Frostfyre

by Xebecs

The ice dragon

9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Braavos

Summary:

Daenerys decides to begin learning swordplay. Castle Black learns about Aegon Targaryen's feats across the Narrow Sea. Jaime and Barristan arrive in Pentos to begin tracking the Targaryen survivors.

The Fair Sea Maiden docks in Braavos, and Daenerys seeks out the only place she has ever called home.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: Braavos

Daenerys watched Jon spar with Ser Jorah and pondered.

They were a mere day from Braavos. The number of ships in the area had greatly increased, but they had yet to be bothered by one of them. She knew the chances of piracy being a risk decreased the closer they got to the city.

Braavos did not tolerate piracy in the slightest. Being home to the Iron Bank meant that thievery was punished heavily. She wondered if the servants who stole their coin after Ser Willem died had justice dealt to them afterwards.

It was hard to believe almost three months had passed since Jon arrived in Pentos to find her. That felt like ages ago. They'd been at sea for two months now.

Jhiqui had confirmed Doreah was with child. The offspring of her brother, Viserys. His seed had taken root in her belly almost as soon as Jon and Frostfyre appeared to them. Gods, he might have even quickened her womb that first night Jon spent at Illyrio's manse.

Targaryen men, Daenerys knew, had few fertility problems compared to the women.

Doreah was keeping the father's identity a secret, as they'd requested of her for the safety of Doreah herself and her unborn babe. If there was still a spy amongst them, reporting to Robert's Small Council, the news would have assassins after the mother to kill the child.

It sickened her, that men were willing to murder a pregnant woman just to ensure they killed off a bloodline they disliked. That was a fate she might one day face, she knew. If she ever conceived a child, Robert's fury would be terrible.

Jon would probably also lose his mind with worry. She wouldn't be surprised if he strapped her to Frostfyre and sent her to the other side of the continent.

Her lips rose briefly at the thought. She was certainly thinking rather far ahead, but she couldn't imagine another man being her husband—being the father of her children. Given what they'd been through together over the years, between the Dragon Dreams and his coming to her rescue…well, was it even possible for there to be a better choice?

Their relation wasn't a problem. An aunt and nephew was a tame match by Targaryen standards, and even the Starks had wed uncle to niece in the past. Jon had made it clear that didn't bother him at all—his eagerness to return her affections attested to that.

Well, she tried to settle the flush on her face as she recalled some of their nighttime escapades. Thoughts for another time.

Jon finished his spar with Jorah, panting in the heat, and backed off. They'd just about tied, but Jorah had won the bout with one strike more than the young Targaryen.

Jorah took a moment to get a drink of water with Jon, then returned to the middle of the deck, bringing two sparring swords with him—one of which had not seen much use. "Princess, are you ready?"

Dany nodded and joined him.

It had been a rising impulse, an urge in her blood as the dragonfire Viserys had nearly snuffed out slowly rose back to life within her. She was free of her shackles. Spreading wings that had atrophied and now longed for the sky that was hers by birthright.

And when she learned Doreah was with child, the dragon in her demanded she do something to contribute to the protection of her friend.

So she had requested Ser Jorah teach her how to fight.

He'd only given her a raised eyebrow, taking in the stern set of her face before he agreed. Whatever he'd seen in her, he wisely did not question it.

Jon outright encouraged it. When she'd brought the idea up to him, it put a gleam in his eyes and a fierce smile on his lips.

He didn't even seem surprised.

Dany had no delusions that it would be easy. She'd never held a weapon in her life, as opposed to Jon and Jorah, who had both wielded blades for years—the latter for decades. But she would not remain a Princess who needed to be saved by the Dragon King whenever trouble found her.

She was a dragon, and she would fight like one.

Jorah handed her a sparring sword and she blinked at how light it was. She frowned at him. "It's not as heavy as I thought it would be."

"It's not meant to be heavy," Jorah admitted. "This one isn't weighted. The ones King Aegon and I use are weighted to mimic real swords. I believe it would be wiser to teach you the moves first before I give you a weapon with weight—that way you won't swing it around as carelessly."

"I can be careful, Ser Jorah."

"I believe you, Princess," he replied patiently. "But this will get your body used to swordplay. We can work on your strength in the meantime, as well, so you will be prepared to use a real weapon when the time comes."

She relaxed then, reassured that she wasn't being coddled. Dany had donned a pair of breeches and a light tunic for her lessons—she certainly had no intentions of fighting in a dress if she could get away with it, that was for sure.

"We'll start with posture," Jorah told her. He stepped to her side and she watched him raptly. He demonstrated a simple fighting stance with his training sword for her, which she attempted to copy.

"Bend your elbows a bit," he coached. "Don't stand so rigidly. You want to be able to move quickly—your build is similar to the King's in that aspect. Both of you are built for speed. You won't be able to overpower most enemies with brute force, as I sometimes do. That might become possible when you grow older, but for now, you want to be flexible and fast enough to dance around your foes."

Dany took a breath, studying his posture and shifting hers to try and match him. Jorah stepped closer to help her move into the proper stance.

Jon watched them with interest, but she was focused on her lessons. She would not let her lover distract her—this was important.

She would fight beside him one day, and he beside her.

"That's it," Jorah praised as she finally got the pose down. "It will come more naturally to you in time. The moves will become ingrained as you learn more."

He stepped away and matched her pose. "Now, we will begin with a slash."

Dany watched, and learned.

Everything hurt.

Dany fell back on the wooden deck when they were done, gasping for breath and sweating like she never had before. Her muscles ached, sore in ways she didn't know they could be.

After her first swordplay lessons, Jorah had inflicted upon her a series of physical exercises to improve her strength and stamina. It didn't take long for Daenerys to realize how far she had to go—she'd never had to exert herself in such a way before.

And while yes, she had definitely asked for this and would not quit now, she still wanted to throw her sparring sword at the old bear…until she felt better.

"Don't sit still," Jon approached and leaned over her, offering his hand. "Walk around for a bit, or keep standing until you get your breath back at least. If you don't let your muscles cool off properly, they'll cramp up. Makes it worse later."

"I'll take your word for it," Dany groaned, accepting his hand and letting Jon pull her to her feet. She gingerly walked around the deck, chest still heaving for air.

He smiled encouragingly. "Give it time. It's always hard at the beginning."

She walked to the edge of the railing and leaned on it, looking out over the sea. Jon joined her, offering her a water-skin to sip from between breaths.

After a few minutes in which she caught her breath and felt distinctly less pained, she flashed a glance at her companion. "Is Frostfyre nearby?"

Both of them were connected to the dragon in a way, but Dany's bond with Frostfyre was tenuous and weak compared to the bond with her Rider. Jon could feel Frostfyre anywhere.

Dany had not felt Frostfyre's presence for more than a week now. The dragon was roaming the Essosi coast, flying a fair distance inland to inspect the territory while they sailed. She had flown around the boat a couple of times in the past months, sometimes diving beneath the waves to fish before taking off again.

But she never stayed for long. Daenerys could sense Frostfyre's restless need to explore these unfamiliar lands. Though she checked on her Rider's voyage now and again, she wished to fly.

Frostfyre would not be denied her freedom, not that Jon had any desire to restrict her.

She watched as he closed his eyes for some time, feeling for his dragon through their bond. "She's…closer than she's been lately, but still a ways off. Somewhere to the southeast. My guess is she's still roaming the mountains."

"It's a good thing right now, is it not?"

"We are trying to be discreet when we get to Braavos. So yes, it's a good thing."

"You miss her."

"She's my sister," Jon murmured simply.

Dany reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers. Both of them were hot and sweaty, but she didn't mind.

"You did not seem surprised when I suggested this," she said after a while. "My learning to fight."

"I'm not," he admitted, grinning at her. "There's a fierce dragon in you, Dany. It suits you."

"Hmm," she hummed. "Well, seeing as we are the only two Targaryens left, we will have to make do with only an Aegon and Visenya, Your Grace. There is no Rhaenys for us."

Jon's eyes gleamed with mischief and he leaned closer, whispering into her ear. His voice sent a thrill along her spine. "Neither of them could match you, Daenerys. You are more beautiful than Rhaenys, and one day you will be as dangerous as Visenya."

"Down, boy," she pushed at his bare chest lightly, cheeks ablaze with color. He grinned at her cheekily, but she knew the compliment was sincere. Her gaze trailed along his face to the thin scar on his left cheek, just below his eye—a reminder of the Dothraki arrow that very nearly killed him.

"So Braavos," Jon said a moment later. "You remember where your house was, right?"

"Once I get into the neighborhood, I know I'll remember it," she agreed. "Viserys and I roamed the streets for years. It was…hard. I remember going to sleep most nights hungry. But I remember the city well. I had to learn it quickly."

Jon squeezed her hand comfortingly. She would never find herself in such a situation again.

"I would like it if we could remain there for a while," she admitted. "But I know we might switch locations a few times. We'll be living on the southwestern islands at first. It's isolated from most of the temples, but it's close to the Sweetwater River. We will need that. The fish market will be close, as well. We will need to purchase a small boat."

"It's a good thing Illyrio and the Magisters made us decently rich," Jon commented thoughtfully. She hummed in agreement. "We should be fine. We won't be staying permanently, but if we can manage to hide there until Doreah gives birth…"

"We have our plans, Aegon. We have talked about this many times now. If things become complicated, we will fall back on our other options."

"I know. Forgive me—I am…still adapting to this lifestyle. Hiding in the north was easy. Everyone was protecting me, or I was beyond the Wall."

She leaned against him, hoping to offer some reassurance. He turned his head to kiss her temple in response.

Not much longer now.

Alliser Thorne dipped his head to the Lord Commander and took the message they'd been sent with him as he left Mormont's office.

Castle Black was its usual, depressing self—colder than hell, dreary, and full of grim-faced veterans. Or delusional, optimistic recruits.

They'd learn quickly. He was already prepared to throw the Tarly boy at Aemon and be done with him. It was painfully obvious the large, young man wasn't going to thrive as a warrior. Thorne had seen the like before.

But he was visiting the Maester for an altogether different purpose at the moment.

He knocked on the old man's door and was called to enter. Thorne did so quickly, trying to avoid getting too much snow in the room.

"How are you, Ser Alliser?" Aemon asked from the seat at his small table.

"Well enough," he answered gruffly, walking over to sit across from the ancient Targaryen. "I have news from the capital regarding your family."

"Jon?"

"Yes," Thorne unfurled the letter they'd received from King's Landing, written by the new Hand—Ned Stark, himself.

"'A Dragon Rider declaring himself as Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, has appeared in Pentos. He has joined his remaining kin, Viserys and Daenerys, and has become the new Head of House Targaryen.'"

"He works fast," Aemon chuckled.

Thorne cracked a slight smirk. On that, he had to agree.

"'Aegon's dragon is large and battle-tested. He took on a horde of Dothraki Blood Riders some ten thousand strong with the beast, and conquered them. This was done to prevent Daenerys Targaryen from being wed to a Dothraki Khal.'"

The Knight muttered a curse under his breath. "That damn boy."

"He must have dreamed of her again," Aemon mused. "She would have told him her plight. It explains why he flew off in such a hurry."

"It was reckless. He's not ready to fight Dothraki."

"His dragon is."

"Suppose I can't dispute that," Thorne admitted grudgingly. "He's an exile now."

Aemon hummed. "What else does the letter say?"

"'The boy is likely to vanish from Pentos soon. He will likely take what is left of House Targaryen with him. Spies suggest the boy is unlikely to mount an attack on Westeros, but are wary Viserys may try to kill him to claim the dragon. Keep alert until further word reaches us.'"

"That will have all of Westeros on-edge, at least until they know his next move," Aemon decided. "Is that all?"

"Yes," Thorne closed the letter back up and sighed. "He's out of our reach. No one else could teach him the way we did. No one has your knowledge of the Targaryens."

"He learned much. Perhaps it was earlier than we would have preferred, but he has grown well."

The Knight nodded slowly. "With any luck, he'll have someone in Essos to teach him more swordplay. He won't slack off, at least. He never has."

"No, he has not."

"But still…of all the things to fly off for…"

"Love is the death of duty, Ser Alliser," Aemon sighed, his blind eyes rising up as he leaned his head back. "What is duty to a woman's love?"

"It could've gotten him killed. It still might. If Viserys does not kill him, there are Robert's assassins and a hundred other ways for him to die in Essos."

"True. But he has done well here in the north, and beyond the Wall. He is a survivor."

"Hmm," Thorne grunted.

"He will be careful now. He knows he must be," Aemon murmured. A smile rose on his lips. "Perhaps we will hear in our next message of them that Jon and Daenerys have married. I would dearly wish to see my House reforged in their image."

"You're as bad as a gossiping maiden," the Knight scoffed, which only made his companion laugh.

"When you get to be as old as I am, you find that you do not much care what people think of you. I have earned the right to dote on the survivors of my House, I think. To wish them the best."

"Well, I suppose I could drink to that. I don't want to hear that the boy is dead, in any case."

"What is this, Ser Alliser? Are you actually fond of him?"

"Bah! Fuck off, old man," Thorne stood up and left the Maester's quarters. Aemon chuckled behind him, and the grizzled Knight did not smirk. He did not.

But he might've had an extra drink in the evening to toast Jon for roasting a horde of Dothraki.

Jaime had stepped off the trader's ship and onto the shores of Essos for the first time in his life just hours ago.

It had taken them slightly less than a month to reach Pentos. He and Ser Barristan no longer dressed as Kingsguard Knights. They both wore dark cloaks, but of thinner material and with clothing better suited for the hotter climate.

The foreign city was already an improvement over King's Landing in his opinion—it didn't stink of shit. Not like the Westerosi capital, anyways.

It was late in the evening, and as agreed, they had helped the trader who sailed them to Pentos unload his cargo. They would spend the night at his home, with his wife, and then set out on their own in the morning.

They sat down with the man and his wife for a modest dinner in their house. It was a simple residence and not large, but homely. Comfortable. A number of seashell necklaces and bracelets, along with other crafts of similar make were kept in some crates.

"So," the woman began, looking from Jaime to Barristan. "My husband tells me you are searching for the Dragon King?"

"That's right, my lady," Barristan nodded. "And the rest of the Targaryens."

"Mm," she hummed. "Well, they've left the city already. About two months ago, I think it was. Perhaps a little less."

"Do you know where they went?"

"I'm afraid not," she admitted. "You could ask a few of the sailors up and down the seaboard. Perhaps one of them would know. The captain of the ship they took is one of our seasonal visitors. I do not know him well."

"We wish to meet them," Jaime told her. "To offer our support, if we can."

"Well, if you do manage to find them, you'll only be meeting two."

He stiffened in his chair. "Why is that?"

"Word is the Beggar King tried to kill the Dragon Rider," she scowled. "After all that boy did to keep Pentos safe from the Dothraki…"

"Did he succeed?"

"No."

He honestly sighed in relief. Jaime didn't want to imagine a man with Viserys' reputation getting his hands on a dragon.

One Aerys Targaryen in his lifetime was too much as it was, thank you very much.

"What happened? In the end?" Prompted the trader, curious of his wife's tale.

"They say the Dragon King held a trial for the Beggar," she went on. "Obviously, he was guilty. The boy beheaded his traitorous family himself."

Jaime blinked in surprise. Normally, a King wouldn't sully his hands doing such a thing. Though, he admitted, it wasn't as if Aegon Targaryen had an executioner at his beck and call.

Hmm. Interesting.

"Have you seen the field in the south, yet?" The woman asked.

"We have not. It was dark when we got here," her husband admitted.

"Go to the walls and take a look in the morning," she insisted. "It's starting to grow back slowly, but the plains are still black from dragonfire and bones litter the fields. The Dragon King was not gentle with the Dothraki screamers."

Jaime intended to do just that, as did Barristan from the look on his face. Both of them needed to see what the dragon could do with their own eyes.

Later, when they'd retired to their rest, Jaime pondered.

He lay on the floor, his head on his pack as he stared at the ceiling. Every day, he wondered if coming here was the right decision. He knew his father and sister back home would be frantic—and furious. They wouldn't realize where he'd gone just yet, but with Barristan gone as well, they'd put two-and-two together quickly enough. His father would, anyways.

But no matter how much he questioned his decision to leave Westeros, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

Jaime just…he needed to see them. Those days in the Red Keep when he served the Mad King had never stopped haunting him. He hoped, perhaps foolishly, that meeting the Targaryen children would…would what? Put his mind at ease? End the horrors in his dreams?

What did he even want?

You know what you want, his thoughts reminded him. You need to know.

He blinked slowly. Sleep was steadily creeping up on him. What nightmares would haunt him tonight?

Darkness, at last. And then—

"YOU'RE HURTING ME!"

"Burn them all!"

"We are sworn to protect her!"

"BURN THEM ALL!"

"Not from him."

"BURN THEM!"

Jon stared at the colossus looming above them.

The Titan of Braavos was a grand wonder of the world he never thought to see in his lifetime. It was an immense construct—four hundred feet high at the head, built out of granite and bronze, and with a leg on two different islands. Its sheer size was beyond his wildest dreams.

Even Frostfyre lacked the presence of this statue. But he doubted it could fly and breathe fire.

Daenerys looked joyous to see the Titan again, and he remembered she'd grown up with the colossus always on the horizon. It was the defender of Braavos, a tribute to the legacy of the people who had build this great city.

"Is it not incredible?" Dany proclaimed.

"I knew it was big, but I never imagined…" Jon trailed off, still stunned.

"Shall I tell you about it?"

"Please do."

She looked right in her element, leaning comfortably on the railing as they approached the stone giant. "The Titan is the guardian of Braavos. It is both a fortress and a lighthouse. As the sky darkens, its eyes become lit with great braziers of flame to guide ships. And when a ship approaches, the Titan roars to warn the Arsenal of Braavos."

"It roars?"

"You'll hear it soon enough," she told him. "Many, many times. To herald sunrise and sunset, and the hours of the day, it roars. There's nothing quite like it."

Sure enough, as they neared the Titan, Jon heard a terrible grinding blast of noise, drowning out every other sound nearby. It was a different kind of bellow to Frostfyre's war cries—the Titan's voice could only be compared to the sound of a shifting mountain.

He wondered how they made that noise.

They passed beneath the Titan, between the immense legs. Jon looked up and realized there were murder holes beneath the armored skirt, guarded by iron bars. He could easily imagine soldiers in those, assaulting any enemy ship that dared to threaten the city.

"Welcome to Braavos," Daenerys told him, grinning widely. Jon matched her, eyes alight with fascination.

Their ship was small enough that it wouldn't need to be searched by the Arsenal of Braavos—nobody wanted to make themselves particularly known in the city. From the Titan, they sailed south along the western edge of the lagoon, towards Ragman's Harbor.

It was the poorest, roughest, and noisiest of the ports. A good place to disguise their arrival.

The plan was to sleep on the ship until they could find more permanent housing. It would be staying in Braavos for at least a week or two so the crew could rest and restock before their next voyage. The captain had told Jon that the Fair Sea Maiden would next be sailing for the Free City of Lorath.

That gave them some time to find a place to stay for the coming months. With any luck, they'd be fortunate enough to do so discreetly.

But for now, they would rest. It was in the latter half of the day—the crew and passengers of the Fair Sea Maiden were eager to set foot onto solid land, get their bearings, and rest.

The next day, Daenerys led Jon and Ser Jorah into the streets of Braavos at first light—as soon as the Titan roared to announce the new day.

Gods, but the city hadn't changed a bit in the years since she'd left with Viserys. It was the closest thing she knew to coming home. She knew every street, every turn of a corner. The faces had changed, but the people were somehow still the same.

She led them south of Ragman's Harbor, towards the largest, southernmost isle that made up the southwest corner of Braavos. Once she was there, it was hard to ignore the way her pulse raced. She both hoped and dreaded what she would find.

Would she even recognize the one place she had called home so long ago? Was it even possible for her to live there again?

Dany saw the familiar shape of certain houses leaning against one another, as was common in Braavos, and knew she'd found the right street. She took a deep breath.

A hand slipped into hers and she turned her head. Jon squeezed gently, watching her with those dark, solemn eyes, and inclined his head towards the street. She swallowed and kept going, tugging him after her.

She slowly led them down that street, counting the houses as she went—not daring to look ahead for fear of what she'd see.

One…Two…Three…

She prayed to every god worshipped in Braavos, for there were many of them.

Four…Five…

…Six.

Dany looked up at the house on her left.

A red door faced her. A lemon tree, looking somewhat wanting for water, still stood tall and proud by the window on the left. The house was a little more weathered than she remembered, but it was here.

She felt her bottom lip quiver as something indescribable formed in her belly. Daenerys blinked away tears and steeled herself. She didn't know if they would live here yet.

Jorah had stepped forward to read a small sign on the side of the house, close to the door. "It is available for rent. The owner lives in one of the northern sections of the city. Is this the one, Princess?"

"If…if the price is within reason," she swallowed. It was hard to say those words. She wanted to just say yes, to tell the Knight to do whatever he needed to get the house.

Jon gently pulled her against his side. "Ser Jorah? Would you be willing to speak with the owner on our behalf? I think the Princess and I should return to the ship for now."

"If that is your wish, Your Grace."

They returned to the ship a while later.

Dany was a bundle of restless nerves, but Jon tugged her to their cabin and sat on the bed. He pulled her into his lap, tucking her smaller frame into him, and held her tight. She buried her face in his shoulder and just breathed.

Seeing the house had twisted her heart painfully. She didn't know how she'd feel about seeing it again, though she had longed for it in the past, but Dany hadn't expected herself to react quite so strongly.

He hummed a song from deep in his throat, something slow and a little melancholy. Dany closed her eyes to focus on it, listening to him above the background din of people outside.

"What song is that?" Dany asked quietly.

"It's about Jenny of Oldstones," he confessed. "The woman for whom Prince Duncan Targaryen threw away the Iron Throne, because he loved her so. She…I think she would have been your great aunt."

Daenerys hadn't known that. "Viserys never told me about her. Or Duncan. He probably didn't think they were important, if Duncan threw away the Iron Throne."

"He would have thought them fools," Jon agreed.

"What happened to them?"

Jon leaned his cheek on the top of her silver head. He was silent for some time before he finally sighed.

"They died."

Dany pursed her lips. "Can you sing?"

"I can," he answered. "Whether or not I am any good is another question entirely."

The corner of her mouth rose in a slight smile. "Could you humor me?"

"Try not to laugh too much."

Jon took a breath, parted his lips, and sang quietly. Jenny of Oldstones filled the cabin with its soft, longing, and melancholy melody, given life with his voice.

He wasn't bad. It surprised her a little—Jon didn't strike her as the type to necessarily be talented at singing. But with some practice, she felt he might become rather good.

The song ended shortly—it wasn't particularly long. Dany didn't open her eyes. "You should sing more. You'd be good if you tried it more."

"Mmm. Maybe when it's just the two of us."

"My personal bard, the Rider of Frostfyre," she smiled when he chuckled in response. "Will you sing another song?"

"Any preferences?"

"Whatever comes to your mind."

He paused for a moment. "Very well."

Some hours passed.

They ate with the sailors of the Fair Sea Maiden who were still on-board, as well as Dany's three handmaidens. Doreah was doing well in the early stages of her pregnancy as far as Irri and Jhiqui could tell. Most of the sickness had faded, though she would undoubtedly do better once she was on solid ground. They intended to find a midwife to check up on her as soon as they could, to ensure she and the babe were healthy.

Jon took Dany onto the deck after a while and helped guide her through some of Jorah's swordplay lessons while the Knight was away. It was a welcome distraction, even though her mind was far and away.

It was just past noon, right after the Titan roared, when Jorah returned.

Dany had just gotten changed into a clean tunic and breeches when she heard a knock on the door. She frowned at first. Jon knew what she was doing in here, as did her handmaidens.

Once she was presentable, she opened the door and stilled. Jon stood with Ser Jorah before her.

She tried not get her hopes up, but she couldn't help it. Neither of the men said anything for several moments and she felt her rare temper rise.

"So?" Dany burst out.

Jorah held up a simple, metal key. She stared at it uncomprehendingly for several moments. The Knight's smile was large, and Jon grinned along with him.

"Are you ready to go home, Princess?"

They sailed the Fair Sea Maiden to the southwest isle early in the afternoon, after finding the captain not long after Jorah returned.

Since they were renting out the place, they had secured a small dock for residents of the city. It certainly shortened the distance needed to travel to the house, which wasn't far from the water to begin with.

The men got to work unloading everything they owned, although Dany insisted on taking the dragon eggs herself. After she unlocked the red door and stepped inside for the first time in nearly eight years, she couldn't help herself.

She carried the chest of dragon eggs to the first room in the north side of the house, next to the lemon tree. Dany took a shaky breath and pushed the door open to the room—to her old room.

It was a little different from what she remembered, but the bed frame was the same. The sparse furniture had been moved around. She'd move it back to how she remembered today, she vowed.

Dany set the chest of dragon eggs on the edge of the bed and walked to the window, opening it up so she could look at the lemon tree. It was dry—she would water it back to life soon. She wanted to see those leaves as green and lush as she remembered, wanted to pluck lemons off the tree like she had when she was a little girl.

She heard quiet footsteps and turned around. Jon stood in the doorway, watching her with a soft smile.

"What is it?" Daenerys asked.

"You just…" Jon shook his head slowly. "You're glowing."

Her lips rose and her cheeks colored. "I am?"

"Aye," he slowly stepped into the room and looked around. With the window open, it was bright and full of sunshine.

Dany left the window and walked to the door, closing it slightly. She ran her fingers along the wood beneath he handle and traced the shapes of animals she'd secretly carved there when she was little.

"It's almost exactly how I remember it," she confessed softly. "Some things had grown fuzzy in my mind, but it's…somehow it's all coming back to me now."

Dany looked away from the door to the bed. She walked back to the window and a bit to the side, where she remembered her sleeping place to have been once before.

"Right here," she whispered. "I had my first Dragon Dreams right here. This is where I dreamt of you and Frostfyre for the first time."

She looked up at him and blinked. When had he approached her?

"You're home, Dany," Jon murmured. His hands rose to cup her cheeks—her eyes were watering, he was becoming blurry.

"I'm home," she cried and laughed, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. Jon held her close, kissed her sweet, and the world was more right than she could ever remember.

Notes:

We'll be skipping a bit of time here and there, as you'd expect for this sort of story. You'll see what I mean.

As ever, please review and thanks for reading!