authorsnote: I really enjoyed writing this chapter, sry it took a little while

lots of fun to come

songrecs: Rhaenyra's Welcome - HOD Season 1

'I had forgotten what a small and noisy folk they are, my ironborn. I would bring them dragons, and they shout out for grapes'

'Grapes are real, a man can gorge himself on grapes. Their juice is sweet, and they make wine. What do dragons make?'

'Woe'

- Euron and Vicatarion Greyjoy converse

-x-

Rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat.

At least for the next week.

That was Jon's routine, as he tried to learn more about his surroundings, more about the time he was in, more about his circumstances and of those around him. He'd break his fast and attend dinners in the main hall, whilst keeping luncheon hidden away by himself, usually on a nice wall, around the back of a cliff face he'd found, some privacy at least.

He'd attend in the training yard, ignore the sparring and the fighting, and instead drill his technique, his moves, his footwork, his stance. Moves that required his engagement, that embodied his full mind, and thus was the perfect way to distract himself, and immerse his mind into what he was doing.

His thoughts were so overwhelming, his mind felt so full, it was essential he have some time where he didn't have to think too much.

Whatever had happened to him it had only been a week, he had time to figure it out, for the moment he had to focus on making sure he didn't have some kind of breakdown, kept his mind occupied, and learned as he went.

And so, through the week he learned, he had conversations, he learned bit by bit, about himself, about his family here, about the time and the circumstances, beat the hell out of training dummies, and avoided anything else.

Again, he was thankful his reputation for brooding had apparently travelled back in time with him, it made it easy for him to nod through conversations, learning names, politics and all the things he hated but needed here.

A week after he'd arrived here, he was in the training yard, beating at a training dummy, drilling his footwork. He had a binder filled with names, houses, dates, events in his room that was rapidly taking over his mind as he tried to place himself in this history, the rhythm of training was essential to make sure he didn't go insane.

He was a Targaryen after all, purple eyed and all now, he probably had a propensity for it.

"What has got you in a bother Uncle?" A voice however tore him away from his training, or rather the stuffing he was beating out of the training dummy as he was drilling an undercut sword move.

He turned then, he'd never been an Uncle in his previous life, "Niece" He said, for he had one here, never had before, Robb had died before he could have Heirs, Sansa had disappeared, he'd never been their true brother, but he'd liked to think he would visit any Nieces and Nephews from the Wall, there was none of that now.

No Starks he knew left here, only Targaryens, his new family.

And yet, he knew so little about them outside the legends, he knew he had a Small Council meeting later that day (and this time he would actually listen and engage, unlike the first, just after he'd arrived here and had barely staved off a panic attack), and would learn more, but even as he turned to offer Rhaenyra a smile, it was strange.

He might have purple eyes but he wasn't a Targaryen, not in his head, not yet.

Could he ever be?

He didn't know, but he knew he had to explore it, especially after eating breakfast with Aemma, and the information he'd learned through the last week.

He hadn't heard anything about the line of succession, and yet he felt a hard panic in his stomach everytime he thought about it; that he was next in line if Daemon was inherited; what would that mean for the Dance of Dragons?

His purpose, it had to be to stop it, would becoming King do that?

"Uncle?" Rhaenyra shook him out of his thoughts, and he offered her a bashful smile, "Like I said, seems you're in a bother"

"No" He said, winced at his Northern accent, it was harsh, had only gotten harsher at the Wall, he was thankful for the cover that he'd fostered there, he'd learned from his 13th nameday to his 17th, he was on his 20th now, and apparently the people of the South were more bemused he'd taken on Northern traits.

It had to be the Gods meddling, giving him the perfect excuses for his Northern mannerisms, accent, and attitude, though he'd been trying to adjust the latter, he'd never be a Southerner, but he certainly had to act like one.

He was just thankful broodiness seemed to cross Westeros.

"Just thinking on the Small Council meeting" He said, for he had been, earlier at least and it was a good excuse as Rhaenyra nodded.

She was a sweet girl, 16 to his 20, pretty, precocious, she reminded him of Arya a little, which made his heart pang, how he missed his family, how he always would.

But he had a new one now, to get used to, to learn, and maybe to quelch his loneliness, for he was here, there was no point in lamenting what was, Jon wasn't the kind to look back, only forward, he didn't have the luxury of reminiscing.

"Yes, there is much to think on" Rhaenyra said, and he hoped a nod was enough, for he knew the Small Council were debating the issues in the stepstones, but he had much to learn, much to listen to, but he knew he'd be expected to contribute, "But not now, it is not for several hours, and you must take your mind off it"

He nodded at the near obliterated dummy he'd been beating, "Attempting to" She grinned then, and that made him smile, her smile was infectious, the Realms Delight she was called for a reason.

"I can help" She said with a little grin, only at her 16th nameday, so full of life, when was the last time he had smiled like that? Perhaps his 16th nameday, in Winterfell with Robb, happy, for a time.

"Can you now?" He asked, not sure why he was indulging her, but he did, turning to her, and nodding his head, he didn't want to be alone, not always at least "How so?"

"Come" She said, and she held out a hand to him, he took it, looping her arm through his, it felt comfortable, and he rolled his eyes as she hurried their pace, following her, mainly because it was fun.

His life had been absent of fun for a while, or any joy, perhaps he could indulge in some, he already knew his purpose here, but it wasn't with urgency like it had been at the Wall, he had to figure things out, try to move things as he could hope to prevent the Dance of Dragons, he had some time to smile.

Something, though he didn't do often, he sorely felt he needed.

And besides, integrating with the Targaryen family … his family, was also crucial to this time, and so as Rhaenyra bundled him into a carriage near the front of the Keep, he followed, her laughter had him smiling, laughing with her too then, as she began to chatter, his smile not fading.

The smile dropped though as they arrived at their destination.

The Dragon Pit.

He'd never seen it, for he'd never seen Kings Landing, but even if he had ever visited the South in his own time, it wouldn't have looked like this, he knew his histories, had re-read them when he'd learned his heritage, knew of the storming of the Dragon Pit, knew it was one of the many things he needed to prevent. Knew this amazing structure had once been left to ruin.

But here it was, and he didn't know if it was the Targaryen in him, even as nerves fizzed as to why Rhaenyra had brought him here, but he was in awe.

It was an amazing structure, as Rhaenyra led him in, and the handlers nodded at her, "For both of you?" They asked, and Rhaenyra nodded, Jon was just thankful he was good at schooling his expression, as he stepped into the dome, and took it all in, all of it.

And it was wondrous.

First, he saw Syrax, who he recognised from the histories, even as he'd felt more Stark than Targaryen, he'd re-read those histories, looked at the dragons, who he'd been fascinated with as a boy just as Robb had, all boys had, Stark or Targaryen.

He remembered talking to Robb about it once, they'd both wanted to ride Balerion – what little boy hadn't?

Syrax still, was beautiful, yellow, with shimmering scales, a good size, huge, dwarfing all around it, and as the beast stepped into the dome, Rhaenyra went to the dragon, patted the snout without flinching.

It made Jon pang for Ghost, his companion.

But it only lasted a moment, for he knew he had his own companion here, he just didn't know who, or what he would do, he'd never ridden a dragon before after all, but there was no getting out of it now.

And yet, as the dragon, his dragon was brought before him, he found himself not wanting to get out of it, even as fear chased through him, he'd always been brave, but as he looked at the magnificent beast, head levelled as it approached him, he felt that awe again, as he stepped forward.

Vermithor accepted a pat on the snout from him (his hand did shake, he wouldn't deny that), just as Syrax had from Rhaenyra.

He recognised Vermithor on sight, the massive dragon, tanned, bronze skin, a huge dragon, dwarfing Syrax even, over a hundred years old now, with no rider since Jaeherys Targaryen, until now.

Until him.

Vermithor was his dragon, his mount, and Jon, not immune to the dreams he'd had as a boy, felt something surge within him, something warm, that he had a dragon here, a companion, and it was not just any dragon, it was one of the largest alive, the Bronze Fury.

"Come on then Uncle, I'll beat you in a race one day" Rhaenyra said with a grin, he noted riding saddles on the back of both of them, he knew he had no choice, here he was not a Targaryen Prince who'd never known it, he was part of the Targaryen household, he was a possible Heir to the Throne, and at that thought, he needed a distraction, and before he could stop himself, he seized upon his bravery and made for Vermithors back.

There was no point in being afraid, he was a Targaryen, this was in his blood, he needed to accept that.

And in that moment, he did.

It was at least comforting that Vermithor put down a wing for him, and Jon kept his feet walking up it, perhaps in another life he'd done this before.

Perhaps he was a Targaryen after all, and perhaps it was time to understand and embrace that here, like he never had before.

As he sat himself down on Vermithors back, the saddle was comfortable, and Vermithor held no complaint to being mounted, of course not. As Jon sat on his back he could feel something, almost like the bond he'd had with Ghost when he'd looked into his silent Direwolves red eyes, like there was something more there than simply a friendship between man and beast, something deeper. He felt that now.

Rhaenyra grinned as he turned to look at her, waved, and then spoke, still smiling, but a touch more serious. As she spoke he raised an eyebrow, he knew Dragons could only respond to High Valyrian, perhaps from their heritage, or perhaps it was a secret lost to time just as Valyrian Steel had been, but that was all they could respond to, and yet he heard Rhaenyra;

"Fly!"

And then he realised, as she took into the sky, as Syrax lifted off without hesitation, as Rhaenyra wrapped the word around her tongue like it wasn't the common tongue, he realised.

She had been speaking High Valyrian, he just understood it here.

Another thing to add to the list of mysteries, and another thing to think on another time, as he heard Vermithor growl almost, impatient, Jon near laughed, he was on dragonback, it was surreal, he could understand High Valyrian, he had purple eyes for the Gods sake, perhaps he was dreaming and would wake in Winterfell?

But for now, instead he spoke, realising as he did that he could. "Fly!" In High Valyrian, as Vermithor too took off from the ground without hesitation.

A Targaryen indeed.

Once in the air, he knew, he knew this was one of the best things he had ever done.

'We all enjoy what we're good at' Someone had said that to him once, he couldn't recall who, but he remembered the words, remembered his reply;

'I don't'

And yet this, as Vermithor climbed through the clouds, as Jon guided him like he had a thousand times before, he found he was good at this, and he enjoyed it.

It was almost like muscle memory, the commands he voiced in High Valyrian, a language he shouldn't know, the way he gripped his legs and controlled the reigns, the way he patted Vermithor firmly on the neck in comfort, it was almost like they were one, dragon and rider, connected.

There was no trouble to it, not once did he feel like he might fall, not once did he slip or hesitate or worry, yes, it took him a few minutes to adjust, to realise it was harder than riding a horse, both in strength and in grip, but as soon as he adjusted, as soon as he allowed himself to lean into the connection … it was almost easy.

Vermithor was his, he felt it as sure as he had blood in his body.

Targaryen blood.

"At ease now Uncle?" Rhaenyra shouted across the clouds and he found himself laughing, to which she followed, and then she swooped forward, and though Jon felt his stomach flip, he followed her, flattening his back, and a race was on.

A race among the clouds, riding on Vermithor, his thighs tightening as he wanted to win, laughter dancing across the sky, as he yelled, "Verithmor, faster!" All in High Valyrian, he knew it as he said it, but could understand it too.

Could understand it and believe it.

As they raced forward, Jon felt for the first time since he'd arrived like he belonged.

"I think you'll find I almost had the edge there!"

"Aye you wish"

"Its hardly fair considering how large Vermithor is, and how old you are"

"Watch it niece, I am not above gloating about this in the Small Council meeting"

"You wouldn't!"

Once back on the ground, Rhaenyra laughing, taking her losing the race in the good stride, rambling about how she'd beat him next time, how it wasn't quite fair anyway because both Jon and Vermithor were older (and he'd shoved her for that, to which it had just made her laugh more), Alicent Hightower met them with a new carriage.

He smelt berries on the air as he looked across at her, her gaze flicked to him, and her cheeks turned pink.

"Syrax is certainly growing" She said, babbling he recognised, but he just looked away, not quite ready to confront that a Southern Lady who once he would have considered far above his station, reach, and interest, might have a crush on him.

Aemmas words and teasing came to mind, and he was sure his cheeks might have turned pink too. Damn his goodsister.

"Indeed" His niece said, "Almost enough to sire two"

"I think I'll stay on the ground thank you very much" Alicent continued, and Rhaenyra grinned, clearly the two were good friends, he didn't remember that in the histories.

How much had bene omitted? He knew he still had much to learn if he hoped to prevent the bloodier parts of the Targaryen dynasty from bringing it down.

What quote had he read once?

'The only House capable of taking down the House of the Dragon was itself'

And he had to prevent that.

"Spoilsport" Rhaenyra teased, and Alicent laughed.

"If you do ever want to go into the air my Lady, I'm sure Vermithor wouldn't mind another rider" Why he said that he didn't know, why?! Perhaps he felt awkward, perhaps he was trying to distract himself from the crushing responsibility on his shoulders, but he regretted it the second Rhaenyra whirled around to him, eyes wide, cheeky grin in place, promising teasing, and Alicents cheeks turned from a pretty pink, to be comparable to a tomato perhaps. Still pretty though.

"Right" He said, coughed, shook himself off, it was past time for him to go, before he embarrassed himself further, he had no experience with this, he was no charmer , "I have a Small Council meeting to get ready for" He said, approaching the original carriage in place, "As do you Rhaenyra" He added hastily, trying to keep some level of authority and dignity, but his niece just grinned, nodded and stepped into Alicents carriage, she followed, though she glanced back.

And Jon met her gaze.

"Yes Uncle" Rhaenyra said with a grin, laughing as she climbed into the carriage.

Before they both hurried into their own carriages, and quickly Jon tapped the side to indicate they could go, he did have a Small Council meeting to think on, among a million other things.

And a Southern girl should not be one of them.

Gods damn it.

soooo thoughts?

yes jon rides vermithor of course! the rest of the dragons remain the same, but jon ofc had to ride the bronze fury, and his inner targ is coming out (verithmor, blackfyre, purple eyes - what else?, spoiler: lots), lots of drama on that front still to come!

small council and the tea about the stepstones next...

speak soon