Frostfyre

by Xebecs

The ice dragon

4. Chapter 4

Summary:

Illyrio Mopantis tries to learn more about Aegon Targaryen. Dany takes Jon on a walk around Pentos, and he takes her flying on Frostfyre.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: Pentos

It was not often that Illyrio Mopantis found himself so utterly stumped.

He had seen a lot of things in his rather fruitful life. A fortuitous meeting and partnership in his younger days with Varys, more infamously known as King Robert's spymaster "the Spider" had seen to that. He'd been housing what they believed were the last two Targaryens in recent years to keep a close eye on them, both for his own interests and Varys'.

He'd had a number of plans for them, mostly to supplant his own position, but all of those plans had been rather thoroughly upended and scattered with the events of yesterday.

A dragon was definitely something new to see.

He remembered seeing it fly over the city, more massive than he could have imagined and breathing white fire in a grandiose display of its terrible power. He'd believed Viserys would be killed trying to claim the beast.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of a child—a boy, not even a man—climbing down from the dragon's back as if it were just a horse.

Aegon Targaryen. The last surviving child of Prince Rhaegar. Supposedly. This was hardly the first time someone had claimed to be the long-lost offspring of royalty to claim riches for themselves. Illyrio had seen such things many times before. Sometimes he'd even encouraged it—for his own gain, of course.

He had arguments prepared to dismiss such claims. Against anyone else, he could have turned them away within a matter of minutes. He always had a plan for such events.

No plan he could have thought up would explain away the unquestionable loyalty the dragon held for the boy. Its very presence spoke of his royal blood. If anything, he had even more claim to the bloodline of Old Valyria than Viserys and Daenerys ever had.

Aegon Targaryen and his dragon had changed the Game. To what degree, he was not yet certain.

Plots and plans were immediately disposed of, but Illyrio let go of them easily. This child could be everything he and Varys had hoped for and more, if they played their cards right. He needed to be cautious with him. The boy could either be perfect or their worst nightmare.

If that dragon lived up even a little bit to the legends, it would be a terror on the battlefield.

He knew Jorah Mormont would undoubtedly send his own report to Varys regarding the arrival of Aegon and the dragon Frostfyre, but Illyrio needed to make a more in-depth assessment of the child before he sent his own bird songs to the Spider across the sea.

The Magister arrived in the hall to break his fast and briefly paused.

Aegon was sitting with Daenerys. Across from each other, they were eating and speaking eagerly, smiles and small laughter easily going back and forth between them. Ser Jorah stood behind Daenerys, on guard as usual.

Curious. Daenerys had been timid and frightened most of the time Illyrio had known her. Viserys' anger and short temper had seen to that. In the latest weeks, her upcoming marriage to Khal Drogo had made her even worse.

Now she looked like a flower in full bloom, happy to be in the sunshine again.

His arrival was quickly noticed by them, and the boy's eyes snapped onto his. Illyrio had to repress a shiver. The child's eyes were intense beyond his years—a dark grey, nearly black, brooding and sharp as they took him in. He was reminded of a wolf.

Time to play the Game with children.

"Magister Illyrio," Daenerys actually greeted him this morning. She almost looked happy to see him. "Please, join us."

"It would be my pleasure," he dipped his head, then looked at the boy for permission. "If that is alright with you, Your Grace?"

"Of course," the boy replied. His eyes were still fixed on the Magister. "Actually, I don't think we were properly introduced yesterday, were we? The conversation got away from us."

"Indeed it did," the Magister walked over to them, snapping his fingers at a servant who hurried to bring him a plate of food and a drink. "I am Illyrio Mopantis, Magister of Pentos. It is a pleasure to host you in my abode, Your Grace."

"I appreciate your hospitality," Aegon dipped his head, smiling back. "You've done my House a kindness, watching out for Daenerys and Viserys."

"No trouble at all," the Magister waved his hand. "It is quite the honor to house royalty in my city."

Illyrio studied the clothing Aegon wore—a loose, silken shirt and breeches that were much easier to wear in the heat of Pentos, both of which were of lavish quality. "Your attire suits you, Your Grace. I hope it is kinder on you in this climate?"

"Very much so. It's…unfamiliar for me to wear such thin clothing," he shifted somewhat uncomfortably. "But I expect I'll get used to it in time. I will not be returning to Westeros anytime soon, after all."

"If I may, Your Grace? Where exactly in Westeros were you hidden?"

Aegon pursed his lips. "Deep in the north. I cannot give you the exact location. I would not give up the people who saved my life and raised me."

"I can assure you, Your Grace, I am unsurpassed in keeping confidences."

The boy turned and stared at him. "You must remember what I said yesterday, Magister. I do not trust easily. I do not intend to insult you, but I will not answer that question."

It was a firm refusal, but a tactful one. Illyrio dipped his head. "Of course, Your Grace. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable."

Aegon's shoulders relaxed somewhat. "Thank you. I can tell you, however, that for the past two years, I've spent much of my time north of the Wall."

That was a surprise. Illyrio stared at him, startled. "North of the Wall?"

"Aye. Frostfyre was getting too big to hide south of it," he admitted. "I flew her north and there we stayed. I only risked trips further south on rare occasions to meet with those who raised me, to catch up with news around the world. It was on the latest meeting I heard tell of Daenerys and Viserys' survival."

That was an incredibly hostile land for…well—anyone to survive in. With the dragon it was certainly possible, but even so…

"It seems your guardians went to extreme lengths to keep you hidden from the world," Illyrio remarked.

Aegon shrugged. "I am alive."

There was no disputing that.

"What's it like beyond the Wall?" Daenerys asked curiously, eyes gleaming with light Illyrio had never seen before. It was remarkable how swiftly she'd warmed up to Aegon for how withdrawn she usually was. "The furthest north I've ever been is Braavos."

"It's…you can't imagine the cold," Aegon said quietly. "It seeps into your bones and if you are not sheltered and warm when night falls, you might never wake up in the morning. Wildlings roam great distances and they know those lands well. I was ambushed by them once."

"Goodness me! Wildlings?"

"Aye. They might very well have killed me," he admitted. "I only killed one before another threw a knife into my shoulder. Frostfyre saved me in the end."

Daenerys looked enraptured by the tale, if worried when he told them he'd been wounded. Aegon suddenly smiled. "She's incredible. You should've seen her—she flew down and knocked over several trees to get to me. The Wildlings never stood a chance after that."

Illyrio spared a moment of silence for the poor fools who tried to hunt down a boy and found themselves slaughtered by a dragon. How unfortunate for them.

"Your Grace, might I ask how your dragon was hatched?"

He frowned. "I wish I knew. My father figured it out somehow. I don't know exactly how it was done, but it's not as if I can ask him now."

Well, shit.

"A shame. Your guardians didn't have a clue, either?"

"No. It was Valyrian magic, that much I know," he murmured. His dark eyes were far away. "They said the dragon bonded to me as soon as it was born. She is my sister—or the closest thing I have to one, anyways."

Illyrio stroked his forked beard. "Hmm. Unfortunate. If only we knew how…"

Aegon frowned and glanced at him. "Knew what?"

"Well," he cleared his throat. "Amongst the gifts I intended to present to Princess Daenerys for her—now annulled—wedding, are three petrified dragon eggs I managed to procure."

Daenerys gasped and Aegon's eyes gleamed. They were both so curious in that moment; every bit the children they were. "Wherever did they come from?"

"The Shadow Lands," Illyrio answered the Princess. "Of course, seeing as you are not to be married any longer, I think I should just gift them to you. A symbol of our friendship, no? It is not as if I can do anything with them."

He waved down a servant. "Bring me the chest with the dragon eggs in the gift chamber. Have someone help you carry them out—it is rather heavy."

They waited for the servants, taking a few minutes to actually enjoy their food. Illyrio still needed to speak with Aegon on other matters, but they could wait for the time being.

Not too much longer, he thought. Annulling the wedding would incite the wrath of Khal Drogo. They'd have Dothraki screamers attacking the city within the coming weeks.

The servants returned quickly with a dark chest and set it on the table carefully. Illyrio waved them away to perform their other duties and opened the chest himself, exposing the three petrified eggs.

One was deep green with bronze flecks. A second was pale cream streaked with gold. The third was black with scarlet ripples and swirls.

Illyrio picked up the green egg first and passed it to Aegon, who accepted it reverently. He did the same for Daenerys, gifting her the black. The cream remained in the chest.

"I've never seen one," Daenerys whispered. "Nobody placed a dragon egg in my cradle when I was born."

"Me neither," Aegon admitted, running his fingers over the green egg. "I don't know where my father found the egg, but it wasn't with me at my birth."

Interesting, Illyrio noted. "I wish I could provide you with live eggs, but this is the best I could obtain. The only living dragon left may very well be your female, Your Grace."

"…I don't think these are dead."

He looked up at Daenerys and blinked. She was staring at the black egg with unusual intensity. "It feels warm to me."

Illyrio reached over and set his own hand on the egg, but frowned. "It is cold to my touch."

"I feel it, too," Aegon murmured. "There's life in them."

The Magister glanced between them cautiously, noting how focused both Targaryen children were on the eggs. Another example of the magic in their Valyrian blood, perhaps? In Aegon, that was not surprising—the dragon had bonded herself to him, after all. But Daenerys sensing life in the eggs was something of a surprise to him.

She'd always been so meek. The opposite of a dragon, proud and fearless as Aegon struck him in their first meeting. Granted, the boy was still a boy, but he and Daenerys couldn't have been more different when they first encountered each other.

How very, very interesting…

"Perhaps the two of you should request Viserys join you to investigate this phenomenon further," he suggested, although privately he thought the idea of Viserys hatching a dragon was more than a little unsettling.

"Perhaps," Aegon seemed to stir out of his strange trance and frowned, shaking his head. "But not now."

Daenerys nodded and they returned the eggs to the chest. She didn't close it, however, and stood there, running her fingers over the petrified shells. "There must be a way to quicken them…I wish we knew more about Valyrian magic."

"We'll bring them out to Frostfyre another day with Viserys," Aegon promised her. "She might be able to provide a clue."

"Truly?" Illyrio couldn't hide his skepticism, but he was curious himself.

"Who better to know how to hatch a dragon egg than a dragon?"

A fair point.

Illyrio plopped a few grapes into his mouth and looked to the Targaryen male. "Your Grace, I wish I could continue entertaining you with these fascinating discussions, but I really cannot ignore the threat that will soon befall my beloved Pentos. As soon as Khal Drogo learns you have annulled the marriage between him and Princess Daenerys, his wrath will be terrible. He was very interested in her."

Daenerys flinched and Illyrio saw something in Aegon's eyes that turned the calm grey into dark storms. "I will defend the city with Frostfyre. I understand you made the arrangement before learning of my existence, Magister, and I know it has put you in a difficult position. You have been kind to my House. I will not abandon your home to be raided by savages."

"Please be truthful with me, Your Grace. Do you think you and your dragon can stop thousands—if not tens of thousands—of Dothraki Blood Riders?"

He saw a hint of the dragon sleeping deep in Aegon then, eyes glittering, mouth twisted in a scowl. "Have you ever heard of the Field of Fire, Master Illyrio?"

"I have," he nodded. "Aegon the Conquerer unleashed all three of his dragons upon House Lannister and House Gardner. But he had three, and you have one. And though your dragon is large, she is not yet as big as Balerion the Black Dread."

"Perhaps not, but the Dothraki will never expect her. They do not know how to fight a dragon, and her appearance will startle their horses. Before they can regroup, I will burn through their ranks from the skies. I do not plan on fighting them fairly. My dragon is most powerful in the air, where their arrows will simply bounce off her hide."

The boy glanced at Illyrio again. "I would like to learn about this particular Khal and his khalesar, though. How they fight and where they are most likely to strike. It will make contesting them simpler for Frostfyre and I."

Whoever taught this boy about combat knew what they were doing, Illyrio thought. He was not speaking foolishly. He understood strategy and advantage.

Whether or not he and his dragon had actually been tested in battle together was another matter entirely, but he was off to a good start, planning ahead in such a manner.

"I will speak with you of Khal Drogo and his Blood Riders tomorrow, then," Illyrio replied, smiling at the child. The young man nodded. "In the meantime, I believe you expressed an interest in exploring Pentos, did you not?"

"Yes," he admitted. Aegon looked away from Illyrio to the Knight standing near Daenerys. "But before that, I think I would like to spar with Ser Jorah. It's been a few weeks since I had the chance to practice my swordsmanship."

Another difference between Aegon and Viserys. The boy's uncle only carried a sword to appear 'more Kingly' as he put it. Aegon carried one because he knew how to use it.

Jorah blinked in surprise, but dipped his head. "I would be honored to spar with you, Your Grace."

Daenerys finally closed the chest to conceal the petrified dragon eggs. She had been quiet while they talked about the Dothraki—any mention of Khal Drogo made her nervous. "I suppose Viserys will be eating later."

Illyrio was wary about that. He knew Viserys had taken a women into his bed last night, undoubtedly to fuck some of the tension out of his system. She was one of the handmaidens the Magister intended to gift Daenerys for her wedding—Doreah, wasn't it? Blonde hair, blue eyes...not quite like a Targaryen, but she seemed to suit Viserys' tastes. Perhaps he wasn't yet done with her.

Illyrio had provided women before to keep Viserys' lust under control, for he had desired Daenerys even when they were still planning her marriage to Khal Drogo. She was growing into a stunning beauty, and the Magister had wanted to ensure the Targaryen male did not do anything…spontaneous to his sister. Drogo would not have appreciated that.

Not that it mattered now.

But it worried him that Viserys hadn't yet shown himself, and he could tell from the expression on Aegon's face that he was similarly wary. Viserys had gone to his chambers in a quiet storm, his world upended with the sudden arrival of his nephew and the dragon.

He'd been a King yesterday. A Beggar King, but a King nonetheless. Now he was just another Targaryen male. The true King had a dragon.

His jealousy and insecurity would be tremendous. No, Illyrio needed to keep a close eye on Viserys now. It would not do to leave him to his own devices.

"Ser Jorah, could you meet me in the courtyard in perhaps ten minutes?" Aegon asked. "We'll need a pair of sparring swords, as well. But I'd like to speak with Daenerys and Master Illyrio for a moment in private."

Jorah nodded hesitantly, then took off with quick steps. Illyrio waved the servants out of the room, curious about the sudden request.

Once they were alone, Aegon looked from Illyrio to Daenerys. "Be honest with me. How is Viserys right now? You two know him better than I."

A dangerous question.

"He's…" Daenerys bit her lip. She looked at Illyrio, but he said nothing. "He's angry. Very angry."

"Angry enough to hurt you?"

She stilled and Illyrio shot him an incredulous look, but the boy's eyes did not leave the Princess. To his astonishment, Daenerys nodded. He knew Viserys had struck his sister before in anger, but she never admitted it.

"Stay at my side today," he told her quietly. "Or however long it takes him to calm down. Don't go anywhere alone."

"Your Grace, surely that's a bit much…"

Aegon shook his head, fixing Illyrio with a stare. "I know Viserys has had a hard life, but I will never allow him to beat Daenerys. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt; he's my uncle. I do not wish to be at odds with him, but things being the way they are…"

Illyrio pursed his lips. He had to concede that. Aegon had been forced to lay down the law immediately upon his arrival, and Viserys had suddenly found his power utterly stripped away from him. It was swift and harsh, but necessary for the boy to establish himself as the new Targaryen overlord.

That didn't mean it wasn't dangerous. Viserys wasn't as bad as his father, but he certainly had the potential to be. He wasn't Prince Rhaegar, who for all his faults, had at least been rational.

"His rage may take days to settle," Illyrio confessed quietly.

"Then we keep an eye on him, but he is never to lift a hand against Daenerys, nor anyone else. Allowing him to beat and bully people will only make him worse."

The boy was right. Before, Illyrio hadn't really cared because he thought Viserys was a lost cause. Aegon was willing to try to better his uncle. The Magister did not believe he would succeed, but he would give the boy credit; at least he was trying. More fearful men, new in his positions, might have cast Viserys out or even killed him.

Aegon was trying to be fair. Varys would like that. Illyrio certainly did.

Fairness was the trait of a good ruler.

It wasn't everything he wanted to know about the child, but it was a good start. There would be more talks soon enough. He'd check in on Viserys now, while Aegon sparred with Ser Jorah, and think about what other topics should be broached before they needed to address the upcoming Dothraki attack.

Dany walked with Jon to the courtyard, where he would be training with Ser Jorah. Her thoughts were heavy—heavy with worries of her brother's anger, Khal Drogo's wrath, and many other things.

They were alone for a few brief moments on the way to the courtyard and Jon took her hand, causing her to jump. He watched her closely, tilting his head slightly. The crease in his brow was worried.

"How are you?"

"I am…" Dany trailed off, uncertain how best to answer him.

He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back leaning into him for a second. "I do not know if I can sleep easily tonight in my chambers, knowing how furious Viserys is."

Jon was quiet for a few seconds. "If I asked it of Ser Jorah, he would guard your door. I can give him permission to deny Viserys entry. Or you could stay with me."

Dany quirked her lips up, feeling a spark of the mischief she often did around him in their Dragon Dreams. "Surely you are not trying to trick an innocent maiden into your bed, Your Grace?"

His cheeks turned red and she grinned at him. Jon tried—and failed—not to pout, and looked away from her. "I was only offering…"

"If you are comfortable with it, I would stay with you."

Jon's head jerked back towards her, eyes wide. "Are you sure? If you don't—"

"I trust Ser Jorah," she admitted. "But I would feel more at ease if I were not alone."

"If that is your wish."

"It is," Dany whispered, smiling at him. He returned it, but halted when she grinned again. "As long as your hands do not wander."

"You're a menace."

She laughed and they pulled apart, walking the remaining distance to the courtyard.

Ser Jorah was already waiting with two sparring swords. He was swinging one now, testing its weight, while the other was leaning against one of the columns enclosing the courtyard. He looked surprised when they emerged, Dany still giggling from her teasing of Jon. She stopped at one of the columns and watched her friend walk out to meet Jorah.

The young Targaryen male took hold of the other sparring sword and also started testing its weight, then frowned. He looked down.

"This is going to flail all over the place when we're fighting," he muttered.

Jorah offered him a half-hearted grin. "Master Illyrio is fond of comfort over practicality."

"Mmm," Jon's frown deepened. He set the sword aside and for a moment Dany thought he was going to go and change in his chambers, but then he just lifted the tunic up and over his head. He folded it up and set it to the side, leaving him bare chested.

She did try not to stare, but her eyes studied him out of curiosity. He was pale and lean, and the muscles of his torso were strong from swordplay and dragon riding. The lightness of his skin made his dark hair and eyes stand out more, turning them nearly black in comparison.

He brandished the sparring sword a few times now that he was free of the loose, silken clothing, and nodded after a few moments. "This will do."

"Whenever you are ready, Your Grace," Jorah offered.

Jon grasped the sword with one hand at first, stalking with the Knight in a circle around each other. Though Jorah was larger, Jon was lean and almost certainly faster. Like a bear and a wolf, she thought absently.

Jon made a mock lunge and then immediately dove into an attack, the bait-and-switch jarring even for Jorah, but he blocked the swings easily enough. They engaged for a few seconds, then parted, circling again. Sizing each other up. Dany watched with great interest; she'd never gotten to see a lot of swordsmanship in her life.

Jorah attacked this time, flicking Jon's sword tip aside before tapping him lightly on the shoulder. She jumped at the swiftness of the strike, and wondered how serious such a blow might have been were they using real blades.

Jon's eyes narrowed, but not in anger that he'd been hit. "Do not be gentle with me, Ser Jorah."

"Your Grace?" The Knight asked uncertainly.

"An enemy will not lighten their blows, and nor shall we. That is how I have always trained."

Jorah studied him for a few moments before nodding. Dany frowned. What did that mean?

When next they engaged, Jorah struck with much more force. He nearly blew Jon's guard open, but the boy dove past the Knight and managed to land a glancing blow on his flank. Jorah spun and struck Jon's back with a swing that made a loud crack against his bare skin.

Dany gasped, but Jon only hissed, spun around with fire in his eyes, and engaged Jorah in-full. They fought across the courtyard thrusts and slashes and cuts, striking one another whenever they could.

Jon seemed to pick up speed and strength as they fought. She recalled that he hadn't fought in some weeks—perhaps he was shaking off the rust that had built up in his time of inactivity.

He dove past a swing that almost collided with his neck and slammed his sparring sword into the base of Jorah's spine. The Knight grunted, wincing, and stumbled away.

They backed off, panting. Both were already coated in sweat—Jon more obviously with his torso exposed.

"There goes my spine," Jorah chuckled.

"Don't go soft on me now, bear," Jon challenged. "How will you guard the Princess?"

That seemed to steel the Knight somewhat. They faced each other and charged again.

Aegon winced, rolling his shoulders as he and Dany walked down the streets of Pentos with Ser Jorah behind them.

"I'm surprised you can even walk after all of that," Dany told him dryly.

"I'm out of practice. I need to spar more," he sighed. It had been a while since he'd gotten beaten down like that. He'd scored several good hits against Jorah, but all things considered, he'd "died" more than he was entirely happy about.

He'd certainly be going to bed sore tonight.

She was showing him around what she'd seen of the city throughout her time in Pentos. Although Daenerys had primarily remained in Illyrio's manse, she had been exploring a few times with her guard.

Right now, they were heading to the harbor on the west side of the city. Aegon had never gotten to see ships like those docked at Pentos up close before. He'd only been to White Harbor once in his life with Uncle Ned, and that had been ages ago.

He noticed a lot of men with dyed, oiled, and forked beards. Illyrio was one such example of this practice, and it seemed to be common in Pentos. It wasn't to his tastes, but it was interesting to see.

Music was common throughout the streets, as well, with bards singing songs in tongues both familiar and unfamiliar to him. He heard one woman singing in High Valyrian and listened to the lyrics for as long as they could hear her. He wondered if Dany knew any of the songs they sung.

She led them to a marketplace, where vendors were selling fresh foods, trinkets, and a number of other items Aegon was somewhat lost on. While they walked, she told him everything she knew about the city she'd called home for the past two years. Everything from the people and cultures, its history, and how it compared to other Free Cities she'd stayed in.

Pentos had a history of slavery that was frowned upon, but it had managed to wriggle around the rules to some extent. The servants were paid, but the costs of their food and housing were much more, and they became filled with debt to their Masters.

He wondered how many of Illyrio's servants were actually slaves. He tried to shake that thought off for now and focused on listening to Dany's eager storytelling. It wasn't as if he could do anything about it at the moment.

"What do you think?" Dany prompted.

"There's a lot," he admitted, surprised by it all. "I've never been in a big city before."

"A little much for a boy who grew up in the wilderness?" She teased. He rolled his eyes, smirking.

"I'll live."

One of the vendors caught his eye and he blinked at a large collection of shell necklaces and bracelets, woven with thin strings he'd never seen before. The shells were white and small; pretty things he'd seen only on the shores he'd camped on when he was traveling to Andalos.

"See something that interests you, boy?" The owner, an older woman with graying-blonde hair, prompted in a bastardized Valyrian. That variation of the language was still somewhat alien to Aegon, but he could piece it together well enough.

"Just looking," he replied, wincing at how it sounded.

Her eyes glittered with amusement and she switched to High Valyrian. "Not from around these parts, are you?"

"No," he admitted, a little relieved she knew the variant he was more familiar with. Dany had stopped with him and was looking at the shells as well, curious of them. He had little doubt she'd seen them before, but Aegon also doubted she was able to walk along the shoreline all that often. Viserys had denied her that much freedom. Illyrio's manse was a beautiful cage in all but name.

"See anything you like?"

"They're all beautiful," she said.

Aegon pursed his lips for a moment, then glanced at the vendor. "Do you accept Westerosi coin?"

She blinked at him in surprise. "I do. My husband travels to and from Westeros to trade our more expensive wares. What do you have?"

He had brought the coin he'd taken from the thieves by the Eyrie along with him. Aegon was a little paranoid about leaving money in Illyrio's manse unguarded.

He felt he was perfectly rational with that decision, thank you very much.

"Not much," he showed her what he had. "Can I buy anything with this?"

She counted the money and then glanced amongst her wares before gesturing to some of the shell bracelets. "These are some of my simpler works, but they are just as well made as the others."

Aegon looked at Dany. "Do you want one?"

Her face lit up. "I would not say no."

He passed the woman the coins and she gave him one of the shell bracelets. Aegon offered it to Dany, who held her right hand up for him to slip it onto her wrist. He did so, trying not to focus too much on the sensation of his fingers on her skin, and let go when it was secure around her.

She held it up, twisting her hand around to study it with a large grin on her face. "It's lovely."

He offered her a slight smile in return, thanked the vendor, and they kept walking.

Later in the afternoon, Dany rode out on horseback with Jon and Jorah to check up on Frostfyre, who was nesting on a hill to the north of the city. She had returned from her hunt, and Jon wanted to see how she was doing.

It took them some time to get to her, but she wasn't as far away as she was when Jon first arrived in Pentos.

They stopped the horses a short distance away and dismounted. Jon handed the reins of his horse to Jorah, then offered a hand to Daenerys. "Would you like to meet her?"

She nodded eagerly and accepted the offered hand. Ser Jorah looked less thrilled with the idea.

"Your Grace, the dragon responded rather aggressively to Viserys yesterday. Do you think this is wise?"

"I will be with her," Jon promised. "No harm shall come to Daenerys. I promised you that already, did I not? I would not bring her here if I thought Frostfyre would threaten her."

The Knight slowly nodded. "As you say, Your Grace."

"I will be fine, Ser Jorah," Dany promised. He managed an uneasy smile, looking past them to the white dragon awaiting the two Targaryens.

Jon guided her to Frostfyre, who had been nibbling at the bones of one of her most recent kills. She looked up when they approached and growled lowly in greeting. The sound traveled straight through Dany, making her shiver. It was deep and powerful.

The dragon shook herself, sending the frills on her neck rippling. Dany watched her with fascination; Frostfyre had never been so animated in their Dragon Dreams.

"How is she?"

Jon lifted his spare hand and the dragon lowered her snout to touch him gently. He stroked her scales and she made a trill, watching them with violet eyes. "She loves the south. It's warm. I think it's much more comfortable for her than the life she lived beyond the Wall."

Frostfyre snorted at them, blasting warm air onto the pair of young teens. The dragon turned her attention from her Rider to Dany, tilting her head slightly.

Dany looked at Jon, who nodded encouragingly. She lifted a hand, holding it briefly for Frostfyre to smell, then slowly laid it upon the dragon's armored hide. Frostfyre's muscles twitched beneath her touch and she made a low sound almost like a purr. The dragon's pupils thinned and dilated as she studied Dany, sensing clearly the magic within her Valyrian blood.

"She's warm," Dany whispered. "I have longed to meet you, Frostfyre."

Jon offered her a sideways smile. His hands shifted from the snout to below the dragon's chin, scratching at the scales there. When next he spoke, his voice was casual.

"Do you want to fly?"

Dany's eyes grew wide. She turned to stare at Jon, then the dragon. "I've never…"

"Neither did I," he admitted. "Until I did."

She looked back into the dragon's amethyst eyes, which gleamed like gems. "Will she let me?"

"She will if I'm with you."

Dany's heart was already starting to pick up. "Show me how to get on?"

Jon grinned, all trouble and excitement. He guided Dany around Frostfyre's head towards her wing. Knowing what her Rider wanted, the dragon crouched low to make it easier for them to mount her.

Jon had to help Dany keep her balance as they scaled the great wing to Frostfyre's back. She was wearing a fine tunic and breeches—more comfortable for long walks and riding—so at least she wasn't trying to climb the dragon in a dress, but it was still new for her. Frostfyre didn't move much beneath them, but she shifted now and again, which made Dany feel like she might lose her balance.

But they made it to the back. Jon helped guide Dany to sit between the frills at the base of Frostfyre's neck, and he sat behind her. He reached around her, and she felt the front of his body press close to her back. The sensation almost knocked the breath out of her. He was warm and solid behind her, and she could barely think as he reached around and guided Dany's hands with his own. Together, they grasped a pair of spines between the frills. Frostfyre shifted beneath them, crouching in preparation to take off.

"Ready?" Jon's mouth was close to her ear, his voice low. The hairs on her neck rose and she only nodded, unable to speak.

"Sōves!"

At Jon's command, the dragon roared and launched herself into the sky. Dany gasped as the powerful body beneath them rose and fell in powerful waves, the wings creating deep claps of wind as Frostfyre climbed.

Jon's hands held her own around Frostfyre's spines, and he pulled them back, encouraging the dragon to climb a little higher. She trilled in response and they gained altitude. Before Dany knew it, they were racing towards Pentos.

Frostfyre tilted slightly to the left and her heart lurched, causing Dany to yelp. Jon tucked his chin over her shoulder and spoke in her ear again, more loudly for the wind whistling past them. "I have you! I won't let you fall!"

The dragon leveled out as they soared over Pentos, and Dany heard screams beneath them. Frostfyre ignored the startled citizens and trumpeted, banking right towards the harbor.

Dany watched, eyes wide, as they passed over the highest sails of the biggest ships. Sailors yelled beneath them in shock and she laughed giddily. It seemed nobody was still quite used to the dragon's presence around their city.

Jon pushed their hands forward and Frostfyre dove as they passed all of the ships. She dove until they were flying so close to the water that Dany sometimes felt the spray kicked up from the dragon's wingbeats against her skin in a fine mist.

"Shall we fly to Westeros?" He asked jokingly. She laughed again and shook her head. "Where then?"

"Higher!"

"Higher it is!"

Frostfyre roared and they pulled on her spines together, encouraging the dragon as one to climb into the sky again. She flew upwards in a spiral, twisting and rising until Pentos was tiny beneath them.

They leveled out just below the clouds and Daenerys had the most ridiculous desire to touch them. As if sensing what she wanted, Jon let go of one of her hands and wrapped his right arm tight around her waist. "Go on!"

Dany let go of the spine and waved her hand through the cloud, feeling surprised when her fingers just passed through it. They were moist and cold, and left a fine layer of dew on her skin. She only touched it for a few seconds, because Frostfyre decided to bank slightly to their left, towards the city. She gasped and quickly returned her hand to the spine. Jon's arm squeezed around her and then rejoined hers to help guide the dragon.

She wished he'd kept it around her.

Jon's lips were suddenly close to her ear again and his voice was filled with mischief. "Hold on tight."

He suddenly pushed their hands forward. Frostfyre tipped her head towards the ground, tucked in her wings, and dropped.

Daenerys screamed.

She watched the ground rush up towards them, faster than she could have possibly believed. Her shoulders started wracking and she half-feared for a moment she was having a fit until it struck her that she was laughing.

They pulled on the spines and Frostfyre's wings snapped back out again, catching the air and slowing their descent. The dragon's back arched, pressing Jon tight against Dany's body as she pulled up, leveling out over the plains to the east of Pentos. Dany was still laughing uncontrollably, eyes teary from the wind blasts, but smiling so much her cheeks hurt.

Jon was laughing as well in her ear, and the dragon let out an eager trill. They wheeled her to the north and west, back to her nest. As they got closer, Dany spotted Jorah with the horses as tiny specks on the ground.

He pulled back on the spines a little and Frostfyre slowed down, wings flapping more heavily as their momentum drained and they descended. When she was ready to land, the dragon quite simply dropped her back feet onto the hillside, then quickly folded her wings up to land on her joints in a pair of sudden impacts. Frostfyre shook herself and loosed a roar once she was back on the ground.

Dany was breathless, her heart was pounding so hard she could feel her pulse through every inch of her skin, and she felt so perfectly shocked. She slowly turned her head towards the dragon's Rider. He was still pressed close to her back, watching her face with a wide grin.

His dark hair was a windswept mess. His face was flushed. The gleam in his eyes was utterly impish.

He looked like a disaster and she thought she might love him.

"You have completely ruined horses for me, Jon Snow."

Jon burst out laughing and Dany decided she never wanted to get off of that dragon.

Dinner was a lavish affair, something which Aegon had expected, but not to this degree.

Apparently, Illyrio had invited many of his merchant colleagues—other Magisters of Pentos—to meet him officially. His arrival yesterday had been rather sudden, after all. Many of them had heard by now that the arranged marriage between Daenerys and Khal Drogo had been annulled, and the new Targaryen overlord had promised to protect them from the raid that was certain to come when the Khal learned he would not get his prize.

All of them had, by now, at least glimpsed Frostfyre flying around Pentos. Any concerns they might have had before were washed away upon seeing the great white dragon. Confident in the dragon's ability to keep the Dothraki at bay, they were more than happy to celebrate the Targaryen's ranks increasing with such a prestigious newcomer.

It meant Aegon had found himself bathed and clothed by the servants so quickly and thoroughly that he was in something of a daze. He kept himself clean—of course he did, he wasn't a savage—but he'd never been so completely…well, scrubbed raw.

He was seated between Viserys and Daenerys, with Illyrio sitting on Viserys' other side to their left. Aegon was clothed in fine robes, as were his aunt and uncle, and of course Illyrio wore absurdly comfortable clothing. Aegon's robes were black and silver. Viserys' were a dark green and gold, and Dany's were black and red.

It was the single most expensive event he'd ever been to and Aegon had no idea what he was doing. Illyrio had stated it was rather simple, though. This dinner was purely for appearances, to ensure all the Masters saw the Targaryens together in a show of unity.

He was sure Viserys would have rather been anywhere but at his side, but Dany was bright and cheerful next to him. She had the chest of dragon eggs open beside her; another symbol of their House. Three eggs for three Targaryens. Illyrio had toyed with the idea of hosting the feast outside the city, near Frostfyre, but Aegon had quickly convinced him that the dragon would not tolerate that many people.

She had been tired the day before from the long flight, and the visitors had been small in number. She would grow irritated of a gathering like this most swiftly.

So they weren't feasting near the dragon, but the eggs were good enough for appearances.

Aegon glanced at Viserys, trying to gauge his uncle's mood. He'd heard from Illyrio that the older man had not left his chambers much throughout the day, instead brooding in solitude after he dismissed the girl he'd bedded the night before from his presence. Said girl was currently seated close to Daenerys, since she was meant to be a handmaiden for the Targaryen Princess. Doreah, he'd learned her name was.

Viserys did not seem to care that the woman he'd taken to his bed was seated just feet away. Aegon really had nothing to say about that; Doreah didn't seemed any more perturbed than Viserys did, at least. In fact, she spoke with Dany rather pleasantly, and he felt good seeing them get along.

It was past time Dany had some people she got along with in this place.

His uncle was stony faced, greeting the Masters quietly and saying little else. When they finally got a break from them, Aegon made an attempt to bring Viserys into the conversation.

"Would you like to fly with Frostfyre and I tomorrow?"

"No."

Fuck, he was sure that would work.

"You took my sister on the dragon today?"

Aegon nodded. "She enjoyed herself greatly."

"I care not," Viserys uttered. He leaned in closer to Aegon to speak under his breath. "You may not say it, but I know you desire her, nephew. I have hungered for her, as well. Is that why you came to Pentos?"

Aegon bristled, but quickly reined in his temper. His voice came out quiet and clipped. "I came here to join the both of you, uncle. We are the last Targaryens in the world, and our family has been apart for too long."

"That may be, but you have hardly brought us together. You have stolen my place and now you try to take my sister for yourself. If she will not go to the Khal, she should go to me—I would have wed her if I sat on the Iron Throne, anyways."

"This coming from the man who bedded another woman last night to vent his frustrations? No, I think not."

Viserys' lips thinned and Aegon scowled. "Never mind. I only wished to speak kindly with you, Viserys. If all you wish to do is spout insults, I will not bother you any longer."

"Wise of you not to wake the dragon."

The words made the boy's anger flare. He twisted his head to stare at Viserys head-on, and though his voice was soft, his words were fierce. "I know you have struck her before. Make no mistake, if you hurt her again, I will cut your hands off. You have been warned."

Viserys visibly colored with anger, but Aegon had had enough. He turned away from his uncle and took a breath, trying to focus on anything but the other male Targaryen. He was trying to be reasonable with Viserys, but the man made it so difficult. Aegon knew that from his uncle's perspective, all of this was obscenely unfair. His arrival had upended Viserys' world.

But he was trying to reach out, trying to at least be kind, and Viserys was spitting on the attempts. Aegon could only do so much before he might as well have been groveling at his uncle's feet, and he would never do that.

Perhaps it was too soon. He'd give Viserys more time and try again in a few days, maybe. Well, if he hadn't left their familial bond in ruins for threatening him should he hurt Dany again.

Aegon sighed. He had to be firm. It wasn't as if he wished to alienate Viserys, but he would never tolerate his family hurting each other.

Seven hells, how did uncle Ned do this? How did he lead a House? It was exhausting and Aegon had only been Head for a single day.

He felt Dany's hand slip into his own and squeeze. He spared her a glance and though she did not look at him, instead continuing to speak to Doreah, he squeezed back and took what comfort he could from her touch.

He would endure this evening, give Viserys more space, and try again in a few days…maybe by then his uncle would be more amicable to at least some casual conversation. Maybe.

He hoped.

Dany had already changed into her night clothes when she made her way to Jon's chambers, closing the door behind her after he called for her to enter.

She spotted him standing by the bed and watched as he looked over his shoulder at her nervously. Her gaze went past him to the huge bed and she couldn't help but laugh. He'd taken several pillows and split the space in the bed fifty-fifty down the middle, ensuring there was plenty of space for both of them and a barrier to ensure her comfort.

"I—erm," he cleared his throat. "I didn't really know what else to do."

"I appreciate your efforts to preserve my chastity," Dany grinned and walked up to her friend, delighting in the way his cheeks turned red. "You look a little flushed, Jon Snow."

"I'm not used to all the warmth yet."

"It is hot down here for a northern boy," she admitted.

He smirked. "Know a lot of northern boys, do you?"

"Just the one," Dany chuckled.

The lightness of the atmosphere only lasted for a few minutes. "So…you spoke with Viserys at dinner?"

Jon's amusement faded and he sighed. "He's…I tried to invite him on a flight with Frostfyre, but he just wanted no part of it. That conversation went downhill pretty much as soon as I started it."

"How so?"

He pursed his lips. "He accused me of trying to steal you away. Now that your engagement to Khal Drogo has been annulled, he wants you for himself."

Dany stiffened. "What did you say?"

"I told him no," he answered. "He's already hurt you; I do not trust him to be a kind husband to you."

Jon seemed to debate something before groaning. "I…also threatened to cut his hands off if he struck you again."

She stared at him in astonishment. "Jon!"

"I'm not going to stand aside and let him take his anger out on you," he said stubbornly. "I told him no and then I warned him of the consequences. I know it doesn't help things with him, but I'm not going to subject you to his…tantrums to get on his good side. We're family; we don't treat each other like that."

Dany sighed. "You honorable fool…"

"Thanks," he snarked.

"I never said it was a bad thing. You're a good man, Jon."

She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. Jon took a breath and hugged her in response. She missed hugs. He knew that.

"No more of this tonight," she told him. "I am weary, and would sleep."

"Aye."

"Sleeping means getting into bed."

"Aye."

"…I don't want to let go."

"Neither do I."

There was a steady silence for several moments before Dany at last pulled away and climbed onto one side of the bed. Jon did the same, settling on the other side of the pillow wall.

As soon as they were settled, Dany promptly dismantled the wall, setting the pillows beneath their heads. Jon stared at her as she scooted closer beneath the sheets and reached out with her hands for him.

Breathing shakily, Jon took her hands and pulled her close. Once she was close enough, Dany pushed him so he lay on his back, staring down at him. Every touch between them felt like lightning through her nerves.

She laid down and curled up beside him. They were both trembling as she took his hand and held it. In the darkness of Jon's room, neither he nor Dany dared to look away from each other until exhaustion took them and they lost their struggle to stay awake.

Notes:

Next chapter gives us the Dothraki. Expect carnage.