Aegon Targaryen…

Eastwatch by the Sea, The Wall…

Two horn blasts.

I'm not sure if that was the right signal for a dragon, but considering I was neither Ranger, Wildling, nor Walker but still an obvious threat, perhaps it was the best choice the Black Brothers had.

But a full-grown Dragon diving down on your castle was terrifying, especially to the poor bastards manning the top of the Wall.

Although, I'm sure every man who heard the roar shit themselves as well… 'So perhaps Lord Umber did as well? Something to ponder later, I suppose…' Shot through my head before I had a chance to marshal my thoughts and barked:

"Go behind the Wall, Rhaegal! In front of the gates!" Rhaegal looked over his shoulder for a beat and snorted in acquiescence. He pulled up from his dive, slowing his descent as quickly as possible. He started circling the fort, the Black Brothers running to and fro as Rhaegal swooped out down to the south.

The Dragon set down just shy of two hundred feet from the castle gates. He allowed me to slide off his back which I did as quickly as possible. My legs nearly fell from under me when my feet touched the ground. I winced, gritting my teeth as I braced myself against Rhaegal's flank to try and steady myself until the pain passed.

It wasn't unlike the feeling of riding a horse for too long, but it was still quite uncomfortable.

"Who in the blazing hells are you!?" A voice cried from behind me. I turned around, blinking in surprise. I had nearly forgotten the Brothers in my haste to be on the ground.

"I mean you no harm, ser!" I cried out, raising my hands above my head in a sign of peace.

"How do we know that?" The man barked back. He was a rough man, but all the brothers were. You either came to the Wall that way, or Winter did the job. "You're dressed like a bloody wildling and you could turn that beast on us in a heartbeat!"

"Does he speak like a fuckin' wildling, Harlan?" Another man, a big burly man, grit out.

"Did I fuckin' ask you, Henry!?"

"No, commander."

"Aye, now I'll do the fuckin' talkin'!" The commander barked, turning his beady eyes back to me with his sword raised. "You! Answer my question! Who are you!?"

"My uncle called me Jon."

"Jon? Jon what?"

"Doesn't matter," I called back, laying my hand on Rhaegal's flank.

"Well, you're obviously a bloody seed," the commander snapped, "but gods be damned, you look like the Stark. But I ain't ever heard of a Stark with a bloody dragon, and I'd've heard of a dragon that bloody big."

"Aye…" I said, glancing over my shoulder at the dragon while my mind whirled. Okay, so dragons were known here… But that was still quite a large gap of time. The last dragon died a hundred and fifty years after the conquest, and Balerion was known to grace Westerosi skies even before the Conquest. So I had it narrowed down a bit, but still nowhere near narrowed down enough. "He was a surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one."

"Where do you come from, boy? You're as Northern as they come but to have a dragon bow to you? You're a Targaryen of some kind. I don't reckon the King would be too happy to hear of a rogue dragon rider roaming his kingdom."

"Perhaps we can speak of this by a fire, commander? We have had quite a long journey. My dragon can hunt food for himself: seal, or walrus, mayhaps a whale if he is lucky enough," I patted Rhaegal's flank, turning to him and nodding. "Go on." Rhaegal hooted, pressing his muzzle against my chest. He took a few steps back before launching himself skyward again toward the sea.

"Aye, that we can do, Jon," the commander said, visibly relaxing, but he was stealing glances out to sea – following Rhaegal's trail as he flew away with the rest of his Brothers. "Open the gates!" I nodded, stepping forward toward the gate with a hand on the pommel of Longclaw as I walked. I glanced around, taking note of the Brothers watching me carefully as I strode through the gate of Eastwatch.

"Commander, thank you for your hospitality," I shook the commander's hand as he met me inside the gate.

"Aye, lad. We may not have much, but it's warm. If you want a bed, I'm afraid you'll have to stay in the barracks for the night. We don't have guest quarters like Castle Black." I nodded in acceptance.

"I'll happily take it. I haven't seen a true bed in longer than I can remember."

"Longer than you can remember? You're… What? Five and ten namedays?" The commander asked as he looked me up and down, though he paused when his eyes fell on Longclaw. "That's a fine sword, boy. Where did you get it?"

"It was given to me a long time ago." The commander frowned but nodded all the same.

"A Dragon, a Valyrian sword… You're undoubtedly a Dragon yourself lad, but you're a wolf too. A white wolf…" The commander paused with eyes narrowed toward Longclaw's pommel before he nodded. "Aye. You're certainly a Stark, prettier than any Stark I've ever seen – Seven hells, lad, you're prettier than a King's Landing whore! And yet there's not a doubt in my mind you're a Stark all the same. But your eyes…" He trailed off, narrowing his eyes. His hand shot out, taking me by the chin as he leaned closer. "Aye, your eyes aren't Stark, but they're too dark to be Valyrian. Just who are you, Jon?"

"That's a hard question with a longer answer, commander. If you would unhand me?" The commander narrowed his eyes but pulled his hand away and took a step back.

"Come. The great hall is this way. Answer my questions and there'll be bread and salt for you."

"My thanks."

"Don't thank me yet, boy. You will answer my questions, no matter how hard."

"I'd expect no less."

"You're a noble."

"I was raised in a castle, aye," I sniffed, tearing into the black bread and venison stew. Gods, it was bland, but it was warm… That and it wasn't a rabbit I'd caught in the woods, cooked over a campfire.

"Which one?"

"Doesn't matter. All my family is gone now."

"I'm sorry, son."

"Don't be. I never knew my mother nor my father. My mother died from birthing fever but my father was dead moons before I was born, killed by his cousin. It wasn't all bad though, my uncle raised me as one of his own. He was a good man."

"What happened to him?"

"He was killed."

"For what?"

"Loyalty."

"Loyalty… I take it he was loyal to the wrong people then?"

"No," I shook my head sadly. "To the right. Those in the wrong simply had a stronger position. He tried to do the right thing, as he always did, and it cost him his head."

"Is that so?"

"Aye."

"I'll be honest, lad, I haven't heard a story like that before." The commander said, raising his tankard of ale to his lips. "It's quite a tale… You'll be sick of hearing this by now, but if you didn't look so much like a Stark and didn't ride in on dragonback, I wouldn't believe a word you've said."

"And I don't blame you. Mine has been a harsh life."

"A short one too."

"Nay… It's been much longer than I'd like it to have been."

"I can drink to that."

"Aye." I took up my tankard and held it out. The commander smirked and clicked his against mine. We both took a long drag from the horrible drink without flinching.

"Horrible stuff, this."

"Aye… But it's better than somethings I've been forced to drink."

"Hah! I believe it, lad. To have flown down from North the Wall, you must have wild tales to tell."

"And the Commander of Eastwatch doesn't?"

"Aye, I've my fair share as well," the commander smirked. "Harlan Slate. If you're drinking with me, I ought introduce myself."

"Commander Slate, then. What tales have you?"

"You're not of the Watch, Jon. While you're here, call me Harlan."

"Trying to earn my trust, Commander?" I asked as Harlan smirked.

"You wound me, Jon… But aye. It hurts not to try."

"If you have a question, ser, ask it. If I can answer, I shall, if I cannot then I cannot."

"Your dragon, where did you find him?"

"He found me. On a cliff overlooking the sea, he came to me."

"How long have you had him?"

"Less than a year."

"How did you find yourself in the far North?"

"I was chasing a memory."

"What memory?"

"A weirwood. An old weirwood, older than any I'd ever seen before. Farther North than any man had any right to be. It was past the Frostfangs, far past the Valley of Thenn, into the wastes where the sky itself burns green at night. A place where the sun never seems to rise, nor ever seems to set. And the cold… Gods the cold…" The commander sobered, staring out over the great hall. "But I'd felt worse."

"Where?"

"Hardhome."

"It's a ruin."

"Aye, but you need tell that to them."

"Them?"

"Aye."

"Who? The Wildlings?" I snorted into my mug, shaking my head.

"No. The Free Folks ain't the enemy. The Enemy is Death. And their King brings the Storm." The Commander froze. Then he turned to me slowly.

"The Others?"

"Aye."

"You've seen them?" I nodded slowly.

"I've killed one."

"Bullshit."

"No." I touched the pommel of Longclaw. "Valyrian steel kills them, as does Dragonglass. Fire destroys their servants, the wights. Castle-forged steel shatters like milk glass against them, and it doesn't kill the wights."

"Wights?"

"Aye, their puppets. The walking dead. Not just bodies of men but women, children, giants, mammoths… If it's dead, the Walkers can resurrect it. And they have no honor or compunctions about it like we do, meat is meat to them."

"Gods… Even Dragons?" I just nodded, placing my tankard on the table. "Gods be good… There are fourteen in the realm, fifteen with you I suppose. Maybe more wild ones, but I'm not sure. Yours be bigger than most of them. Most are tiny things but they're still dragons, even little ones can wreak havoc."

"Aye." I nodded, my mind whirling over the implications of that. Only two points in history had that many dragons alive at one time: the reign of King Jahaerys and just before the Dance of Dragons…

"I wasn't at the Stepstones but I heard what the dragons did down there, some of the men here saw it themselves properly. I've seen Harrenhal with my own two eyes, boy, I know what a dragon properly motivated can do." He said just loud enough for me to hear. "And I reckon you've seen it too."

"Aye…" I muttered, memories of screams and death haunting me as I stared down at my empty bowl. The memory of bells clamoring. Of a broken city. Her face… Memories I could make undone. "Aye, I have."

"They say the King isn't long for this world. They say his son should take his place."

"No…" I whispered, clenching my fist.

"Where are you from, Jon?"

"I cannot tell you."

"But you know what happens."

"Aye, the gods have cursed me with the knowledge."

"Aye… But the gods need not show you what is to come. King Viserys proclaimed his daughter to be his heir, but the eldest son shall always inherit before a daughter. But the King has not yet unnamed his daughter as heir. At the time it was not a difficult decision. It was the girl or his brother, the rogue prince… Then his son was born. So who inherits? The son or the daughter the realm has already sworn to? A hard decision, to be sure, but the King has remained steadfast in his choice."

"You are not involved in the affairs of men."

"But aren't we? We are going to be sent men soon. The side that loses will swell our numbers."

"Assuming there are men left living to join you."

"How bad will this war be?"

"Horrific. Nearly all of House Targaryen's dragons will die. Men will follow by the thousands."

"When Dragons fly to war, the realm burns."

"Aye. And when they Dance, the realm will weep."

"Damn… Damn!" Commander Slate snapped, gritting his teeth together. "How do you know?"

"I cannot tell you."

"Why?"

"You will not believe me."

"Bullshit."

"You won't." The Commander snarled but nodded all the same.

"As you wish. You will leave by morning. The Night's Watch is apart from the affairs of men," he said, throwing my words back in my face. "This war of the Blacks and Greens… who will you join?"

"I will not."

"You will," he chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Oh, you will."

"Commander, I thank you for your hospitality. And for the bull. Rhaegal certainly appreciated it," I said, glancing over my shoulder at the still-smoking spot on the ground before Rhaegal.

"Aye," the commander nodded. "Forgive my candor, but should I see you again 'twould be too soon, ser Jon."

"I'm no Knight, commander Slate, just a man making his way in this world."

"On dragonback."

"Aye, on dragonback," I nodded, glancing at Rhaegal, sunning himself in the rare morning light.

"Where will you go?"

"I do not know," I said, frowning slightly as I turned back to the Commander of Eastwatch. "South, I should suppose."

"King's Landing then? Dragonstone?"

"Dragonstone perhaps, only because the Watch will be in need of the dragonglass there when the time comes."

"There is dragonglass there?"

"Aye, a mountain full of the stuff," I nodded.

"Hm… Interesting." The Commander said, stroking his beard. "Until we meet again, Jon." He held out his hand. I nodded and took it.

"Until we meet again, Harlan." The Commander nodded, pulling his hand away from mine.

"May the gods watch over you."

"And also you."

"For the North."

"For the North," I nodded to the Commander, who nodded back. I turned around, heading to Rhaegal as he looked up at me. I smiled gently, pressing my hand to his snout as he pressed his muzzle against my chest again. "Hey boy, let's fly."

Rhaegal pushed his snout against my chest, pushing me back gently. I grinned, patting the side of his snout as I walked around to his flank. I heaved myself onto his back, securing myself between his spines as I looked at the Black Brothers. I nodded to the Commander of Eastwatch and then turned to Rhaegal.

"Let's go."

The green dragon snorted, sending twin plumes of fire toward the Brothers through his nostrils before he turned and took off at a trot. He spread his wings, pushing into the sky with ease. Climbing higher and higher with every powerful wingbeat. I grinned, spreading my arms out as Rhaegal leveled out. The wind was at our backs, and the skies were clear. For now, things were as good as they could be.

We flew over the sea, Rhaegal's wingbeats and the wind the only sounds being made – and then the grey cliffs came into view. The Karhold soon after. It was a simple castle built into a set of hills – and it was one of the meanest castles I had ever had the displeasure of setting eyes on. Including Harrenhal or the Dreadfort.

But the moment passed quickly, and we were over the Shivering Sea.

I reached out to Rhaegal again, melding my mind with his once again as we slipped out over the sea.

And then we flew with nothing but ocean beneath us… Well, at least I had time to think now. I sighed, staring over the waves as Rhaegal's emotions mixed against mine.

I was in the middle of the Dance of Dragons… Fuck.

Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Aegon Targaryen.

Fuck.

Rhaegal growled underneath me as my anger grew, and then it ebbed as the Dragon's calm and utter confidence lent me the strength I needed.

"Thank you, my friend."

Rhaegal hooted in return as I drew back into myself, pressing my face against his scales as the wind pulled through my hair.

Gods… What was I going to do?

Five and ten, a dragon, and a sword were all I had. My name as well, but it seemed Targaryens were a dime a dozen these days. I sighed, shaking my head in annoyance. There was a damn war about to break out between the House of the Dragon, and I was just one man with one dragon. Rhaegal was a powerhouse and battle-hardened but he was still only one dragon…

And he could die.

My eyes fell on the new golden circles on his neck.

I tensed my shoulders before rolling them and forcing myself to relax. Those damned ballistae were Qyburn's invention; they don't exist here. Scorpions do, but Meraxes was flying low enough that the bolt that killed her could slip into the she dragon's eye and her brain.

It was luck that killed Queen Rhaenys, not power. But it wasn't scorpions I had to worry about here. It was Dragons.

Gods help me.

We may have fought Viserion but he was already dead. He wasn't a living, breathing dragon controlled by a Targaryen.

And if I remember right, Vhagar still lived. One of the three that brought the Seven Kingdoms to their knees. By now, she would be enormous too…

But I had one thing the other Dragon riders didn't.

I smirked as I laid a palm on Rhaegal's back, reaching toward the dragon with my mind. He accepted me easily, letting me slip behind his eyes as we flew together over the seemingly endless sea. We were one, he and I. We had both faced death and came back stronger.

Rhaegal hummed deep in his chest, the fire within him begging for a challenge.

And something told me he was soon to get it…

I didn't know what Rhaegal was doing. I didn't know where we were going. At first, I thought he was flying to Essos, but instead, we followed the Westerosi coastline since the Fingers and were traveling south.

So I thought we were going to Dragonstone, but we had passed it nearly an hour ago…

And now there was a storm brewing on the horizon.

Literally.

The grey-black clouds were no less intimidating when looking at them through Rhaegal's eyes – and he was flying straight for them. I shuddered slightly but steeled myself anyhow.

"Rhaegal, should we not land?"

He roared once in an obvious and resounding no. Damn… This was going to be interesting.

In mere minutes, we were in the middle of the storm – the rain and wind buffeting us as we fought our way through the tempest. I grit my teeth as I pressed myself against Rhaegal's scales as closely as possible. There was a moment where I thought I saw land beneath us, but the moment passed, and the storm surrounded us once again.

Then I thought I was truly hallucinating because I heard laughter of all things cutting through the wind and rain.

"Rhaegal?" The dragon snorted as if to say I heard it too. I frowned, reaching toward the dragon with my mind and allowing our senses to meld together again.

"You owe a debt! Taoba!" A voice barely made it through the winds and rain but Rhaegal heard it all the same. Rhaegal and I were of one mind as we angled toward the voice, shoving through the winds as hard as we could – but Rhaegal had to cut sharply to our left, the East. But he cut through the buffeting winds like it was clear air.

"Daor, Arrax!" Another (more desperate) voice squealed. I grit my teeth, my hand going to my sword's hilt. I didn't know how I knew that, as my eyes and ears were still Rhaegal's. "Dohaeras, Arrax! Rybas!"

"No! No, no, no! No, Vhagar! No! Daor! Serve me, Vhagar, no! Dohaeras, Vhagar!" The first voice called – the winds around us started to slow, the rain dying as we pushed through the winds and rain. I pulled my senses back to myself, letting Rhaegal do the work as I prepared myself for what was to come.

We shot through the clouds, and the first thing I noticed was the small, silver and red dragon floating in open air – then I saw the Leviathan that Rhaegal had zeroed in on. My eyes widened as Rhaegal slammed his full weight against Vhagar, ripping the beast off its course for the little silver dragon. The little one startled, zipping away into the cloud bank as Vhagar, her rider, Rhaegal, and I tumbled through the air. Rhaegal recovered first, pulling into a dive and then swooping up into an even glide.

Vhagar, however, took longer to regain control.

She was enormous, easily a quarter again the size of Rhaegal and the largest dragon I'd ever seen… But the beast was unwieldy. It had no more grace; it was a mass of sheer power and wrath… And all that nearly crashed into the water before the gargantuan she-dragon regained control of herself and leveled off. Her rider looked up at me with surprise and rage etched clear on his face.

"Who are you!?" He roared, gripping the reins of his saddle with both hands as I stared at him balefully.

"The man who just stopped you and your pet monster from killing that boy," I snapped back. Rhaegal hissed as he beat his wings, hovering in mid-air as Vhagar struggled to begin circling us.

"Then I shall have to kill you in his stead! Dracarys!"

"Go!" Rhaegal took off like a shot, diving directly for Vhagar's chest as the she-dragon's maw lit up. Fortunately, the flame never left her mouth. Rhaegal snapped at her and raked his claws into Vhagar's neck as we flew over the two. Her rider's lone eye widened as he got a good look at me, and mine narrowed as I took the measure of him.

He was a Targaryen through and through, no doubt of it.

"Another bastard!? Is Rhaenyra so desperate that she fills her court with bastards of all walks!?"

"I am no bastard. Dracarys!" Rhaegal's body thrummed as he opened his jaws, letting loose an inferno directly into Vhagar's face. The she-dragon howled in pain stoked with wrath, dropping into a dive to escape the fire, but Rhaegal was directly behind her. My dragon drew level, allowing me to draw my sword and cut a gash in the she-dragon's flank that pushed Longclaw to the hilt. Any lesser opponent would have died from the blow but Vhagar?

Her howl all but shook the sky, but she was alive. She snapped at Rhaegal's neck in retaliation, though it wasn't fast enough. My dragon had already maneuvered himself to where his legs – and talons – were in position to rake the monster's back. Just barely missing her rider.

The rider panicked now.

"Soves, Vhagar!" The rider barked. Vhagar roared once, angling away from us into another dive as the two of us pulled up. Vhagar was flying Northwest now, back to King's Landing I assumed.

"Good job, Rhaegal. Pull up." Rhaegal hooted in acknowledgment as I sheathed Longclaw again, wiping the dragon's blood off on my furs before returning her to her scabbard. Rhaegal climbed into the sky, leveling off with a heading North and East.

"Who are you!?" The younger voice called. I blinked in confusion, looking around for a moment until I saw the silver and red dragon drop out of the storm bank and fight its way over to Rhaegal and me.

"The better question is, who are you? And who was he? Why was he trying to kill you?"

"I am prince Lucerys Velaryon, that was Prince Aemond Targaryen… I… When we were children, I took his eye." The boy said. He was rather unremarkable. Brown hair, blue eyes, pale skin. "He has wanted revenge ever since. I am the son of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, rightful Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the Realm. I would ask you to accompany me to Dragonstone, ser. I should like very much to introduce you and…"

"I am called Jon. This is Rhaegal."

"Alright, Jon." The boy said with a relieved smile on his face. "This is–"

"Arrax. Aye, I heard." The boy blushed but nodded all the same.

"Will you fly with me? I owe you my life. That is not a small debt to repay."

"I will fly with you, Prince Lucerys, if only to meet your mother." The boy's shoulders seemed to sag with relief as he looked at me and nodded.

"Very well. Do you know the way?"

"Rhaegal and I shall follow you, but aye, we do."

"You've been to Dragonstone before?"

"Aye, I have."

"But you have not met my mother?"

"No."

"Hm, well then, Jon, it seems you shall today. Oh, and Jon?"

"Aye?"

"My friends call me Luke."

XXX

AN: If you recognize the dialogue in italics during the chase scene, it's because you do. Taken directly from House of the Dragon, S1E10.