The vision of a man swam before Daenerys'. Dark eyes, dark hair and a beard. She couldn't define his features. She heard the warlocks whisper of three treasons; once for blood, once for gold, once for love. What this the man for? Was he a lover? Three fires, three mounts to ride, three treasons. The dragon has three heads.

Suddenly she was hot, sweating. Her head hurt. The light was too bright. Then it dulled, she was freezing, the wall of ice was bearing down upon her. A tent in the distance, warm light seeping through the material. The tent looked different to the one in the House of the Undying, yet she ventured towards it, knowing she would see Drogo and Rhaego inside.

An arm across her eyes, so that she could see, for the blizzard made it difficult to see in front of her. What had appeared to be a short distance, felt like it took hours to make. Eventually, she made it too. With him, were her dragons, he was playing with them.

"What are you doing with my dragons?" She asked.

"They are not your dragons." From behind her, came a voice she'd heard before.

Daenerys turned around, there was a man who she believed was her brother, Rhaegar. "Are you Rhaegar?"

Rhaegar nodded. "I am. You cannot own a dragon. They are free spirits. You can bond with them, but you should never bend them to your will."

"Papa." Daenerys turned back to the little boy, who must be her nephew, Aegon. Although she could have sworn the descriptions of him were clear, he looked like a true Targaryen. "Will they grow to be like Blizzard?"

"Blizzard?" Dany was confused.

"You aren't the only one who has a dragon." Rhaegar said, as there was an almighty thud outside, causing the ground to shake, and an almighty roar from outside, made her jump.

Dany kneeled down. "Can I see your dragon?" she asked. "I've never seen one fully grown.

The boy eyed her with initial scepticism, before looking to Rhaegar. "Can I?" He asked.

Daenerys looked to Rhaegar, who despite having tears in his eyes, he smiled at the little boy. "Of course you can, Aegon."

Aegon, his is The Song of Ice and Fire.

"Come with me, Aunt Dany." The boy said.

Daenerys frowned. Aegon would have been older than her, had he lived. Anyhow, she took the little boy by the hand he offered, and followed him out of the tent. Once more, the wind and snow hit her in the face. She shivered, then noticing her hand was empty, she noticed the boy had gone. She looked around for him. At first she saw nothing, then a pair of small red eyes stared back at her.

Not a large dragon, she thought, with a smile on her face.

The eyes got bigger, and she noticed some of the shape, it wasn't even a dragon. It was a wolf, a beautiful white one.

Daenerys held out her hand. "Hello." She said, but the wolf snarled and bared its teeth at her. Dany snatched her hand away. "Not a dragon, I'll wait until my three are big enough."

The ground shook once more, and the skies went dark. Dany looked up, and another pair of eyes were shining down at her. Once again, they were blood red, just like the wolf, who was still standing there. Except, this time they were larger, and they did not belong to a wolf.

The red eyes were larger than Daenerys herself. She looked for the body, but despite the shadow of the beast blocking out the light, she still couldn't see it. It was as white as the snow all around her. Thud, thud, thud. The beast was walking away. On top, she saw a rider. It wasn't the child, instead it was the dark-haired man she had seen earlier. Small screeching sounds from behind her, let her know her baby dragons were with her, giving her some sense of comfort. That was until Rhaegal and Viserion joined Blizzard. Dany looked to her feet, to find Drogon, who stood looking up at her.

Daenerys returned her gaze to the dragon in front of her. At his feet stood, Rhaegal, Viserion and the white wolf. Suddenly, the scenery changed. The white dragon was still in front of her, as was the wolf. Rhaegal and Viserion had disappeared. So had Drogon. Daenerys took in her surroundings.

They were in what looked like an amphitheatre, or at least the ruins of one. The skies above were grey, and no snow lay on the ground, despite flakes falling from the skies above. The dragon was far enough from her, for her to take him in fully.

White scales, white wings, with red tips and white eyes, which turned to blood-red. Behind her, heavy footsteps of what could only be another dragon. Daenerys looked behind, and to her relief, despite the changes, the black and red dragon behind her was Drogon. She could feel it, for there was an undeniable connection to the dragon. They were tied together, a bond so deep, Drogon was an extra limb.

Without hesitation, Daenerys turned to Drogon, who lowered his body and held out his wings, black on top, red underneath. The epitome of House Targaryen. With ease, she climbed up his wing, and onto his back. She grabbed hold of one of the spines, and Drogon ran a few paces before setting off.

As soon as she was in the air, she looked down upon her surroundings. A city, that she could tell. In the distance was a tall red building. The Red Keep, she thought. I'm in Kings Landing. That must have been the dragon pit. Daenerys looked behind her. The white dragon was following, and behind him, she saw Rhaegal and Viserion.

"Dracarys." She heard, and all three dragons breathed fire at her.

Ha, she was Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt. Fire couldn't kill her, however, her children breathing flames at her, made her angry.

Daenerys flew higher and faster, towards the Red Keep, where she saw a black flag with the red three-headed dragon sigil of her house. A usurper was trying to take her throne from her. Why was a pretender, attempting to take her kingdom? One which she'd already conquered? She knew she had, for down below, was the greatest Khalasar ever seen. There must have been at least a hundred thousand of them. Where was the army of the pretender?

Then she saw it, large weapons aimed at her from the Red Keep. On one of the balconies, was a woman with red hair, holding a silver-haired babe in her arms, clutching the child to her breast. The man behind was still chasing her. He must be the adult Aegon, that was likely his wife and babe. The man had stolen her throne. An anger boiled inside her. How dare he take what was rightfully hers. He needed to pay the price.

Drogon swerved, closed in on, and hovered, staring at the beautiful woman, who held the babe to her. Tears were in her eyes, as if she knew what was coming.

So that is why he could never love me. He flirted with me, and turned me down. Her heart suddenly felt broken. "Dracarys." said Daenerys, hatred towards the woman burning her up.

"Nooooo..." She heard a scream from behind, but she paid it no heed.

Drogon opened his mouth and flames erupted from his mouth, burning the woman, her babe and a quarter of the building down. Daenerys felt a surge of satisfaction run through her. Suddenly, an idea came to her. If she couldn't have the Iron Throne, then neither would he. But before she could attack, a spear whizzed past her head.

Daenerys swung Drogon around and went to take aim on the source. However, before she had the chance, she heard the word dracarys. She turned towards the approaching white dragon, flanked by Rhaegal and Viserion. All three opened their mouths and dragonfire engulfed her, burning her skin.

Daenerys opened her eyes. She felt sweaty and hot. She looked up, and instead of seeing the sky, she found herself in a comfortable bed, a canopy above her of blue and green.

"Khaleesi." Came the comforting voice of Ser Jorah. She turned her head to look at him, her body suddenly feeling weak.

"Where am I?" She asked.

"You are safe, Khaleesi. You need to rest."

"What happened?"

"You were stung by a manticore." Jorah looked glum. "I thought we were going to lose you. You've been unconscious for two weeks."

"How did I live?" Daenerys voice was raspy, and she coughed. "Water."

Ser Jorah lifted her head and placed a goblet of water to her lips. "You have dragon-blood, Khaleesi. You may have been able to fight a poison which no normal man can think of winning against."

"Was anyone else hurt?" She asked, taking another sip of the water, soothing her dry throat.

"Only the vendor trying to sell us the brass platter. He shall live, but he has a hideous injury on his arm. I knocked it from him with my sword, before it stung him. I drove my sword through the manticore's body, so it cannot hurt anyone else."

"Who would try to kill me? King Robert?"

"He is long dead, your grace. His son sits atop the Iron Throne. But I wouldn't put it past him or the Lannisters to attack you."

A sudden panic rose within her. "Where are my dragons?" She whispered.

Ser Jorah pointed towards the corner of the tent, where they were laying, asleep.

"I dreamed Rhaegal and Viserion betrayed me for a man named Aegon, who had a dragon all of his own. He was my brother's son."

"I doubt that very much, your grace. Your nephew, Aegon, is dead." Jorah replied.

"I know, but it was so vivid. I dreamed I was flying over Kings Landing, on Drogon's back. Aegon was flying his dragon. He'd taken Kings Landing."

"I would not worry so about fever dreams. When I have fever dreams, mine are usually of my hands being larger than lily-pads, and I can't grip my sword." Ser Jorah smiled. "Would you like any more water?"

Daenerys shook her head. "I need to sleep." She replied.

"Aye, Khaleesi, that you do." Gently, Ser Jorah lay her head back down on her soft feather pillow. Daenerys closed her eyes, and the world turned dark.