295 AC - Skies Above the Royal Capital

Crown Princess Elaeyls's POV

I could feel my dragon's worry as we flew up. Flying with Reka was usually fun. My dragon would throw fire into the air, skim the waters below, and call out to the ships they passed. Now, my dragon was quiet and flying flat. The tension in her muscles looked painful to my human eyes. Something had scared Reka, and not much could. At 418 years old, Reka had seen and fought much over her life. Little could scare her, so whatever this is must be dangerous.

The skies were clear, which I was somewhat thankful for, as I looked around for whatever could be setting my dragon off. Still, I felt like it was the calm before the storm or that we were caught in the eye of a hurricane and didn't know it. At any moment, things could go badly.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been up for when I finally saw it in the distance.

To an untrained eye, it would look like a bird, but I knew what it was. It was a dragon and it was flying towards me fast. It was dark, likely black, with bright eyes. The dragon must have spotted Reka because it let out a mighty roar that could put any of my family's dragons to shame.

Reka slows as the dragon nears, rearing up and putting her large chest between the mystery dragon and me. She lets out a growl that vibrates my bones. Reka had always been overprotective. Usually, it annoyed me a little, but right now I was thankful for it.

The black dragon comes to a stop in front of us but doesn't rear up like Reka. I notice the two beings on its back. The first is easy to see, as it was as white as snow. Why a dog was on a dragon, however, was a mystery. The second being was a boy, dressed in all black, with three swords strapped to his back and a small knapsack.

"Corras!" The boy's fear is evident in his voice and he seemed a little unsure of himself on the dragon. Perhaps he'd never ridden before now?

The two dragons stare at each other, neither starting a fight nor yelling. A good old stand-off.

I use that time to look at the boy more closely. I couldn't see him perfectly, but he didn't look obviously Valyrian. No silver hair, though his eyes could be purple.

"Are you a Targaryen?" I scream at the boy.

"What?"

I try not to laugh, laying a hand on the back of Reka's neck. I could see why the dragons were scared. The other dragon, Corras, was larger than Reka, who was our eldest dragon. It had to be at least 400 years old, closer to 450 years. And yet, I couldn't think of a single dragon outside of our home that could be that old.

Reka lets out a whine but shifts to a more flat position so I could see the three beings more clearly. "I said, are you a Targaryen?"

The boy's face goes through a whirlwind of emotions, before settling on anger. "Probably."

I blink. "What?"

"I likely am a Targaryen, because nothing else makes sense!" The exasperation was strong. " Well, I could be a Blackfyre. Or I could be from some long-lost Velaryon line. Who knows?"

"Are you alright?"

"No, I'm not. I'm riding a fucking dragon."

"No shit."

I couldn't see his face clearly, but I knew there was a look of annoyance on it. "I'm riding a dragon that should be dead-" The dragon lets out a snort at that statement. "Oh come on, you're almost 450 years old. Balaerion was over 200 and Vhagar just barely. You should be dead, regardless, everyone knows dragons are dead, except I'm riding one and so are you, which I have some questions about."

I nod. "This is Reka. She's a dragon."

"I noticed."

"Anything else pissing you off?" That statement of mine opened a floodgate.

"I've also been sent away from my home and I can't go back. Apparently, I'm fireproof. Oh, and a really old guy thinks I'm his great-something nephew. So, I'm probably Rhaegar Targaryen's kid with my Aunt Lyanna, who is evidently, not my aunt. Which means I'm the result of an affair that threw a realm into civil war. All because my Grandfather is a fucking madman and my Uncle Viserys was a psychopath in the making at 7 years old. I've spent my entire life believing I was my Uncle's bastard, his only mark of shame. Apparently, I'm not."

"I can see why that would upset someone." Even as disconnected from the rest of the world, we knew about Robert's Rebellion. "How'd you find out?"

He gestured at the dragon he was riding. "Ghost dragged out to the woods and I meet her."

"What's a Ghost have to do with anything?"

He gestures to the white dog next to him. "This is Ghost."

"Oh, your pet dog."

"It's a direwolf."

"I see. I have even more questions."

"I still have some questions, too."

"Do you want to land? All this yelling is starting to hurt my throat."

The boy is quiet for a minute. "Sure, why not? Lead the way."

I pat Reka again, who is completely unhappy with my plan, but she still took off toward home. The boy, his direwolf, and his dragon followed.

"So, let me see if I understand this correctly. You think you're Lyanna Stark's and Rhaegar Targaryen's son but were raised as Eddard Stark's bastard. You were raised as Jon Snow, but your great-something uncle Aemon, who banished himself to a frozen hell, says your name is Jaehaerys Targaryen and that your parents were married. You can't confirm this because the Uncle who does know is in King's Landing with the man that killed your blood father and laughed at your dead families' bodies. The other Uncle is somewhere beyond the wall and might not even have the answers you want. You left Westeros on a dragon, that's supposedly Cannibal the wild dragon, and with an albino direwolf rather than forcibly join a celibate group of mostly criminal men who all dress in black and live in a frozen hell. Does that sound right?"

The boy, Jon, hums for a moment. "Pretty much."

"Huh. I'll admit, this is not how I thought my day would go."

"Me neither."

"Elaeyls!" My grandmother comes running down the hill towards us, her guards in tow. Mine were just behind hers.

"Hi, Grandmother." I gesture to Jon. "This is Jon or Jaehaerys, he isn't sure."

Grandmother stops a few yards from me. "What?"

Jon does a small bow. "Your Grace."

I shake my head at Jon. "No, she's an Empress. It's either Empress, Imperial Highness, or Your Majesty. Same for a consort King or Queen. Everyone else is Your Grace or Your Majesty."

"Oh, sorry."

"Don't be. Anyways-" I turn back to Grandmother whose face is torn between a look of exasperation and annoyance. "Grandmother, this is Jon. He's from Westeros, we think he's Rhaegar Targaryen's son with Lyanna Stark. There's only one person for sure who knows and he's in King's Landing, but Great-Uncle Aemon thinks he is. Besides, the Starks don't have dragons."

"Great-Uncle Aemon?"

"He lives at the Night's Watch, no one remembers he's even there. There's a whole reason why he's at the wall, but that doesn't matter. Jon's from the North, you know the frozen snowy place with all the Weirwood trees and the people with common sense." I shrug. "Oh," I gesture up at Jon's Dragon. "This is Corras, though she was once called Cannibal. And this-" I gesture to Ghost. "Is Ghost, he's a direwolf. They get as big as a horse."

"I see. Why is Jon here instead of in Westeros?"

"His dad, or Uncle, sent him to the Night's Watch. He doesn't want to stay. Besides, I don't think Corras would fit in at the wall."

Grandmother turns to Jon. "What did you do?"

Jon frowns. "Be born."

Grandmother sighs and closes her eyes. "Elaeyls." Definitely annoyance in her voice now.

"I was raised as Eddard Stark's bastard son." Jon shifts his feet nervously.

Grandmother's lips turn down even more. "I don't understand."

"So, Jon Arryn died which made Robert Baratheon come to the North and drag Eddard Stark, his supposed father, down to King's Landing." I stop and click my tongue. "We should update the Conclave and Council about this."

"Explanation first Granddaughter."

"Right, so Eddard Stark leaves and Catelyn Tully, his wife, says that she won't let Jon stay at Winterfell anymore." Ghost's teeth pull back at the name Catelyn. "Eddard doesn't make fostering plans or argue with his wife, he tells Jon that he should join the Watch because it's honorable. So, Jon, with no other choice, left for the Watch. He met his dragon, talked to the great-uncle, and flew off and ran into us."

"For the record, I did not know this was here. I was just exploring. I didn't feel like going to Essos and Westeros is not an option."

Grandmother lets out a long sigh. "Child, you make me feel so old. I assume you brought Jon or Jaehaerys here for a reason."

I nod. "Yes. Well, sort of. The original purpose was to land so we could talk without having to yell. Now though, I figure he could stay with us. He knows nothing about his Valyrian heritage, it's a tragedy we must correct. I am personally offended by his lack of knowledge."

"Tragedy?" Jon sounded offended.

I nodded fervently. "Yes, a tragedy."

"I see." Grandmother had switched to exhausted now.

"I'm going to bring Jae up to show him his room."

"Greenhill House, Elaeyls." Grandmother wasn't arguing, that was nice.

"Jae?"

"Short for Jaehaerys. And I know Grandmother." I loop my arm through his. "Come on Ghost. Corras can stay here if she wants. We have a few acres of land sectioned out for the dragons, but she can stay for now if she wants to keep an eye on you."

"I don't think she's ready for long-distance separation yet. Do I get a say in any of this?"

"No."

"It's best just to follow her." Grandmother watches Ghost with curious eyes. "She's very persuasive when she wants to be. Besides, your wolf is already halfway there."

"Right."

I tug on his arm. "Come on. You need a bath before dinner, you reek."

"I'm sorry," Jae's voice is full of sarcasm. "It's hard to bathe on a dragon."

"That's what rivers and lakes are for."

"We were over the ocean!"

"Exactly, a very large lake just with some salt. You could have bathed in that."

"And how should I have gotten back on the dragon after bathing in the ocean?"

"Climb her tail."

"Are you serious?"

"May the Gods help us." Grandmother sighs. "Are you two going to bicker like an old married couple all day?"

I grin back at her. "And Night. Now, you really do need to bathe. Does Ghost like baths? I can give him one. He can smell like honeysuckle and lavender afterward and I'll braid his fur with ribbons."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"That might make hunting difficult."

"Maybe I'll braid in some beads. Or flowers! Oh, he'll look so cute!"

"You know, he's my wolf."

"Not anymore."