and Blood."

"Your Valyrian is getting better and better," Daenerys said, looking at her nephew with undisguised pride.

"Thank you," he replied in Valyrian with a grin, his northern Common Tongue barely noticeable. "I have good teachers."

"That you do. Working with Rhaenys on your dialect has certainly helped." She shifted her body on the pillow to fully face him.

He was a pretty boy. His northern stoicism and his Stark features suited him – the pale skin, dark hair, his brooding and silent thoughtfulness. He would stand out among his forefathers, among the kings which had reigned before him.

But he had yet to commit.

"What is it that keeps you with us still?" she asked him. They needed to have this conversation.

He looked at her, his good mood vanished, swept away in an instant. "This is about the war you want, is it not?"

"That is insulting, nephew," she said, frowning. "I am neither a barbarian nor do I lust for war. I do not wish to orphan children, nor do I wish for the deaths of boys who have barely entered manhood." Leaning forward, her eyes flashed dangerously, her body shaking as her temper was dangerously close to overpowering her. "I want vengeance. I live for it. I breathe it every day, I think of it when I wake and when I go to sleep. I see it when my eyes are closed and I see it when they are open." She breathed out shakily through her nose, her brows still furrowed, her eyes wide, her lips pressed into a thin line and her voice hard and cutting. "If they wanted my father gone, they should have stopped once he was dead. I do not begrudge them that. What he has done to your grandfather and uncle was an atrocity. But to kill my brother? To kill his wife? Their son? To force me and Viserys into exile and poverty and to orphan us? To force you into the life of a bastard in the north and to orphan you – Lord Stark claiming you to be his bastard son notwithstanding? To force Rhaenys into a life in the shadows and to orphan her, to brutally kill little Aegon?" A humourless, bitter smile forced itself onto her lips. "I have thought long and hard, nephew, and there is only one conclusion that makes sense to me: not just did they want my father gone...they wanted to rip my family's dynasty right from our hands. They wanted the throne."

Aegon didn't answer. He didn't even look at her. Instead, his brooding face was focused on his lap, his fingers tapping incessantly on the tabletop. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Finally, after a silence that lasted too long, in her opinion, he spoke up. "I wish I knew what to say."

"You may begin with answering my original question: what keeps you with us still?" She narrowed her eyes, her silent temper overtaking her. "If you say you want to stop us from taking what belongs to us, I will throw you out of this house the instant those words leave your mouth. Family or not." And the moment those words were spoken, she regretted them, her eyes widening in shock at what she had just said, just as Aegon's. "I apologize! I – you know I would never – I could never! Oh, I feel terrible…"

He chuckled, though it sounded unsure and nervous. He hesitated a bit and reached over to her to take her hand in his and give it a gentle squeeze. "I know you did not mean to. Family is important to you and you would not do something like that." She nodded. Releasing her hand, he took a moment before answering her initial question. "I am here still because I wish to stay with you and Rhaenys. I cannot return to Winterfell and you are my family as well. It is an easy choice. I enjoy being with you."

"And if you could return to Winterfell?"

His answer was not immediate and that was enough of an answer for her. She felt ice settle in her stomach and she felt her blood drain from her face.

"I understand why you want what you want, Aunt Daenerys," he told her, looking a bit defeated. "But if I had the choice between peace and war…"

She chuckled, but it was cold. There was little humour or amusement. There was disappointment. She felt betrayed. Irrational as it was, for he knew nothing but the safety of Lord Stark's care, even as his supposed bastard. He could not understand her or Rhaenys. He did not grow up knowing who he really was. He did not grow up being told time and time again the injustice his family had suffered. Now, he felt like a pretender, like someone who did not belong in House Targaryen. For that, she resented Ned Stark. She resented him and could also never thank him enough. In making her nephew a bastard, he had saved his life.

"You are your father's son," she said. "Ser Darry told me how little Rhaegar cared for war and bloodshed. You are very much like him in that regard. A pity that we have little choice when it comes to war."

"Aye. A pity indeed."

"That is not to say that I thirst for blood. I do not wish for it. I do not desire it. It is, however, unavoidable." She gave him a once over. "I wonder what you will do when the time to make your decision comes." Standing up, she went to the fireplace and watched her dragon eggs. They were safe. Tongues of fire licked their surface, providing them with warmth. "I hope you understand that your indecisiveness cannot last forever." She looked at him over her shoulder. "When the time comes and we march to Westeros, when we ride our dragons to war and have ships carrying tens of thousands of soldiers – what will you do, nephew? Will you follow us or abandon us? You cannot fight our war without heart. You cannot fight our war without believing in us and our cause."

"There might be cause in the end yet," he said, though he didn't sound as if he believed it.

"And if there will be no cause for you? If we march to a war you do not believe in and the Starks raise their banners for the Usurper, what will you do?"

"You cannot be asking me this," Aegon said, looking upset. "We already know Lord Stark is –"

"We know he took pity on me. I know and you know that he would not support our claim for the throne. He would not support us in a war."

"I…"

He looked lost, confused. The question may not be fair, but it was necessary. It needed to be asked and she'd rather ask it now than when it could be too late already. She needed him to think about that question.

Mayhap he already did. But to ask him that question herself gave her a sense of security she had not had before. Daenerys walked towards him and sat on the table, in front of him, cupping his cheeks with her hands and forcing him to look up at her.

"Rhaenys and I need you to believe in this – in us." She looked him in the eyes – a grey so dark, it almost appeared black and with such intensity that it made her breath hitch. "If you – if you do not believe in our cause, Aegon, then why are you here? Why are you still with us? Because to me, it appears like wasted time for you and us. Does it not?"

"We are family."

Her features softened immediately and she smiled. There was such conviction in his voice and expression, it made her heart melt. "Yes, we are, my sweet nephew." She gently pulled his head closer and pressed her lips against his temple before burying her nose in his locks. "Rhaenys and you are all I have left, Aegon. You, your sister and my vengeance."

"Then let go of your bloodlust! There can be a way–"

She shook her head, pulled away and locked their eyes together again. "Would you, Aegon? I have asked you this question before and I remember your answer. Has it changed? Would you let go if it had been your Stark side being slaughtered?"

"No, but–"

"Hush. I want you to think, Aegon. I want you to think long and hard about these questions." She smiled at him, his cheeks still cupped. A bit of thin hair had covered his face by now. Her nephew had grown to be a man. "I will never let go of you easily. I will fight tooth and nail for both Rhaenys and you. You are my family. I need you to understand this, Aegon. Do you?"

He nodded.

"Good. I will never ask you to choose between House Stark or House Targaryen as I would never ask Rhaenys to choose between House Martell and House Targaryen. I will ask – no, I will demand that you understand your duties to House Targaryen, however."

"And that duty is being crowned king?"

"That duty is taking back what was stolen from us!" she hissed at him angrily. Why was he being so difficult? "That duty is demanding justice for your brother and father! Did House Stark not march to war after what my father did?! Why is that just but not if we demand it?!"

He did not answer, which frustrated her even more.

"Why are you so against sitting on the throne?" She looked at him imploringly. "Your sister and I would always be with you, Aegon. We would always support you and help you. We are family and – and if it may help to sway you, there could be things done in favour of the north!"

"I-I – 'tis so early and nothing is set in stone, Aunt Daenerys, I just–"

"I am growing tired of always wondering if today is the day your commitment to us falters, Aegon. I will endure, for your sake, because I love you so – but for how much longer?"

His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed – she felt the rising temperature on the palm of her hands. His eyes looked suddenly misty. "You just said–"

"–that I love you." She cocked her head. "Of course I do. You are my nephew, my family. I love my family more than anything." The good and the bad, like Viserys.

He smiled at her and nodded shakily. "Aye...we are family."

"And do you understand why I need to ask these questions?"

"I do...I do. But…" Aegon looked at her imploringly, almost begging with his eyes. "I cannot...it just...it is war. And ruling over Westeros! I cannot take these things lightly. I cannot just say 'aye'. I have been raised with nothing to my name. Beyond Ned Stark's bastard, I was nothing and no one. You have to understand how difficult it is to suddenly be in this situation."

"I do, my sweet nephew. But you need to think and you need to decide." She looked at him and smiled, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth, earning herself wide eyes, a furiously red blush and a mouth agape. "Think."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer for a hug, his head resting against her stomach, and closed her eyes, smiling when his arms wrapped themselves around her waist. "I know you are conflicted and I know I asked you very uncomfortable questions, but we have to face reality, my sweet nephew. There will be times when we will have to make horrific decisions, when we will be left with only terrible choices and when we have to choose the lesser evil. We will have to question ourselves, as you have to question yourself now."

"I was never meant to be king," he mumbled against her. "Just thinking about it–"

"You are Prince Rhaegar's son. You are meant to be king – more than anyone alive. More than the Usurper and his spawn."

He shook his head, but she just smiled and stroked his hair, brushing her fingers through them – she loved to do that. Her nephew had beautiful hair. Daenerys looked up from him and saw a surprised Rhaenys staring at them from the threshold with a raised brow. Unbrushed hair, swollen and sleepy eyes – she had taken a nap. Daenerys smiled at her and gently shook her head when Rhaenys opened her mouth.

"You are our king, Aegon," she said, Rhaenys's eyes widening in understanding. "You are King Aegon Targaryen. But more than that, you are my nephew and Rhaenys's brother. Whenever you reach your conclusion, remember this."