You Are The One

Chapter 6

"What would you like to know?" Aegon asks.

He hands his sword back to her, smiling assuredly until she takes it. He sucks in a silent breath when his knuckles brush hers and he feels like his entire body comes to life. Like he was just existing before now.

He's thankful that she doesn't seem to notice, but also, highly disappointed she didn't feel it, too.

Or maybe she did, but she's just that good at keeping herself composed.

In which case, he is again, very impressed.

Not a lot of women—in his experience anyway—even know how to be stoic, let alone consistent and rather hard-core at it.

Then again, maybe he's just talking out of his own arse.

He knows he's attractive, so, he's used to pretty much all types of women flocking to him for his undivided attention.

The first question Jon asks seems to surprise him, which in turn, surprises her a little.

"Where to do they come from?" She asks, her eyes flitting between him and the blade in her hand.

She holds it up to tests it weight again and can't help smiling. When she looks up, she also can't help flushing a little at his attention. Those eyes of his are so intense.

Aegon cracks a small grin and quickly looks away; pretending he wasn't looking at all.

Jon lowers the blade back to her side, fighting back her blush, while letting her smile tug at her lips this time.

"Ah, now, that is thee question." Aegon finally says, "Some say they're the left over Titans of the Old Gods. Some day they're the New Gods that have been here for thousands of years, just waiting to rise to their truest power." As he speaks, he walks aimlessly around the Painted Table, eyes on the map, but not really looking at it as he says, "Some even think we Targaryens created them from just our blood and the fire of a volcano. Oh, and magic, of course."

Jon finds herself smiling amusedly at his scrunched up face of dismay.

Aegon huffs quietly. Though, when he lifts his eyes back to her lovely face, his expression melts away and he can't help smiling. Very much like a pathetic school lad with his very first fancy.

Jon doesn't dare to look away—her pride is still a work in progress.

But he doesn't make it easy. Not with that perfect face or that wickedly fervid gaze he's boring into her very soul right now. Instead, she clears her throat—notes his eyes darting down to track the movement before flitting back up to connect with hers and sucks in a small breath of relief.

He looked away first.

Now, she can relax and do the same.

(She's aware that her head is messed up. And she'd blame the dying, but that only made things worse—rather than created the problems from scratch itself.)

Jon nods, eyes still flickering back to him as she asks, "And what do you believe?"

"I've never given it much thought." Aegon shrugs, gaze finally lightening from black back to lilac within a flash.

He straightens his posture, blinking away the look and replacing it with a lazy smile. "I suppose I believed what I read in the history books—the Fourteen Fires of Valyria were finally tamed by the Targaryens, or at least, as tamed as one can manage fire itself. And when the fires finally rolled back, that is when and where we found the first dragon eggs. Bright and beautiful pearls of hope in a land of nothing but ash and bones."

Jon nods in acknowledgement.

She definitely remembers Arya telling her that. What with the girl being practically obsessed with dragons growing up.

Jon smiles at the thought of at least giving her sister/cousin a chance to see the dragons for herself. Remembers the bright eyed look of innocent wonder in Arya's eyes as Jon rode back into Winterfell with Dani at her side—and Dani's army at their back and all three of her dragons flying above them.

Aegon simply watches her getting lost in whatever lovely thought she's lost in.

Yes, he thinks, this is the expression she should always wear.

He doesn't know why, but he suddenly makes it his personal mission to see her smile more.

"My sister," Jon's smile broadens—because to her, Arya, especially, will always be her sister; her favourite, though, Jon would never dare tell either of them that, but they're just so much alike...until Arya became utterly terrifying, Gods, bless her. "She used to favour the story of how the bonds between riders and dragons were made—the one where the Targaryens used bloodmagic."

Aegon chuckles at that and Jon tanks down on the smile the nice sound brings out of her. He grins over at her, lightly sarcastic, but playfully so as he asks her, "You've seen how temperamental dragons are—do you really think any man, including the Targaryens, could ever hope to tame them through overpowering them?" He chuckles again, shakes his head and says, "No, little beastie. The dragons look for those who suit them best."

Jon fights back a gulp when he gives her that intense look again and adds, "Not unlike us humans, no?"

She really can't help making a face at that, only making him laugh again. The sound softer, this time, and doing nothing good for her insides.

With a sweet little smile as he tilts his head and eyes her face, he tells her, "When a Targaryen is born, we would place a dragon egg in their cradle, in hopes that it the egg would hatch and the two would form a naturally close bond as they were allowed to grow along side one another." He pauses with a frown, then, says, "Well, that used to be the tradition."

Jon walks over to the table to join him. She places his sword gently down over the Painted Table and gives him her full attention.

Aegon has to take a second to remember how to breathe properly. It's as if she can stare right into his soul with those deep dark eyes of hers.

He's suddenly glad that the table is between them, otherwise, he doubts he'd have been able to keep his hands from her lovely face. Just to tilt it up enough for her eyes to catch the light for him to see even better.

He takes in a slow and deep breath. Then, finally carries on with, "By the time I managed to mount Balerion for the first time, he and his two sisters were the only three dragons left bigger than a stray cat or dog."

This surprises Jon, because she definitely remembers both Arya and Brann arguing over which dragon was the best from the famous events of the Dance of the Dragons. Which happened only a century and a half ago. And she absolutely remembers both her siblings having screaming matches over it, while viciously pointing to the sketches in the books at just which dragon was the best.

"Why can't you just accept that Vhagar is superior to all the dragons that ever lived, Brann! You're such a basic idiot! She even outlasted her brother, Balerion, by a damn century!!!"

"Oh, that's all it is to you, isn't it? How typical of you to lack elegance and just go straight for the brutal blow, you heathen!"

Aegon's wonderful laugh brings her from her thoughts. Soft and deep and so tingly on her insides...and some parts on her outside...

Jon throws him a questioning look.

"It's very surreal," His eyes drift around the room, taking in all of the changes. "Climbing onto Balerion for the first time was quite literally just seven years ago for me, and yet, it's really been over three hundred."

Jon instantly feels bad for lusting after him. Even if she does so in secret.

The look on his face says he already misses his home. And probably misses his wives.

She doesn't dare ask about them. No matter how much she itches to.

She feels she'd just embarrass herself, or at the very least, make herself too conspicuous.

He obviously misses his dragon, too.

She gives a faint grin when he suddenly turns to her with a fond smile and tells her, "He is not unlike your own dragon in terms of pettiness."

She can't help smiling with him when he laughs again; as he tells her, "Not that I have ever been interested in taking part myself, but there was this one time—upon one of the first rides where we were still getting to know one another—that I flew over one of the summer knight tournaments, just to be nosey and see what was happening and he decided to make sure I knew he wasn't for playing around when then, he flew out into the middle of the ocean and shook me off, leaving me to swim at least four bloody miles back to the sore."

Jon chuckles at that, bowing and shaking her head.

When she catches him shooting her a small glare, she hides her smirk with her hand and mutters the least sincere apology she's ever uttered.

Well, she thinks, at least Drogon isn't that bad.

And Aegon didn't even murder his dragon's rider to get him.

Aegon tilts his head, stares curiously at her. And like he somehow knows just what she's thinking, he says, "You must be quite something, Lady Snow, for your dragon to still choose you after what you have told me. She was his mother, you say. Will you tell me about that? Was his egg placed in her cradle at birth?"

Aegon is no expert on dragons. And having the biggest dragons, while only having the extreme likes of either one of Balerion's own two sisters or the tiny withered looking creatures leftover—well, he couldn't really say how old the Lady's dragon is. At least, not from where he was hiding within the bushes as he watched and hoped the dragon wouldn't sniff him out and burn him.

He's starting to think that maybe her dragon knew he was here. That maybe he brought her to Aegon. Though, for what, Aegon couldn't say either.

Jon nods once. And she's easily answering him, but he still notes the tension suddenly bunching in her shoulders as she says, "She didn't have the eggs placed in her cradle."

Jon pauses and her eyes widen in realisation of her little slip up just as Aegon's widen in surprise.

As predicted, he obviously asks, "Eggs? Plural? She had more than one dragon to herself?"

For a second, Jon feels the ugly green head of jealousy rearing its head in her gut at his sudden flicker of interest. Which is ridiculous, because she's still actually trying to get over the woman. Both from falling for her and ending her life.

But then, something about Aegon's expression tells her he's more intrigued by the new information, rather than the truly magnificent woman she's talking about.

And she really was...until the Targaryen Coin flipped—as the people say.

Jon fights back a scowl just for thinking that.

She wasn't just some crazy, evil bitch. She was finally broken beyond repair.

So broken that even Jon couldn't fix her. No matter how hard she tried. No matter how much she wished to.

Obviously, Jon doesn't think she could have picked things back up between the two of them after finding out who she really was and who her father really was to Dani. But she still would have followed Dani to the ends of the earth and back again.

Jon clears her throat, tells him, "She told me she was one-and-five when someone gifted them to her for her wedding. They were already over a century and a half old by the time they were placed in her hands and had turned to solid stone. She told me that when her first husband died, she loved him so much that she wanted to die with him. And after losing their only child while the babe was still forming in her womb as well, she took her three dragon eggs with her and walked into the pyre to burn with him."

Aegon's eyes don't widen like Jon thought they would do when she tells him the next part, instead, his eyebrows furrow and he looks slightly concerned: "The next morning, when the fire had burned out, she said she must have fallen asleep, and there was not one mark on her. And all three of her dragon eggs had hatched."

Jon eyes him carefully, just in case he tries to lie to her as he tells her, "Sounds like your...friend," He offers a soft, understanding smile on that word before continuing with, "Was a Targaryen then."

Jon simply nods, eyes never leaving his face.

He doesn't seem panicked or disturbed, just slightly uncomfortable. Scratching at the back of his neck and smiling timidly, he nods and says, "There are stories—ridiculous, even to us—well, most of us. It's mostly a pride thing." He rolls his eyes, but waves a dismissive hand and gives her a quick look that tells her he'll tell her later.

Instead, he now tells her, "Some Targaryens back in the Old Days—well, my Old Days."

Jon fails to fight back an amused smile when he shoots her a cheesy grin and adds, "I suppose that now makes my days your Old Days, hm?" She bites her lip to keep from grinning when his own grin drops and he mutters with a huff, "Gods, I sound like an old man."

Aegon shoots her a playful glare when he catches those sweet rosy cheeks of amusement as well as those dark eyes twinkling back at him.

"Don't even think of answering that." He snips with a tiny smirk and a loosely pointed warning finger.

Jon chuckles. Then, quickly purses her lips when he pouts. Lifts her right hand up from the table in silent surrender—and offers another apology...just because he's earned it by being so lovely to ogle and—talk to!!

She means talk to...

Aegon's eyes narrow a little more. He smirks, gives a dramatic little huff for emphasis, then, dives straight back in to tell her, "As I was saying; mostly old-fashioned Targaryens believed that if their bloodline were pure enough, we could not only bond and ride our dragons, but we could even start to become their power."

Jon finds herself scowling a little when his eyes widen in awe and he looks away from her. Laughing to himself before turning back to her with those awe-filled eyes and saying, "Your friend, whoever she was, was very fucking special."

Gods, why the fuck is Jon's heart slowly sinking to her stomach?

Even if it weren't for his sudden interest in Dani, he is still married to two women. And his sisters, no less.

If anything, even if she is Targaryen, Jon doubts she's enough for him.

Still, Jon nods, forces a small smile onto the corners of her lips. Mumbles, "Yeah, she was." Sighs tiredly and asks, "You're talking about the fire thing, right?"

She nods when he nods and asks him, "So, I'm guessing it's not a standard Targaryen thing?"

Aegon shakes his head, breathes out a laugh and tells her, "It's also a very taboo thing for us to even talk about, let alone a bad fucking omen." He smiles at her adorable confused look and explains, "To ride the dragons is one thing. And even though many Targaryens used bloodmagic to try to unify both our forms, it never actually worked. At least, not the way they wanted it to—the babes would all either be stillborn and deformed or too deformed to live for themselves."

Well, that weirdly makes Jon feel better. Odd times she seems to be given such comforts. Knowing that she still burns herself with the ease of any other person.

That it isn't because she isn't enough of her father's blood to withstand the pain and heat.

Aegon shakes his head.

He looks less awed and more disturbed now. Especially when he looks over at her, seemingly seeing something new in her as he nods and tells her, "I'm starting to understand why you had to...deal with her."

When her lovely face falls slightly and those shoulders of her bunch up all the way and she turns away from him, Aegon quickly moves around the table towards her.

He holds up both hands as he says, "I'm sorry, My Lady, I did not mean to upset you. I just meant that you do not seem like a person who takes such matters lightly."

Jon blows out a breath to steady herself. "That's two now." She says, cracking an almost bitter but mostly just tired and sad smile.

Gods, fucking help her if Aegon becomes the third.

She doesn't think she'll survive it this time.

(Third time is the charm—and all that bollocks.)

Aegon's confusion doesn't need to last long enough for him to ask as she takes another breath to collect herself and finally turns back to face him and tell him, "The first person I loved, I had to watch die in my arms just seconds after an arrow pierced her heart."

Jon doesn't know how she keep her words from wavering. They even come out a little firmer as she says, "And I loved her so much. More than I ever thought it was possible to love someone."

Aegon sort of knows what that feels like. He and Visenya were never really close. But Rhaenys was always so sweet and inviting to just about everyone.

He loves her dearly. Wholly.

But...

But there's a "but" and he didn't know what that missing feeling was until now.

Until this day...

Until meeting this woman now stood before him.

He clears his throat, leans his backside on the lip of the table beside her and gently asks, "And the second?"

He otherwise wouldn't ask; wouldn't want to upset her. But she's very clearly either opening up to him or just in need of a venting session.

Aegon doesn't mind. More than doesn't mind.

He could listen to her speak for days; forever. That charming Northern accent of hers doing naughty things to his nether regions, when it isn't making him smile with total fondness.

Jon glances up, meeting his eyes. She marvels for a moment at how they can go from being so intense and downright scandalous to soft and patient, and somehow, completely understanding.

They nod slowly in unison, and then Aegon says, "Your friend, then." He nods again when she does, offers a small but reassuring smile; no judgement.

Jon blows out a wary chuckle and says, "I don't know how, of all people, talking to someone who should have died from old age three hundred years ago is the easiest person to talk to in my life right now."

Aegon grins, pushing himself off of the table to give the Lady a formal bow. Even tucking his hand to his chest and the other behind his back as he says, "I am glad to be of service, My Lady."

Jon chuckles. Amused, but deep down, nervous when the time inevitably comes that he finds out just how much of a "Lady" she really isn't.

(And not so deep down, she's guilty for lying to him.)

Gods, can't her life be simple for just one fucking day?

They're probably saving it for her retirement, if she's lucky, and if not, then, for the days before she finally dies horribly in whatever way.

Again.

"So, I had a little nose around my chambers. Your friend seemed to be doing a lot of reading before she left you."

Jon can't help the soft smile that touches her lips as his subtle but sweet avoidance of the subject of Dani's murder.

"Oh?" She arches a brow, waits for him to continue.

(She wouldn't know. She was too chicken to step foot in there while here.)

Aegon leans back against the table again, mirroring her actions and trying not to lean his shoulder just that last couple of inches closer to touch her own. He bows his head in a nod and says, "She was reading up on Targaryens." He chuckles and asks, "Are you sure she was one of us?"

Jon gulps. Loud. Then, pathetically writes it off with a strained smile as she tries not to think of just what he will think of her when he finds out.

"Did I say something wrong, My Lady?"

He frowns softly, turns to face her, leaning one hand on the lip of the table. His other, hanging in the space between them, hovering hopelessly. He's itching to touch her and ignores it all as he focuses on getting a smile back on that lovely face again.

Jon shakes her head, strains even harder with the next smile she attempts.

Finally, it's Aegon's turn to throw her a withering look.

Normally, he'd force the truth out of whoever he is talking to. Well, either force or persuade.

But he doesn't want to do that with Lady Jon; it doesn't even come into his mind for a second.

Jon manages to smoothly cover for herself, while simultaneously managing not to outright lie to him.

"She was the last of the Targaryens."

Was.

"She'd been hunted down for most of her life. Until the dragons, of course."

Aegon nods. "Gods, I have so much to catch up on."

He chuckles to himself, this time, not noting Jon's eyes flickering nervously for a brief moment.

But no matter how nervous she is, it clearly no longer seems to matter to her mind the moment he turns back to her with a sweet boyishly hopeful grin and asks her, "I know it sounds real tedious—and you can, of course, tell me to right toss off, but—will you please help me, Lady Snow?"