The Targaryen girl hadn't believed them at first. Who would? But Ren was very convincing, as were his fellow envoys, and slowly, surely, despite the doubt of her advisors and open disbelief of her husband, he saw that Daenerys' doubt was starting to wane, and her horror starting to grow.

She didn't say much after, merely left with a promise that she would think on what they had said. Judging by the rather pale look of her face, and the fact that Ren saw her taking off on the big black dragon shortly after, she believed them but needed time to think on what to do.

Drogon, that great beast was called. There was Rhaegal too, the green one, and supposedly a third named Viserion but they had yet to see the white dragon at all, or its mysterious rider. Daenerys still hadn't revealed who that was, which was rather concerning. Or perhaps it meant the beast had died and they were just covering it up. They could only hope.

Ren did not quite know what to make of the young woman just yet. The flashes of anger and fire in her were plain to see - she had not conquered Slaver's Bay by being a doormat - and could perhaps be taken as signs of a latent madness that would manifest later on, yet he also remembered the look on her face when Tyrion carefully posed the subject of Tommen, Shireen and Myrcella. Daenerys had been nothing short of horrified when he told her that if she was unprepared to spare them then it would make things much harder than they had to be.

"My reign will not be built on the blood of children," She had declared strongly; not quite coldly, there was too much indignation and emotion in her tone. "I am not the Usurper, nor Tywin Lannister,"

She had also promised not to seize any lands or titles from those who had fought against her father, though remained rather tight-lipped on the subject of Lord Tywin and Jaime, both of whom were personally responsible for the deaths of members of her family. None of them had pushed that matter, for now at least.

All things considered, however, meeting with Daenerys Targaryen had gone considerably better than anyone had expected. Though young, she seemed reasonable and willing to listen at least, and the flashes of naivety and kind-heartedness balanced out the flashes of fiery anger and impulsivity. It was curious, how she reacted to her own anger too. Like she was almost... ashamed, quickly correcting herself. Something must have happened to make her afraid of herself, or perhaps someone had just told her the truth of her family's madness

The same could not be said for her husband. It was clear that Aegon disagreed with many of the queen's decisions, and did not share her temperament. It had been good that the first conversation they had in the throne room had unsettled him so much, for it knocked aside the polished, kingly exterior and revealed the rather arrogant, hot-tempered boy underneath for all to see. Aegon wanted revenge for the family he thought was his; he wanted war, wanted the Starks and Baratheons to pay. And when he realised that Daenerys was the true power here, in the eyes of the envoys at least, that had enraged him.

But he seemed to matter little and less now. Aegon rode no dragon, and of the army the Targaryens had brought west, only commanded the Golden Company and several other sellsword groups for himself. The only trouble he could truly cause was irritating his wife, and the state of Daenerys' marriage bed was not something that mattered overmuch to anyone.

Everyone was meant to be getting ready for dinner now - which would surely be a tense and joyless event - but Ren watched Drogon in the sky for a moment longer. The girl did have the bearing of a queen, true, and the desire to be good, and the skills of a conqueror and inspiring leader if not a ruler. From first impressions alone, she would not be a terrible queen.

But Joffrey had been mad and cruel, when his parents were siblings; Daenerys had one set of great-grandparents. The signs might be passed off as mere anger now, but in ten, twenty years they could have another mad Aerys on their hands.

The call of the dragon, far out to sea now, with the tiny figure on its back reached his ears. And that was the crux of the problem. Aerys was a madman, but had been fairly quickly removed once he overstepped the mark; his daughter, on the other hand, had three huge fire-breathing beasts at her command.

Dinner that night was tense. Many of those present did not speak the common tongue - many of the Dothraki lords were sat with them, along with several Unsullied and men from Slaver's Bay and the Free Cities - and it was plain to see that Aegon still scorned them all, though someone (likely Jon Connington) had told him to be civil and polished. He did make a fair effort of that, but it was clear that he thought their claims of Others in the North were a lie.

Daenerys herself was a good host, softly-spoken but a good conversationalist. In some small way she reminded Ren of Lord Eddard in that she made an effort to speak with everyone - Obara Sand, Davos Seaworth, even the servants - not just the high lords. Her company spoke of that too; her most favoured courtier seemed to be the little translator girl whom Ren had learned was a freed slave.

He himself had been conversing with the Targaryen girl, sat almost across the table from him; she had attempted to engage his mother in conversation, only to be met with short, sharp replies, so Ren had humoured her and taken over the conversation instead. Both seemed to be avoiding the elephant in the room that his father had murdered her own.

"I heard all the Stark children have a direwolf?" Daenerys enquired.

"We do," Ren let out a huff of laughter at the idea he was talking to Mad Aerys' daughter about Crow, of all things. "Though according to many we ride them into battle, or warg into their skins to tear the flesh of our enemies. The things people believe," His tone was joking, though he caught his mother's raised eyebrow; whether that was amusement or irritation, he wasn't sure.

"Fantastical rumours follow fantastical creatures," The queen smiled at least.

"You'd know," He shrugged and she actually laughed. "We do take them into battle, though. Nothing like a snarling direwolf at your side to scare Lannister men shitless - excuse the language,"

"I've heard worse," She said. "A slaver in Astapor did not realise I spoke Valyrian, and called me a whore in near a hundred different ways for his translator to deliver politely,"

Ren found himself smiling.

"I hope you set the dragons on him, my lady,"

"I did," There was a slight edge to her tone as he didn't use the proper address. "Ser,"

A commotion from nearby cut off any reply he may have made.

"And what would you know of war, old woman?" Aegon's eyes were narrowed, and he looked riled; no wonder, he was talking to Lady Olenna.

Eyebrows rose all around the table in the ensuing silence. The Blackfish gave a rather incredulous snort, eyeing Aegon's youthful face critically. Lady Olenna's eyes took on a rather worrying gleam.

"Judging by the lack of hairs on your chin, more than a green boy like you, that's for certain," The Queen of Thorns replied without missing a beat, waving a hand over Daenerys' apologies. "The look in your eye and unwarranted arrogance in your voice tells me you've never seen true battle. Now pipe down and let the grown ups talk,"

"Apologise to Lady Tyrell, Aegon," Daenerys shot him a shocked, reproachful look. "She is our guest,"

"I fail to see how we benefit from sitting here in talks with people who aided our enemies nonetheless," Her husband riled at being told what to do. "We have three dragons - we could have taken King's Landing weeks ago, but instead you insist on talks upon talks, and believing ridiculous tales of ice monsters and dead men walking,"

Tyrion laughed.

"Why, you've only proven Lady Olenna's point," He said with spiteful relish. "As green as summer grass, and no true Targaryen to boot. I'd keep quiet if I was in your situation, boy, lest your wife tire of you being a nuisance,"

For a moment, Ren thought Aegon was going to yell. Instead he visibly restrained himself and sneered.

"I've had enough of this," He shook his head. "Hosting dwarves, bastards and shrivelled old lords and ladies will get us nowhere. They will never support the rightful Targaryen claim to the throne - why, the Kingslayer's bastard and his whore mother are sat across the table from me,"

Oh you've done it now.

Ren smiled faintly, as all eyes landed on his mother, who had been quiet throughout the meal. She carefully set her cup down, fixing her stare on the man claiming to be Rhaegar's son.

"I've heard worse insults from better people," She said coldly, dismissively, then turned to Daenerys. "Your father liked to call me a whore too, your Grace. I'd keep your husband in check - everyone in Westeros is watching for the seeds of madness. We all remember the damage a Targaryen can cause,"

Daenerys - who had actually bitten back a smile at 'keep your husband in check' - opened her mouth sharply, but Aegon got there first, surprising Ren by turning to him with a sneer.

"Do you let your mother fight all your battles for you, bastard?"

"That wasn't my battle," He replied. "Though if your issue is with me, I'd be happy to spar with you in the yard, in the morning,"

The young man's eyes brightened somewhat at that; clearly sparring was something he felt he was good at.

"Very well,"

Needless to say, dinner was certainly no less tense after that outburst.

"That was eventful," Ren remarked to his mother after the meal was over, the moment they were alone in the chamber she had been given. "I thought Aegon was going to draw his sword when you told Daenerys to keep her husband in check,"

She didn't reply immediately aside from a faint smile, merely sat down, eyeing the dragons framing the fireplace, swirling up the table legs and carved into the headboard of the bed with distaste.

"Aegon is little threat to us now," She said. "That's plain to see. No dragon, a smaller army and a pretender in the eyes of everyone but himself and Connington,"

"Daenerys will finish him off before we do," He said with dark amusement.

"She's no Aerys," His mother's next words surprised him. "No Rhaegar with her head in the clouds either,"

"Did a Targaryen impress you?" He arched an eyebrow in surprised. She laughed dryly.

"Hardly. It's plain as day that she's a conqueror, not a ruler. Tales of what went on in Meereen are too troublesome to ignore. Despite the fact she holds herself like a queen, talks like a queen and plays at being a queen, the dragons don't make her one. She's idealistic, incompetent and self-righteous, and though she hides her flashes of anger well, fire and blood is in her nature,"

"So we go on as planned?"

His mother hesitated.

"If we can," She said carefully. "But it's not so crucial to take unnecessary risks now we know she's not a monster," The word yet was heavily implied. "We'll take the opportunity if it presents itself, but if not, there will be plenty of time to sit and plan before the madness sets in,"

Ren nodded slowly. The fact she gave the girl any chance at all spoke volumes.

"I say we do nothing with regard to Aegon," He changed the subject. "Let his resentment at being sidelined fester until he rises against her,"

"That boy is too proud for it not to sting," She nodded. "And, I think, with enough encouragement he's fool enough to go up against three dragons,"

He hummed in agreement. There was a pause.

"She's got Aerys' eyes," His mother said unexpectedly. "She looks more like Rhaella - Viserys was his father's miniature, and Rhaegar was otherworldly - but she has Aerys' eyes. Violet, not lilac or indigo,"

"Damn you, Snow!" The Blackfish's good-humoured but exhausted curses rang out across the practice yard the next morning as Ren's sword pressed against his throat. "I though I nearly had you! You've got better since I last saw you - at least then I won every third match. What I'd give for us to spar in my prime..."

"You're hardly decrepit," He grinned. "I took my fair share of bruises,"

"I should hope so," Ser Brynden grumbled. "Though it's not a loss that's shamed me, seeing who else you disarmed today,"

Obara Sand, his previous match, clearly overheard that for she shot a glower without any real bite behind it their way.

"If I'd had my spear, Snow, I'd have knocked you flat on your arse," She said scornfully.

"Of course," He simply nodded, though couldn't help but smile.

All in all, Ren was more than satisfied with that day's training session. He had sparred against Yohn Royce, Davos Seaworth, Obara and Ser Brynden, along with many of the Dragonstone garrison and their own men from the Red Keep, and had not lost a single match.

"Ser Renan," Someone stepped out into the yard, and Ren was surprised to see it was Aegon. "When you have recovered, how about that spar you promised me?"

He'd forgotten about that.

"Ser Renan?" He raised an eyebrow. "Not bastard?"

The other boy - man, he's my age - flushed slightly.

"I had had too much to drink last night and my temper got the better of me," He said, though his teeth were gritted. "That was uncourtly and rude. My apologies to your mother as well,"

Who told you to say that? Nonetheless, Ren nodded slowly.

"I'll spar with you so long as your steel is blunted, ser," He didn't mean for it to come off as sarcastic, or for people to laugh (though they did). That had been an honest request; he had no idea how good Aegon was, and wouldn't trust him not to put a blade in his throat the first chance he had. Though he would truly be disturbed if the young man was better than him, all it took was one stumble over a stone or a slip in the mud.

Aegon's eyes narrowed in anger, though he clearly tried to keep a pleasant smile on his face.

"Blunted steel," He agreed, the glint of someone who was confident of victory in his eyes, which made Ren wary.

As it turned out, he shouldn't have been. The would-be king was a very good fighter, one of the better ones Ren had sparred against, and was no doubt used to winning most bouts he fought. But that was all Aegon was - good - and even tired as he was, it was not too difficult for Ren to beat him.

The yard was busy at this time of day, and his match with the Blackfish had attracted a small crowd, so it was a good number of people that saw Aegon's sword flying out of his hand and landing in the dust.

There were groans from the larger numbers of Targaryen supporters but cheers from all those from King's Landing. Ren caught a glimpse of the silver-haired figure watching from the bridge overlooking the practice yard, Ser Barristan at her side.

"You're left handed, you've got an advantage," Aegon ground out, anger evident in his eyes. At Ren's raised eyebrow, he seemed to concede and grudgingly asked, "Who taught you to fight? Selmy mentioned that you were... talented as a boy," And now you're wishing you listened to him. "Were you his squire?"

"No, that was my friend Loreon Storm," Ren said. "He's a fine warrior. I only know five men alive that could beat or at least equal him. Myself, Ser Barristan, the Clegane brothers, and Jaime Lannister," He had to smile then. "I squired for Ser Jaime. Being the Kingslayer's bastard has some benefits,"

Aegon's lip curled in dislike. He eyed Ren a moment or two longer before turning and leaving without another word.

"Lady Stark,"

Ross stilled from where she was tacking her horse; not her own, which had remained in King's Landing, but one of the stocky working horses that Dragonstone's head groom had told her was good on the mountainous terrain of the island. Anywhere to get away from the endless dragons carved into the castle. And people say Winterfell is grim and imposing.

"Lady Targaryen," Her tone was not hostile, but was far from friendly. She turned to face the young woman who was flanked by two Unsullied, the little herald girl at her side.

Ross' stomach churned at the sight of her violet eyes as they always did.

"I have not ridden a horse in a long time," Daenerys said. "And never on Dragonstone. Would you mind greatly if I accompanied you?"

Ross raised an eyebrow. Yes, very much so.

"It's your island," She said. "You can do what you like," She would grant the girl that Dragonstone was rightfully hers, if not the Iron Throne, for with all those dragons everywhere who else but a Valyrian would want it?

A horse was quickly brought forward for the young woman, but the Unsullied clearly had not learned to ride in their extensive training - training which Ross was constantly disgusted by, along with the completely blank look in most of their eyes - so a Dothraki man accompanied them instead, sneering at the stocky horse he was offered with a Westerosi saddle and bridle but taking it after his queen - khaleesi? - spoke a few sharp words in his own tongue. Missandei clearly didn't know how to ride either, for she did not go with them.

Ross would have to hope they wouldn't murder her in secret once they were alone.

They rode out in silence, up the craggy path of the nearest mountain. It was strange seeing Daenerys mounted on anything that wasn't a dragon. She was a surprisingly good rider - Ross should've expected that seeing as she had been the wife of a Dothraki khal - though seemed unused to riding in a Westerosi gown, or side saddle at all. The young Dothraki seemed to find this style of riding amusing, and actually seemed like he was teasing the young woman.

"Rakharo says you are more sensible than I, for riding properly astride even with all those skirts," Daenerys told her with a hint of wearied amusement. "I will have to have one made with a split like that. I usually ride in Dothraki leggings, though I doubt Westeros would approve,"

"Wear such a thing if you ever meet Cersei Lannister," Ross said. Cersei would be unable to resist such an easy target to direct her spite at, hopefully being rude enough that she'd be given over to the dragons. "She calls me a savage dressed like this,"

Though she had only intended to amuse herself, Daenerys smiled, much to her annoyance.

"Do you dislike Cersei?" It seemed like a polite inquiry, but her reply would no doubt be used as political information. Ross couldn't quite bring herself to care; everyone knew she loathed Cersei for multiple reasons, and she was hardly alone in that. It would be harder to find someone who liked her.

"I'd rather have you as queen than her," She said flatly. "Which tells you all you need to know,"

"I heard she ordered your nephew murdered," Where did you learn that?

"Yes," Ross said. "And myself, though I... survived," She smiled slightly then. "Jaime tried to killed her himself when he found out," She wasn't sure if she was trying to goad Daenerys, or test her. Perhaps both. It was probably a stupid decision, but what were they going to do, kill her? Worst came to worst she could outride them both, used as she was riding on rocky terrain.

Daenerys frowned.

"The Kingslayer?"

"I don't know any other Jaimes,"

There was a pause.

"He cares for you?"

"In a manner of speaking,"

"I thought he had three children with his sister?"

"He did,"

"Yet he tried to kill her?"

"She deserved it," Another pause. "If you have a point you're trying to get to, please get to it,"

Daenerys seemed a little taken aback, but pressed forward.

"How do you think I should punish him?" The young woman asked, actually sounding curious. You're trying to get the measure of him... odd. "For killing my father? I cannot simply let it go,"

"He deserves the greatest honour in the realm for killing your father," Ross replied honestly, seeing the anger flash across her eyes. How much could she provoke her before she snapped? "Aerys was lucky Jaime got to him first. I'd have made it much more painful than a cut throat,"

Daenerys closed her eyes briefly, mouth set in a straight line.

"The Kingslayer stabbed my father in the back - "

"Metaphorically, maybe," Ross cut her off. "But I was there to see the blade open his throat. His last words were 'burn them all'," A wave of recklessness overtook her; this could pay off, or be an unrivalled disaster. "He had planted caches of wildfire all over King's Landing, you see. That's why Jaime killed him when he did, and his pyromancers too. Aerys would rather burn the entire city and half a million people to ashes than let the rebels take his throne,"

Ross had been told before that it was hard to call her a liar. Not only was there her brother's honourable reputation - and the fact that in this instance she really wasn't lying, but Daenerys could easily have called it so to save herself some grace - but her tone seemed too blunt and honest to bear a lie, regardless whether she was telling the truth or not.

The young woman seemed stunned into silence at that.

"No one else knows that, save myself and Jaime Lannister," Ross continued. "Do with it what you will," She should probably have informed Loreon by now, so he could start removing it; it did make the city rather vulnerable to dragon attack, if it came to that. She would send a letter later on. It was a risk telling Daenerys, but perhaps that said something for the trust she had in the woman to not murder a city of people and destroy the throne she longed for so badly.

"They said he was mad," Sure enough, Daenerys did not seem interested in burning cities to the ground as a war strategy. "I didn't - didn't know how far he would go,"

"Tales of him viciously raping your mother and burning children alive in the throne room weren't enough to convince you?" She said scornfully. "Or did Ser Barristan the Bold not tell you how many times he stood outside the queen's door doing nothing?"

She regretted her voice breaking slightly at the end of that sentence.

"If I thought you'd accept it, I'd apologise for what happened to you," The girl's words were quiet.

"What happened to me?" Ross raised an eyebrow, tone cold once more. "You make it sound exclusive. Weren't you a child bride sold to a Dothraki khal?"

"I was thirteen and flowered," Daenerys actually sounded angriest at that insinuation, of all the things she had said so far. "Drogo was my sun-and-stars. I loved him as I have loved no other,"

Ross smiled wryly at that. And if you'd wished to leave the marriage unconsummated until you came of age, he'd have let you? You were no doubt a terrified child, alone and in pain, hoping to please the man who held your life in his hands. And did he care? Do they ever?

"If you say so," She nodded. There was a long pause. "The only apology I'll accept on behalf of your family is sparing the life of Jaime Lannister. Tywin can rot in hell for all I care, as can Cersei. But Jaime... Your mother cared for him - he liked her, his own mother had been her closest friend, and he was the only Kingsguard willing to stop your father brutalising her. He almost idolised Rhaegar, and desperately wanted to fight for him at the Trident. He was furious at Robert and his father for killing Rhaenys and Aegon; he'd asked the king to get them and Elia out of the city during the siege, only for Aerys to demand he bring him Lord Tywin's head and sent his Hand to light the caches of wildfire. You know what happened next,"

The silence after that would've been painful if Ross had cared.

"I'll think on it," Daenerys' voice was rather small. "Aegon won't settle for anything less than him being fed to the dragons,"

"He's a pretender," Ross shrugged. "And a fool, without any dragon of his own. What of him?"

The young woman seemed to remember then that she was talking to a woman who despised her family, not one of her advisors, and straightened up, clearing her throat.

They returned to the castle side by side, to the raised eyebrows of many. It was not a truce by any means - Ross would not hesitate to plunge a dagger between her ribs at any sign of a threat to anyone she loved, and couldn't look her in the eye for long without feeling rather nauseous - but it was a lack of open hostility.

Perhaps Daenerys would never display any signs of madness. Perhaps she would be a good queen, or even a mediocre one. Perhaps she would never be queen at all. But Ross couldn't let her guard down for one moment. The girl might not be her father, but she was still the most dangerous person in Westeros.

Just before they reached the gates of the castle, Ross turned to the young woman.

"You have your father's eyes," She said. "I see him every time I look at you. Don't give anyone cause to notice any further resemblance,"

The white dragon returned the next day.

Ren did not recognise the lean, smirking man who slid easily off the beast's back, but he recognised the eyepatch. Even if he hadn't, the Blackfish's curses would have given away Euron Greyjoy anywhere. No wonder Daenerys didn't tell us.

"My, what distinguished company we have here," The man surveyed the assembled people, clearly amused. "Could you greenlanders not dredge up anyone more important? More threatening than dwarves, bastards, shrewish women and old men?"

"Speak for yourself, Greyjoy," Oberyn Martell's eyes were dark.

"How in the Seven Hells do you have a dragon, Crow's Eye?" Ser Brynden asked sourly.

"Only the boldest and strongest men can tame a dragon," Euron shrugged, though was clearly enjoying every minute. "If you're jealous, Blackfish, then try your luck with the green,"

The conversation didn't go on much longer, allowing for the party from Westeros to discuss the matter, which was undoubtedly a massive blow to them all. But it was also a blow to Daenerys and Aegon, so there was a silver lining.

"Greyjoy is a wild card," Yohn Royce was said, frustrated. "Can you believe he would be loyal to the Targaryens?"

"Well he's certainly not loyal to us," Lady Olenna said. "More likely he'll help her win the throne then her husband will suffer a mysterious accident and he'll be lined up as her next husband,"

"Or he'll start a second Dance," Prince Oberyn said. "And be king over the ashes,"

Daenerys was clearly shamed by the fact that somehow a Greyjoy had managed to snatch one of her dragons. Throughout the talks that day on mining dragonglass and the logistics of transporting the queen's armies north to fight the Others, she seemed distracted, even when Euron wasn't in the room. When he was in the room he was nothing short of a menace, making threats and japes and insults left right and centre, the whole situation clearly amusing him greatly.

But the scary thing was, he was no fool at all. The impression Ren got was that the man was one of the most dangerous people he had ever met - there was pure malice in his eyes at times - and now he had a dragon. It was a rather uncomfortable realisation. There was no one in the room comfortable with Euron's presence, he realised. They had thought Daenerys was the unknown threat, but this one seemed worse simply because they had no idea what on earth he wanted.

Aegon too was being a nuisance, often trying to overrule or argue with Daenerys just for the sake of it. Ren, along with many others, made a point of simply ignoring him, speaking over him to his more competent wife instead. It clearly irritated Jon Connington and the boy himself, but they could do little about it.

Later that evening, when the lanterns were lit and a thick mist had come rolling in from the sea, Ren went for a walk through the godswood and froze when he saw the hulking white form of Viserion lying in a clearing. Then he noticed the small figure on the ground curled up against the white dragon's massive leg, stroking its claws; the beast had been agitated and irritable whenever he had seen it today, but now seemed calmed in the queen's presence.

He debated leaving her alone, but his curiosity got the better of him.

"Are you alright, your Grace?" To his surprise he saw tears fall from her eyes as he drew closer.

She jerked her head up sharply at the interruption, furiously wiping at her eyes. There was a second where Daenerys struggled over acting the imperious queen and sending him away, or admitting what they both knew he'd seen.

"He's miserable," She murmured, and it took a second for him to realise she was talking about the dragon. "That - that whoreson bound him with blood magic with a horn from Asshai. He's trapped in his own body, doing whatever that wicked man says. If one day he asks Viserion to turn on his mother and brothers, he'll have no choice but to obey,"

Ren wasn't quite sure what to say to that.

"Where is this horn? Can't you break it?"

"If I knew it would make no difference," Daenerys said. "I had the maester here research things like this. He said all the old texts say the horn is just the means; once the bond is formed, only the death of one of the two would break it,"

"There you go, then," He replied. "Kill Euron and you get your dragon back,"

She let out a watery laugh, though he wasn't joking.

"You make it sound so easy, Ser Renan. The man has Valyrian steel armour, which fits like a glove and of course he wears it everywhere around me. Besides, I hear this is only a short visit - he's leaving tomorrow. Flying north to see for himself the truth of the others," She caught his raised eyebrow. "Supposedly,"

"So long as he doesn't burn the Night's Watch or Winterfell, it matters little," He resolved to send a message to Jon and Sansa regardless.

"He asked me to wed him," Daenerys said with a note of incredulity. "Some madness about the three heads of the dragon," That didn't surprise him.

"He'll wed you then murder Aegon, and perhaps you as well. He might be mad, but he's clever,"

"There's something not right about him," She shook her head. "His eyes, they're too knowing. I've met many evil people, but they're all just weedy little men or fat slavers who do awful things. No one's ever looked evil like he does,"

"Perhaps," He said. "But underneath that armour, he's just a man. With a dragon, aye, but yours is bigger,"

She huffed a laugh at that, and he smiled faintly.

The next morning Ren watched from the cliffs as the white dragon - Viserion - flew north. No doubt somewhere in the castle Daenerys was watching too.

The green dragon Rhaegal was hunting over the sea. Ren had intended to assess the beasts for any weaknesses that they might exploit, but had to admit he was rather distracted by how fascinating watching a dragon hunt was. Rhaegal descended down to the sea like some warped bird of prey, snatching an entire squirming dolphin out of the waves in its claws.

Abruptly a thought struck him, and Ren cursed himself for not having thought of the possibility before.

Perhaps it was the dolphin that reminded him. Perhaps the lack of Crow's presence in the south meant that his own talents had been out of his mind. Perhaps it was the fact the dragons scarcely seemed like living, earthly creatures at all, and though he had seen three of them in the flesh it was hard to believe they weren't just a myth.

Why didn't he just warg one of the dragons?

This could be a very stupid thing to attempt, but he had to try or else he'd always be wondering. He had skinchanged into birds, horses, cats, never for very long, and warging with Crow was like wearing a second skin of his own. How hard could a dragon be?

Was he close enough? He had killed Joffrey from a great distance away physically, but had travelled there in the minds of various birds before leaping into the horse's skin. The dragon was flying back inland now with its kill, there was no time like the present to try. He closed his eyes, let his mind slip out of his body...

For half a second, he had it. For half a second he saw himself on the cliff-edge, a minuscule figure, the whole of Dragonstone spread before him, felt the dolphin in his claws, wings beating against the air, a deep and intelligent mind, the fire in his heart -

And then a violent surge of unbearable heat overcame him and he was forced out, gasping, into his own body. His limbs were shaking like he'd been on a rack for hours, and he had a splitting headache. Ren took in enormous breaths, trying to calm the beating of his own heart, and get his head straight. Flashes of fire and fury at the foreign presence daring to enter the dragon's mind were still going through him. Gods, it's powerful. He had never been in an animal that was so overtly... magical.

A dragon was far too powerful for any simple man to control alone, he knew that much now. Their minds were ancient and strong beyond measure, it was no wonder he had been thrown out almost immediately. Gods, what kind of magic binds that horn? Thankfully Rhaegal, flying over his head now and screeching piercingly in protest, didn't know it was him, or he'd have no doubt been reduced to flame there and then.

The heat was like nothing he had ever felt... Ren thought back to what his mother had told him of Bran's story of Night's King, that the icy blood of the Others ran in the veins of all those to call themselves Stark. They say dragons are fire made flesh. Was it so surprising he had been met with such a violent reaction, ice and fire repelling each other the moment they were forced together?

He was so occupied with his own thoughts and pain that he barely registered the dull beating of wings above him as a new dragon approaching, not just Rhaegal flying away. He jumped to his feet with a start at the sight of the great black dragon descending from the sky to land on the cliffs beside him.

For a moment he was frozen, wondering if he'd have a better chance at survival if he just plunged himself into the sea there and then.

Then he saw the small figure on the dragon's back and despite himself had to feel relieved.

Daenerys dismounted smoothly. Her fine gowns in black and red were gone, replaced with a brown vest and leggings. Dothraki attire, he realised. She seemed more at ease in it than the regal dresses he'd seen her in so far. Or perhaps it was just the dragon at her back that made her seemed more assured.

"Ser Renan," She nodded politely.

"Lady Targaryen," He returned the greeting, seeing the familiar flicker of annoyance at using what she considered the wrong title. "I was just watching Rhaegal hunt,"

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" She smiled. "All my children are," He still found it odd that she called them her children. "My brother would have loved to see them,"

"Rhaegar?"

"Viserys," Her eyes glazed over slightly.

"What happened to him?" Ren asked carefully. "He escaped the Rebellion with you, did he not?" She smiled wryly.

"Khal Drogo poured a pot of molten gold over his head. The golden crown he longed for," Her expression darkened. "You may judge me for not trying to save him. But he threatened my life and my unborn child. He was no true dragon. I didn't realise at the time, but he was certainly as mad as you say my father was,"

"At least it wasn't a dull death," Ren had little else to say about that, and the girl didn't seem to grieve much over her dead brother. "Not many men are killed by molten gold,"

"That's true," She shook her head, then changed her tone abruptly. "Would you like a ride?" He raised an eyebrow and she actually flushed, almost (but not quite) hastily continuing. "On Drogon?"

Ren really should be more suspicious, more careful, he really should. But he couldn't suppress the wave of boyish excitement that ran through him at the idea of riding on the back of a dragon.

"You promise you won't push me off at two thousand feet up?"

She laughed at that.

"I promise,"

What could he do but accept?

Trying to hide his eagerness, Ren accepted the hand she offered and easily swung himself to sit behind her, noting the straps that held the rider's legs in place; there were two sets for two riders, which was useful. Of course there's straps, he thought, though knew he would've gone up even if there were none at all.

He vaguely wondered what he was meant to hold onto, though those thoughts went out the window when Drogon's wings started to beat and then they were in the air, flying, faster than he could've imagined; his hands immediately grabbed at Daenerys' waist.

Ren had flown before, plenty of times. He loved warging birds for this reason, sometimes doing it for no reason other to soar and dive and feel the rush of air against his skin - feathers? But there was always a hint of the animal themselves when he wore a skin that wasn't his own, and birds of course were used to flying.

This was the first time he had flown as a human, and it was another thing entirely. This was faster, more dangerous, more satisfying, more real. He wasn't relying on his own wings, but the wings of another. Ren's heart was racing but in the same way as a battle made it race, and though his stomach may have been left somewhere on the ground, he loved every second.

He quickly found himself letting go, only for Daenerys to urge the dragon into a steep dive that stole the breath from his lungs, and the girl was laughing and his hands were still free, and he felt himself grin wider than he had done in a while.

They landed with a thud, far too soon.

"That..." He started. "I understand why you fly so often," He unstrapped his legs and let himself drop to the ground, his legs only slightly wobbly. Daenerys dropped beside him, smiling widely.

"It's wonderful, isn't it," She agreed rather breathlessly. "You did far better than Aegon. He screamed the whole time and still refuses to get on a dragon again,"

There was something in her eyes then, as she compared him to her more lacking husband, that made him pause. Perhaps his mother's warning wasn't so ludicrous after all. That opened up a world of possibilities, which could only benefit him and his family.

But right now Ren put that out his mind and just let himself enjoy the experience of having just flown on the back of such a creature.

No matter what her thoughts might be, no matter that she was fairly good company, he knew that Daenerys Targaryen would never charm him... though her dragons just might.

She had retired to bed hours ago, but worry - about so many, many things but primarily the fact that in the next three days they would pack and leave for the North - had kept Daenerys awake. Instead she set about writing some letters that needed writing, the room lit by the fire still burning in the hearth; it wasn't even winter in Westeros yet, and she was already freezing without it.

Now, tired as she was, her mind had slipped from worrying about Wights and Others and Euron and winning back her family's throne, to Renan Snow.

Of all the people in Westeros, he was one of the people top on the list of people Dany shouldn't be drawn to. As Aegon had so eloquently put it, he was the Kingslayer's bastard. Son of the man who had murdered her father, and a woman who despised her whole family. And an enemy to boot.

But she found him rather attractive nonetheless.

Surely that couldn't hurt, if she kept it to herself. She was allowed to find a handsome young man handsome, and surely this idiocy would pass after a week or so. That's what you said about Daario, her thoughts unhelpfully reminded her. But this was different.

Perhaps it was that he was the same age as Aegon, but seemed so much more a man, not losing his temper or raising his voice yet coming across as much more intimidating for it. He had taken to riding a dragon much better than the supposed Targaryen king. He was a swordsman the like of which she had never seen, and clearly intelligent too, but did not talk down to her the way many 'intelligent' men did.

No, she couldn't let the fact he stroked her ego by addressing her instead of Aegon influence anything. Gods, she truly was a fool.

"Daenerys,"

Her head snapped up as a voice spoke her name, despite the fact she knew she was alone. But there was a figure stood there all the same in the dim firelight, in front of the window, and Dany abruptly sat up in bed.

The woman appeared as she always had; her face covered by a red lacquer mask, her body cloaked in long robes, the only part of her visible being her eyes.

"You're back," Dany was rather wary. The last time she had seen Quaithe had been on her terrace in the Great Pyramid of Meereen, where she had delivered more cryptic advice that she had yet to figure out.

"I am," Quaithe said in her quiet voice. "I come to warn you of going north,"

"Did Aegon send you?" Dany asked, amusing only herself. Her husband was still dead set against it, and made that painful clear at every opportunity.

"I'm not telling you not to go," The mysterious woman said. "For the light to prevail you must burn away the darkness, root and stem. But be wary of your mummer's dragon, and of the wolves that howl in the night - for the ones left, their honour is dead and their blood runs cold and icy,"

"Are you telling me to beware of the Starks?"

Quaithe didn't answer, and a wave of anger suddenly overcame Dany. She was under too much stress to put up with this nonsense.

"Why can you not just speak clearly, for once? I never know what you mean, which makes coming here rather pointless for you. How do you appear her before me without actually being in the room? In fact, I don't know anything about you. I do not know who you are, what you look like, nor whether or not I can trust you. I might as well ignore all your advice, or pass you off a figment of my imagination,"

I'll go to bed with Renan Snow, she let herself think for a split second, though that seemed too much like inviting a Stark to betray her.

"I am a shadowbinder," She blinked as the woman actually replied, seemingly honestly. " From Asshai, a city of shadowbinders - fire mages is another term - and fire wights, people kept alive past their time by our magics, for a price. We use the same power as the priests of R'hllor, though know it is no god granting a gift, but our own skill,"

"And why should you wish to help me?"

"I told you before - the return of dragons made fire magic more powerful than it has in centuries. As magic slowly left this world, the mages' power dwindled and as a result the number of people in the great city of Asshai fell until now only one house in ten is lived in - before you, at our lowest, only strong mages had the power to keep themselves alive past their time, and only the strongest could sustain others. But you've made us strong again. I wish you to prevail, so we grow stronger still,"

Despite herself, Dany was fascinated.

"What is the Shadow?" She asked, though the question was unrelated. "Is Asshai cursed because its citizens cheat death so freely?"

"The Shadow is merely the great mountain the city was built at the base of, so huge that it blocks out the sun. The Shadowlands beyond are a range of enormous mountains with valleys and gorges so deep that they never seen daylight,"

Well that was somewhat more mundane.

"And how do you speak to me then? If you're not really here,"

"The glass candles burn since you brought dragons back into the world. I talk to you through one now. Is that all, Daenerys?" Quaithe's tone was rather cold; perhaps she had irritated her. If that was the case, then there was no harm in asking the next question.

"Can you take off your mask?" Dany dared to ask. "I would like to look upon your face,"

It almost looked from her eyes as though Quaithe was smiling then, which disturbed her.

"Are you sure, Daenerys?"

She hesitated, then nodded.

The woman obliged, unfastening the mask and taking it off her face, and Dany's mouth opened in a silent scream. Bile came up in her throat at the sight of the woman's face. Quaithe's eyes were alive, but the rest of her was wasted like an old corpse, skin grey and rotten, bone showing through in places. No wonder the Asshai'i cover themselves all over.

"Like I said," The jaw moved obscenely, the smooth voice from within seeming impossible to come from that ruin. "Magic grew weak, and even the strongest fire mages struggled to keep the spark within themselves. I'll heal, in time. But for that to happen, as I told you before, you need to remember who you are. You're on your way there, I believe - you feel it rising within you, as it did in so many of your forefathers. No more playing at politics. Fire and blood,"

Dany could not form words, and didn't get the chance; she blinked once and Quaithe was gone.

Firstly, apologies for the delay in updating. I have no excuse other than real life got in the way. I made this chapter longer to make up for it.

Asshai fascinated me since it was mentioned so I wanted to include my guess at what it actually is like there. Also Quaithe is a loose end I struggled over but felt like I had to include, so I hope that explanation was satisfactory.

I didn't include most of the political discussions and negotiations here - just assume they were going on in the background but weren't exciting enough to include here. Overall, they've agreed that Dany will not start burning castles and armies, and will take the throne after assuring no one will be punished for not siding with her family in the rebellion and helping them defeat the Others.

And don't worry for those of you who hate Daenerys, this is not going to be a S7 Jon Snow situation where Ren falls for her out of the blue, he is getting to know her partly for strategic reasons and partly from fascination with her dragons. She's not bad company but he's not going to let himself get too close. Dany, on the other hand, has proven that she can fall for people unwisely (*cough*Daario) and he is kind of her type; dangerous, a skilled warrior, ruthless and someone she certainly shouldn't be falling for.

I'd love to hear what you thought of this so please leave a comment/review!