Chapter 7: The Game Changes
Summary:
The Small Council of King's Landing learn about Aegon Targaryen and the dragon, Frostfyre. Daenerys gets some girl time with her handmaiden, Doreah, and learns a thing or two. Then she teaches Jon a thing or two.
Another Dragon Dream comes, and Jon's identity is thrown into question again.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter Seven: The Game Changes
Hand of the King.
Eddard Stark looked out the window of his new office in King's Landing, eyes trailing over the city as the sun went down. Of all the things Robert could have asked of him, this was probably the last thing he'd expected.
The man who had fostered them both in their boyhood, Jon Arryn, was dead and gone. He couldn't believe it. Robert had ridden up from King's Landing to Winterfell to tell Ned personally, and he would be lying if he said he didn't appreciate that. For all Robert's faults, he was a good man when it mattered.
They had mourned together. Then Robert assigned him as the new Hand of the King, and before Ned knew it, he was parting ways with the north. Robb had Winterfell now—Catelyn would help him lead. His son had learned well, and although he lacked experience, he was sharp of mind.
It was just as well Robb had a chance to learn how to lead during peacetime. Ned remembered being forced to take over as Warden of the North in the aftermath of Robert's Rebellion. With his father and older brother dead, he'd been wholly unprepared for the role. Robb would fair much better than he had, he was sure.
Rickon would also remain in Winterfell—his youngest child was better off there, for he still had much to learn and a lot of growing to do.
Bran was crippled. His little boy. He would live, but he would never climb the walls again. The thought hurt his heart, made him long for home, and they'd only just arrived in King's Landing a few days ago.
Sansa and Arya had come with him to King's Landing, despite his uncertainty. Robert had suggested an engagement between Sansa and his oldest son, Prince Joffrey. They'd be spending time together at the capital to see how well they got along, before Ned committed his daughter to anything permanent.
Arya hadn't been as eager to come to King's Landing as her sister, but Ned had a few ideas to keep his youngest daughter entertained. Well, entertained wasn't the right word. She needed to be trained to use a weapon. Arya was Lyanna come again, and Ned knew she would need to know how to fight when she inevitably got herself into trouble.
The thought made him smile fondly.
His mind trailed to the last member of his family.
He'd heard nothing of Jon—yet. The most Ned had learned of the Targaryens was what he'd already known from Jon's letter before the boy fled Winterfell. Robert had received a raven on their way to King's Landing, informing him that Daenerys Targaryen was to be wed to a powerful Dothraki Khal, likely in exchange for an army.
Robert hadn't been happy, to the surprise of no one. Ned was sure the only time he'd see the man who was once his best friend smile for the dragonspawn would be when one of them met their demise.
But Ned had an uneasy feeling brewing in his gut. The Master of Whispers, Varys, had called for an emergency meeting of the Small Council tomorrow morning. Varys was normally soft-spoken—or so Ned was told—and he never insisted on meetings that were not scheduled as usual. He had even insisted the King be present.
Rumor was that he'd even called Tywin Lannister, who had been serving as a temporary Hand in Robert's absence, back from his ride to Casterly Rock. Ned didn't like that one bit. Tywin was one of the most dangerous men in Westeros, and he hadn't been a part of the Small Council since the days of the Mad King.
He knew there could only be one reason Varys wanted Robert's good-father to be present for this upcoming meeting.
The Small Council chamber was more lavish than Ned preferred, but it was what it was. He took his seat at Robert's right side, who hadn't attended a meeting of the Small Council in years. The King had held little interest in actually ruling the realm, and preferred for his advisors to do the work for him.
Ned's eyes trailed over the others in the chamber. Varys, of course, sat beside him. The Spider, the Master of Whispers, the eunuch. A man of more secrets than Ned could fathom.
A true player of the Game of Thrones. Just for that alone, the Stark Patriarch distrusted him massively.
Across from Ned was the Queen, Cersei Lannister, whom he perhaps trusted even less. Lannisters were never going to be in his good graces. Less so the Lannister currently standing guard outside the chamber—Jaime. The Kingslayer.
Tywin, the Head of House Lannister, sat opposite Robert. On his sides were Petyr Baelish, or Littlefinger as he was sometimes called, and Grand Maester Pycelle. Between Littlefinger and Cersei sat Renly Baratheon, one of Robert's younger brothers.
It was quite the gathering.
Ned was introduced to those who hadn't met him, and he responded tersely, but respectfully nonetheless. No need to make more enemies than he already had in this nest of vipers.
"Good," Robert said once the niceties were done with. He looked at his Spymaster with an expectant expression. "So, what's all the fuss about? There's wine waiting for me in my chambers."
"Of course, Your Grace," Varys dipped his bald head respectfully. When he looked up, he surveyed the gathering of their government. "The Game has changed."
"As it so often does, Lord Varys," Baelish drawled.
"Quite so, but rarely to this degree. My birds have sung quite the song from the east," Varys admitted, causing the Master of Coin to raise a curious eyebrow. His gaze went back to Robert. "You received my message on the Kingsroad, Your Grace, about the wedding between Daenerys Targaryen and the Dothraki Khal, Drogo?"
"I did," Robert nodded.
"Our hunt for the Mad King's family has been focused exclusively on Daenerys and her older brother, Viserys Targaryen, as we believed them to be the last of their House. However, it would seem that we missed one."
I knew it, Ned thought gravely.
The chamber grew quiet. Robert's face tightened. "Missed one."
"Yes, Your Grace. A boy claiming to be Aegon Targaryen, the son of the late Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia Martell, has appeared in Pentos before Daenerys and Viserys."
Ned raised an eyebrow at the specifics of the boy's parentage. Jon was impersonating as his dead brother, who had also been named Aegon. Clever child, no matter how grim the act must be.
"This is nonsense," Cersei waved her hand dismissively. "That babe died."
"You mean he was murdered," Ned scowled fiercely, to the surprise of no one. It was no big secret he had massively disapproved of the slaughter of Rhaegar's family—especially the children, who had been free of sin.
"What difference does it make?" Cersei sneered. "He has long since rotted in the ground."
"I must concur with the Queen, Lord Varys," Pycelle admonished. "I was present when the babe was born, and I saw the body myself. The child is dead."
Robert did not look amused. "I saw what was left of Rhaegar's spawn with my own eyes. Did you call me here to waste my time, Spymaster? The brat is obviously some pretender claiming to be royalty so he can reap the rewards of such a position."
Renly and Baelish said nothing, merely glanced at Tywin. The Head of House Lannister was oddly quiet as he studied Varys, drumming his fingers on the hard wood.
Cersei looked down the table at him. "Father, surely you don't actually believe such an absurd claim?"
Tywin did not so much as glance at his daughter. His sharp gaze remained fixed on Varys. "You would not summon us here to regale us with mere rumors. What makes you so certain the boy is Aegon Targaryen?"
"Because the boy has a fully grown dragon, My Lord."
Silence.
Ned looked at Robert, saw the man go pale, then red in the face. Cersei rolled her eyes in disbelief. Renly had a brow arched, and Pycelle just shook his head.
Tywin only lifted his chin and considered the statement thoughtfully.
"You jest, surely?" Baelish tilted his head at the Spymaster. His eyebrows rose almost to his hairline.
"I do not. All of my birds present in Pentos saw the creature fly over the city multiple times. Our spy, Jorah Mormont, saw the beast with his own eyes, and up close," Varys reported to the rapidly paling council. "He described a dragon of white scales and violet eyes, much like the Targaryens themselves. Though the creature is not as large as Balerion the Black Dread—yet—it is without question fully grown. The boy flew over Pentos to get the attention of Viserys and Daenerys, and was seen climbing from the dragon's back when they caught up to it on the surrounding hillside."
Mormont, Ned thought, scowling even further. He hoped Jon remembered the crimes that man had committed. With any luck, he'd never trust the disgraced Knight.
"This is impossible," Pycelle denounced immediately with a heavy frown. "Dragons have been extinct for a century."
"Evidently not," Varys said dryly. "Viserys attempted to claim the dragon for his own before Aegon showed himself, but the beast rejected him. Aegon told the Beggar King that a dragon only bonds to one Rider at a time. Until he dies, this white dragon will refuse another master."
"He is familiar with his family's strange magic, at least," Tywin admitted.
Robert was already breathing heavily. "Tell me about him."
"According to Mormont, the boy is quiet and solemn, but strong-willed and willing to exercise violence when necessary. He claimed his role as Head of House Targaryen immediately upon his arrival, wresting the title from Viserys, and then proceeded to cancel the marriage planned for Daenerys and Khal Drogo."
Ned felt a quiet thrill of relief on behalf of Daenerys Targaryen. He couldn't imagine how frightened that girl must've been, knowing she would have been wedded to a savage as a whore-bride, before Jon arrived and cut the wedding off. All he could think of was Sansa in Daenerys' position—his daughter would have been horrified were she in such a situation.
Renly whistled lowly. "I imagine the Dothraki didn't appreciate that."
"They did not," Varys pressed his lips. "And their opinions meant nothing, in the end."
"What do you mean?" Ned asked, frowning. He felt a sense of foreboding in the way Varys said those words.
Jon, what have you done?
"The Dothraki Khal, Drogo, was informed of the cancellation of his marriage to Daenerys the day it was meant to take place," Varys said. "They stood him up."
Baelish snorted. "Foolish children."
"You won't think so in a moment," the Spider continued, causing the man to blink curiously. "The enraged Drogo rode upon Pentos with ten thousand Dothraki Blood Riders. Your Grace, I believe you are familiar with a phrase common in Essos regarding the savages, are you not? 'Only a fool would face the Dothraki on an open field'?"
"It's the truth. They're the greatest light cavalry force in the world," Robert affirmed. No one argued with that—Robert had many faults, but he was a talented warlord. He understood war better than perhaps anyone in the room save Tywin Lannister, and even Tywin nodded silently in agreement with the King.
Varys looked around the table again. "Aegon Targaryen ambushed the Dothraki horde astride his dragon, Frostfyre, and burned them fields and all. Casualties numbered in the thousands—all Dothraki. In the end, the savages retreated. The dragon emerged unscathed. Pentos lost not a single man guarding its walls, and Aegon Targaryen walked out of the conflict with only minor wounds."
Ned could scarcely believe it. He had known the dragon was big, was undoubtedly powerful beyond his wildest dreams, but Jon had flown against an army single-handedly and won.
It sounded impossible, yet it was the truth. His nephew hadn't just revealed himself—he had displayed the full force of his dragon to the world. There was no going back now.
The world had just learned how dangerous he was.
"That is ridiculous," Renly protested. "Even with a dragon, surely…"
"No, it is not ridiculous in the slightest," Tywin remarked. "The Dothraki did not expect such a foe, nor are they even remotely prepared to face one of the beasts. Their arrows are simply not enough to pierce the armored hide of a fully grown dragon."
Robert looked like he was on the verge of having a fit. "How did he survive? Where has he been hiding? Where the fuck did he get a dragon?!"
"Ah, that's the interesting part," Varys replied. "According to the child, he was spirited out of King's Landing before Lord Tywin sacked the city. The boy was swapped for another babe, and a small handful of Targaryen Loyalists smuggled him—and presumably the dragon egg—far to the north."
"The north?" Cersei's eyes landed on Ned, burning suspiciously. "You have been lax in your duties as Warden, Lord Stark. Or perhaps you are not as honorable as you claim to be."
Ned bristled. "You think I, of all the people here, would hide a Targaryen and a dragon in my lands?"
"Well, if the shoe fits," she hissed. "You were so against the deaths of Rhaegar's family, after all."
"I have problems concerning the murders of children. Clearly, you do not. Let me remind you, my Queen, what I lost because of Aerys Targaryen and his fucking firstborn," Ned rose to his feet with a vicious snarl, knowing the slight against Rhaegar would only anger Cersei further. It was no small secret the Queen had been infatuated with the Targaryen Prince in her younger days, before Aerys had arranged a wedding with the Martells instead of the Lannisters. "My father. My brother. My sister. All of them dead! Might I ask what you lost?"
Cersei looked ready to spit back a biting retort, but Robert slammed his fist on the table. "Enough! Cersei, you will cease your accusations now! Ned, get yourself together, man!"
Ned sat down, still glaring furiously at the Queen. Robert glared from one to the other before fixing his eyes on Cersei. "The north is by far the largest and emptiest of all the territories in Westeros. Go in deep enough, and it's no stretch to imagine a small group could hide out in the wilderness somewhere."
"I concur," Varys agreed, looking to Ned with a slight nod, and then to Cersei. "As for the dragon—it would seem they went even further to conceal its presence in Westeros. When it got to be too large to hide, the boy flew the beast beyond the Wall. They have resided in that frozen wasteland for the past two years."
"There you have it," Robert waved a hand at Varys whilst looking at Cersei, still frowning deeply.
"Your vaunted Night's Watch couldn't spot such a creature flying over the Wall?" Cersei asked snidely, still unsatisfied.
"The Night's Watch is down to barely a thousand men and can't keep up with all the posts it has manned in the past. I've sent in report after report regarding it's dwindling status and asked King's Landing for help in boosting its ranks. Maybe if you'd bothered to send more than criminals and bastards to help them, the dragon would have been spotted sooner."
She scowled, but Ned's reasoning silenced her final accusation.
Tywin's index finger tapped the table thrice in the following silence. "Regardless of the boy's prior whereabouts, the fact of the matter is that he has emerged now, and he has a fully grown dragon at his beck and call."
The Lannister Patriarch stood abruptly and walked to one of the windows, staring out at King's Landing with his hands folded behind his back. He was quiet for several moments.
"He must be dealt with."
"Is he still in Pentos?" Robert demanded.
"For now," Varys admitted. "Although I find it unlikely he will remain there for long. The child is, reportedly, more intelligent than Viserys. More wary. He will expect us to react to his emergence. But speaking of Viserys, it would seem the boy and his uncle are not on friendly terms. Viserys was extremely displeased to find his position upended by his nephew's sudden appearance."
"With any luck, he'll kill the boy and we'll be left to deal with the more foolish of the two," Robert grunted.
"Is that really what we want?" Ned asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You don't think Viserys will just ride to war if he kills that boy and claims the dragon for himself? He might not be as mad as his father—yet—but a man drunk on power can behave stupidly."
"What does it matter if he does?" Renly asked, frowning.
Surprisingly, it was Tywin Lannister who answered. His voice took on an edge.
"Because dragons have been extinct for over a hundred years! And not a single city in Westeros has been equipped to fight one since," Tywin spun around to regard the council, his expression severe. "If Viserys kills Aegon Targaryen and claims the dragon, he would be foolhardy enough to fly on us to battle immediately. And we are not ready to fight a fully grown dragon. It would burn King's Landing to the ground, as well as any other city he so chooses to strike. We would rather the dragon be in the hands of a boy who is more likely to retreat further east. That gives us more time to prepare for his monster before he sets his eyes on the Iron Throne."
Robert nodded, seeing the reasoning. He stood up slowly from his chair and looked at Varys. Ned saw a spark of the man he'd once been—the warlord.
"Have your birds report to us more frequently from now on. I want to know every damn move that child makes, every place the dragon is seen. If Aegon Targaryen does anything of even the slightest significance, I want to know about it."
"Of course, Your Grace," Varys dipped his head.
Robert's military mind was clearly already working again—shaking off the rust from years of disuse. His gaze suddenly shot back to the Master of Whispers. "What about the girl? She's not wedding the Dothraki barbarian anymore. What's become of her?"
"Nothing certain as of yet," Varys answered slowly. "But Mormont has stated that Aegon and Daenerys have grown…rather close in a short amount of time."
Dammit, Ned fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut when he heard that. He knew Jon and Daenerys were very close because of their shared Dragon Dreams. Whenever Jon talked about her…Ned remembered what it was like to be young and in love. Seeing each other in person at last—well, they were teenagers. Was he really surprised their restraint was lacking?
Robert's nostrils flared. "I want the Dragon Rider dead before he impregnates that girl. Whatever you have to offer your assassins, offer it. Gold, lands, titles, I don't give a damn what they want. If they bring me Aegon Targaryen's head, they'll get it!"
Ned pursed his lips. Robert was on the warpath now. He had to be careful, and pray that Jon could stay one step ahead of the King's hunters.
Dany stretched her arms over her head in the sea breeze, squinting against the morning sun off their port side.
They'd been at sea for about a moon now, making a few short stops at small ports here and there. In a few weeks, they'd arrive at Braavos. Her lips rose up slightly at the thought.
They didn't know for certain where they'd be staying in the Free City, but she hoped beyond hope they'd find her old house with the red door and the lemon tree. If she could see it again, live in those walls even for a little while longer…
She heard the sounds of sparring swords whacking against each other again and glanced over her shoulder.
Jon and Ser Jorah were sparring on the deck behind her. It was one of the few places on the ship with enough open space for the activity, such that they wouldn't get in the way of the crew. Though Jorah wore a thin tunic, Jon was bare chested. The humidity and warmth of the Narrow Sea had proven to be more than he could bear when it came to physical exertion. The seasons hadn't started to cool just yet, after all.
Jon ducked under Jorah's last swing and thrust his weapon past the Knight's guard, driving the tip of the sparring blade into Jorah's belly. "Dead."
"Well done, Your Grace," Jorah praised, backing off so they could prepare for another bout. Jon's skill had been improving. Although he still lost often to the Knight, due to Ser Jorah's greater strength and experience, he was learning fast. Their matches weren't nearly as lopsided as they'd been when they started sparring.
Doreah appeared from belowdecks with a cup in-hand. She spotted Daenerys and walked over to her, carefully working her way around the pair of sparring men.
"Tea, Princess?"
"Thank you, Doreah," Dany smiled at her. "I appreciate it."
"It is no trouble," the handmaiden assured her. She looked over at Jon and Jorah. "Have they even eaten yet?"
"No, they have not," she admitted.
"Well," Doreah shot Dany a sly look. "At least the view is nice."
Dany felt her cheeks warm up. She sipped at her tea. "I have found little reason to complain."
Doreah grinned and Dany offered her a slight smirk in return. It was wonderful to have another woman to talk to. Viserys had denied her any truly close companionship with the servants before Jon arrived. He didn't think she should waste her time with them.
Things were different now.
"If you are interested, Princess," Doreah said suddenly. "I would like to talk to you in confidence. A chat between girls, if you like."
Dany tilted her head and only considered the idea for a few moments before nodding. She so rarely had the chance to do so before. "Of course. My quarters?"
"If that so pleases you," the handmaiden winked. Dany smiled at her conspiratorially and the two young women retreated back belowdecks, leaving Jon and Ser Jorah to their spars.
Dany's quarters were actually her and Jon's quarters—much like with Master Illyrio's manse, she preferred to stay with him. It was true insofar that they changed in separate rooms, but it was a delight to spend so much time together. Most nights were as they always were; talking for hours, catching up on all the things they'd never been able to speak of in their Dragon Dreams before sleep finally found them.
Those were wonderful nights.
Dany let Doreah in and the handmaiden looked around, smiling at the small, but comfortable bed. "I suppose you and the King wind up rather close to each other in the night, hmm?"
Dany's pale face reddened again. "We…well, yes. But we don't…you know."
"Oh, I know," Doreah's giggle caught her by surprise. "I know the sailors and other servants talk, but I grew up in Lys as a pleasure girl for a pillow house. I know an innocent maiden when I see one."
The Targaryen Princess pursed her lips. Doreah had been a bedslave before arriving in Pentos. Illyrio and Viserys had bought her to serve as Dany's handmaiden, although Dany had freed her immediately when she found out the older girl had been a slave. But Doreah was content to stay with them, as were the other two freed slaves chosen to wait on Dany—Irri and Jhiqui.
Doreah sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside her, encouraging Dany to sit. She did so, watching the other girl as Doreah studied her curiously.
"I don't know if they ever told you why Viserys and Illyrio bought me for you, did they?"
Dany shook her head. The blonde woman grinned mischievously. "I was to teach you in the womanly arts of love."
The blush came back full-force and Dany cleared her throat awkwardly. "W-well…you don't need to do that now, Doreah."
"Perhaps not. But would you like me to?"
Dany snapped her gaze onto the other girl, eyes wide. "I'm sorry?"
"You might think you're good at hiding it, but you and the Dragon King are star-crossed lovers if ever I've seen them," Doreah teased. "I think the only ones who haven't noticed the way you look at each other are the two of you yourselves."
The handmaiden clasped her hands together. "But I can also tell the two of you haven't done much, if anything at all."
"…No, we haven't."
"Would I be overstepping my bounds if I asked why?"
Dany struggled with the prospect of actually answering that. She had never had another woman to confide in, and well…she wanted to. It was personal, yes, but…
Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke. "I'm…Jon and I are still getting to know each other, if that makes sense."
Doreah frowned. "Jon?"
Dany froze. Shit.
Her mouth opened and closed, and at last she covered her face in her hands. "I didn't mean to say that. Right, um. I need you to keep a secret."
"Of course."
Dany looked at Doreah, her voice dropping to a low murmur. "Jon is the name Aegon used when he was living in Westeros. He grew up with it—to better hide himself in case someone found him. It's the name he's most familiar with right now, and…I'm just more used to calling him by it in private."
"Ah," Doreah inclined her head in understanding. "Gods, whoever hid him really stopped at nothing to make sure he wasn't found, didn't they?"
"They wanted to keep him safe," she answered simply.
"I won't share his secret," Doreah promised again. "I give you my word."
Dany relaxed slightly. "Thank you, Doreah."
"Now," the handmaiden's voice became tinged with trouble again. "You and Jon are 'getting to know each other', as you said. How so?"
"We stay up together. We talk," Dany couldn't hide a shy smile. "Usually, our hands find themselves entwined in the night."
"Gods, Princess," Doreah giggled. "The two of you might as well be childhood sweethearts."
She's not far off the mark, Dany thought to herself. She and Jon had dreamt of each other since they were very small. In a way, they were childhood sweethearts.
"It does feel like we've known each other for forever," she said at last, working around the truth of their Valyrian magic.
"Do you desire more with him?"
Dany bit her lip. "I…yes."
"He clearly desires more with you."
"How can you tell?"
"Oh, Princess," Doreah's eyes gleamed. "He looks at you as if he were a starving wolf. Men are easy to read once you know the signs. He is young, eager, and utterly smitten with you. I can't say I particularly blame him, either."
Dany blushed. Gods, at this rate, her skin was going to become red forever.
"Is there a reason the two of you haven't sought out more?"
"Jon doesn't wish to dishonor me by…well, doing that before…"
Doreah's eyebrows rose high. "I see. He's one of those boys, is he?"
"What do you mean?"
"He's honorable to the point of madness. I suppose that makes sense. I wondered how on earth he exercised the restraint to not bed you when you are so close to him all the time."
Dany frowned deeply.
"Jon wouldn't—"
"I don't mean to say he'd take you against your will," Doreah stopped her gently, smiling at the younger girl. "I may not know him as well as you do, but I know he is kind. The Dothraki take women like a hound takes a bitch. Your Dragon King—he's a different sort of man."
"He's not mine."
"When you see how he looks at you, Princess, you will realize he was always yours," the handmaiden murmured.
Dany pursed her lips. She had to admit, she was curious. She wanted to know what Doreah saw that she'd clearly missed. "How should I…well, make him look at me, I suppose?"
"You could just be your beautiful self. But if you mean to try something a bit more…intense, I can think of plenty of ways."
"I do not think we are ready to do that. We've only kissed once as it is."
"Gods, you're even more innocent than I thought. But that wasn't what I was suggesting, Princess. Learning each other is more than just talking. It's physical, as well. Even if you don't go all the way, there are many ways you can learn one another. It would be good for both of you."
Dany tilted her head. "What sorts of ways?"
"First lesson," Doreah smirked, suddenly taking Dany by the shoulders and pushing her back onto the bed. The younger girl gasped, staring up at her handmaiden as Doreah shifted and straddled Daenerys, settling her weight on her lap. "Love starts at the eyes."
"The…the eyes?"
"Mmhm. You must always look in his eyes," Doreah slowly reached over to take both of Dany's hands, lazily intertwining their fingers. "It is said that Irogenia of Lys could finish a man with only her eyes."
"Finish a man?"
Doreah's eyebrows waggled suggestively. When it clicked, Dany felt like she blushed down to her toes. "O-oh! Um, it's definitely too early to talk about that. Jon and I have barely…"
"I know. But you'd be amazed how much the little things matter when you are together. It will make more sense over time," Doreah guided Dany's hands to her waist, showing her how to hold on as her hips rotated in lazy gyrations. "Even if the two of you decide to take things slow…even if you choose not to bed one another until you marry…there is more to romance than just kisses and sex."
Dany swallowed heavily. She was undeniably curious. The dragon inside of her was growling—a flame that had become more and more stoked as her freedoms became more pronounced.
Viserys had nearly suffocated her flames into nothingness. Jon had breathed life back into them. Now they were hot in her belly, and Daenerys wanted.
Feeling inexplicably energized, Dany lunged upwards, twisting Doreah and pinning her where the Targaryen girl had lain only moments before. Her handmaiden's eyes grew wide with surprise, but she grinned. "I knew there was a dragon in you somewhere, Princess!"
"I want to know more," she said quietly. Almost demanded. Fire burned in her eyes.
"Then I shall teach you as much—or as little—as you so wish," Doreah promised.
Another day at sea was behind them, Jon thought absently as he dried himself off from the quick wash he'd taken. He felt pleasantly tired—sparring with Jorah and helping around the ship where he could often left him so, but he'd struggle through another hour to talk with Dany more.
She'd been conspicuously absent for much of today. She and Doreah had gone off somewhere—probably their shared quarters—for some privacy. Jon didn't mind that at all. He remembered how he, Robb, and Theon would pull away from Sansa and Arya in Winterfell to talk amongst themselves, as boys often did.
Well, until Arya snuck up on them and scared the daylights out of the boys.
A fond smile pulled at his lips at the thought of his cousin. He wondered if she'd grown any while he'd been away. Sure, it hadn't been that long, but still…
Jon slipped into his clothes for the night and made his way to his quarters. Ever courteous of his friend's privacy, he knocked on the door first. "Dany?"
"Come in," she called back.
He stepped inside and spotted Dany sitting on the edge of the bed. She had the lantern, attached to the side of the ship's interior, burning for light. The sun had just set, and the darkness had quickly closed in on them.
Jon cracked a smile at her. She was also dressed for bed already, donning one of her comfortable nightgowns. "Hey."
"Hey," she returned, lips curved upwards.
"Did you have a good day? Barely saw you out there."
"I had some girl time with Doreah," she confessed. "It was fun."
"I'm happy for you," he made his way to the bed and sat down next to her. Jon rubbed at his eyes, feeling sleep starting to cling onto him more tightly…
Suddenly, he was on his back, hands pinned beside his head, and Daenerys was staring down at him. The sleep left his body immediately.
His lips parted, but he was too startled to speak. She threaded their fingers together, never looking away from his eyes, and squeezed his hands tightly as she leaned over him.
"Tell me if I should stop," she breathed. Her violet eyes had their own fire, regardless of the flickering, yellow flame close by.
Jon could only watch, speechless and stunned and impossibly spellbound by the sight of her. Dany's hair fell forward, creating a silver-white curtain around them as her nose brushed his, then her top lip, and then she was kissing him lightly. His hands squeezed hers. Her weight atop him shifted and he gasped.
Sleep had been eradicated from his mind. His blood was on fire. The wolf and dragon both lodged deep in his soul purred as one.
She pulled back and his breath left him in a shaky exhale. His eyes were still wide and shocked. Dany watched his reaction—fiery and hungry, but he saw the anxiety there, too. The uncertainty. She wasn't sure if she'd been right to act in such a way with him.
A small part of him wanted to know where this had come from.
A much larger part didn't give the slightest of fucks. There was only Dany.
Jon pushed her hands back with his own, untangling their fingers, and wrapped his arms around her waist as he sat up. He slotted his mouth against hers and she reacted by dragging her fingers into his dark curls, scratching and pulling in ways that made shivers rush up and down his spine. Jon squeezed at her hips, fisting her gown.
It was a mess—their teeth scratched against each other more than once, causing them to hiss, but neither of them cared. Before long, they figured out what they were supposed to be doing. They slowed somewhat, but the fire still burned hot.
Dany's hips rolled atop him and Jon gasped into her mouth. Their tongues met—tentative at first, but the heat grew and they shifted to make the contact easier for them. It was unfamiliar and impossibly warm. Air ceased to matter to them.
Blood was rushing south and when Dany twisted her hips in a circle, Jon bucked into her motion. The friction was like lightning—she made a low keen in her throat that had him pulling her flush against his body. He felt her small breasts against his chest and their heartbeats were so powerful, they thrummed along every inch of his skin.
They pulled apart, gasping and flushed and wanting, wanting, wanting…
Jon almost moved in again, but Dany held a finger to his lips, still parted to breathe. He hesitated. Did he do something wrong?
"I know you don't want to go too far," she whispered, her breath ragged. Her eyes still had not left his, and he was riveted by those gorgeous violets. "We won't, if that is what you want."
"What do you want?" Jon asked, ever-giving.
"You," Dany swallowed. Her fingers were digging into his shirt, pulling at it unconsciously. "Us."
He pressed his forehead to hers, staring back into her eyes. Their noses brushed. He could taste her lips.
He scarcely wanted to breathe.
"Not all the way," he whispered. "Not tonight. But—more?"
"More," she agreed. Jon slid past her lips, kissing her cheek, the corner of her jaw—her skin was soft and so sweet. His mouth found her neck and he dragged a throaty sound from her parted lips that made him so fucking hard. She pulled at his hair and he trailed his lips down to her collarbone before she forced him to come back up for another kiss. Her hips rolled into his and Jon's eyes fluttered shut.
The ship carried them through the night and its long, restless hours.
At some point, the young lovers managed to find sleep—after they had exhausted each other for breathlessness, bruised their lips, and left more than a few bites and scratches to remember the night by.
Dragons were passionate creatures. The marks were going to be just fun to explain to their traveling companions.
But for now, they stood in the Tower of Joy again.
The eggs were still in the fireplace as they'd left them from their last Dragon Dream. Frostfyre's tiny shape was curled up by the flames. She looked up at them briefly before returning to her rest.
Dany followed Jon's eyes to the bed in the middle of the room. The lighting was dark—it must have been nighttime, but there were a few candles lighting the space.
Lyanna Stark was curled into Rhaegar Targaryen's side, dozing as he placed soft kisses on the top of her head. Both were covered by the bedsheets, and Dany was happy about that.
She was pretty sure they were not wearing anything beneath those furs, and she did not want to get an eyeful of her dead brother—Dragon Dream or not.
Lyanna's eyes were closed, but she spoke first. "I think it'll be a boy."
"It's a girl," Rhaegar argued softly.
"How are you so sure?"
"I have a son already," he told her. "An Aegon. I have a daughter, Rhaenys. That leaves—"
"Rhaegar Targaryen, do you mean to tell me you assume I will bear only one child for you throughout our marriage?" Lyanna cracked open an eye and half-glared up at him, though her lips were curved up into a smirk.
He pursed his lips. "The dragon has three heads…"
"Perhaps it should have five."
Rhaegar snorted and grinned. Gods, her brother looked absurdly happy. He'd been so somber the last time Dany had seen him, but when he smiled, he was a completely different person. "Perhaps."
Lyanna laughed and leaned up to kiss her husband. She then nestled her nose into his neck. "I'm sure it'll be a boy. If I'm wrong, and it is a girl, I'll entertain your delusions of grandeur and name her Visenya, since you're so eager to have your 'three dragons' as it were."
"Hmm," Rhaegar hummed. His head fell back on the pillow as he looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "If you're right…if it is a boy, what would you name him?"
"Jaehaerys," she murmured.
Dany heard Jon's breath catch and she looked over at him. His eyes were wide, his expression unfathomable. She reached over to take his hand, and he squeezed tight. She watched him swallow.
"Jaehaerys," his father repeated, and Rhaegar's eyes closed as he leaned his cheek against the top of Lyanna's head. "You said the dragon should have five heads. Who would be our last?"
Lyanna made a quiet sound. "We can talk about our last when my womb has quickened with our first."
"You have so little faith in me?" He sounded amused. Dany blushed furiously.
Lyanna bit his neck and Rhaegar yelped. The she-wolf was grinning. "The night is still young, O' Dragon Prince. You have plenty more chances to prove yourself."
The dream ended.
Dany came to, curled up into Jon's side much how Lyanna had been curled into Rhaegar's. She felt him wake and propped herself up on one arm to look down on him. Jon's eyes found her, and his expression said it all.
Lyanna had wanted to name him Jaehaerys. Why had she named him Aegon?
Notes:
Sloooowly making our way through the soft fluff towards the steamier stuff. When we get to Braavos...
As ever, please review and thanks for reading!