You Are The One
Chapter 15
"That's because you have a habit of thinking of anyone's wellbeing before your own." Aegon says as he slowly reaches forward and gently takes the dead man's blade from her hand. He takes a closer look for himself, but sees that it's just a butcher's knife; no great weapon and more than likely chosen at the last moment. Aegon feels offended and infuriated to know that this dead man did not put much thought into ending someone as...well, magnificent as his little beastie.
And then, the moment he hears her hiss softly, his fury is only magnified as his eyes snap from the blade in his hands and land on her own hands gingerly rubbing at her bloody hip. He all but tosses the blade onto the floor beside the man's corpse and moves swiftly to her side to inspect her wound for himself.
Though, he pauses with hands hovering between them. Eyes darting up to hers in question even before his mouth is asking, "May I?"
With them being so close right now, Jon doesn't have the luxury of taking a breath to calm herself first without him noticing. So, like always, she simply soldiers on with (what she hopes is) a brave nod. Although, she does then steady herself, instead, by chuckling quietly at his all too sweet look of concern, while she lightly informs him, "It doesn't hurt. The blood is drying and got caught on..." She blushes fully as she realises what she was about to so openly tell him.
Blushes even fucking more when his eyes slowly lift to hers and a slow devilish grin takes form across those sinful lips of his.
Jon ignores the fact that she's probably beet-red right now. Holding her head up with (as much) dignity (as she can muster), she tries not to sound (too) snooty while then informing him, "...On nothing of consequence."
A horrific side-thought—now, he probably thinks she's "furrier" down...down there than a Gods damned direwolf...
Jon uses his replying chuckle of amusement to puff out a breath and suck one back in to finally try to save at least a shred of her composure. Her dignity is obviously gone. And it's never returning if she makes an even bigger fool of herself as his warm hands suddenly wrap around her waist.
She thinks of flying on the back of Drogon and is gratefully surprised to find that it works in calming her. Though, it's more plausible that Aegon's soft touch is behind the reason her shoulders drop and she closes her eyes with a small but content smile tugging at her lips.
Aegon doesn't even think about the mess on his hands as he gently brushes the blood away. It's already congealed, which makes him pause right before that one last swipe.
Jon's eyes spring open when she feels his hands still over her bare flesh. Finally, she turns her head to look down at her wound. But stops on his wide-eyed look of awe, confusion and a little fear.
Her heart sinks, but she clears her throat just long enough to croak out the words, "I told you; I'm fine." She pulls away from him, but this time, his right hand reaches out, gently snatches her left wrist and firmly yanks her back to stand face-to-face with him.
Aegon smiles, cutting her off as she opens her mouth with a protesting scowl as he says, "You are more than that." At her the answering flash of confusion, his smile widens as he nods at her and says, "Look at your wound, Jon."
Jon's confusion melts away as her gaze snaps down and lands on absolutely nothing but the smear of her blood from Aegon's hands and the rip of her leather from the dead man on her chamber floor. Her eyes don't widen, like Aegon's, but instead, she feels her heart sink even further.
Her first thought is; I'm a monster.
And it is so loud in her mind that she almost blurts the words out loud.
So, instead, like she's been doing since she returned from the dead, she shoves everything related to the topic away from her as far as possible and focuses on anything else.
Namely, the man who just tried to kill her.
"It doesn't mean anything."
Aegon blinks, confused. Then, gapes, shocked. "Doesn't mea—"
"Doesn't change anything." Jon only corrects herself to avoid creating arguments...or wanting to even know what it really does mean...
Aegon purses his lips, clearly not finished with the matter. But Jon is thankful when he simply bows his head, and then, carefully steps around her.
"Wait," Jon says when Aegon crouches down and snags up the lifeless man's right wrist. He does so, immediately dropping the dead flesh as if it has burned him and despite the shitty situation she's in right now, she finds herself fighting back a smile at both Aegon's comedic timing and the fact that he doesn't hesitate to do as she asks of him.
"I need to check him first." She says, making Aegon arc a brow and ask slowly, "Fooorrr...??"
Jon makes a sarcastic face as she replies, "Love bites."
Aegon chuckles.
Jon rolls her eyes, this time, fighting back a faint smile as she ducks down into a crouch. She then, begins searching the man's pockets, finding nothing in any of them very quickly.
"Hm. Not just a pretty face then."
When Jon glances up at Aegon, he's grinning cheekily.
She narrows her eyes and mutters out, "Rude," even though she's not offended in the slightest, even if he did really mean it as more than teasing—which somehow, she feels like he did.
Aegon grins to himself, feeling not at all smug as he always does with both his sisters, but rather excited to see how his little beastie will surprise and excite him next. He crouches down opposite her, watching her peek and poke carefully around the man's body before he asks seriously, "What are you looking for?"
Jon doesn't look up at him, keeps her attention on the body as she answers, "Clues, hopefully. He wasn't working alone—he slipped up, just for a moment, but it was enough to tell me he's working for, or with someone; a 'she' someone."
"She told us not to try..."
And whoever She is at least knows Jon isn't just a pretty face. But also...that means whoever it is will try that much harder to come for Jon...
(She's always understood why Lord Stark always told her to keep her skills secret until they needed to be revealed. Unlike Robb, who'd always been eager to show off just how skilled he was.)
"I..." Aegon's uneasy pause makes Jon pause and finally give him her full attention. He takes a breath, feeling as pale as he probably looks, then, quietly asks, "Permission to creep the both of us out with my next words, Your Grace?" He's only being formal about it because he really does want her permission before he puts any unwanted thoughts into that pretty head of hers.
Jon straightens her back to level her eyes with his before giving him a go ahead nod.
Aegon nods back, blows out a tiny breath. Smiles meekly. Leans a little closer. Pauses to look around the room. Leans a tiny bit closer. Widens his eyes slowly as he whispers, "Do you think this 'She' that this man spoke of could be D...Daenerys???"
Jon stares at him for a few moments, because for all sorts of reasons, starting with the most logical, that was not what she could have ever imagined him asking her—even with her surreal experiences.
Aegon blinks back at her, paling by the second. He sucks in a breath, leans back and looks utterly distraught as he mutters, "And now, I've upset you."
He opens his mouth again, no doubt to apologise, but Jon jumps in quickly with a surprised, "N—no. You haven't. I just..." She trails off with a quiet chuckle.
"Oh, good. You're laughing." Aegon breaths a small sigh of relief. Even grins a little as he adds, "I don't need to ask you if I've pissed you off instead then."
Jon bites her lip to keep from laughing properly. She doesn't know if his fragile ego could take it if she actually meant it. "Why do you ask that?" She asks instead, instantly going back to biting her lip right after to keep that laughter inside.
Aegon looks at her like she's crazy for a few moments. That is, until he notices the tiny crinkle around those dark eyes now twinkling with amusement at him.
He narrows his own eyes, then, scoffs and filled with both sarcasm and snootiness, he asks, "I'm sorry—are you actually laughing at me for asking a question like that when you're the one—literally the only one—who has ever returned from the dead?"
Jon swallows back the reply she really wants to give, but still doesn't let him off so easy with: "I'm actually...not the only one." She ends with a pleasant, albeit, teasing little smile.
Aegon blinks, shocked back out of his protest. "What??" He then, all but squeaks.
Jon can't take it anymore. If she doesn't want to laugh in his handsome face, she has to move away from his handsome face and move away from his handsome face, she does.
Rising to stand, she says, "His name was Beric Dondarrion." She honours the man by naming him, because—"I didn't know much about him, but I do know that he died more times than you can count on one hand. And he used two of those times to save my sister; Arya's life."
Aegon blinks, looks wary, then, slowly intrigued. Nods to himself, then, says, "I wish to meet him."
Jon purses her lips, because the man is dead and it's no laughing matter. But she thinks she's just found her new favourite thing to do: mess with Aegon (just like she used to mess with Robb.) So, she finds herself speaking without thinking at his questioning look, simply telling him, "You can't."
Aegon stares at her for a moment, like he's trying to figure out the answer before he even asks her, "Why not?" His words come out slow and wary as his eyes narrow a tad.
Jon holds up her palms in a hopeless manner as she replies bluntly with, "He died."
Aegon blinks, looks startled into confusion. "What..." He scowls. "But you just said—"
When he finally notices the little smirk she's trying but failing to mute, his eyes narrow fully. "And you are toying with me. Very good, Your Grace." He nods with acceptance as he puffs out a breath, glares weakly at her, while now, trying to mute his own smirk.
Jon shrugs and says, "Honestly, you make it too easy."
Aegon doesn't know how it's possible, but he's both happy and offended. Eyeing her with playful anger as he watches her crouch back down.
This time, she begins gently pulling at the edges of the man's clothing. Peeking underneath at the flesh before letting go of the material and moving onto the next patch.
Before he can ask what she's doing, she's explains to him about this other dead man who apparently died many times.
"Beric fought for Arya's life twice. She would not speak of the first. And the second, I also did not witness myself, but happened at the battle against the army of walking dead men. Beric saved her life, taking his final breath at last, and Arya went on to kill the Knight King."
Aegon nods in acknowledgement when she glances briefly up at him. Though, as he realises he's watching her check for any distinguishing marks on the man's body, this time, he's about to ask why she's telling him this when he knows she still doesn't trust him. He feels her holding back.
(Always. He hates it. Hates the way it makes his chest ache...)
And again, before he can open his mouth to ask, she answers him anyway.
"It sounds to me, like he very much was kept alive for one soul purpose..." Jon pauses when she lifts up the dead man's left hand and spots an inked image on the inside of his wrist. She grits her teeth and nods to herself as she ends with, "Before he was finally deemed useless."
Something she knows the feeling of all too well...
No, no, no—
Jon does not like this. Doesn't like that she feels like she already knows who this "She" is that has decided to come for Jon's blood.
"What is it?" Aegon leans forward. Looks at the tattoo and frowns as he asks, "Is that a House sigil?"
—But only one person really makes plausible sense...
"If it is, it's not one that I know of." Jon says before she drops the man's wrist and rises to her feet.
—Even if it is a literal suicide mission for anyone to come after a Queen in general...
Jon crosses hers arms over her chest, her eyes glazing over a little as her mind races with possibilities; all awful, for all, if not, most parties involved.
—"She" has already declared her utter hatred for the last Queen to sit on the Iron Throne.
(Not that Jon blames her for that one. Considering what Jon almost did to Ramsey for what he did to Sansa and Rickon.)
Aegon follows suit swiftly, rising to stand with her. Yet, looking concerned for her lack of concern. She looks more thoughtful than worried.
But most pathetically of all; on his part: he can't take her silence. Never can. And especially not when it's shrouded over him, too.
He steps around the man slowly, voice soft as he says, "Whatever it is, Your—whatever it is, little beastie, I will not let it harm, nor even worry you."
His disappointment comes like a punch to the chest when she finally places her lovely eyes upon him, but mutters a distracted, "Hm?"
He feels even fucking worse when she snaps back out of her thoughts and slaps on an apologetic smile that makes him want to throw up—because she's looking at him like she's trying not to make him feel bad; like he's a child, who doesn't know any better...
But then, in the next moment; the moment right before he almost feels his heart begin to shatter, instead, he's watching as that smile of hers softens and her eyes focus on him and widen just a fraction in surprise, like she's seeing him for the first time again and she likes what she sees. And fuck, Aegon almost slumps to his knees with the pure relief that floods him.
His toes, oddly, but nicely, feel tingly when she says, "Sorry. What did you say? I wasn't ignoring you. I just...get lost sometimes." He can't help smiling as she does, even if it's faint, he can see it's a happy one. She chuckles, looks pleasantly surprised as she says, "That's actually the first time that's happened since I came back from...well, being dead—I thought maybe I came back different, or..."
Aegon's smile dissolves as hers fades, her expression growing slightly weary as she firmly mumbles the word: "Wrong."
He doesn't even know what to say to that, because he's felt just about the same for all his life...
Thankfully, she unknowingly saves them both when she turns and walks over to her desk.
He watches her as she picks up a loose piece of parchment and a small piece of drawing lead. She walks back over to the dead man, crouching beside him once again. Aegon stays standing, this time, but his eyes never leave her, ever curiously excited to see how she will surprise him next.
And so she does—in the next half minute, Jon is grabbing and, this time, holding up the man's wrist in one hand, while her other hand balances the parchment on her right knee just long enough to copy the ink on his already hardening flesh. And while Jon makes a note to move him before the rest of death's stiffness follows and makes him more difficult to deal with, Aegon is marvelling at both how dexterous she is and how quickly and easily she drew such a detailed sketch (when he's never been able to draw two straight lines—well, unless he's planning a battle.)
Jon lets the man's wrist fall softly back to the floor before rising to her feet again. She stares down at the sketch, trying to make real sense of what this could possibly be before taking any action...or making any false assumptions. Maybe she'll send a copy of this symbol to Arya, though, she would have to go through Brann to even find out where Arya is right now.
Or she could just ask Brann about what happened tonight...and who would probably be no help at all by telling her nothing useful.
She scowls at that thought, because; seriously, what is even the point of knowing everything and doing absolutely nothing about it?
Aegon approaches her. Slowly holds out a hand, while asking, "May I?"
Jon nods and passes the parchment over. She watches him and hides a small smile to herself over his rather sweet frown of concentration as he stares down at the symbol.
"The Sun and spear part of it look very much like the ones on the Dornish sigil." Aegon mumbles, eyes raking over the wings of the other half.
He has less of a bad feeling, like he was expecting to. Instead, he's just pissed off to know that this symbol either means mockery or invasion and...conquering.
Jon snaps out of her ogling, flushes while thankfully he isn't looking at her. Hopes she doesn't sound as horribly swoony as she feels inside when she clears her throat quietly, nods uselessly, then, says, "Yes. That is my thinking."
When he finally looks up at her again, Jon has to pause, lest she stumble over her words while trying not to get so lost in his brilliantly lit lilac orbs. She takes a step back and uses a puffy breath of confusion to fight back the soft sigh of appreciation she almost lets loose.
"I don't know why all of Dorne would see me as their enemy." Jon says; both speaking for distraction and thinking the situation over—at least, before she fills her council in about what happened here tonight and doesn't get a moment to herself again. "I met with Ellaria Sand myself on the third day of my ruling. She thanked and gifted me a small jewelled blade for saving her life—I found her after Dani burned half the city down. She almost killed Ellaria, who was trapped in one of the castle dungeons."
Aegon arcs a brow, looks uneasy as he asks, "She thanked you for killing the same woman she bent the knee to?"
Jon bites her lip, looks awkward as she says, "When Ellaria was captured and given to Cersie, Dani...didn't really make much effort to help her. I didn't know at the time, otherwise, of course, I would have at least tried to do something about it, but..."
Aegon nods in understanding when she ends with a miserable little sigh. He sighs softly and finishes for her, "But you feel responsible for her, no matter what you both do. That part I understand; I've felt the same about my sisters all my life." He refrains from telling her he's missing the guilt part that she's so clearly got down, because...well, he doesn't want her to look at him like she doesn't want to know him anymore...
He shakes off the thought and, instead, tells her, "To be fair to anyone in that situation, Daenerys probably assumed her dead, or at the very least, to be used as a lure or ransom for her." He smiles cheekily but fondly at her withering stare. Holds up his hands in surrender and says, "You're just too noble for your own good, little beastie."
When she makes a sour face at him, he chuckles, and then, gives her a sincere look as he tells her, "Don't take that trait for granted in a world that constantly and shamelessly discards or lacks it altogether."
Jon arcs a brow, only mildly challenging, but wholly curious as she asks, "Are you lacking it?"
Aegon blinks, completely caught off guard by that question. Surely, she must already know—even if she's not read much about him.
'During most of his years, Aegon was not known for being particularly pious...'
The first thing that comes to his mind is the very line he read from only the very first book out of the many piled up and waiting to be read on his bed beside him, in those first few nights of being here in this time.
'Pious.'
In other words: lacking any real desire for anything at all...
Yet, without any real motivation other than being overly pissed off and offended for his best friend, he started a fucking invasion and conquered ninety percent of the world known to man. His armies were small, but his dragons were more than big enough.
Just not as big as his balls right now, which he thoroughly accepts as he bows his head just so he doesn't have to look her in the eyes as he finally answers her with, "I'd like to think I am and I can be, sometimes, but the truth is, it's not something I have ever particularly strived to be, no. I've mostly found that too many don't deserve to be on the other end of your nobility, or your mercy."
He chances a peek up at her and is both relieved and pleasantly surprised to find her looking thoughtful rather than judgemental...or worse.
But he can't help smiling faintly and nodding in agreement after she says, "Even when they beg you; or try to convince you; or promise you."
Jon feels a small stab of guilt on the last part of her statement. Thinks of the last time she saw and spoke to Lord Stark and he had promised her that the next time they met, he would tell her all about her mother.
Finally.
Only, that time never came...
And for so long now, she's been both trapped between the guilt of hating him for waiting so long to tell her and the guilt of being too helpless (even if she was there with the rest of her family) to stop his death.
Jon nods; satisfied with his honesty as he hands the parchment back to her. She takes it and stares down at it, and then, nods to herself in decision and says, "I will meet with Ellaria. I will go to Dorne myself on Drogon's back. But I will send him to retreat before asking her if she knows anything about this symbol. If she has knowledge, she will most probably lie and I wish to know what that looks like."
Aegon takes a tiny subtle step back and turns his waist slightly to the side before she can notice his rising cock beneath his tight night leathers.
She really was born of not just fire, but ice, as well—and it's amazing to see both fighting for dominance through those determined dark chocolate orbs of hers.
Oblivious to his arousal in her own set of mixed feelings, Jon glares down at the dragon wings wrapped around the two spears—if She wants the dragon, Jon will take the beast right to her.