Hello all. As I said, I had written enough for two chapters, so here is the latest one.

Enjoy.

As the sun sets, Areon lays in his bed with Drogon lying on his chest, seeing the sunlight from the window dimming as the lit candle takes root for the room. He didn't know what to do. Right now, the people of Qarth want him gone. They want his people out of the city, back to the desert. He could ask Xaro for food and provisions, but that only solves the short term. Where are they going to go? Where will they stay? What was he going to do?

Suddenly, a faint voice was heard, "Trust your distant kin."

Areon looked around to see what that voice was, but no one was there. Who said that? He couldn't tell who, but the voice sounded familiar like Quaithe. He then remembers what she said about his distant kin—the Longwaters. According to Jerika, they are descendants of a Targaryen princess, and Hellen Baratheon is also a cousin to him. But how can he trust them? He trusted Ser Jorah and looked at what happened. He doesn't know who to trust or what to do.

Areon gets up from bed and looks out of the balcony to see the city that once brought him shelter. Then, a knock on the door is heard. Areon bids them to come, revealing that it is none other than Jerika Longwaters.

Areon sighs, "What do you want?"

"I just want to talk," Jerika walks up slowly to him. Once she stood next to him, she looked out to the city with a sigh, "The city is so beautiful at this time of day. Where one cannot see the rotten that lies underneath."

"Xaro warned me about it," Areon tells her, "I wasn't sure if I listened."

Jerika looks at him and sees that he is not taking his eyes off the view. She says, "I can give you three ships with a crew and enough provisions for any journey you require."

Surprised, Areon then turns quickly to her, "Why?"

Jerika looks at him seriously. "Because you need as many allies as you can get, especially now with so many people wanting you dead."

"I have dragons with me," Areon reminds her.

However, Jerika challenges, "Baby dragons. Yes, they will grow, but not for some time. They are still small if the rumors are true. And they can send men to kill them and you in their sleep. Besides, it's not just in Qarth you need to worry about, but the world outside of it. This is a trading city, meaning merchants and traders from around the world come here. And they have heard of your dragons and witnessed their destructive power."

"Destructive power," Areon asks.

"Destroying the House of the Undying," Jerika reminds him.

Areon sighs with frustration, "They attacked me."

"I believe you," Jerika tells him, gaining his attention, "But not everyone will see it that way. As I said, this was a trading city, and the people came from all over the world. After seeing what they saw, they would take their tales wherever their ships led them. Soon, you and your dragons will be known throughout the world. You will make enemies who want those dragons and you."

"Like you," Areon challenges, "For your bid of the crown."

Jerika stayed quiet momentarily and then continued, "If that was the case, then why did we reach out to you long before the dragons ever hatched."

"How long have you been having your eyes on us," Areon asked.

"Since Pentos," Jerika answers.

"Why you picked me and not my brother," Areon asked again.

Jerika says, "Because we saw him being cruel, malice, and weak, he was not fit to be King."

"No, he wasn't," Areon concurs, "But you knew how he treated my sister and me. You knew he sold her off to a warlord and…. how he was with me."

"Yes," Jerika admitted, "That is why we originally planned to have you stay in Pentos to separate you. As for your sister, we planned to kill Drogo at the time to bring her back. But things didn't go according to plan."

"Obviously," Aroen said, knowing how Viserys forced him to go with the Dothraki to the Dothraki Sea. "But what do you want from me?"

"What we want," Jerika says, "Is to have the right person on the Iron Throne. Regardless of who they came from. Right now, the realm of Westeros is tearing itself apart, and many will suffer from it due to the actions of those in power who do not care for the common people. And the ones who do are powerless. We need someone in power to stop all that."

"And you think that someone is me," Areon concluded, "I won't."

"You won't what," Jerika tilts her head with curiosity.

Areon clarifies, "I won't be a good king."

"How can you be sure," Jerika urges, wanting to know more.

"Because I won't," Areon insisted, "I don't know anything about politics, I don't know anything about war. I'm too weak. I'm not a king or a prince. I'm just a boy whose parents died, and now he is living off the streets like some beggar. I'm…. nothing."

Jerika listens to those words carefully and finally understands them. He doesn't want to be king because he's still determining if he can. And she can guess why, "Are those your words or your brother's?"

Areon didn't say anything, but his look said it all as it clenched and tightened.

Jerika gently places her hand on his arm, "Your brother did not know what it is to be a good king. That is why he met the fate he was met with. But you can be. I know it because of what you believe."

"And what do I believe," Areon asks her.

"In protecting others," Jerika answers, "Just lie Doreah with Xaro. She was sent to him as a spy by being in his bed, but you were against it."

"That doesn't mean anything," Areon shrugs off.

"It means you are not willing to degrade others for your gain," Jerika told him, "And before that, whenever Viserys tries to hurt your sister, you came to her defense. That shows who you are. Someone protects others and wishes to fight for others."

"Fight," Areon scoffs.

"I'm just saying," Jerika tries again, "There are people in the world who need someone to protect them, who cannot protect themselves. You might have the makings of a King. You just need to have faith in yourself in that—for your own sake as well, not just theirs."

And with that, Jerika Longwaters left the room with Areon alone with his thoughts. Can he be a good king? Is she right? He can't tell. He doesn't know. But there can be someone who does or at least helps him.

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After getting horses and a few Dothraki guards at his sister's request, Areon rode through the city streets to Quaithe's temple. However, as he rode through the streets, he saw people eyeing him. They were either glares or looks of fear. There is no doubt about what happened at the House of the Undying. But he ignores them to soldier on as they finally reach the temple.

Getting off his horse, Areon told the Dothraki guards to stand guard as he opened the door and closed behind him. It was just the same as it was before, inside the temple. An empty room with four light torches on the corners of the wall and a black candle sitting on the pedestal in the middle of the room.

Areon walks to it, seeing that it is not lit, but it still captivates him. He walks closer until he sees it in front of him. He slowly reaches out to touch it. Once he does, it doesn't feel like a regular candle. It feels like hard stone, tall and twisted with sharp edges, with an ethereal feeling to it.

"It has not burned in recent memory," Quaithe's voice was heard, causing Areon to flinch, turning around to see her behind him. "Not until the dragons have returned."

Areon's breath was shaking, "Like the Warlocks."

Quaithe stayed silent, her wet and shiny eyes piercing at him, "No, not like the Warlocks. You are not needed here. You are needed elsewhere."

She walks past him slowly to the candle that was suddenly lit.

"What does that mean?" Areon asks her, "Is it something that has to do with my dreams?"

"The truth of what you saw at the Undying," Quaithe corrects, looking at the candle, asking him, "What did you see in them?"

Areon shifts around, trying to remember "A lot of things."

"Such as," Quaithe presses for more.

Areon stutters, "A bunch of people dead in a hall with a man with a wolf's head. Small men are attacking a woman. And…. Something terrifying."

Quaithe slowly turns to him, "In what way?"

Areon begins to ponder, "It was… tall…. Scary looking….. blue with a… some crown made of ice. And those eyes."

"What you saw," Quaithe tells him, "Is what is to become. You bear a gift that has plagued many in your line since the rise of the dragons."

"My dreams," Areon says to her, "Like Daenys' dreams?"

"Yes," Quaithe tells him, "But yours are stronger than before you. Clear visions. Such as seeing your brother die from a golden crown."

"Ok," Areon tries to understand what she is saying. But what do they mean? What future?"

"I do not know," Quaithe admits, "They are yours and yours to interpret. But it would be best if you were warned. The gift you have is powerful but also dangerous. They're not always clear but must be interpreted by what you see. It had led some before you to greatness but also led others to madness and destroyed them."

"Madness," Areon repeats, "I saw a man on a throne in one of the visions. He looked like a madman but also a king because he had a crown." As he said this, Quaithe stared at him as a question came to Areon's mind: "There were rumors about my father. Are they true that he was a madman, a tyrant who enjoyed burning people?"

Quaithe cryptically said, "That is what you shall ask to one who knows him best."

Areon was now more confused than ever, "What do you want from me?"

"There is a darkness shrouding the West," Quaithe says, "A storm of death following down from the North until it consumes all in its path. Clashing swords, roaring dragons, men dying in the dirt. Women and children being slaughtered for the enemy."

"You think I can stop it," Areon asked.

"You have a part to play in it," Quaithe answered, "Like many others."

"So I need to go to Westeros," Areon asked again, "I need to be king?"

Quaithe didn't say anything right away. She stayed silent before saying, "There is already a path for you—a path you must take. And to take that first step is to trust your distant kin."

"The Longwaters," Areon said, "How can I trust them?"

"There will be many you cannot trust," Quaithe said, "But there will be those you can trust. Those who are closest to you. Those who have been watching you long ago. Cling to them, and you will prevail. If not, you will be destroyed."

With that, Quaithe disappeared again. Areon looked around to see where she went but saw nothing. He looked at the candle, which was now out—no longer lit. Areon wasn't sure if what Quaithe said was true. But right now, he could only go with what she said. She was dangerous, no doubt, but can she be a friend?

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After a few hours, Areon requested to speak with Jerika again, this time at her home, and Daenerys wanted to come with him. After being escorted, they came to the sitting room to speak in private, sitting on chairs across from each other.

"So, you made your decision," Jerika asked.

Areon took a deep breath, "Right now, my sister, our people, and I are not safe here. And you are right. The world will know about my dragons, and they will not be safe either. I need allies. And I need your help. I accept your help."

"Does this mean you're going after the Iron Throne," Dany asked.

Areon looks at her with uncertainty. He is still unsure if he can be king, but according to Quaithe, there is something there that he must go to. He isn't sure what, but she says that he has a part to play.

"Right now," Areon clarifies, "My main concern is our safety," he then turns to Jerika, "Something I hope you can provide."

Jerika nods, "Yes, I can give ships. Not many. My family cannot be seen with you."

"Because they serve Joffrey in Westeros, I know," Areon nods his head. What is he like anyway?"

"Well, I haven't seen him since he was a child," Jerika sighs, "But I hear he's a bit…. Temperamental."

"Temperamental," Dany repeats.

Jerika chuckles, "If you knew his mother, you wouldn't be surprised."

"Ah," Areon nods when another thought comes to mind when the word mother is heard, "Did you know our mother?"

Jerika smiles, "I met her a few times."

"What was she like," Dany asked, wanting to know more since her mother died when she was born.

Jerika answers, "She was kind and gentle. You look like her."

"I do," Dany asked.

"Both of you," Jerika gestures to them, "you both have her face."

Dany smiles at those words, as does Areon, who then asks, "And our father?"

Jerika's smile dropped immediately after Areon said, "We heard he was a mad tyrant who enjoyed hurting people."

"Those are lies from our enemies," Dany tells him before turning to Jerika, "Tell him."

Jerika's eye darted around a bit, shifting in her seat and fidgeting her hands together, "I've met your father from time to time during his early reign, but after I was married and left for Qarth, I wasn't there for his last years."

"So you don't know," Areon guessed, "I thought your brother was on his Small Council."

"Yes, but," Jerika begins to say, stopping herself before continuing, "He didn't exactly speak freely about him because of Varys."

"The spymaster," Areon asked, remembering what Jorah told him about him.

"After your father had him as his master of whispers, he knew everything everyone said," Jerika explains, "So, my brother couldn't exactly say anything when sending me letters. No doubt Varys was having his spies looking over everything."

"And yet he's helping us," Areon asked.

"He serves the realm," Jerika said, "That's all he cares for, and he thinks you are a key to that."

Areon went to deep thought to it. He still isn't sure about being King, but Quaithe said something was coming to Westeros, and he plays a part in that. Does she mean the war in Westeros or something else? He then goes to the blue man from his visions and remembers Quaithe saying some dreams must be interpreted so that it might mean something else. The clashing swords and men dying perhaps meant the war in the realm that is happening right now, "So, you said you can get us some ships?"

Knowing he's changing the subject, Jerika relents, "I can give you three ships, large enough for the Dothraki and a crew, but not much else."

"Just enough for our journey," Areon said, "Illyrio Mopatis is waiting for us?"

"Once you get to Pentos, then we can figure things out. But before you do," Jerika assures him, gesturing to a nearby servant holding a tray with a small bell, which she took and rang. There are a few people I want you to meet that will aid you on your journey."

Areon follows her as they go to another room. They walked down the hallway until they approached the solar, where Areon held his breath when he saw two people waiting for them. One of them was a woman. She was dark skinned with brown eyes, built as if she was a fighter, with black hair tied into a single braid, wearing clothes as if she was ready for combat as she had two swords hanging at her back. The person next to her was a man, shorter than her, wearing a white cloak with a silver mask covering his face, just like his dream.

While Areon is still in shock, Jerika introduces him, "Your Grace, this is Horicho. He is an old friend of Jonathor and one of his supporters and followers. He knows the art of politics, governance, and all other subjects for a king. I know you are still unsure of the throne, but he can still be a great asset to you. And this is Sarai. She is a fighter from the Fighting Pit from Meereen. She will act as a tutor to teach you the ways of fighting."

Areon was still in shock that the silver-masked man of his dreams was standing before him, who bowed his head with reverence.

"Your Grace," the man said in a voice that appeared to belong to a young man.

Regaining his thoughts, Areon stutters, "It is an honor to meet you. Both of you. I thank you both for your aid."

Sarai bows her head as Jerika explains, "You must know that she is mute. Before, she was a slave to a cruel master who cut her tongue out for speaking out of turn. Until we bought her and set her free."

Areon furrows his brows, confused, "Why did you do that?"

"Because we saw something in her," Jerika explains, looking to Sarai, "A strong fighter and a skilled warrior. Worthy of much more than fighting for the amusement of others."

"But how will she teach Areon if she can't speak," Dany asked.

"She's able to communicate by hand language," Horicho answered, "A language I know and will interpret."

"But you will need more than a teacher," Jerika said while walking to a door on the other side of the room, "You will need someone strong enough, fast enough, and capable enough to protect you from enemies."

She opens the door, revealing herself as an older man with white hair and a beard.

"Who is this," Areon asked in confusion.

Jerika tells him, "You, Grace, I present to you, Ser Barristan Selmy. A knight of the Kingsguard of the Seven Kingdoms."

Areon's eyes widen with shock and disbelief as he looks at the older man. This was Ser Barristan Selmy. One of the greatest knights of the Seven Kingdoms. He remembers all the stories from Viserys about him. One is how he served their father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. He also described how he served Robert Baratheon, "King Robert's Kingsguard."

"King Robert is dead," Ser Barristan walks forward cautiously, "Ever since I have sought you out, my King. To beg for your forgiveness."

"My forgiveness," Areon repeats.

Ser Barristan explains, "I was sworn to protect your family. I failed them." He then bends the knee to the young Targaryen; I was a Kingsguard to your father, Aerys II, your grandfather, Jaehaerys II, and your great grandfather, Aegon V. Allow me to join your Kingsguard, and I will not fail you again."

Areon was too shocked to comprehend what was happening. A few hours ago, he had nothing but his sister, a small Dothraki Khalasar, three baby dragons, and nothing else. Now, as he looked around, he saw he had an advisor, a fighting teacher, and a protector for his safety.

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Once everything was ready, everyone prepared for the journey ahead on the three ships provided by Jerika. The one Areon, Dany, and most of their followers were on was the biggest one, with the other two beside it, waiting to set sail.

Areon looked out to the sea, watching the sky as he contemplated what was happening, Drogon perched on his shoulder. Ser Barristan was behind me to protect him. Dany came up to him, having Viserion curled on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Areon sighs, leaning his back on the bow and scratching Drogon's chin a bit. "You know, I thought of naming the ships. I thought of naming this one the Balerion."

"After the Black Dread," Dany chuckles.

"Yeah," Areon smiles, pointing to the one on their left, "That one can be the Meraxes," then points to the other one on the right, "And the Vhagar. I thought it would be fitting since they are carrying our dragons of this time. We were at the Red Waste a few days ago about to die. Then we came here to Qarth and are about to go to Pentos."

"To take the Iron Throne," Dany said.

"Maybe," Areon nods, still thinking about his dreams and visions.

"What made you change your mind," Dany asked, wanting to know why.

Areon stays momentarily, "I think there is something there that I need to be at. I don't know what, but my dreams seem to take me to Westeros. I think I'm supposed to be there."

"Well, your dreams never strayed you until now," Dany suggested, "Perhaps it means you will be king."

"Quaithe said many before me in our line had these dreams," Areon tells her, "It led some to greatness but others to madness. It can be a powerful yet dangerous gift."

Dany listened to what he said. She understood, but she remained hopeful: "It won't come to that."

Areon then thought, "I keep thinking about our father. The stories we were told."

"You don't believe them, do you," Dany said, not believing their father was a tyrant.

"But what if they were true," Areon suggested, "And what if he went mad because he had the same dreams and visions as me? When I was at the House of the Undying, I saw a vision of a madman with a crown on a throne made of swords. The Iron Throne is made of swords. What if that was him, and he did go mad."

"You think he had those dreams," Dany asked, unsure what to think.

"Maybe," Areon said, primarily to himself. He then looks to see Ser Barristan, donned in white armor and sword, in a protective stance to guard them. He walks up to Ser Barristan, "I need a word with you alone, Ser Barristan."

"Yes, Your Grace," Ser Barristan bows his head.

The two were walking until Areon saw Ser Jorah coming up on the ship. He froze for a moment, as did the elder knight.

Quickly, Jorah bows his head, "Your Grace."

Dany walks up to them, "Ser Jorah. I'm glad you are coming with us."

Jorah smiles at her, knowing she convinced Areon to show mercy. He then looks to Areon, who looks bored and blank. Dany looks at him, giving a pleading look to say something.

Areon, however, didn't say anything but walked away with Ser Barristan, looking at Jorah and following him.

Jorah watches Areon walk away as Dany gently touches his arm to comfort him.

Areon goes below the deck with the Kingsguard knight following him. As they were leaving, Areon looked to the upper deck, seeing Horicho and Sarai on it, looking at them. Areon can still remember the silver masked man in his dreams, which now come true again, so he wonders what this man will do to help him.

Horicho and Sarai were on the upper deck, looking at them. Sarai, being mute, looked to her companion, using sign language to him: "And now your father's plans bear fruit, Steffon. He now has his king for the sword throne."

"Perhaps," Steffon, his actual name, says, "Only time will tell if he is worthy for the throne."

"If he is," Sarai asked.

"Then we have our king," Steffon answered.

Sarai then asked, "And if he's not?"

Steffon looked to her, his blue eye through his mask, and said, "Then I suppose we have no king."

"And his dragons," Sarai asked.

Steffon looks at Daenerys carrying Viserion, "Small for now. We'll worry about it when the time comes."

As Steffon looks on to see the people on the ships, Sarai nods, knowing what that means. Mainly the crew. The Dothraki people were anxious as they never go on boats to cross water, but they pressed on. The crew members, however, were keeping eyes on them to ensure nothing went wrong, for they were not just crew members from Jerika but spies and soldiers from his father to keep an eye on what was going on to report back to Dawn Isle. Steffon is still apprehensive of his father's plans, but only time will tell if their efforts will be worth it.

However, what captured his mind was the dragons. For the first time in over a hundred years, dragons exist again. He wonders what his parents think when word reaches them. All he could do was watch them with awe and wonder as Daenerys left with her dragon on her shoulder.

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Areon and Barristan walk down the deck, where they are alone in his room. Ser Barristan closes the door behind them as Areon goes to the small cage where Drogon sleeps, although he is getting too big for it, "I can tell you never thought dragons would return, Ser Barristan."

"No one did, Your Grace." Ser Barristan looked at Drogon, amazed by the animal. It was truly a miracle."

"Hm," Areon hums, closing the little door of the cage, "You served my father, but you did not, Ser Barristan."

"Indeed, Your Grace," Barristan said.

"How long did you serve him," Areon turns to him.

Barristan explains, "Since the beginning of his reign. I served your family since the reign of Aegon V."

"My great grandfather," Areon says, "You knew my father very well."

"Yes, Your Grace," Barristan nods his head.

Areon walks a few steps closer, "Are the stories of him true?" Ser Barristan grew silent from that question, so the Targaryen asked again, "Was he truly a mad tyrant?"

Seeing that he demanded answers, Ser Barristan decided to obey: "Forgive me, Your Grace, but I'm afraid the stories you've heard were not lies."

Those words sunk into Areon, as he now had confirmation that his father was a mad tyrant: "Tell me more."

Ser Barristan reluctantly explains, "In the beginning, he was a good king. He was handsome, charming, and filled with ambition. His reign started with great promise, with feasts, tourneys, and prosperity."

"I don't understand," Areon shakes his head with confusion, "What happened?"

Barristan sighs, "Your father and mother…At the time, there were only three Targaryens left. They and your brother, Rhaegar. They needed to produce more children."

"And did they," Areon asked.

"They did," Barristan said, "However, none of them lived long. Your mother suffered many pregnancy complications. Your father comforted her initially, but the pressure of producing more heirs was still heavy on their minds. Eventually, it became a strain on your father's mind. He began to believe that people started to kill his children. Then, the pressures of ruling the Seven Kingdoms became heavy on him. His sanity began to crack. It wasn't until the Defiance of Duskendale that he went fully mad."

"Defiance of Duskendale," Areon not knowing what that was.

Ser Barristan continues, "A minor lord of House Darklyn of a trading port was withholding taxes because most of the trading was going to King's Landing instead of his city. Your father tried to resolve it, but when he came there, his guards were seized and killed. He was captured and held as a prisoner for half a year."

Areon's brows furrow, "Why would he do that?"

"The actions of a foolish man, Your Grace," Barristan said, "However, I was able to sneak into the city and rescue him."

"By yourself," Areon stunned.

"Yes," Barristan chuckles a bit, "I was able to get him to safety, but…. He was never the same afterward. When the Defiance was over, he punished all of House Darklyn by executing every single member of that family. Men, women, children. None were sparred except for one squire boy at my begging for mercy. Ever since… Your father was never the same after that. It was then that he became cruel and mad."

Areon's breath was shaky. All these years, he had hoped the rumors about their father were simply rumors. But now he knows they are true. What was he supposed to make of it? "In what way? Did he enjoy burning people alive?"

Barristan didn't want to say more, seeing the young boy's reaction to it all, but he wanted to know more, "When the people rose in revolt against him, your father set their towns and castles aflame. He murdered sons in front of their fathers. He burned men alive with wildfire. He even laughed as they screamed."

"Sons in front of their fathers," Areon recited the supposed 'history lesson' from Viserys about their family's fall, "So when he killed Rickon and Brandon Stark, it was out of enjoyment. Not justice?"

Barristan didn't say anything but gave a sympathetic look, giving Areon his answer.

"Is that why the Kingslayer killed him," Areon suddenly asked, "Because he was mad?"

"I don't know, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said, "Your father was already deep in his madness long before Ser Jaime took the White Cloak."

"Well," Areon tries to say, "…. Why did you seek me out if my father was a cruel tyrant like everyone else said? How do you know I'm not like him?"

Ser Barristan gives him a kind look, "Because Lady Jerika and Lord Jonathor had kept a close eye on you and your brother to observe your behavior if you exhibited any of the madness from your father."

"I take it you concluded your thoughts on Viserys before he died," Areon guessed.

"Yes," Ser Barristan said, "although even as a child he had... questionable behavior."

"Oh," Areon mumbled, although it didn't surprise him. "But with me?"

Ser Barristan stays quiet for a moment as if contemplating what to say. Finally, he says, "I believe you can be a good king with the right direction and counsel."

Areon nods at what he said. He now knows the truth about his father, which makes him question himself even more. Why do people think of him as king when his father was a tyrant? Why do they believe he can take the throne? There are so many questions in his mind with repeated answers. He just doesn't know why.

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Jorah and Dany are walking across the ships when she tells him, "I'm sure the King will forgive you in time."

"I don't expect him to, Khaleesi," Jorah honestly admits, "I just thank you for being merciful."

"You saved me," Dany tells him, "I owe you my life."

Jorah gives a grateful smile as he heads to his room. Dany leaves to give him privacy as he enters his room below deck of the Balerion, placing his sword and belongings on the bed and sighing at what he went through for the past year. He was banished, never to come back to Westeros to escape execution; his wife left him for another man, then sent as a spy on the Targaryens for Robert Baratheon to go home. He thought all he had to do was spy on the Targaryens, and then he'd be done and get to go home. What he wasn't expecting was to develop care and attachment to them. Viserys was insufferable, but Areon and Daenerys were good. More than good. They were kind, gentle, and firm. They always care for each other and never back down from a fight, which he witnessed from the Red Waste. What got him to turn to them the most was the birth of the dragons. When Areon told him about his dreams, Jorah didn't honestly believe him, thinking they were just dreams or that he was going mad like his father, but they weren't just that. His dreams come true, and he sees that the day that Areon walks into the burning pyre of Khal Drogo with long-dead dragon eggs, he comes out unscathed with baby dragons. The sound of the dragons crying was unlike anything he ever heard of. Then, Jorah became fully devoted to Areon, whom he believed must be destined to be king. Who else?

His thoughts were interrupted when hearing a creaking sound from behind. Turning around, Jorah saw it was Areon leaning on the door frame.

Jorah turns to Areon, addressing him as "Your Grace," but the Targaryen's face is cold and unyielding.

"My sister may have forgiven you for your transgressions," Areon says slowly, his voice low and menacing, "but I have not. You have a long way to go before I can even begin to consider forgiving you."

Jorah opens his mouth to speak, but Areon cuts him off with a few strides forward, getting so close to Jorah's face that the older knight can feel his breath on his skin.

"So, I will give you this one warning," Areon continues, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "If you make one more mistake, betray my sister once again, or give me one reason to believe that you will harm her, then you won't have to worry about future punishments. Because I will make sure your punishment will be the day I will take your head with my blade myself."

With that, Areon turns on his heel and strides out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Jorah is left alone, shaken, and fearful. Jorah's heart pounded as Areon's words echoed through the room. He could feel the sweat on his forehead and his hands shaking uncontrollably. The air in the room felt thick and oppressive, suffocating him as he struggled to find the words to respond, but he couldn't.

Wow, Areon doesn't take betrayal all that well, does he? Also, I'm sure you all know that the underlined quotes for Sarai mean they are speaking in sign language. I'm unsure if they have that in the ASIAF universe, but it's my story. LOL. Follow, favorite, and share your thoughts and opinions on this chapter.