Timeless Dragons - BookishBabs - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Notes:

This first chaper was a quick introduction on what to expect! Further chapters will be longer. :)

To add: The Dany/Jon tag is included because there will be some romance there and maybe a short relationship. Let me know if you think I should remove the tag though!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Notes:

Don't worry, Daenerys is coming! We need a few chapters to set up Daemon at Dragonstone and then our Queen will make her entrance. She's just sailing over the ocean right now so nothing too important from her perspective yet.

Thanks for reading!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Notes:

I really loved writing this chapter and am so excited to show you more of when they meet.

Also, I'm not sure why there's been arguing in the comments but I want to make it clear that abusive and mean comments will be deleted. NO exceptions.

This is a story that will span many chapters, and Dany will likely have a fleeting romance with Jon as that makes sense for their characters and I'm trying to write them true to their character personalities. That said, Dany and Daemon will be the main ship.

Thanks for the support and I'm so excited to get this all posted. Anybody interested in mood boards or playlists?

Notes:

For the purpose of my story I want to make it clear that I have slightly aged up Dany and have slightly aged down Daemon. Personally I don't think it makes much difference but for the visuals in your mind... picture Dany a little older and Daemon a little younger.

That said, I have also kept Ser Barristan around as I feel he is a really important character for helping Dany connect to her heritage. Ser Jorah is also with her now, we will assume he has already come back after being cured of Greyscale

I'm also using a Valyrian translator, so if any of the translations are a little rough, please forgive me.

I really enjoyed writing this chapter and hope you enjoy reading it.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Her home. Her birthright. The castle where she was born. The weight of the importance of the castle that grew larger on the horizon before her was breathtaking. The salt air whooshed past her and she inhaled, closing her eyes and spreading her arms like she was flying. Feeling her elation, Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion descended from their altitude in the clouds and called to her in celebration. They quickly overtook the island and circled the castle, Drogon looking to her and letting loose a powerful jet of flame. She laughed and allowed the tears of happiness to flow.

"The castle is deserted, my Queen." Ser Jorah Mormont stated from his place behind her. "Stannis Baratheon the usurper was last seen riding north with his host and has not returned. The island is yours, as it was always meant to be."

"I only mourn that it is not readily more familiar," she said, "yet I feel as if I am coming home all the same."

"A pity that your family is not here to greet you, Your Grace." Ser Barristan Selmy said through grit teeth. "Rhaegar would have spared no expense or pleasantry to show you the magnificence of your ancestral hall."

She turned to look at her sworn sword with a soft smile. He had narrowly escaped losing his life to the Sons of the Harpy shortly before their departure, and she found herself more fond of him now than ever. He protected her father and her family and now her. He knew a family she didn't and he felt like a piece of them walking with her. "Have you been here before, Ser?"

He beamed at her. "Many times, Your Grace. Dragonstone is otherworldly and unique with its own charm. It was built in the vision of Old Valyria by the Targaryens who fled the Doom. It is the last vestige of a lost era."

She chuckled and raised an eyebrow at him. "Much like myself, wouldn't you say Ser Barristan?"

"Quite." He said. "But not nearly as beautiful."

Ser Jorah shifted uncomfortably and stepped off towards the rowboats, helping the men ready them for their arrival on the beach. Selmy gave her a knowing look. "He won't be happy to be back."

"Well, this land knows him as a slaver and a traitor, but I am their new Queen and who he is shall be up to me. Let's hope Ser Jorah can leave his past self behind as well." She looked back towards Dragonstone. "What's first to be seen, Ser?"

"The Dragonglass throne, I should think." He mused. "The War Room. Aegon's Garden. The Dragonmont. Dragonstone is a beautiful place, my Queen."

"While I am more than excited to see and settle into my home, please send Tyrion to account for our ravens as quickly as possible. I mean to claim my seat and call my banners before tomorrow's end."

"Did I hear my name?" Tyrion came bouncing up the steps to the upper deck, grinning from ear to ear. "I must say my Queen, we made record time. And look! Dragonstone is as dreary and grey as ever. Not the best introduction to Westeros, I don't think."

Daenerys scowled at him. "Does the home and glory of my forefathers not amuse you, Tyrion? Should we commission some painters to liven things up for you?"

He quickly closed and reopened his mouth. "I only meant that we could have had better weather, of course." He said, feigning sheepishness. "I wonder if Stannis left behind any barrels of dornish red!"

"Maybe he left behind some whor*s as well, and some tabacco."

"Stannis was much too serious a man to have ever entertained whor*s. An affliction I don't share." He chuckled.

"Quite." Danerys said, turning back towards the castle as the men lowered the boats. Worry began to descend.

Tyrion approached her side and looked up at her, placing a hand on her elbow. "This is your home, my Queen. You belong here. You have been fighting your entire life to be right where you are standing at this very moment. Have faith."

She gave him a small smile. She was grateful for Tyrion. He always seemed to know where she struggled and where her insecurities were. He rose where she fell and he was superb at reminding her of her own strength and ability. He was full of grace, understanding and balance. She was aware of his darker impulses and how he kept them in check, a trait she appreciated because it was a trait she shared.

"My Queen" came the soft voice of Missandei and Daenerys turned to appraise her dearest friend. "We are ready for you, when you are." She reached out a hand.

Daenerys took her friends hand and arm and allowed her to softly lead her to the side of the ship, where Ser Barristan, Ser Jorah, Varys, Grey Worm, Tyrion and a small company of Unsullied waited for her. Stepping onto the row boat with Missandei, she trembled as it lowered into the water and they made for the beach. As they scraped across the sand she marveled at the castle that loomed above them and the volcano behind it. She could already see great caverns among the cliffs and imagined the dragons who used to roost there. Looking up at her own children soaring through the sky in lazy circles around the castle, she wondered if they could sense the importance of this place and somehow she knew they could.

She nodded with consent as Ser Jorah lifted her from the boat and carried her over the short stretch of muddy black sand, giving her a soft squeeze when he could feel her trembling. He set her down carefully and as her feet touched the ground for the first time she immediately dropped to one knee, touching her hand to the ground and grabbing a fistful of the sand. She lifted it and watched it trail away in the wind before placing it back again, flattening her hand to the ground and closing her eyes. To no one in particular she said "I'm home". In the sky above the castle Drogon roared.

Her men and friends beside her, she began her walk to the gate house, a few of the Unsullied along with Grey Worm patrolling ahead at a run to scout for her safety. Reaching the gate Grey Worm nodded and waved her through with a bow and a smile. She stepped through and gasped at the glory that was Dragonstone.

A large stone bridge crested the top of the precipice that zigzagged up to the castle, the mist of the sea scattered through the air and glittering rainbows in the afternoon sun. She sighed with wonder as she beheld it and reached again for Missandei's hand, her neck arching upwards and she walked forward, studying every crack and ornament on the blocky grey stone.

"You never stop dreaming of your lost home." Missandei said with admiration, the heels of her boots clicking in time with Daenerys' own steps on the bridge. "I am so glad to be here when you reclaim your own."

Daenerys squeezed her hand and looked at her friend, tears welling up in her eyes. "You will reclaim yours, I swear that to you. When I have won my thone I will take you to Naath."

Approaching the castle door, Grey Worm and another Unsullied pushed the doors open, leaving enough room for Daenerys and company to pass but skittering in first to check for intruders. She entered into the doors next with Missandei, taking in the entrance as her eyes adjusted to the dimmed light. Slightly to her left was a grand archway shaped like a triangle, sharp and cut with dragonglass over a stone door ornately carved with dragons. The doors were open and Grey Worm and the other Unsullied walked through them. To her right was a massive smooth stone staircase turning slightly left to a floor up above, a hallway trailing past the staircase on the left between it and the archway. The bannister on the staircase was carved from dragonglass and every several feet there was a grate for a fire shaped like a dragon's mouth. Above them there were windows to let in the light, dust scattered in it's beams and cobwebs illuminated in the corners of the high and vaulted ceilings.

"The Great Hall lies to your left, my Queen." Ser Barristan said as he entered through the doors with Ser Jorah, Tyrion and Varys and the rest of their guard close behind.

The sound of drawn swords came echoing to them from the Great Hall, followed quickly by fast paced and well articulated high valyrian.

"Gīda, raqirossa. Nyke nūmāzma daor ōdrikagon" came an unfamiliar voice, deep and crisp. Calm, friends. I mean no harm.

Before she could even blink, her Queensguard and the remaining Unsullied swept past her and under the archway into the throne room as she followed quickly behind. The voice came again.

"Vestan nyke nūmāzma ao daor ōdrikagon. Iā kessa ao ossēnagon vala lēda zȳhon ondos bē?" I said I mean you no harm. Or will you kill a man with his hands up?

As Daenerys swept under the archway and into the Great Hall she was not prepared for what she saw there. Grey Worm and her Queensguard stood at the ready, swords out facing a man who seemed to have just risen from the throne. In the center of the room was a massive pile of banners and clothes embossed with the Baratheon stag. That, however, was not the reason every person in the room held baited breath, every eye on the man in front of them.

For the man standing before them had straight silver hair that fell nearly to his waist, tied half up and out of his face that showed no sign of true fear. He wore well made riding leathers, stained black and stamped in grey with the three headed Targaryen sigil on his chest and each arm. A long and ornate sword on his left hip and a dagger on the other as he stood with feet squared to his shoulders and hands raised in the air, palms flat and facing them. As she entered the room he immediately looked to Daenerys, a clenched and cut jaw with wide, sharp cheekbones, a prominent brow and vivid, striking violet eyes that were fixed on her own. He was a Targaryen, unquestionable. He looked to be around 40 years old and as she stood frozen, he smiled at her. A wicked smile of which she couldn't even begin to divine meaning. Tyrion was the first to speak.

"Greetings, how are you? I'm sorry, but you are either falling victim to a terribly unfortunate case of 'wrong place, wrong time' or you are precisely where you mean to be." He said strongly, stepping to the front of their group and placing a hand on Ser Barriston's gauntlet. The stranger's eyes snapped to him. "You have the pleasure of welcoming Daenerys Stormborn of the house Targaryen to her castle. Who, may I ask, are you?"

The stranger straightened and pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. "I am Aemon Rivers of no house, but of Valyrian decent. I have come to pledge my sword and my life to the Dragon Queen, Mother of Dragons and the Unburnt, and to offer her all knowledge I can of the heritage she lost." His eyes returned to Daenerys and she felt them like a physical weight upon her and she struggled to maintain composure beneath them.

"I have tore down all signs of the usurper and false King, Stannis Baratheon and have collected them here, so we may join in the burning of our enemies as is the tradition of our ancestors." he gestured to the pile of banners in the center of the room. "I ask that my Queen allow me the honor of pledging my fealty to her cause."

Tyrion looked to her, his eyes wild with confusion. Looking back, he addressed the stranger again. "Forgive me for struggling, but you claim to be a bastard of the Riverlands while toting Targaryen leathers, a very nice sword, and all marks of being a pureblood Targaryen?"

The stranger glared slightly at Tyrion. "I do. I found the leathers here in the castle."

"And the sword?"

Before the stranger could reply, Ser Barristan cut in. "I should like to see this sword, for I am convinced my eyes do deceive me."

The stranger hesitated. "What is it that you think you see?"

"I would wish to have the sword drawn before I make my final judgement." Ser Barristan said evenly.

"Do you wish to cross swords with me, old man?" The stranger flashed, sending his hand to the hilt of the sword in question which was met with a wave of tension among the Unsullied.

"I do not, though I doubt you would prove much challenge, you know not of who I am." Ser Barristan replied, raising his sword to guard. Furling his brow, the stranger made to respond but Daenerys had had enough.

"Tell me, Lord pretender." She shouted above the heads of the Unsullied as she stepped forward and they parted for her. "You wish to pledge a sword to me that you will not draw. How does that work, exactly? Do I just trust that there lay steel beneath the scabbard from a stranger who would violate my hall and sit upon my throne? I am to trust you, for what? For pulling down some tapestries and making a pile of them? Is the work of a maid now considered the promise of fealty?"

"Violate your-" the stranger began, confused and offended, but quickly closed his mouth. Surveying her, she raised her chin and squared her shoulders and glared at him as she scraped her teeth together. Somewhere above the castle, Drogon bellowed.

"Sȳrje, ñuha dāria," the stranger whispered as he drew his blade and dropped to his knee, holding his sword above his bowed head on two raised and flat palms. "Ñuha egros iksis aōhon." Very well, my Queen. My sword is yours.

She looked to Ser Barristan, who stood frozen, pale and mouth agape. He looked to her and seemed bewitched as he said "Your Grace, this is Valyrian steel. Not just any Valyrian steel but this man carries a sword that has been lost for nearly two centuries. This sword is Dark Sister, lost ancestral blade of the house Targaryen, originally wielded by Visenya, rider of Vhagar and wife to Aegon the Conqueror. I can not account for why a bastard would be in possession of the greatest family heirloom that could exist for you in this life."

This was beginning to mystify but also anger Daenerys. Who was this man? Why was he really here? She could not help but wonder if this man was here to press his claim against hers. Would a bastard have greater claim to the Iron Throne than a woman? She would not stand for it. Striding forward quickly she made to pluck the sword from the stranger's palms.

Faster than she could have expected, the stranger rose and twirled the sword behind him, taking several steps backwards and sheathing it again before he risked being charged by her company. "Iksan vaoreznuni ñuha dāria, nyke nūmāzma mērī bona ñuha egros iksis aōhon syt nyke naejot vīlībāzma aōha qrinuntyssy lēda. Lo kostas sagon dohaertan, nyke rōvēgrī jaelagon naejot gaomagon ziry." I'm sorry my Queen, I mean only that my sword is yours for me to cut down your enemies with. If it can be helped, I greatly wish to keep it.

"Daenerys, you must back up." Came Ser Jorah quickly beside her, his hand tugging on her arm. She jerked it away sharply.

"I will not." She said, her eyes never leaving the gaze of the Targaryen pretender in front of her. "First you sit on my throne aware of my coming in insult to my claim, and now you deny me the inheritance of my family blade? When did fealty come with such malevolence, Aemon Rivers?" She spat, confusion coming out as rage as she struggled to make sense of this man.

"I'm sorry, my Queen. Do you mean to tell me that you are proficient with a blade?"

The question caught her off guard. "Well, no but-"

"Then wouldn't it be best left to someone with blood of the dragon who can use it until such a time when you have heirs who can wield it as well?"

She grit her teeth. "Interrupt me again and you will lose custody of your tongue. You are no dragon."

"I am, my Queen, but so are you. Oh, how brightly you burn. I only wish to burn with you."

She was quickly growing tired of this back and forth with him. It was becoming clear that she wouldn't have any answers immediately and he couldn't be trusted without further investigation. She needed to talk with her council and she needed to escape his piercing stare. They had other orders of business that didn't involve parsing out the motives and intent of some vagabond bastard come to pledge his stolen sword. He couldn't be released for fear of what he could be capable of and he couldn't be brought into the fold for the same reason. She had little choice.

"Escort Aemon Rivers to private quarters where he will remain until I can decide what to do with him."

He didn't fight. Simply raised his hands in surrender as a contingent of Unsullied surrounded him and followed Ser Barristan out of the throne room. On the way out, Aemon looked at her and smiled. "Iksā tolī than mirre perzys kostagon ōregon, iā drēje zaldrīzes. Olvie tolī. Gevie." he said in awe before tearing his gaze from hers. You are more than any fire can hold, a true dragon. Much more. Beautiful.

She turned to Tyrion. "This is a problem."

"I find myself suddenly grateful that this castle is made of stone. I get the distinct feeling that he would burn the entire castle to the ground and walk out of the ashes if he could." He said gravely. "One Targaryen was formidable enough. What will I do now that there's two of you?"

"He is no Targaryen." She responded quickly. "He is a bastard surely of watered down blood, his appearance is a stroke of luck. I am the last true dragon."

But as the stranger exited the throne room she felt the air grow colder around her and a stirring of something she could not place in her gut. She became less confident in her words as the seconds ticked by and her stomach bubbled with fear and a feeling she couldn't place. As much as she did not want a challenger for her rule, she found herself unexpectedly invigorated by the idea of coming home and finding not only stone walls, but a member of her kin she didn't think could exist. Previous to walking into this castle her mind had been on sending ravens and plotting conquer. Now she had to clench her trembling fists to keep from running after the stranger with silver hair and violet eyes who awoke a hotter fire in her than she had ever felt capable of.

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After surveying most of the castle, Daenerys stood on the balcony of the war room overlooking the Dragonmont. Down below her children had found spots to curl up in the stone, Viserion dozing lazily while Drogon and Rhaegal shared the torn over bones of a few goats they had been brought earlier. They seemed content here and she was too, relishing in the sweet salt air and the marks of her ancestors everywhere. The wall of the war room was carved with a massive dragon mural and she walked to it now, placing her hand on the old stone and closing her eyes. She was interrupted when Tyrion walked into the room, having been sent a couple hours earlier to check the raven tower. Not even a few moments to her own thoughts, yet.

"I'm happy to report there were still enough ravens to send the most important messages, but I've sent a contingent of men into the fishing village to barter for more and to rustle up some provisions - the coffers are near empty here." He said, taking a seat at the Painted Table and reaching for the nearest wine chalice to fill. "I expect our ravens to houses Tyrell and Martell to be recieved quickly and for their emissaries to arrive within the week. I am sure their bannermen will follow. Farther houses will take somewhat longer to hear back from, but with my sister on an heirless throne I'm expecting good results."

"What of the letter you sent her?" Daenerys asked, an eyebrow raised.

"I made it clear that we were here to reclaim your throne without leniency, and that she should evacuate the capital with haste. I'm sure there will be a negative or violent response and we can work from there." He said, taking a large gulp of wine. "As it stands, apparently Jon Snow has been crowned King in the North."

"Tell me again, why shouldn't I fly Drogon straight to The Red Keep and melt it to the ground as punishment for your sisters treason and her part in the murder of my family?" She said as she approached the table and poured her own cup. Appraising the markers they had laid out earlier to account for all their forces, they greatly outnumbered and outpowered anything Cersei Lannister had at her disposal. "We have the numbers and the fire. With so many houses in open rebellion including this Jon Snow."

"Taking the capital by force won't ensure the longevity of your rule. These same people overthrew your house once, they'll seek to do it again if we don't lean into our diplomacy here." He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I've met Jon Snow. I've traveled with him. I quite liked him. He was smart and compassionate with a good head on his shoulders with an uncanny inclination to reason. I'm sure he would understand your vision. You should invite him to Dragonstone."

Daenerys considered him. She liked Tyrion and he had not led her astray thus far. He was adept with diplomacy and with the inner workings of the Westerosi houses, which was why she had named him Hand. He did not, however, understand the fire that was house Targaryen nor did he seek to bolster it. "My family before did not have dragons. I have them now. Why not use them?"

Before Tyrion could answer, the door swung open and Ser Barristan entered. "Your Grace, a word?"

"Yes, I've been meaning to speak with you. Ser Jorah will you join us as well?" She called, making sure her voice carried out of the door to where she knew Jorah stood guard. He walked in after Selmy.

She had never seen Ser Barristan look more serious. "I feel we need to discuss Aemon Rivers, or whatever his name might be." He said, taking a seat across the table from Tyrion. "I don't believe a single word he's said. It's not adding up."

"I agree, why would a bastard be carrying Dark Sister and whose bastard would he even be? Rhaegar's?" Tyrion asked.

"No, impossible." Selmy countered. "Rhaegar wouldn't have any bastards, he wasn't prone to that sort of behavior. Maybe Aerys, but he's not old enough. He looked to be late 30s, early 40s at most."

"Have we asked him?" Came Tyrion as he finished his cup and began to fill it again. Daenerys gave him a sharp look.

"He won't speak to anybody. Says he'll only talk to Daenerys." Jorah answered. "And he's asking for books."

"... books?" Tyrion laughed. "What an odd request. Why not bring him some? Ask what kind he wants?"

"So we are rewarding him now?" Daenerys asked. "Tyrion, you've had too much to drink."

"No, my Queen." Tyrion admonished jokingly. "But if he won't answer anyone and is only requesting books, maybe we can find out more about him by judging the sort of book he requests."

It wasn't a bad idea. "Very well." She nodded. "Ser Jorah, see that Aemon is provided any text he desires." Ser Jorah quickly swept out of the room. "I'd like to speak with him."

"Out of the question." Selmy cut in sharply. "We don't know how dangerous he is, or what his motivations are. Why give him anymore opportunity?"

Daenerys approached her commander of the Queensguard and put a hand on his arm. "If he wanted to harm me, he could have easily cut me down when I approached him in the throne room, correct?"

Barristan's face paled. "That was a risky move, my Queen. But yes."

"I do not think that he wants to harm me."

"Yet." Tyrion cut in. "But we can't know for sure. Let's see what sort of books he asks for. Make our decision from there. Then you can talk to him first thing in the morning if you still feel inclined."

That was agreeable. The sun was setting and she wanted to fly with Drogon before the light was gone. She finished the pitcher of wine with Tyrion, enthusing with him about the castle and their diplomatic plans for the next day before she stated her intent to fly and rose to leave.

As she exited the room, she noticed Ser Jorah pushing into the door of the room next to hers with an armful of books. She waited until he came back out.

"You put him in the room right next to mine?" She asked, startling him. "What sort of books did he ask for?"

"Pardon me, Your Grace. We did. It was one of only a few rooms we had cleared at the time and besides, you won't be sleeping in the war room." He said. "But it's very strange. He wanted historical texts. Particularly texts on great swords and blades, the southern houses, and texts on great swordman of the last century. He seems to be lacking in knowledge of anything that may have happened in the past 100 years."

Her lips formed a hard line. "That is very strange." She said. "I'll think on this during my flight. Please have my chambers ready for me when I return, I shouldn't be more than an hour. Drogon and I should fly together before the day is done."

"Very well, my Queen."

Making her way down the corridor and down the grand staircase, she went behind it through the training yards filled with practicing Unsullied and Dothraki who all stopped and lowered their heads as she passed. Walking down the steps towards the clearing before the Dragonmont, she heard the resuming clash of metal and wood before spotting Viserion, still snoozing on his spot on the grass. He raised his head at her approach and extended it towards her, nuzzling into her torso. His head was larger than a horse or two of them at this point and she had to grip him tightly to keep from falling backward.

"Skorkydoso glaesā, ñuha jorrāelagon? Ñuha dōna valītsos?" How are you, my love? My sweet boy? His breath was hot as he opened his mouth and licked her from boot to head, soaking the front of her leathers and making her burst out into laughter.

Suddenly he paused and his eyes dilated and he jerked his head, looking to something behind her. She turned and followed his gaze to a dimly lit window several feet past where the war room balcony lay, where Aemon Rivers stood watching her intently. Just as before, his gaze was heavy and sent shivers down her spine. He didn't look away or smile or wave, his eyes boring in to what felt like her very soul. Viserion growled, deep and low.

"Gīda, Visērion" she said, patting him as she walked past him and down the hill towards the beginning stone of the Dragonmont, feeling her body relax as she moved out of Aemon's line of sight. There was an intensity about him that shook her to her core and she wondered if that was the fire of her bloodline within him. If that was how everyone felt around a Targaryen.

She didn't immediately spot Drogon among the crags of the sloped rock in front of her and didn't want to climb, so she called softly between cupped hands: "Drogon, māzigon sōvegon lēda nyke." Drogon, come fly with me.

There was a pause and then a sudden gust of air as Drogon came soaring from inside one of the volcano crevasses, spinning in elation as he landed behind her with a large buffer of wind that sent her hair flying back. She was glad for the tight braids around her skull that kept it from knotting in the constant air that was dealing with dragons. She approached Drogon and came to the side of his head and put her face against the space just below his eye. He closed his eyes and rumbled gently as she opened her arms and rubbed his neck and tried to rub his mouth, but she couldn't reach. He had grown so much even in just the past few weeks. With her face on his cheek she could not even reach the end of his mouth. Barristan said he was Balerion reborn. She felt her heart glow with that feeling in her chest that was her bond, and his happiness came radiating to her down their link in giant waves. He wanted to fly with her in their home. The home he had helped her take back.

Separating from him, she walked towards his shoulder which he lowered so she could mount. As she seated herself at the apex of his neck just before his shoulder joints, he rose up like a rearing horse and let out a giant stream of flame. She gripped his neck spikes tightly and laughed, a joyous and true belly laugh. If she could spend her entire life on his back, she would. Without a word, he took a few quick steps and leapt into the sky, his wings coming down and vaulting them through the air and over the castle in a matter of seconds. The wind whipped past her as the world melted into nothingness, only her and Drogon existing in this moment.

Nothing made her feel like flying did. Not drinking, not f*cking, not winning a city after bloodshed and war. Nothing cleared her head and gave her the ability to think, so truly herself in the air with her bonded dragon. Her mind wandered immediately to Aemon Rivers and his violet eyes and she tried to parse how she felt about this man who had appeared so randomly in her castle.

Tyrion and Barristan were right, his story made no sense. There was something he wasn't admitting to, something he wasn't sharing. Her initial reaction of being worried he had come to press his claim felt like a reaction from her past harm and not one rooted in reality, but she wasn't dismissing it as a possibility altogether. He had said he wanted to share with her the heritage she had lost, but what knowledge could a bastard offer her that she didn't already have? Still - the last person she had seen that looked like her had been her brother Viserys and that ended badly because Viserys wanted to rule and own her. Maybe that was why she worried the way she did about Aemon and his intentions. If she shed the inhibitions Viserys had impressed upon her, how did she feel?

In that space she had to admit that she had longed badly for what her family before her had possessed. The feeling of walking into a room with other Targaryen's, other dragons who understood the chaos and the fire. She so deeply wanted to confide in someone who wasn't always trying to extinguish her fire, but who shared and who relished in it. She had surrounded herself with people who checked her Targaryen intuition and while she knew she needed that, how could she have ever installed someone who was also so like her at her core that she also respected who she was as well? That was an opportunity that had never been afforded to her before.

She spent the next hour flying the coastline with Drogon, surveying the fields and hills and small villages and relishing in her revelation. If Aemon proved worthy, she would allow him what he asked. She would take his fealty and make him her advisor of self. Someone who could keep her from losing who she was in the thick of this war. She hoped he was capable of that.

Getting closer to Dragonstone, she noticed Viserion was not in his snoozing spot anymore. Allowing Drogon to take the lead, he rounded the volcano and entered a large crevass she assumed held Rhaegal and Viserion. She was interested to see more of the dragon's perspective on this place and would greet her other children before having Drogon fly her back up to the castle. The sun had set and the blue light of dusk was fading when she spotted Rhaegal and Viserion in the crevass before the top of it closed to the sky, on a massive raised stone platform covered in claw marks and still illuminated by the light.

Down the bond came a feeling of concern from Drogon but also curiosity as he landed and sitting on his back she followed his eyes. She looked up to Viserion and her stomach bottomed out, her heart pounding in her throat. For there in front of her, contrasted black against the cream and gold of Viserion's scales sat Aemon Rivers on Viserion's back, smiling that wicked smile at her as he confidently pat the scales in front of where he sat.

"Rytsas, ñuha dāria. Nyke pāsagon aōha sōvegon istan sȳrī?" Hello, my Queen. I trust your flight went well?

Notes:

Ahhhhhh he's such a sneak. Truly the ROGUE prince. Their dynamic is working out to be really fun to write and I'm so excited to see it develop more over time.

Thanks so much for all the positive comments. I've loved writing my whole life and I'm happy to put something out there that you guys are enjoying. Don't forget to follow me on TikTok @BookishBabs if you haven't already and Twitter @Bookish_Babs

Next chapter coming soon, from Daemon's perspective this time. I will likely switch occasionally. It won't be the same events but rather their experiences chronologically.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Daenerys landed first while he circled above, watching as a contingent of Dothraki approached her. She gave orders and they ran back up towards the castle as she turned upwards and waved him down. "Tegun, Viserion. Kirimvose." Land, Viserion. Thank you.

As he dismounted she turned to him, wilder now than on the island as the wind had pulled her hair from her braids. She was covered in sand and her eyes were red from crying. "I've sent for my Queensguard, apparently they're out looking for me."

"I'm sure they saw us fly in and will be here momentarily." He said. "Have you got an explanation in mind?"

"No, I don't." She said shortly. "Anyways I'm not in the habit of lying to my advisors. I'm going to tell them the truth."

"You're going to tell them I saw you in flames?" He asked. "They're going to want to lock me up again."

"Remind me, Aemon. Who is the Queen?"

"Undoubtedly you, Mother of Dragons. But until just now we were sure you had been carried off by this bastard to my sister to be drawn and quartered before all of King's Landing." Came Tyrion's booming voice and he descended the stairs from the training yard into the grassy valley they had landed in. "Though I'm pleased to see that's not the case, I do wish you would have notified someone that you intended to take a moonlight stroll with a Mystery Lord that could have easily cut your throat and disappeared, leaving us none the wiser."

"I would never do such a thing." Daemon said, sizing up the dwarf as he strode closer. "We are on the same side, I already told you this."

"And you thought this would somehow ease our suspicion? Tell me are you simple naturally or were you dropped on your head as a child?"

Daemon tensed and he heard Viserion growl behind him, coming up to hover his head over Daemon's shoulder. Tyrion froze in place and looked to Daenerys with shock.

"As your Lord Hand I demand an explanation. How am I to serve a dead Queen?" He side eyed Viserion and Daemon, fear clear in his expression.

"Aemon Rivers has claimed Viserion as his own, though it was not with my permission." Daenerys said, shooting daggers at Daemon with her eyes. "And since Viserion is my child, it leaves me little choice."

"He's done WHAT?" Ser Barristan boomed as he entered the clearing from the Dragonmont behind them, Ser Jorah and Grey Worm and a dozen or so Unsullied hot on his heels. "Sieze him." He ordered.

As the Unsullied swept past Viserion he roared and with an unexpected swing of his tail he sent the group flying a good thirty feet, sounds of anguish escaping them as some of them fell on their spears. Grey Worm rushed to them as Barristan charged past their ranks. Viserion opened his mouth but Daemon put up his left hand as he drew his sword with his right. "Daor, Visērion. Gaomagon daor ōdrikagon Ser Barristan." No, Viserion. Do not harm Ser Barristan.

Just as Viserion's mouth closed, Selmy closed the distance between them and flourished his sword, Daemon barely catching his attack with his own as steel clashed. Ser Barristan slid his sword down Dark Sister in such a way that Daemon nearly lost hold of her and had to leap backwards to avoid his next swing. Ser Barristans blade slashing just barely into his leathers, exposing his stomach beneath.

"Ser Barristan, stand down." Daenerys ordered, approaching the two of them to stand in front of Daemon. "You can't hurt him without hurting Viserion, and I've made a decision."

Ser Barristan sheathed his sword as Jorah came up behind him, both men clearly angry. "And what decision is that, my Queen?" Ser Barristan asked with contempt.

"I am taking Aemon on as one of my advisors." Daenerys said confidently. "He has proven he has no will to hurt me and after speaking with him I have deemed his input valuable to my reign."

"As one of those advisors myself, may I advise against this?" Tyrion asked, coming to stand beside Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah. "We don't truly know who he is. How could his input be valuable?"

Daenerys squared her shoulders. Daemon could feel her fire igniting as she held her ground. "None of you know what it's like." She said viciously. "None of you. You all grew up with your family around you. Tyrion your family may have hated you but you grew up knowing what it meant to be a Lannister, you watched your family leave a legacy for you to trail behind. Jorah and Barristan, you had the same. Your house wasn't put to the sword when you were just a baby."

"My Queen, we don't know-" Tyrion began.

"SILENCE." Daenerys snapped. "You will not speak. The only example I had of my house was my brother, who beat me and molested me and thought of me as no better than a whor* to be bartered. He said he would let every Dothraki in Drogo's Khalasar f*ck me and their horses too if it brought him closer to winning his throne. But he was no dragon and he was no King, twisted by his ambition he never imprinted upon me the glory that it was to be a Targaryen. I had to find that for myself, within myself."

The gazes of the men in front of her softened as she continued. "It is not up to you to determine the validity of Aemon, bastard or not. He climbed upon Viserion and faced my wrath, an act so Targaryen it's unquestionable. He is the blood of the dragon same as me and I need that in my corner so I don't lose myself in this war. I have chosen each of you to help balance me, to guide me when needed, I choose him for the same. While each of you tries to quell my fire I need someone to help me keep it intact. I have wanted a confidant of my kin for as long as I can remember. The fire brought Aemon here today and by fire and blood I demand that he stay."

She turned to Grey Worm. "I am sorry about your men. Please take whatever time you need to tend to their wounds and bury any who were gravely injured. Aemon will help you with their preparations." Then to Jorah. "You will prepare a Lord's solar for Aemon immediately. Come see me when it is done."

She sighed and closed her eyes, straightening her dress. "Tyrion and Barristan, please escort me to my quarters. Tyrion go and fetch Varys. I wish to speak with him." As she turned to leave she looked at Aemon, her eyes glazed with an emotion he couldn't quite place. "I'll come and speak to you before I lay my head down for the night. Await me."

"Yes, my Queen." He obliged as she walked away with Tyrion and Barristan close behind her, the latter of which shot him a warning glare if he had ever seen one. Looking to Grey Worm, he followed him to the group of men who had been thrown as Drogon and Viserion headed back towards the Dragonmont.

Two of the men had passed. Daemon helped Grey Worm build their pyres and burn them in silence, aside from the words of respect Daemon had whispered in high valyrian as they lit the flames. As he watched the flames intently, hoping to see more signs from whatever God had sent him the visions of Daenerys, Ser Jorah came for him.

"Your solar is prepared and ready for you by the Queen's request." He said, and Daemon could tell he made sure to throw in the Queen's request bit so he knew that he didn't approve. It didn't matter. Daenerys did and her word was law. He followed the knight back up to the castle.

"Can I ask you something?" Daemon asked as they entered the castle and made for the staircase.

"I'd prefer if you didn't, but I have a feeling you're going to ask anyways." The knight responded.

"What was she like? Before her dragons?"

Jorah was quiet for a moment. No doubt deciding how much he wanted to divulge. They ascended the stairs. "She was quiet." He said finally. "Unsure of herself or her place in the word. Viserys was very unkind to her."

Daemon balked. So her brother had been named Viserys, too.

"Marrying Khal Drogo was hard for her at first but it was him that originally gave her the strength she has now. She was a fierce Khaleesi and it was Drogo that eventually killed Viserys at her command, her strength no longer allowing for him to abuse her anymore."

As they reached the door to a solar a few rooms down from the war room, Jorah stopped and gestured inside. "There's clothes in the armoire and food on your table. Ring the bell if you need a servant. I've also had the books you were brought earlier retrieved and they're here as well."

"Aren't you thoughtful." Daemon goaded as the knight scoffed and walked back down the hall. Daemon called back to him "What happened to Khal Drogo?"

The knight said without turning "He died." and he was gone.

Daemon had managed a bath and to redress in loose nightclothes, his hair still wet when she came. A soft knock on the door and a creak as it opened before she peeked her head inside. "Can I come in?"

"Of course, my Queen." He responded as she walked into his room, seemingly uncomfortable. She had brushed her hair down from the braids and had washed her face, the silver tresses falling in loose curls around her round cheeks and down to her lower back. "I was just reading one of the books Ser Jorah brought to me earlier. I'm impressed with Barristan. Do you think he would agree to spar with me?"

Daemon's room consisted of a large bed against the far wall, an armoire next to it with a room divider hiding them both, and he sat on the side of the room closest to the door and to the fireplace where two cushioned benches sat facing each other with a large table between them. The wash basin sat in front of the fire place on the opposite end of the room from the bed, closest to them. Daenerys came and sat on the bench across the table from him, plucking a grape from the food tray he had barely touched and popping it into her mouth.

"He isn't very fond of you at the moment. I could ask but it seems unfair for me to. You should earn that from him." She said.

"Hm. I can give it a shot." He responded.

There was a moment of silence as she turned and looked at the fire crackling in the fireplace, a pensive look on her face.

"What can I do for you my Queen?"

She leaned back in her seat and folded her hands on her lap. "What else did you see in the flames?"

So he explained to her what he saw. She listened intently and when he was done she shuddered.

"The man with the molten crown was my brother, Viserys. For which Viserion was named. I don't think he meant to be cruel but he was. We carried the trauma of our lost family very differently. You said earlier that the name held meaning for you as well. How so?"

Daemon hadn't realized that he had let that one slip. His lie was quick. "Growing up I was always interested in the Targaryen histories, particularly surrounding the Dance of Dragons. Viserys I and Viserys II were two Kings I admired greatly."

She nodded, accepting that answer. "Yet you don't seem to know much of what's happened recently, based on the books you've asked for."

He chose not to answer, leaning forward to grab a piece of bread off the dinner tray instead. He looked up at her as he did, his wet hair falling down to brush the table and his shirt flowing open to expose part of his chest as he smiled at her. She blushed and turned away. He would never get over seeing her react that way. He wondered if it was from fear or something else, but he wasn't going to push his luck as he sat back up and took a bite from the bread.

"Very well then." She said. "I suppose I'll find out more for myself. My Master of Whispers is already researching about silver haired Riverlands bastards."

"And if they turn up nothing?"

"I'll have more questions for you." She responded.

"And if I won't answer?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What will it take to get you to answer?"

He didn't hesitate. "Let me teach you how to wield a blade."

She frowned. "Why would I need to know how to wield a blade when I have Drogon?"

"Because there are instances in which you might not always have him and I would sleep better knowing you could handle one if the time ever called for it."

"I'll think about it." She conceded.

"Thank you, Daenerys."

She blushed again and rose to leave, hesitating as she appraised him. "I have one last request."

"Anything."

"I need you to avoid the war room and the throne room for the next few days while I lay preparations for my conquest. I know you want to advise me, but I must smooth things over first. I can't do what I came here to do with you arguing with my Queensguard and everyone else the entire time. I'm expecting Lords to start arriving later this week to bend the knee, I'm hoping you can join me by then."

"So I'm guessing now wouldn't be a good time to bring up my concerns about the allegiances of your confidants, the Hand in particular being-" he started but she sighed sharply and dropped it. "When will I see you, then?" Daemon asked, suddenly bereft at the idea of having to avoid her for any length of time, much less a few days.

She looked at him as she seemed to mull it over. Her gave her a begging smile and she laughed, shaking her head at him. "How about we fly together at dusk? You can show me more of Dragonstone. I'm still mad about that maneuver you pulled with the dark crag. You would think you've flown before."

"As you wish, Mother of Dragons." He said as he stood and bowed, his shirt falling open again. But when he looked up, she was gone.

It took him a long time to fall asleep that night. He decided tomorrow he would make them both saddles if he could get the materials. There were likely still plans for them in the library. He would also ask Barristan to train him and try to find a couple sparring blades to convince Daenerys to use with him. He imagined her face, red and wild after working with a sword, her chest heaving as she measured her breathing and he turned over, groaning into his pillow. He would have to control that side of himself, too. The Daemon from before wasn't the Daemon he still wanted to be and she was likely still angry at him for his brash behavior with Viserion. Besides, she was a Queen and he was a bastard in this life. He had no room to be selfish if he wanted to imbue her for the throne she was meant to rule.

But that night, despite his best efforts, he dreamt of Daenerys Targaryen and her lips and her breath, whispering to him of their bargain as her hands tangled in his hair.

Notes:

Finally finally finally their dance begins. Queen of Thorns coming soon as well, then Jon Snow. These dynamics are so much fun to write. I think you guys will be beyond pleased with how this goes. I know you guys are apprehensive about Jon, but trust me. Trust the process.

As always thanks so much for your encouragement. I've added images to the tops of the chapters because why not.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

She was surprised that they had moved her bedroom so quickly, but they'd managed it. Her large four poster feather bed was against the wall they had come out of, her armoires on the opposite wall. There was a wash basin in front of the fireplace next to a small bench and chairs and a table out by the balcony, which they had closed off with sheer curtains to block the cold and the wind. There were several candelabras lit around the room, giving it a warm and comfortable ambience. Daenerys found herself already tired.

Looking around Aemon chuckled. "You had them move your bedroom to this room?" He asked.

"I did. I liked the view here more." Daenerys responded, stepping forward and taking her overcoat from him to place in her armoire. Aemon followed her as she opened it and ran his hand among some of her other outfits. Her snow white goat skin suit with the pointed shoulders, her black leather suit with the dragon chain, her red leather dress with golden chain mail on the shoulders.

"These are beautiful." He said as he walked away from the armoire and she closed it. He walked over to the wash basin and traced his hand along the edge of it. It was made of gold and tin and painted red with an embossed dragon on the side. Very Targaryen. His posture dropped as he beheld it.

"Is something wrong?" She asked. He turned to her and she saw a look again in his eyes that she didn't recognize. "You're doing it again." She said.

"Doing what?"

"Several times since we have met you have had a far off look on your face. As if you've gone somewhere else." She answered.

"Perhaps I have." He said. "It's complicated."

She strode forward and grabbed his elbow, his eyes catching to hers with confusion and alarm. "Tell me. It won't be so complicated if you tell me."

"I can't."

"Why not?" She demanded.

This time his face wasn't far off. It was sad. This man grieved for something and he wouldn't tell her. It broke her heart. So she did the only thing she could think of to do. She reached her arms up around his neck and embraced him, holding him tightly against her as she put her face over his shoulder and into his hair, his body going rigid against her. He smelled of stone and dragon and leather. His hair was soft and light, much like her own. For a moment he stood with his arms held out and his muscles tensed.

"Daenerys..." he whispered.

"I don't know what happened." She said, stroking the back of his head with her hand. "But I'm sorry. I'm sorry it happened. I know the look of grief when I see it. I've had it my entire life. I see it every time I look in a mirror."

At that he softened somewhat and returned her embrace, wrapping his arms around her back and putting his lips against her temple. She moved to look at him.

Before she could catch his face he turned away, spinning to walk towards the door. "I should go." He said.

She reached out and grabbed his wrist tightly. She didn't understand why he seemed to be so determined to get away from her when her gut told her something different. "Are you married?" She asked before she could second guess herself.

"I was." He said as he bowed his head and shadow overtook his face. "She's dead now."

Daenerys didn't need to ask if it was true. She knew it was. She dropped his wrist. "I understand." She said.

He looked up at her again. "Daenerys, that's not -"

"No. I get it. I do." She said, holding up a hand. "I lost Drogo horribly. I wasn't the same after and I'm still not. Maybe I can tell you about it tomorrow. But you're right, I'm weary after the day and would like to retire for a bath and bed."

He gave her a soft smile. "That tub is quite comfortable. Enjoy it."

"I will." She said and he strode out the door.

Immediately following him came Ser Barristan sweeping into the room who she explained the passage to and asked for the servants to come and fill the tub. He immediately obliged her and exited to guard her door.

Later as Daenerys sat soaking in the hot tub, she felt the weight of her Queenly duties returned and longed again to be near the man that made her forget those things. She loved her place and she coveted her birthright, but the tightness that had existed in her chest being the last of her people fighting to reclaim a lost kingdom evaporated in his presence. With Aemon Rivers she wasn't alone and she knew he felt the same. Dunking herself to her neck in the water, she ran her wash cloth over her body, lamenting they were not the rough and strong hands of someone she probably shouldn't wish were touching her.

Notes:

I hope you guys are ready for a slow burn with explosive moments because that's where it's headed. I am going to try to shorten chapters a bit, the last couple were pretty long, but maybe you guys like that? Let me know.

Notes:

This chapter ran a little longer than I thought it would. Lady Olenna makes her entrance soon! Spice this chapter and a big treat next chapter as well. Hope you enjoy.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Last night he had almost lost his mind and kissed the Queen. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to reign in his former self and to withstand the temptation to crush his lips to hers more than once that night. The way her body had felt against his when he danced with her and the way she seemed eager for him to touch her, so responsive when he did. The way her skin had looked in the light of the torch when he peeled her coat off of her back, pale like snow but pink in the appropriate places. So intimate when she had hugged him as he recalled the moments with Rhaenyra in that basin, both bereft and alight with the excitement of a new Queen who was as beguiling as a Goddess. The older version of himself wouldn't have hesitated, he would have captured her mouth with his own and made her writhe in ecstacy, the thought creating an uncomfortable space as his pants grew tight in the groin.

He sat up in his bed and threw the furs off, hoping the cold would shock the thoughts from his mind. She had a duty to the realm, a task she respected and gave her life to, and he had a duty to her to help her achieve that. He couldn't distract her, and even more so he couldn't allow her to convince him to. The attraction was palpable for him and he knew it was for her too by the way she responded to him. Knowing he could do such things to her was a massive ego boost that threatened to send his mind spiraling in the wrong direction again, but through his responsibility to her he would need to curb it. If they were to have any hope of defeating the enemy to the north, he would have to do as he was meant to and lead her to her full power and to the restoration of their bloodline. He had to remind himself that that did not involve f*cking her, as hard as the desire was to shake from his core.

He rose from bed and brushed his hair out of the braids he had made, tying it up again in a high bun. Donning the leathers from the previous day, he made his way to the Dothraki quarter outside of the castle to check on the progress of their saddles and to request something else be made. After he visited them, content with their progress, he went to the training yard to find Grey Worm or his underling, Red Rat. He found Red Rat and told him that the Queen wished for a set of felt lined battle leathers by end of day. His eyes widened as he left the yard, moving quickly.

As he turned to make his way back to the castle, he saw Ser Barristan entering the training yard, in full armor and regalia. The old man noticed him as well and beckoned him over.

"I would have some time after midday to work through some poses with you, if you'd like." Ser Barristan offered.

Daemon had completed his request tasks for the day, so he happily nodded. "Yes, Ser. I could have much to learn from someone who singlehandedly rescued his King the way that you did. I understand why you were appointed Commander. I also respect you for seeking Daenerys out the way that you did, it feels familiar to my own journey to her."

Ser Barristan tilted his head in acknowledgment. "I went to her out of respect for her ancestors who I served, I've stayed because I've seen her power and I believe in the world she wants to build."

Daemon gestured to the door leading into the castle. "I was just about to get a cup of wine, if you'd like to join me? I feel I have much to ask you about."

"I've got work to do now. But I'll have lunch in the hall. I can meet you then."

"Deal."

Before midday, Daemon spent time walking around the castle to see what everyone spent their time doing. He noticed that Daenerys stayed in the throne room along with Ser Jorah and Missandei, taking appointments with various peoples to handle a range of issues; from making decisions on whether or not they should import goats or pigs to revisions of certain damaged wings of the castle. He could hear their voices echoing from the bottom of the great stone staircase and made a point not to be seen by her.

Tyrion had started his morning inside of the throne room, but he exited after about an hour with Daenerys and following him quietly from far behind, Daemon assessed he was going to the raven tower, likely to send the days messages out. He noted that he would have to watch the comings and goings to see who all recieved the ravens and wondered how long it would be before they called a Maester from the citadel. When Tyrion came back down, Daemon followed him again up to the chambers on the opposite side of the castle where more solars lay. Tyrion entered in through a doorway and Daemon could hear him speaking to Varys in greeting just before it closed.

Thinking it time to introduce himself proper, Daemon waited an appropriate period of time before knocking lightly on the door. Varys answered it, his head turned speaking to Tyrion when he did, but when he turned his head around to greet who he must have thought a maid, his mouth dropped open.

"Oh my." He said, looking up at Daemon with dark purple, nearly blue eyes set into a head with no hair, none even on his face. He had small squinty eyes, a round belly, thin nose, and a pointed chin. "You're much taller up close."

Tyrion came to see who was at the door and frowned. "All the more reason not to let him in, it appears. He exceeds the height limits set in this room." He said, throwing his hands in the air and retreating back inside where Daemon couldn't see him.

"I only thought it time we made a proper introduction, my Lords." Daemon said, fighting the urge to keep sarcasm from his tone. "I was told you were meeting up here so I came to say hello. Since I will be joining the council soon according to our Queen."

Varys let out a small chuckle and put his hands in the air, making a dramatic show of letting go of the door as he walked back into the room. "Very well, come in. I suppose you're right and we have some questions brewing, if you wouldn't mind."

Daemon stepped into the room and realized it was an office. No bed, but a large desk on one side of the room piled with parchment, books, scolls and several quills littered about it. There was a massive and long window on one side with several plants hanging, a few colorful flowering plants and a couple ivys of some sort, their leaves falling to scrape the stone floor below them. Opposite the desk on the other side of the room was a shelf covered in books, many on histories and others on language and he made a mental note to ask about borrowing a couple of them. In the center of the room was a large sitting table with several chairs and a wine set in the center. Tyrion sat on the far side closest to the desk, filling his wine cup from the pitcher.

"What is it you would like to ask me?" Daemon asked, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, politely declining with a hand gesture when Varys offered him a goblet.

"That won't do." Varys said as he set the goblet he had offered back on the center tray and took a seat at the table in between him and Tyrion. "You first. Surely you didn't come up here with nothing in mind to say."

"Attempting to glean what you can from what information I offer up willingly, my Lord?" Daemon teased.

"Precisely, seeing as how you've given so little of it that appears to be true." Varys said sharply. He had earned his second title of Spider, Daemon thought.

"Very well, my Lord. Or are you even a Lord? What is the proper title for you?" Daemon chided again.

"That joke is old and worn out I'm afraid. You should try getting creative with the eunuch jokes. He doesn't have a co*ck or balls, either." Tyrion cut in, taking a drink from his cup. At this distance Daemon noticed that his eyes were two different colors, one green and one an inky, soulless black.

Varys looked at Tyrion and exaggerated a frown. "Must you always bring that up? You have a more potent obsession with my missing appendages than even I do."

"You could poke back with jokes about his own co*ck. A wee man with a wee pecker." Daemon offered, and Tyrion laughed again.

"You would think," he said, wagging his finger. "But you would be very wrong."

Daemon grimaced and Varys chuckled. "Do come out with it though, Aemon. Or do you prefer to be called Rivers?" He rolled his eyes. "What do you want from us?"

"In truth I don't have a speech planned. I wanted to come and assess Daenerys' other advisors to see if they were trustworthy and true to her ambition."

He didn't expect it, but Tyrion and Varys both howled with laughter, Tyrion legitimately guffawing while Varys straightened quickly and dropped his smile. "My my. You really do have some audacity." He said, face humorless. "On what authority does a lying, alleged riverlands bastard come to assess our worth to the Queen?"

"On the Queen's, apparently." Daemon quipped. "Since she felt it pertinent to name me to the council." He had to remind himself that these conversations were important and not to lose his cool. Varys and Tyrion were showing their hand. They were arrogant and felt themselves the smartest men in the room. Traits that could be exploited.

"And how did you manage that?" Tyrion asked. "I've been rather curious. She had to consider my appointment, Varys' too. Excuse my concern and surprise when she names you after only just meeting you and when you appear to be lying through your teeth."

"You ask as if I manipulated the Queen into appointing me." Daemon stated.

"You didn't?" Varys asked pointedly.

"I don't believe it appropriate for an advisor to manipulate their Queen. That's not what you're meant to be doing."

Varys sucked his teeth. "Such ignorance in the art of politics, every advisor manipulates their advised. What is your point if not to do so?" Varys explained languidly . "An advisor is always trying to convince, that's the task appointed to them. It is our job to know how to manipulate everyone around us, or else how would we argue for our advice?"

"Daenerys appointed us because she values our input." Tyrion added. "It's part of our skill set to convince her that our input is the advice that she should follow."

Daemon glared at them both. "Sounds like the cravens way of eclipsing the will of their Queen. You can convince and argue your position without manipulation. It's deceitful."

"What of manipulation is deceitful? Do we have different ideas of the word?" Varys asked, offended. "I am honest with my Queen in that I tell her my advice is what she should follow, and I'm transparent in my attempts to convince her. Where is deceit?"

"There's deceit in the ulterior motives of your advice. The desires of your ambition that would have her behave to your benefit." Daemon accused. "What is your purpose here? Your ulterior motive?"

"I serve the realm." Varys said clearly. "And all who live in it."

"I, too, wish to see Westeros restored to it's former glory." Tyrion seconded. "I believe Daenerys the right person to bring about that era. Much better a ruler and much more benevolent than my sister currently on the Iron Throne."

Daemon balked. He had not realized. "Your sister?"

"Yes, I would have thought this something you were aware of." Tyrion said, swishing his wine around in his goblet. "The Dowager Queen who now sits the throne of Westeros is my elder sister, who has wanted me dead my entire life. I hold no loyalty to her."

"Normally siblings who no longer consider each other such do not still name one 'sister'." Daemon said blankly. Tyrion made much more sense to him now. He was a Lannister.

"Daenerys appointed me because she thought my advice worth having. Without manipulation she has decided this." Daemon said.

"I'm not quite so sure that's true, Aemon Rivers. If your own definition of manipulation requires deceit, haven't you brought plenty of that with your lies about where you came from?" Varys asked, sweet as honey.

This conversation was running in circles. Each of them accusing the other of something heinous, distrust thick in the air. He did not come here with the intent to dislike these men and with his reconnaissance plans already in motion he didn't need to accuse them of anything, he would know the moment they betrayed his Queen. So he reached for a different tactic.

"The only person I have obligation to answer to is Daenerys." Daemon postured. "Her approval is the only approval I need."

"Do you expect us not to have issue with you only telling pieces of your story to our Queen?" Tyrion asked. "It's our duty to protect her as well."

"I have told her more than you have been told, it will remain that way. You need not know the content of my confessions to her, but only that I am being forthcoming with my Queen." Daemon stated. "And at the risk of offense, she wants us to get along. Maybe that would start with you leaving dragon affairs to the dragons?"

"The affairs of our Queen are all of our affairs. But I can agree to an understanding that we have a common goal, despite my issues with your appointment and moral character." said Varys.

"And your hair." Tyrion chimed in. "I never understood why Targaryen men had such long hair. Makes you all look rather like a lady, which is a hard confusion after a few pitchers of wine."

Daemon realized his attempt at lightening the mood, but had no interest in the bait. He rose to his feet as it was nearly midday. "My Lords, before I leave for an appointment I have with the Lord Commander, may I borrow a few books from your shelves here? It's quite a collection."

Varys nodded and gestured towards the bookshelf, Daemon striding over to it and selecting three large books before exiting as a servant brought food in on a tray. Good timing.

By the time he made it to the mess hall in the antichamber of the kitchens downstairs from the throne room, the sound of soldiers chattering, banging dishes and shuffling boots drowned out all ability to think. There were at least three or four hundred Unsullied and Dothraki eating and drinking in scattered groups, most walking out of the kitchens and past the entrance to exit the castle and eat outside. Daemon guessed that these were higher officers, as both the Unsullied and Dothraki encampments had their own mealtimes.

Glancing across the tables he quickly spotted Ser Barristan with his white cloak sitting among a group of Dothraki, talking intently with the one across from him, a seat open to his left. After grabbing a plate at the head table, he waded through the aisle and plopped himself down in the open seat.

Ser Barristan turned to him and clapped him on the back, his face still stuck smiling from the animated conversation he was having with the Dothraki man across from him. "Welcome, Aemon." He said warmly. "Let me introduce you to the Commander of the Dothraki forces here on Dragonstone. His name is Qhono."

Daemon nodded to Qhono who tilted his chin up in turn, which carried a thick and straight full beard combed into a tie at the tip. He had his very long dark hair tied into a braid that reached past his seat, every movement he made jingling tiny bells tied into that braid. "Well met, Qhono."

"Barristan says you wish for him to train you." Qhono said. "Why not Dothraki? We are the best fighters on this side of the water."

"I thought that title went to the Unsullied? Or do you not know the story of the Three Thousand of Qohor?" Daemon laughed.

Qhono stared at him for a moment, unlaughing so long that Daemon wondered if his joke didn't land, but then Qhono smiled. He pointed his finger at Daemon and laughed, moving to point at Ser Barristan. "You said he was fun." Qhono grabbed his plate and made to rise. "But what's it to be a good fighter if you've no co*ck to enjoy your spoils?" He nodded as he rose to his feet, leaving.

"Did I upset him?" Daemon asked Barristan.

"No, he just knows you wish to speak to me and doesn't have any interest." Selmy said, turning to face Daemon. "What have you been getting into today? As far as I know you haven't been summoned to council yet."

"I spent most of my morning introducing myself to Tyrion and Varys." Daemon answered.

Barristan raised his eyebrows. "So you walked right into the snake pit with that one?"

"Spider pit, more like."

"So things went bad with Varys?" Selmy seemed concerned.

Daemon gestured dismissively. "About as well as I expected. He's suspicious of me as are the rest of you, but we found a common goal. I don't agree with his advisory methods but it's not up to me to question the Queen's appointments just as much as it isn't up to any of you to question her about me."

Ser Barristan nodded. "Surely you understand why they're suspicious? Your story is preposterous."

"Why is it so unbelievable? Were Aerys and Rhaegar so golden that it's impossible they had bastards?" Daemon offered.

"Not impossible that they had bastards. Impossible that they had a bastard that grew into adulthood in the Riverlands that Varys had never heard of." He responded. "Not to mention a bastard carrying Dark Sister, a sword that disappeared during the Dance of the Dragons with the death of Daemon Targaryen. Men still fish the God's Eye searching for it, yet here you are with having had it for... however long. How old are you?"

Daemon gulped, feeling his face pale despite his efforts to remain composed. Selmy was so close to the mark, so close. "I'm 39."

"And where were you born?"

"In a village south of Ashemark." Daemon answered quickly. "Can you tell me what exactly your concern is? I clearly have no desire to harm Daenerys."

"Plainly?" Barristan asked.

"Please."

"I am worried that you are a Blackfyre descendant come to take your place as King next to Daenerys, and supplant your own heirs to her throne."

Of course Barristan Selmy would be worried about the Blackfyres. The Blackfyres were a naturalized bastard house of house Targaryen, an issue that came about after his death but thankfully he read about it when he studied Selmy. The knight had fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings where he himself had ended the invasion and slain the last Blackfyre Pretender, Maelys the Monstrous.

"I'm not a Blackfyre." Daemon said earnestly. "But even if I was, I don't share their politics. I have no wish to rule. Rulers should be people capable of diplomacy and tact. They should care what many different people think of them, and do things that appease the masses. I've never given more than the sh*t off the bottom of my boot as to what anyone thinks of me and I don't mince words with those I don't like. I'd make a terrible ruler. We'd be at war with everyone."

"We are at war with everyone now." Ser Barristan pointed out. "Daenerys lost everyone she loves due to the kingdom turning against Targaryen violence. I'm glad it's her and not you who stands to lead us."

"Me too." Daemon said. "I'm sure you saw it first hand, being Commander during the reign of the 'Mad King'."

Ser Barristan frowned and drank from his cup, his posture sloping as he seemed exasperated by the thought of the King he once served. "He wasn't always mad. He was once just as charming and charismatic as his son, Rhaegar. He was a hero and a beacon for a Prince." He explained, looking off into the distance above the heads of the clamoring soldiers. "But he became King when his entire family besides his wife and son burned to death in a fire at Summerhall, one he barely escaped. He had to deal with that and then rule a Kingdom he had never planned to rule."

"You sound sympathetic to a man that then turned that fire on innocents, melting them with wildfire." Daemon said disappointedly.

"I am. I am sympathetic." Selmy said, turning to look at Daemon. "After the fire his wife had many miscarriages and stillbirths. His court whispered against him and he became paranoid. He would ramble about the importance of maintaining the Targaryen line, restoring the house to glory."

Daemon raised his eyebrows at the words mirrored from the flames. "Returning the house to glory?"

"Yes, I was never sure what he meant." Barristan went on. "But then he was kidnapped. They had him for six months. I don't know what all they could have done to him, but when I rescued him he was a broken man. The paranoia ate him alive. He starved himself afraid someone was going to poison him. I tried hard and often to convince him not to do the things he did, but he saw enemies everywhere. He was beyond logic swallowed wholly by irrational fear. It consumed him. And then when Brandon Stark came demanding Rhaegar he kept saying 'It's the enemy from the North, they've come at long last' over and over again. He burned them out of hatred and fear. That paranoia burned away everything that he was, in the end he was an evil craven who deserved what he got, but never did his family deserve to die the way they did. Never did Daenerys deserve the loss of her entire house over Robert Baratheon's ego and the evil deeds of her damaged father."

More words from the prophecy. Had Aerys known of the Song of Ice and Fire? Had Rhaenyra managed to tell another before she died? Why would he think that the Starks were the enemy to the North? "That's given me a lot to think about." Daemon said as he noticed some of the soldiers beginning to file out. "What makes Daenerys different from her family in your eyes?"

"Her ability to recognize her own shortcomings and her own strengths. Her ability to appoint advisors and to listen to them in such a way that it maintains a true balance. She has done well with listening and with knowing when to tell us no." He said. "Also her ambition to break the wheel. She wants to change the way things have always been done in Westeros, topple the monarchy. It's inspiring."

Daemon was surprised. He didn't know she intended to end the rule of monarchs. Did she intend not to take the throne or to name herself Queen? "How can she end a monarchy while being a monarch?"

"She has to take the Kingdoms first before she can change them." Ser Barristan responded.

"True enough."

Over the next couple hours Ser Barristan worked with him on some new poses and swings, and spent time dueling him to the point of his arms feeling like lead. He needed the refresher and to get back into the habit of swordwork, and Selmy was fantastic. Truly a master of his craft and Daemon was endlessly grateful that he had agreed to train him and help him improve.

They spent some of the time talking about Daenerys, the Unsullied and the Dothraki, and the advisors. He got a read that Ser Barristan also had issues trusting Varys and Tyrion, but that he trusted Ser Jorah implicitly. He hated Cersei for the way she had handled things in King's Landing when Robert Baratheon died, and dreamt of one day putting down her twin brother, Jamie Lannister. As their time together drew to a close and he was recalled to the throne room, Daemon was quite fond of the older man and decided he would make sure to bring him into his confidence when it mattered.

Returning to his solar, Daemon turned his attention to the many books he had accrued and began to pour over them, paying particular attention to the history of the Blackfyre rebellions and Robert's Rebellion.

During his reading Red Rat came to see him with Daenerys' armor, which he asked to be delivered to her immediately. He fought off the urge to imagine her slipping into it.

Before it was time to go and meet Daenerys he explored the empty solars on the floor above theirs, finding one with a window so perfectly placed that it faced the raven tower and the courtyard in between the largest building of the castle and the main gate on the outer walls. It allowed him to see when the advisors came and went from the raven tower or from the offices where he had met Varys and Tyrion earlier. He noticed there was a light burning in the raven tower and watched it descend the stairwell to the bottom floor and pop out of the exit attached to Tyrion. With a couple scrolls in hand, he walked towards the offices and not towards the throne room. Daemon wondered what they said and if they'd reach Daenerys or not.

He left quickly and headed towards the landing fields, noticing the throne room was empty as he passed it. She had not arrived in the fields yet, so he waited for her. It wasn't long before the sun was low in the sky and he saw her coming through the training yard, wearing the leathers he'd sent to her. He had to clench his jaw to keep his mouth shut. It fit marvelously, hugging every curve like a glove. She had wide hips that looked plush and comfortable that swayed as she walked towards him, a tapered waist going upwards into an ample chest. The way she carried herself as she strode was regal, from the swing of her hips to her straight back and strong step. Her hair was braided up and out of the way, showing her long lovely neck and cut jawline. For a moment he thought about asking her to lead the way so he could have a look at her from another angle, but put the idea away quickly.

"I see the leathers fit well." Daemon commented.

"You had Red Rat running around like a mad man looking for my measurements and materials." Daenerys commented. "How cruel." And she smiled at him.

As Daemon led her down to the crevass, they agreed that for further meetings they would meet inside of it, with the dragons. She would use the secret passage, which she had already had cleaned by a small group of discreet maids. When they got to the dragons they flew quickly to the cavern, eager to get started with their work.

Daemon was careful throughout his lessons not to touch her, at great difficulty as she seemed to attempt to find every reason to try. As he had her working through easy poses for awhile to hold and balance on rather than dancing yet, she did not fall. She listened attentively to his instructions and blushed when he asked her to do things like spread her legs or balance on her bottom. He learned quickly that she had horrible balance due to a weak core, so he figured they would likely need to do balance poses for a couple weeks at least. He found relief in the knowledge that there wouldn't be any risk of her falling for some time yet.

As they trained she brought up having difficultly with the reigns of her saddle and asked Daemon to fly with her again, something he rebuked with the same reasoning he had given her previously. They needed to wait for the new Dothraki saddle. He had also instructed the Dothraki to make something else for her, something he was both excited and scared to give to her.

He also told her of his conversations with Varys, Tyrion and Ser Barristan. She seemed pleased with his growing alliance with Selmy but unhappy with the discontent between him and Varys and Tyrion. "They're smart men who want to see me succeed. Please believe that of them." She had said, but he would be sure.

When their training was over and he dropped her off in her room through the secret passage for the night, she paused as if to say something but then hesitated and didn't.

"Are you okay?" He asked before heading towards her door.

She looked disappointed but "Yes." was her following answer.

He suspected that she sensed the shift in him from before, his avoidance to touch her, and was either disappointed or concerned about his feelings for her. He wasn't quite sure of the route he should take. Undoubtedly, though, he did not want her to think that he had no desire to touch her, so he reached forward slowly and grazed her cheek in the firelight with the back of his fingers. She leaned barely perceptive into his touch, her violet eyes glowing as she looked at him.

"Don't worry, my Queen. When your saddle is done I will take you flying down the coast and show you how to spiral on Drogon. It'll be like nothing you've ever felt before."

She smiled softly and he returned it before dropping his hand and leaving her for the night.

The next couple weeks passed quickly as Daemon kept himself busy. He spent the mornings tracking the movements of Daenerys' other advisors, mapping out a rough schedule for each of them. He found that Tyrion and Varys both came and went from the raven tower, sometimes taking scrolls to their office, other times taking it straight to Daenerys in the throne room.

Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah were either both with Daenerys throughout the day or they rotated, spending time amongst the soldiers when not with their Queen. Jorah favored the Dothraki and Selmy the Unsullied, but he often spent time with either of them in the training yard, keeping himself fit and battle-ready. He found he was about even with Ser Jorah in skill, impressed with his reputation of having killed a Dothraki blood rider in single combat. Ser Barristan however was still leagues ahead of them both, a true God among swordsman that Daemon looked up to greatly. In his attempts to lessen though not erase the impulsivity and violent nature of his past, he looked up to the old knights demeanor and composure.

After nailing down their schedules, Daemon took to taking a hike to the side of the island closest to the mainland whenever he had time to manage it and intercepted ravens both coming to and leaving Dragonstone. His first couple tries he missed his mark, but on the third try he brought the raven and the scroll it had been carrying down. He knew that taking very few of them was wisest as it was always expected that at least some ravens might be shot down in wartime. The letter he managed to shoot down was an instruction letter for a Targaryen loyalist in Fawnton where he was being told to write back when Lady Olenna and her traveling party passed through. Nothing of concern, Daemon tucked the scroll away to resend with seal unbroken in the dead of night. He missed the days when he had men loyal to him in every city, his own master of whispers. Tracking ravens would be a slow and unreliable way to be sure of Tyrion and Varys' allegiances.

Daenerys had not called him to council yet, but had brought it up multiple times during their nightly training sessions. She lamented how slow this beginning process of the war was going, waiting for Lords who were traveling by horse seemed slow progress to someone accustomed to dragonback. Her daily tasks reminded her of ruling over an easier Mereen, dealing with resource allocation and social squabbles among the people settled here.

The most marked excitement coming from the letter recieved from the North, confirming Jon Snow's acceptance of Daenerys' invitation and his impending travel to Dragonstone. Among the Lords who were visiting he was the only one who fashioned himself a King, and Daenerys was unsure of how to move forward in her attitude towards his self-coronation. Daemon remembered the Starks fondly as true oathkeepers of honor who knew well how to make war. He counciled Daenerys to reserve judgment until the arrival of the Northern King, which she agreed to.

Every evening when they trained they would talk, about everything and nothing all at once. She told him about how she'd lost Drogo to blood magic by a witch who told her she would never have children of her own. She told him of their travels across the Red Waste to Qarth and the thievery of her dragons and her vision in the House of the Undying. She slowly peeled back her history for him, including the parts of her that were scared and worried, lonely and fatigued. He knew in his heart she didn't bare herself like this for anyone else, so he allowed her to speak while he listened, offering comfort or acknowledgement when needed but overall letting her spill the vulnerable parts of herself in the safety he provided her.

Towards the end of the second week of their training, Daemon began to notice that Daenerys was holding her poses better. Where previously her body had shaken during her Lord of the Dance or Warrior held poses, she stood firmly and did not wobble. She moved through the poses fluidly without losing balance or leaning.

"I think it's time for me to test the strength of your hold." He said one day as she was standing in the Tree position, hands together and straight above her with one foot held up. She regarded him with a questioning look as he raised his hand and shoved her lightly in the ribs causing her to lose her balance and put her second foot on the floor.

"Am I truly meant to hold these positions while you push me?" She asked.

"You're meant to try." He said.

She hardened her gaze and held the pose again, Daemon watched as she clenched her jaw and tightened her whole body as he pushed her a second time. This time she went over easier than the first.

"That's not possible." She said with annoyance.

"It is," he said as he circled around behind her, placing a hand on the front of her stomach and the other on her back. "You use your core. Right here. You don't need to tighten everything. Let your legs and arms bend with the movement but hold your core to hold the pose."

She took the position again and he pushed her lightly again, this time she held it. He pushed her a second time a little harder and she lost balance again, but she seemed determined over annoyed now that she knew how to manage it. They spent some time doing that, posing and pushing, before she planted her feet and squared herself to him.

"I'm getting bored of these poses. I understand their purpose and that I need to keep doing them, but I'd enjoy a small piece of what I'm going to be doing next." She said determinedly. "What girl doesn't love to dance?"

"I'm not sure you'll love to dance if you lose your sense banging your head against the stone of this floor." He said, stomping his foot for emphasis, the sound echoing around the cave.

"At least show me the first thing I'll be learning and let me try it." She said and when he looked like he was about to object again she put a finger in the air. "Uh-uh. You said you would catch me anyhow. Your Queen commands it."

Daemon frowned. "Fine." He said. "You will try this."

Striding away from her, he stood with his feet shoulderwidth apart, stretched up on the balls of his feet and jumped. As he jumped he spun to face the opposite way, opening his legs further than they had been only to land with them shoulderwidth apart again, but this time resting on his heels. He explained the movements while he repeated them. "Do you understand?" He asked.

"That looks easy." Daenerys mused.

"It's more slippery than you think it is."

She pushed her lips together into a sharp line and positioned her feet shoulderwidth apart. Daemon came to stand near her, knees bent and arms loose ready to catch her. He was grateful he did this because as she leapt upwards she managed a half spin and coming back down onto the balls of her feet she leaned too far back and slipped backwards, her feet flying into the air above her as her head came falling to the stone. Leaping and hitting his knees below her Daemon managed to catch her and prevent her hitting her head with his arms cradled around her torso as she landed in his lap.

Looking down at her she turned pink from embarrassment and sat up straight, sitting with her knees swept to the side next to him on the stone, facing the opposite way. She had her hand on the back of her head as if to appreciate what didn't happen as she said "You were right. It was more slippery than I thought it would be."

Frustrated, Daemon reached forward and put his hand under her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. "I need you to hear me when I say this." He said sternly, her breath catching. "I understand you are the Queen. You are used to leading the way, determining the path, dictating what happens next. But that can't be the case here. You can not be the Queen of your training. You can not dictate how I teach you to move your body. You must trust me and allow me to guide you, for your own safety."

Her eyes flashed. "So if I want to try something new?"

He removed his hand from her chin. "We can talk about it. But you must accept no for an answer when it's given."

"I've never been very good at that." She said as she reached out and grabbed a strand of his hair. He tensed. They were very close, her legs touching his as they kneeled side by side on the stone. She rubbed the strand of his hair between two of her fingers. "Yours is so straight and smooth compared to my curls. The same color but so varied."

Daemon smiled. "Could hardly tell yours is curly, you have it so tightly braided."

"Isn't that easier when we need to do this?"

"It is." He said. "That doesn't mean it isn't beautiful when it's down. I've only seen it down that one time you came to my room."

Grinning, she let go of his hair and put her arms to her head, undoing the braids.

"Oh, you don't need to do that." He said.

"They're giving me a headache. I was stupid and tried to save time putting my training braids in early this morning. Shut up and help me. Or am I not allowed to be the Queen of my own hair, either?" She said as she turned the back of her head to him.

With a resigning sigh he helped her undo her braids, familiar with the pattern having done his own and having helped Rhaenyra with hers. As he untangled the locks with his fingers he noticed how her hair in particular was pure silver, like opal or moonlight. Some Targaryens had hair that shone more yellow or white but hers was ethereal as he removed the final braid and as long as her torso it fell all the way to the floor in her crouched position. She turned her face back towards him and it swept over her shoulder as she began running her fingers through it.

"Better?" She asked as she looked up at him through her lashes, a small grin on her mouth.

He bit his tongue on the inside of his mouth, drawing blood as she reached forward and grabbed his hand, pulling it to her to place in her hair. He mirrored her actions earlier and rubbed a strand of it between his fingers, marveling at how soft yet thick the individual hairs were.

"See?" She said. "It's different."

"Yes. It is."

"This is different too." She said as she grabbed his hand and turned it over, rubbing her other hand across the calluses on his palm. "Your hand is so rough."

"Surely you're not unaccustomed to the rough hands of men?" He asked, recognizing this game as an excuse to touch him. He needed to draw it to a close. "Yours will have calluses of their own before long when I put a sword in your hand."

He moved to pull his hand from hers but before he could she took one of her hands and put it behind his head, tugging at the ties on his own braids. "Daenerys..." He protested as she pulled one free.

"It's only fair."

They were shoulder to shoulder now as he undid the rest of it for her, watching her gaze as she observed it drape over his shoulders. She looked up at him again as the light of the sunset reflected in her eyes and he couldn't help himself as he grabbed a handful of her curls and brought it to his face, smelling it. Lavender and myr he smelled, along with the scent of stone that permeated everything here. He closed his eyes as she brought a hand up to hold his and her other hand touched his cheek, her eyes intense as they flickered to his lips. The arousal was like a lightning bolt through him of realization as he tensed and made to stand.

He couldn't as she gripped him tightly and held him firmly to the floor. "Why?" She asked, and he didn't need to ask for clarification.

He shuddered. Her expression was piercing as she looked at him, pleading for an explanation he didn't know how to give her. "What do you want, Daenerys?"

"An explanation." She said, her hand still on his, her other resting hooked around the back of his neck. "Why do you look at me so ravenously and then run when I touch you?"

"Because I don't know what it is you're seeking from me. I am meant to be an advisor, to support you in your journey to win the Iron Throne." He stated.

"Is an advisor all you wish to be?" She asked, lowering her hand as her eyes turned sad and she looked to the floor. "I'm sorry. I'm unaccustomed to the idea of men not wanting to be touched by me. This is... new and humbling for me."

He frowned at her assumption. "Daenerys, as I tried to tell you the other night. That isnotit."

"It's just..." She started and hesitated, her breath shaking as she looked away from him. "You make me feel safe. You make me feel like myself. I haven't felt like that in a long time, not since Drogo. I told you about him. I was greedy and foolish and lost him and that feeling went with him. I don't want to lose that feeling again. You're my advisor but you're something more. There's a sense of home with you that I've never had before." She put her hand to her mouth and to his horror he saw a tear stream down her face. "So please, if I'm being pushy, if you don't want me this close because of any reason, maybe your wife, I'll understand. But I need you to stay so I don't feel so lost in the world again."

His chest ached. He couldn't begin to imagine how she felt. The last of her people, alone in the world, surrounded by people with their own desires and motivations and while they wanted her to take back her throne they had no idea how to direct her into winning back the legacy of her ancestors. No one else was able to give her what he was giving her and because he was too afraid to distract her from fighting for her throne, he was neglecting the needs of her soul. As if a throne was all that mattered if you felt alone in sitting it. She sat in front of him, lonely and craving the familiar and he pushed her away for his drive for her to be Queen. Was he being selfish in the same way all her other advisors were being and ignoring what she knew she needed in favor of what he thought she did?

And he broke. He pulled her to him in a crushing embrace, lifting her up into his lap as he buried his face in her hair. She threw her arms around him and shuddered, putting her face into his neck while he stood with her in his grip. He carried her off of the rocks and out of the wet, setting her feet down again as he continued to hold her and brought his lips to her ear. "I'm not going anywhere, Dany. I swear it. I want to serve you in whatever way you desire."

She held him tighter and sighed as she melted into him, her body flush against his. He held her up with one arm around her waist, the other up her back with his hand tangled in her hair.

"I was afraid you didn't want to touch me in this way." She whispered into his ear as she stroked his hair and ran a hand over his chest. "I was afraid I was the only one who burned. I don't want a servant. I want a dragon." He could feel her heart pounding in her chest, mirroring his own, as she placed a hot opened mouth kiss against his neck and all rational thought fell from his mind.

With his hand tangled in her hair he gripped it at the base of her skull and gently tilted her head backwards, baring her throat. Her eyes were closed as he trailed frenzied kisses down her jaw and to her throat, where he opened his mouth and ran his tongue across her skin. She moaned and arched her back so he ground his hips against her, his co*ck hard in his pants and pressing against her stomach.

"f*ck, Daenerys..." he growled against her neck. "That's never been the issue. I didn't want to be a distraction from anything you needed to get done. I wanted to be respectful and dutiful."

She brought the hand that rubbed his chest down his stomach at the same time as she grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand to hers, pushing his hand into her breast as she brushed her knuckles against his co*ck through his clothes. Gods, he wanted her so bad, right here on this cave floor. He pulled back from her neck to behold her face, flush with eyes heavy with desire and lips parted. He hesitated to suggest that they return to the castle, talk about this before they lost all sense of one another, when a horn sounded in the distance.

They paused, frozen as they listened. It sounded again. He untangled himself from her, turning away quickly to hide the erection apparent through his leathers. She laughed. "As if I didn't feel it. What horrible timing. At least I don't have to worry about whether or not you desire me."

"What's the horn?" He asked, trying to rush the blood back to his brain.

"Someone has arrived at the castle."

Daemon looked at her sharply. "No one is expected for at least another week."

Daenerys nodded. "I'm not sure who it could be." She approached him and took his arm. "We can discuss this later. For now, Aemon, I need you by my side as we greet whoever our new visitor is."

"We haven't any time to fix our hair."

"We don't owe anyone an explanation regarding the business of dragons." She said and winked at him.

He smiled and kissed her lightly on her hair.

As they arrived at the castle and walked up through the training pit, they were met at the door by Daenerys' Queensgaurd. Daemon noticed their appraisal of their state and how Ser Jorah sneered, but remained silent.

"A visitor has come that wishes to speak with you." Ser Barristan said. "She is in the throne room with Tyrion and Varys as we speak."

"She?" Daenerys asked as they followed the knights to the throne room. "Is it Lady Olenna? At this hour?"

"No, my Queen." Ser Jorah answered. "But I know you'll want to speak to her."

As they entered the throne room Varys and Tyrion stood opposite the Painted Table of a very tall and breathtakingly beautiful woman with deep copper hair, flawless porcelain skin and unsettling red eyes set into a heart shaped face. She wore bright red robes and a metal necklace with a large ruby, like Naetta's. As they entered, the woman turned to them and smiled.

"Hello, Daenerys Stormborn of the Great House Targaryen." She said in a deep and musical voice. "My Queen, I have come to pledge my allegiance and my services to your cause. My name is Melisandre, I am a Red Priestess from Asshai and I have seen your face in the flames."

Notes:

Gotta love perfectly timed interruptions. Hello Lady Melisandre! How do you think she will react to Daemon? Will she know who she is?

I'm already halfway done with the next chapter so it'll be up soon!

Notes:

Shorter chapter to keep you guys satisfied for the next. I'm sure you'll love it.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Notes:

She's finally here! One thing I'm working on in my writing in Tyrion. In the last book we have he is definitely taking a villain arc and I believe he would have counseled Dany to burn King's Landing with Cersei in it if he had kept that arc in the show like the books, but D&D leaned into how charming Peter Dinklage was and nerfed his evil era. So I'm going to try to incorporate both.

Let me know if you like the peak you've gotten of Olenna so far! Wanted to write her true to character.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

He didn't know what he expected of the elderly Lady of Highgarden, but a frail looking woman no bigger than a nine year old with the mouth of a viper hadn't been it. Daenerys seemed just as surprised by the look on her face, but Daemon was impressed and amused by the fire and brimstone the woman had seemed to bring with her. He should have expected that someone whose entire family was ended by the current sitting Dowager Queen would be ready for revenge and death. If only she were of the blood of old Valyria, she would likely climb Rhaegal and get it done herself. Queen of Thorns wasn't a good enough descriptor, she did not just poke but poisoned and festered.

Shortly after her introduction the servants had brought a large table into the room along with chairs and began piling the table with food, of which they all sat around to partake. Daenerys sat at the head of the table and Tyrion to her right with Olenna to her left, Ser Barristan next to Olenna and Varys next to Tyrion. Daemon took a seat next to Ser Barristan, and listened as Olenna and Daenerys exchanged pleasantries as everybody settled. It wasn't long before Olenna turned more serious as the wine started flowing.

"Lord Tyrion, I'm shocked to see you here next to the Dragon Queen. I thought you would have died in service to your family." Olenna pointed out.

"I would have, until they actually tried to make me do it." Tyrion said, half laughing.

"Your father may have been a despicable person, but he was without a doubt one of the smartest and most cunning men I've ever met and he deserved better than to be killed by his son on the sh*tter." She said sharply, meaning every word.

Daenerys leaned forward. "If he was truly the smartest and most cunning man you'd ever met, then Tyrion did me a favor by sending him to his maker on the way out of King's Landing." She said. "But he once told Tyrion that he had no plan to do anything about my existence in Essos at the time, dismissing me as a teenage girl with a savage husband. That doesn't seem very becoming of someone smart and cunning."

Olenna smiled and plucked a grape from her plate. "How could any of us have known that you would unite those savage armies and come across the Narrow Sea a vision of Aegon the Conqueror himself?" She said. "Yet you have not acted as Aegon would have. Why?"

"As I said, we need to gather our banners."

"And then what?" Olenna was quick, cutting. "You sit on this island and declare yourself Queen on Dragonstone?"

Daenerys shook her head. "Our next step is to lay siege to King's Landing. Cut off their supplies. Capture Casterly Rock. Force a surrender."

"You could force a surrender tomorrow by flying one of those beasts to the Red Keep."

"What sort of loyalty would I inspire with such an act? I didn't come here to rule with fear like my father before me. That mindset bought him a rebellion that stole his kingdom." Daenerys said pointedly.

"Your father was a madman for sure, but he didn't have dragons. You have dragons." Olenna said, scooting her chair back and wiping her mouth with her napkin.

"I haven't come to be Queen of the ashes." Daenerys said strongly, begging no question.

But Olenna did not need to beg. "If you don't act soon, that is all Cersei will leave you. You know what she did to the Sept. Innocent people. She allows the city to starve. They murdered the Starks, one of the oldest houses to exist in Westeros. It was a Lannister that put a sword through your father's back, it was on Lannister orders that your family was mutilated in death. They leave a trail of destruction in their wake and should be eradicated." Olenna looked at Tyrion. "All of them."

"I don't need educating on what happened to my family, Lady. It has been my entire reality."

Standing, Olenna turned towards Daemon. "Though it appears not all has been lost. Where did this one come from?"

Daemon stood himself, bowing. "I am Aemon Rivers, Lady Olenna. Recently appointed advisor to our Queen."

Olenna raised her eyebrows. "A riverlands bastard? Not found when the Lannisters raided the Riverlands? Surprising."

"And rider of one of my dragons, Viserion." Daenerys said.

Olenna didn't flinch. "The Targaryen dynasty rises again." She said plainly. "If you can handle a dragon, Aemon, could you handle escorting an old woman to her chambers for bed?"

Daemon looked to Daenerys. She nodded. "Yes, my Lady." He said and offered Olenna an arm that she took.

Olenna turned and acknowledged Daenerys. "My Queen." She said. "If we could meet in the morning and speak privately?"

"Of course, Lady Olenna."

"Make sure they bring cheese." She barked at a servant as Daemon escorted her from the throne room.

"So whose bastard are you?" Olenna asked as he escorted her across the entryway courtyard to the solars that didn't require for her to climb stairs to reach them. Her guard followed behind. "Rhaegar's or Aerys'? You're quite handsome like Rhaegar was, but you have the hardened malice in your eyes that Aerys possessed. So it's a toss up for me."

Daemon smiled. "Would you believe that I don't know?"

"Yes." Olenna said without hesitation. "The bastard children of royal men who shouldn't be having bastards are frequently left unknown to their parents, most won't ever know their true lineage was ever of the King's blood. You however have the unfortunate circ*mstance of having silver hair and purple eyes, the least common bastard of all."

"Many people from Lys have my complexion and eye color. Maybe my father was Lysene." Daemon objected.

Olenna looked at him seriously as he opened the door into the corridor, allowing her to step through first. "He wasn't." She said, her eyes scanning his face. "I've seen many Targaryen men in my life, I was engaged to one once. You have all the look of one, there's no doubt about that. You could advocate for the throne for yourself, you know."

Walking down the corridor, Daemon made for the solar he knew was empty, a few doors down. "I would never do that, my Lady. I serve Queen Daenerys."

As they reached the solar and Daemon opened the door for Olenna, she turned to him before closing her door. "Why?"

"In Essos people did not follow her because they were forced to. They chose her because they loved her. She is strong and capable but above all of that she is kind and diplomatic, intelligent and fearsome. She is all the things a good Queen should be and has all the qualities a strong ruler should possess."

Olenna smiled. "Most men are stupid things driven my masculine ambition that eats away at their brains and feeds their peckers." She said as she closed the door. "I'm less disappointed by you than I usually am."

Due to the festivities and the welcoming of Olenna, it was already dark and the moon high in the sky as Daemon returned to the main building. They had missed their training for the evening and could not use their new saddles yet. Daemon was positive that with the new arrivals they might not get time for quite awhile, as things were going to be moving rather quickly with new pledges filling the castle. He checked the throne room and it was empty, so he made for her solar to speak to her about her plans for tomorrow and to consult about her thoughts on Lady Olenna. He was dismayed to find Tyrion in the room with her already, his sentence ending as he entered.

"....should be here in only a few days." He was finishing.

"Who will be here in only a few days?" Daemon asked. He had managed to shoot down a few more ravens since his first, and so far nothing made him think Tyrion was doing anything other than serving Daenerys, so he was growing to trust the imp. Daenerys smiled at him as he entered and walked towards the table on the far side of the room to pour him a glass.

"Jon Snow." Tyrion answered as Daemon strode quickly and lightly past Daenerys, grabbing the cup for himself and shaking his head at her. His Queen would not serve him.

"Is he the last Lord we are waiting on before enacting our plans?" Daemon asked, eager to be underway.

"Yes, once we can confirm he isn't planning to turn the Northern armies against us, we can send the Unsullied to Casterly Rock." Tyrion stated. "The fleet of Yara Greyjoy will be here before Jon, and we can siege King's Landing then as well. The next week will be crucial."

"What is the importance again of Casterly Rock and taking it?" Daemon asked as he took a drink of his wine and sat on the edge of Daenerys' bed.

"It'll give my sister nowhere to run. It's the seat of Lannister power."

Daenerys walked to the hearth, looking into the fire with consideration. "With the Reach, the Greyjoy fleet, Dorne and the North with us, Cersei will have no hope to hold the seven kingdoms. I hope she will see the reason you are expecting her to see and will abdicate the throne voluntarily."

Daemon chuckled. "A woman who bombed the Sept in order to murder her sons new Queen seeing reason? Is this a plan we actually expect to work?"

"It's a plan we should try." Tyrion insisted. "We can discuss more serious options after diplomacy has been attempted. It's the civilized progression of war."

"What do you know of war, Lord Lannister?" Daemon asked. "Last I read about you, you used Wildfire to melt the men of Stannis' fleet at the Battle of the Blackwater, yet you preach against fire so adamantly when it comes from a dragon's mouth."

"And we almost lost that battle." Tyrion explained. "It did nothing to inspire devotion to the Lannisters. They cheered for my nephew who did not even fight. I lost my nose for their cause and yet they tried to execute me. Violence does not breed loyalty, Rivers."

"It is at your behest that I take the diplomatic route first." Daenerys said coldly at Tyrion. "If your sister refuses I will consider that your failure and we will try my way."

"Agreed, my Queen." Tyrion said as he rose from the table in the center of the room. "Would you like me present when you meet with Lady Olenna in the morning?"

"No, she said she would rather speak to me alone. I have some matters to discuss with Aemon if you wouldn't mind."

Tyrion nodded and exited the room.

Daemon looked at Daenerys who still stood in front of the fire, hands folded in front of her. She looked intently into it, face unreadable. The fire shone off of her eyes and her hair, illuminating the silver dragon pendant that sat against her chest. "What do you know of war, Aemon?" She asked without looking away from the fire. "You speak as if you have some knowledge."

"I do." He said. "I know more than your Hand." Still sitting on the bed, he leaned back on his palms.

"How could you?" She asked, turning her face towards him. "What wars have you known?"

He did not answer and instead looked away from her, towards the curtains that swayed softly in the arch before the balcony. "Lady Olenna said I look like a true Targaryen." He said, smiling.

Daenerys crossed the room to stand in front of him in four quick strides, crossing her arms and looking down at him with irritation. "No." She said firmly. "You will not deflect."

With his eyes on hers he leaned forward and grabbed both of her thighs, pulling her slowly towards him. She took a step and shuddered as her mouth went a little slack, but quickly tensed again and slapped his hands away. "No, Aemon." She said as she turned sharply and walked away from him, sitting at her vanity. She began to angrily pluck the braids from her hair. "The little I know about you has been bothering me. You said you would tell me with time."

"I have been telling you." Daemon said as he stood up and approached her. He stood behind her and helped her remove her braids. "I've been giving you knowledge of me, slowly."

"It's not enough." She frowned at him through the mirror. "Why won't you tell me all of it? Now?"

"I already told you that you won't believe me." He insisted.

As he removed her last braid, she reached up and undid the clasp on her neck, moving to undo the ties down her back. He brushed her hands away, undoing the knots for her and further down her spine as she gazed at him through the mirror. "You don't know that. You know what I've seen. Try me."

Undoing the last knot, Daemon directed her to stand and circle the chair, facing him as he pulled the leather dress apart behind her and pulled it off of her. It was thick and heavy and she wore black linen pants and a light shift underneath it. He took the leather suit and walked to her armoire, turning his back to her as he hung it inside and closed the door. When he turned back to face her, she was sitting at the foot of the bed and was removing her pants, one leg already out as she looked at him. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were glazed over as she pulled the pants completely off, leaving them on the floor as she spread her knees apart and leaned backwards on the bed in her shift. The shift was very thin and nearly translucent and he could see her hard nipples poking through as she ran a hand up her thigh pulling the cloth up a bit, nearly revealing her sex to him.

He grinned at her wickedly and approached the foot of the bed, kneeling in front of her and putting a hand on the inside of one of her thighs. She responded to his touch by barely arching her back, her lips parting as her eyes swallowed him. "Are you trying to bribe me for information, my Queen?" He asked as he put his hands behind he knees and pulled her closer, causing her to lean farther back and pulling the shift up higher, showing her glistening before him. He felt himself harden quickly at the sight of her so turned on by his touch. And once again they were playing with fire.

"No." She responded, breathily. "If you expect to remain while revealing so little, I require you to bribe me."

"Is that right?" He said as leaned forward and ran his hands down the inside of her thighs, opening her legs wider as he stared at her wetness, wishing desperately he could bury himself inside of it. He took a thumb and dragged it roughly up her opening and across her cl*t, causing her to throw her head back and scoot herself closer to him with a whimper. "What sort of bribery are you requiring?"

"I want your mouth on me." She said hotly, lifting her head to look at him as she put a hand on the back of his head, pulling him towards her. She was pounding on the door of his resolve. "Truly I wish for you to f*ck me, but you won't."

He growled and brought his mouth to her inner thigh, kissing it and nipping it as he moved closer to her. "I can't, my Queen. I f*cking can't. If you beg me I won't be able to help it. Please don't beg me. I will put you on Viserion with me and steal you away to Asshai if you beg."

Before she could respond he brought his mouth to her, dragging his tongue up her slit as she closed her thighs around his head and he felt his co*ck twitch painfully in his pants. Her taste was everything. Her fingers in his hair was everything. He could lose himself in her like this for the rest of his life and never want another thing.

Abruptly there was a knock on the door and a soft voice behind it: "My Queen I have brought you the oils for your bath." Missandei.

Daenerys' legs flew open as she shot up, looking at Daemon with a mixture of shock and anger. "Their timing is f*cking horrible, every time. Will you come back?" She asked as he stood and adjusted his too-tight pants. "One moment." She called sweetly to Missandei.

"I shouldn't." He said as he made for the passageway.

She grinned at him. "Finish yourself for me with my taste in your mouth, that's an order from your Queen."

"Well, if it's an order, I must follow it." As he closed the door. He did as he was told as soon as he got back to his solar, after all, he could not disobey his Queen.

It was the middle of the night when the weight of someone sitting on his bed woke him and he sat up quickly. Expecting Daenerys he went to his window and threw open the curtain to illuminate the room, but was surprised to find Melisandre sitting on the foot of his bed, ghostly pale with her hood up. Immediately, he went for his sword.

"I have not come to harm you, my Prince. I only wanted to have a word." She said in her deep, melodic voice.

He froze. My Prince. He looked at her just as she took a candle from his bedside table and it lit on its own, casting her eerily beautiful face in a red glow. She walked around the room and lit his other candles before taking a seat on the bench across from his sitting table. He grabbed his dagger and tied it to his belt, weary of the Red Woman who caused the flames to lean in towards her. Seeing her in the dim light, he noticed her eyes held flames of their own.

"What did you call me?" He asked without approaching her. "Why are you here?"

"I called you my Prince, is that not your title?" She asked. "Please come sit. I have much to discuss with you."

Hesitantly, he crossed the room and sat at the bench on the other side of the table from her, maintaining his weight on his feet in case he needed to rise quickly. "I haven't been a Prince for a long time." He said, not knowing how much she could know.

"You are still a Prince, Daemon Targaryen. Two hundred years has not changed that fact, even if you may have forgotten your former self."

His heart was in his throat. "No, you're mistaken, I-"

"I am not mistaken." She said and the flames shimmered around them, a pressure coming from her and engulfing the room. "You are Daemon Targaryen, the Prince lost during the Dance. It didn't happen until I arrived here but the Lord of Light showed me your face."

He glared at her, half filled with fear and half with hatred and contempt. "I can't go by that name here."

"I suppose not. Nobody would believe you and if they did, Daemon Targaryen committed acts of great violence that I'm not sure our Queen would approve of, would she?" She asked. He did not answer. "I'll keep your secret, my Prince. But I have questions for you and wisdom to share. The Lord of Light has shown me many things but he did not show me you before I saw you with Daenerys. I saw you slumber through the ages, but how? Who?"

Daemon hesitated to answer. He wasn't sure if he could trust this woman, with her blood magic and her shadow binding. She was of Asshai, a place talked about in whispers from here to the Dothraki sea, mysterious and terrifying with knowledge of magic most people couldn't fathom. Not even the citizens of Asshai could tell you how long the city had been there and it lay on the edge of the Shadow Lands, an area filled with tales of dragons, corpse cities and demons. He loathed the idea of someone who could walk those plains knowing more about him than they should, but she already knew his true name through her own visions in the fire.

"I woke up in a cavern I'd been held in, somewhere in the Mountains of the Moon in the Vale." He said apprehensively. "I only came to a few days before Daenerys landed here. Dragonstone seemed to me a good choice for travel, as I didn't understand where or when I was. The last thing I remembered was falling from the sky after killing Aemond."

"You were alone there?" She looked at him intently, shadow and flame dancing in her pupils.

"No." He said, leaning back in his chair as it creaked. "I was awoken by a girl named Naetta, who wore robes similar to yours. She looked just like the Dragonseed I had trained, Nettles. When The Burned Men came for us, she threw fire at them that she conjured after cutting her arm. I took her head before I left."

"A Red Priestess and a blood mage." She said in a hollow voice as she stood and made to look out of the window, the moonlight illuminating her face as she lowered her hood. Daemon saw again the necklace on her throat with the ruby, just like Naetta's.

"She wore a necklace like yours as well. And when I removed it from her body, she aged one hundred years in a matter of seconds and turned to dust before my eyes."

"Then she was a servant of the Lord of Light, like me, who has granted me the privilege to walk this world in service of Him for over four centuries. Only could R'hllor have given her such an ability." She said. "Is there anymore?"

"Yes." He said as he rose and walked to his bookshelf, plucking the mangled tome he had stolen from Naetta's hut off of it and opening it. "I found this... book, if that's what it could be called, in Naetta's home. It details how she was trained by Nettles, and how Nettles took my blood and created Naetta as our daughter. Nettles told her that she was instructed to find me and put me to sleep at the behest of a Lord she saw in the flames, but past that I can't read the rest. It's written in a language I don't understand."

Melisandre approached him and made to grab the book, looking to him for permission. She was very tall, nearly eye to eye with him, and he nodded. Taking the book in her arms she went to sit again, turning the pages slowly.

"The language is Asshai'i. I can read it." Her eyebrows furrowed as she flipped through the pages. "You were dead when Nettles found you, body broken and she stitched you back together. The magic of R'hllor preserved you while they waited. You did not sleep for two hundred years, you were dead. It's a wonder you have any memories of Daemon Targaryen at all."

He had suspected as much, but hearing it said out loud still made him shudder. "It didn't seem like long. Like taking a nap. Your Lord of Light has spoken to me from the flames, and while I heard his words I don't quite understand. What was the purpose of this? Why am I here to serve Daenerys? Why was this necessary?"

Melisandre spent a few more minutes flipping through the pages, her face fixed in concentration. Slowly she closed the book and looked up at him, frowning. "He is your Lord of Light, too. He gave you this gift, you should thank him for it."

"I don't even know why."

"Somehow you have extended the prophecy of Azor Ahai, the prophecy of the Prince Who Was Promised. You have not changed it, but rather fulfilled it." She said as she made for the hearth and stared down at the logs, flame erupting in it and the sound of its crackles filling the silent room.

"Azor Ahai?" He asked. "I've heard of the Prince, but never that name. There was a prophecy passed down among the Targaryen Kings, passed to Rhaenyra from her father, my brother, Viserys. From my blood come the Prince That Was Promised, and his will be the song of ice and fire. It was inscribed upon the dagger passed from ruler to ruler, created by Aegon the Conqueror after he dreamed of an enemy in the North that would darken the world unless there was a Targaryen on the throne to unite the realm against it. It was kept secret amongst the heirs, Rhaenyra telling me but no one else."

"Targaryens get their dreams from their Valyrian blood, imbued with the magic of the Shadow Lands. Azor Ahai was the original Prince, he took up his flaming sword Lightbringer and saved the world from The Long Night. Every mage from Asshai knows the story, and every Red Priest or Priestess is called by R'hllor to find and guide Azor Ahai born again." She said sullenly. "But I thought Stannis was Azor Ahai. I thought maybe Daenerys until..." She shook her head sadly and handed the book back to him, which he shelved.

"Until what?"

She sat back down and sighed. "If I keep your secrets, my Prince. You must keep mine. There's more to this world than thrones and Kings and Queens. There are forces and Gods at work here beyond all of us, and we must tread carefully."

He sat next to her and put a hand on hers, surprised that her skin was feverishly warm, as if a fire burned just under her flesh. "I swear it." He said.

"I believed Daenerys was Azor Ahai just as I had believed of Stannis until I went to the Night's Watch after Stannis died. There the Watch had mutinied against their Lord Commander Jon Snow. They'd stabbed him in the night and killed him, his body watched over by Ser Davos Seaworth and his loyal Night's Watch men and his direwolf, Ghost. I was dejected and low in belief, having seen Jon Snow fighting the darkness at Winterfell, I did not believe in my visions anymore. Ser Davos pleaded with me to try to save the Lord Commander, he said he believed in my power, had seen it do many things both terrible and great. So I asked the Lord of Light to revive Jon as he lay on the table." Her hand trembled under his. "And he woke."

Daemon couldn't help how his mouth came open. So he wasn't the only one. He had always thought of these people as fanatics, but their magic was real. Real enough to raise the dead, real enough to hold him suspended in a purgatory for two hundred years and revive him long past when even his bones would have survived. Their Lord of Light, their R'hllor, held real power and it appeared also a goal. "Why do you have this power?" He asked, astonished. "Why does your R'llor allow for this? It's unnatural. I still feel so out of place, I am not supposed to be here. I nearly took my life when I arrived here but he showed me Daenerys in the flames. She's the only thing that feels right about being here, helping her is the only natural thing I've done in weeks."

"I only have the power to enact the will of my Lord, without Him I am nothing." Melisandre said. "He wishes to see the defeat of the threatened Long Night, the enemy in the North. I only see blue eyes, an army of the dead marching on Winterfell. They will cloak the world in shadow for one thousand years if they aren't stopped. I used to think Azor Ahai was one man, but now I don't believe him to be one person at all. You are needed for this war, Daemon Targaryen. You, Daenerys, and Jon Snow."

"And Jon?"

"I told you. I have seen him fighting at Winterfell. I have seen him breathe fire like a dragon. I have seen him..." She paused and considered him carefully. "I have seen him embrace Daenerys, kiss her. I have also seen Daenerys with child."

Daemon's heart turned to lead in his chest. "His child? Are these visions always true?"

"I don't know if the child was his. The visions shift, they show partial stories. They can be hard to interpret with exactness." She said, giving him a sympathetic look. Somehow she knew. Of course she did. "But until you, I saw nothing for her past the war. The prophecy only spoke of the Long Night. In some visions I saw them swarming Winterfell and killing everyone, committing everyone to their dead army to devour the rest of the world. Now I see more."

"More how? Do you see Daenerys?"

"I see Targaryen heraldry blanketing King's Landing once again, I see Daenerys taking the throne. I see dragons in the skies, many dragons calling and keening over cities being built in the fashion of Old Valyria. With your face in my mind's eye I see the Targaryen house resurrecting from the ashes, rebuilding the blood of Old Valyria not to be lost." She rose and brushed off her robes. "So yes, I see Daenerys. I see her rebuilding glory to her house with your help. This is the Will of R'llor. But my word of caution to you is this: you must not interfere with Jon Snow. All three of you are needed. You each have a part to play."

Daemon scoffed and turned away from her. "Why would you think that would be an issue?"

"I am quite accustomed to the gaze of lust in men, my Lord." When he refused to meet her gaze she continued. "And in women."

Daemon rose with her, ready for their visit to end. He had a lot to think about and didn't want to hear anymore about Jon Snow. His mood was quickly souring and he knew he had made a mistake getting as close as he did to Daenerys if he was already reacting this way. Melisandre noticed the conflict in his eyes.

"My Prince you must keep your head. You must help her keep hers. You have a place here, I can't tell you exactly what that is. I wish I could. I don't know what Jon Snow's part is either." She said softly, trying to comfort the rising storm within him.

His venom was quick. "Apparently his place is to be kissing her, getting her pregnant. Melisandre, I think you should leave."

"Daemon you were sent here for a purpose, repentance for the mistakes you made during the Dance. You are being given a second chance, but to recieve that chance you must let go of the old Daemon Targaryen while holding on to his fire. It's your fire she needs."

He wanted to throw her from the room. Somehow she struck every nerve he had, whispering his darkest fears to him. Did she think he had not sat here and thought about all the ways in which he had failed? His malice and his hated and his deep need for revenge had fed the flames of a war that destroyed their house and ended the line of dragons. Daenerys would not be in the position she was in now if the Dance had never happened. His temper and his need to dominate had seen him a large player in that war, and here he was again dealing with it. Rhaenyra was dead because he could not separate passion and love from violence, his head lost now to anger at the idea of someone else kissing Daenerys. Had it festered in the two hundred years he lay dead, the darkness inside of him grown larger in that place, making him less aware of it's reasoning but no less immune to it's cost?

Melisandre put a hand on his shoulder and he realized that he was steeped in shadow. At her touch it dissipated, the fire in the hearth growing bright again after he had not noticed it diminish. "Daemon, to fight the darkness we must stand on the edge of it. You each have." She said warmly, her voice bolstering him. He understood how she had managed to beguile Kings. "But do not let it take you. We are the Lightbringers. We will stand against the dark and we will light the way because we are the only ones who can. Because we must."

He looked down at her and nodded, not feeling less angry but feeling more determined to control it. She was right, their fight was about more than any single one of them. In her eyes he saw flames dancing, and in those flames he saw dragons flying. Not three dragons. Dozens. Hundreds. He saw the rising steeples of Valyrian carved masonry. He saw beacons come to light on the tops of towers, heralding in a new era for Targaryens and for the world. There would be no losing it.

Notes:

I have the next chapter already uploaded, going to make grammar edits and then post by tomorrow morning. I'm a night owl so I always post late. Things are going to be progressing quickly after next chapter! Let me know what you think as always. Thanks for reading. 💕

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Notes:

And hello Jon!!! I used their meeting in the show as a base for their conversation, but added a lot and took away a lot. Things will move quickly over the next couple chapters. A lot of you have expressed concern about Jon and I'll tell you all now I'm going more book Jon here. We may even get one or two chapters in his PoV. He is very internal and I think that might be important. That said Daemon is fiercely jealous but also very intrigued.

Next chapter in the works, as always thanks for reading!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Notes:

GRRM has always written prophecy messy, with room for interpretation so I'm leaning into that. Thoughts on Jon? Where do you guys think Daemon is going?

Next chapter we get some more insight as to the other side, and the following chapter our two sides finally clash against one another.

Daenerys is becoming more disillusioned by Daemon's secrecy. Should he tell her who he is? Next chapter he is going to take some things into his own hands and that Rogue Prince is going to come out a bit.

As always thanks for reading. :)

Notes:

Disclaimer: This chapter may contain spoilers for Season 2 of HotD and Fire and Blood.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

The wind rushed past his face and made his eyes water as his braids flung violently behind him. Up and down, up and down came the thrum of Viserion's wings as they soared through the sky, over the cloudbank and darkness creeped into the edge of the horizon to their right. Ice gathered in his hair and on his dragons scales as they flew north, several hours deep into the mountains of the Vale.

He had been stupid to tell Daenerys what Melisandre had said, there was no point to it. Even worse to tell her of Aegon's dream that Rhaenyra had passed to him without any idea on how to explain how he knew. He was making mistake after mistake and he didn't know how to fix it. She had been so overwhelmed that she had hyperventilated and passed out in his arms from sheer panic. He had done that with his partial information and half-stories. How was he being a help if conversations with him turned like that? When she awoke she asked him not to leave, but he needed time away and she had eventually conceded. "No more than three days, Aemon. Please." Even though he felt all he was doing was hurting her, she still wanted him near. That pull of the familiar was strong.

As he flew he had time with clarity to think on his position. He could just tell her who he was, but that did not come without consequences. There was the strong chance that she wouldn't believe him and then he wouldn't just be omitting information but rather lying in her eyes. Taking her for a fool with more fantastic stories of magic and Gods with real power. She may be insulted. What proof did he have besides his word? He had Dark Sister, but there were other possible explanations for that she would almost certainly attempt to use. He considered his armor, lost to the bottom of the God's Eye, or was it? He had never thoroughly searched where he was held for two hundred years, too convinced Rhaenyra was waiting for him somewhere, so he had left in a hurry. So he returned there now on Dragonback, looking for any morsel of evidence for his truth.

There was also the other option that she did believe him. He had read the histories left for them after the Dance of Dragons. He was not painted in a favorable light. Kinslayer. Child murderer. Adulterer. Rapist. Savage. The words of Maesters and common men alike were not kind to his memory. They accused him of murdering his first wife, which he did not do. They accused him of murdering the husband of Rhaenyra in order to marry her, which he did not do. They accused him more of sleeping with Mysaria and Nettles while married to Rhaenyra, false even still. They laid down the claim that he had hired men to kill a child and heir of Aegon II and Helaena Targaryen, which he had done truthfully. "A son for a son" he had said when he sent Blood and Cheese to do the deed that now brought bile to his throat. Daenerys had crucified masters in Mereen for harming children. She had freed the Unsullied after hearing how they stole babies from their mothers breast to put them to the knife as part of their training. In what world would she look past the things he had done? In what world would she believe his word over the histories she had grown up with? She wouldn't. He was stuck.

But still he flew, through the night and deep into the Mountains of the Moon he flew, hoping the sky and the air would give him an answer. Viserion was not as agile as Caraxes had been, but he was faster with a larger wing span and was covering ground much more quickly than Daemon had expected. He had left Dragonstone only that morning and they were already past the Bloody Gate and over the mountains. Viserion had impeccable endurance and was not yet worn, so they continued while Daemon napped in the saddle, Viserion knowing intuitively through their bond where to go.

The shock of the moist and icy air as Viserion descended through the cloud bank and began to slow woke him, and as he peaked around the dragon to the mountains below he recognized their formation. The area had recently had a heavy snow and the landscape was blanketed in white, but the shape of the mountain lay clear all the same. He lowered Viserion quietly, gliding rather than flapping his wings to slow so as not to make much noise. He did not know how far the clansmen camped and had no intention of finding out. As they rounded a bend in the range they came suddenly upon the cavern, with Nettles' grave down by the treeline and the small hut inside of the cave.

He noticed immediately that the animals were gone, likely taken by the clansmen, and the snow inside of the cavern that had not been touched since it fell. Viserion landed as quietly as he could, but the force of his legs meeting the rock outside of the cavern still sent reverberations through the ground. He would need to be quick.

Leaping off of Viserion he immediately made for the hut, rechecking it for anything he might have missed. He found an extra satchel with an extra set of robes that he grabbed, but nothing else out of the ordinary. The clansmen had clearly been rifling through the hut. He exited and headed towards the tunnel he had awoken from, half jogging with worry of being caught.

As he opened the door and entered the tunnel he noticed immediately the untouched debris inside and considered that the clansmen had not come inside here since he had left. He wondered if the place still held some reverence or fear for them not to dare venture inside. Leaving the door open for light he pulled a small torch from his pack, lighting it quickly with flint and making his way down the tunnel. About a quarter of a mile in it forked, something he certainly had not noticed before. He remembered following the right wall when he exited with Neatta and so he turned down the right tunnel now, confident it had not been the direction he had originally come from.

He was right and knew it when he came up to another door, this one made of stone and heavy with a metal knob. It was unlocked as he turned it and pulled it towards him, the heavy stone door scraping the floor to reveal a small room beyond. But before Daemon could really inspect the room visually he was assaulted with the sharp and metallic smell of blood. A lot of it.

Pushing his torch into the room before him he noticed it was much like the one he had awoken in. A raised stone slab in the center with cabinetry on the back wall, but this stone slab was stained brown with old blood that sat on the top and ran down the sides to pool on the floor. Someone had died here, or been cut open here, or both and more. The blood was dry and old but the smell still lingered, the metal in the fluid still clinging to the stone. He stalked past the slab to approach the cabinets behind. The first set revealed amber glass vials with stoppers of many sizes, none that he dared touch or even inspect. But in the second set he found a reason for coming here.

As he opened the second set he noticed this one did not have shelves but instead was open and meant for clothes, and hanging on hooks inside was his armor. Dark steel plate armor with scales carved ornately into it's surface, the helmet marked with dragonwings on it's side, there was no mistaking it. There was, however, a few changes. The entire breastplate was damaged, partially caved in and split open, the helmet bent nearly beyond recognition. It too, was soaked in blood. It was his armor, there was no denying it. But it was armor he had clearly died in. He grabbed it and hoisted it onto his back, satisfied with his findings but concerned about the implications of them.

He returned quickly to Viserion who quietly trumpeted at his arrival as he packed the items away in the saddle bags, thanking whatever God may be listening for his good luck in not running into any of the hill tribes. Mounting Viserion he directed him up into the sky and further down the range, finding a low valley in between two peaks to settle into and rest for the rest of the day, aiming to take flight again and head back to Daenerys come nightfall.

He woke some time later after feeling rested, curled against Viserion and under his wing. The cold of the Mountains in winter could not touch him here embraced against a dragon, he was as warm as if he laid in a bed in front of a roaring hearth. As he stirred so did his dragon, and Viserion lifted his wing to pull back against his body revealing the orange light of dusk. Perfect.

They were back in the air in no time, Viserion elated for the journey and thrumming with energy below Daemon. The true power of his dragon helped him to think, helped him to right himself.

He still wasn't sure which path to take with revealing his true identity to Daenerys. There were so many variables. So far partial information was only damaging his relationship with her, concerning and confusing her. So he would either need to embrace an identity as Aemon and leave Daemon behind for good, or fully embrace Daemon and risk her scorn and hatred if she believed him. The armor would help to convince her, but would it be enough? His stomach hurt with the indecision.

His identity aside, was he staying true to his mission of helping her to be the dragon she was? As Queen she felt crippled in her ability to use her dragons as an instrument of war so soon within it, but did he have to be? Laying siege to King's Landing was a good idea, a choice he would have made himself militarily as a precursor to attack. However the taking of Casterly Rock felt like a move of pride orchestrated by her Lannister Hand. If they won Casterly Rock it did nothing more than serve as a symbol of status. The Rock was not positioned advantageously for their war so it would not do for a base, they didn't need the room, and it would he won by conquest after taking King's Landing anyway. He was loathe to speak against Lord Tyrion so as not to pull Daenerys in two, but as with his shooting of the ravens did his undermining need to be done vocally?

An idea came to him then, an idea the old Daemon would have had much sooner and he mentally jabbed himself for not realizing it. Daenerys wouldn't approve, he wouldn't return within three days, but it would save her many men and a lot of time. The Lannister army that protected Casterly Rock was small, nearly negligible. He was a dragon rider in his own right and even without the proper name in this time he did not need her permission.

Banking on the strong westerly wind and thanking it for it's grace, Daemon turned Viserion west and urged him to fly faster. It would take nearly two days to reach Casterly Rock and take it himself with dragonfire.

He was lucky and with one stop and a strong wind from the east, he made it to Casterly Rock in a little under two days time as the sun began to set. It was obvious to him that by now Daenerys would be worried, but he hoped she would forgive him when he could bring word of the return of her armada.

Dipping from the cloud bank he noticed the city was eerily dark. As he swooped low looking for signs of torchlight he was further alarmed when no bells tolled to warn of Viserion, the dragon white and obvious against the darkening sky. No smoke rose from chimneys, no carts came and went from the city gates. He chanced flying lower, the wind from Viserion's wings flapping the Lannister heraldry on many of the buildings in their wake, with no other sound besides. No alarms, no screaming, just silence. Carefully Daemon took the chance and landed Viserion on top of the keep, peering into the streets of Casterly Rock looking for movement, anything. There was nothing.

Casterly Rock was abandoned.

Fear coursed through his body as he realized what this meant, concerned where the Lannister army had gone and what else they may have planned. He immediately wondered if Tyrion had planned this, if something sinister waited for Daenerys with him gone, but he was confident he would have discovered something amiss in the raven's letters if that had been the case. All variables aside, Casterly Rock was abandoned, it's people and it's armies moved elsewhere in some sort of trap he could not yet piece together. As he sat on Viserion deciding what next to do, a small flicker of light in one of the keep windows caught his eye.

Slipping from Viserion and onto one of the castle ramparts, he urged his dragon to stay and be quiet while he followed the path into the castle. The keep of Casterly wasn't the most unfamiliar, he had visited it a few times in his own time, so it wasn't long before he had snuck under an archway and into a hallway that lay before him. In that hallway a light grew, someone coming outwards from deeper in the castle. Daemon waited quietly, hand on the hilt of his dagger.

From around the corner came a soldier carrying a torch, obvious in allegiance in his red and gold colored armor. Recoiling behind the corner he hid around, Daemon waited until the soldier had passed him unseen before leaping up and pressing the dagger to the soldiers neck, the torch clattering to the floor as the man tried to go for his weapon. Daemon pushed the dagger lightly into the soldiers neck, drawing blood and the man gasped and threw his hands in the air.

"I'll pull your tongue through the hole I make in your throat if you try that again." Daemon said viciously as he used his free hand to grab and brace the soldiers arms between them.

"W-who are you?" The soldier stuttered. "W-what d-d-do you want?"

Daemon directed the soldier using the dagger and his hands back down the hallway, out to the rampart where Viserion lay waiting. The soldier shuffled with him hesitantly, but he came nonetheless.

"If you scream or make any noise I'll kill you slowly, that's a promise." Daemon said as they were about to exit the archway.

"My b-brothers will hear me before you d-do."

Daemon smiled wickedly as they exited and Viserion came into view, the dragon turning to bring his head to face them. Viserion growled low and allowed fire to roil behind his teeth, which he bared and looked like pure death with white scales. Good boy.

The soldier began to shake violently and Daemon smelled urine just as it hit the stone beneath them. Daemon released the soldier and turned him around to look at him, Viserion's breath hot on them. The soldier's eyes were wide with terror as he whimpered and appraised Daemon, his fear seeming to grow as he took in Daemon's appearance. "W-w-who are y-you?" He whimpered again.

"I am Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince and the White Dragon, wielder of the Undead Fire come to take back my Queen's throne. Tell me true or die where you stand: where is the Lannister army? Why has Casterly Rock been abandoned?" He asked sharply, creeping every ounce of his malice into his words.

The soldier shook but he did not respond, Daemon surprised by his fortitude. But with a look to Viserion the dragon snarled and the man jumped, half squealing in fear. "Okay, okay" the soldier said. "They didn't tell us where they went. But somehow they knew that your ships were coming. They moved the Lannister army and the Greyjoy fleet waits to the north to burn yours to the ground."

Daemon sensed truth in the man's words as he laughed at him. "The Greyjoy fleet is all the Dowager Queen holds in her pocket? A pittance against our men. Your house will fall in flames."

Even in fear a small grin escaped the solider, his body trembling as he attempted to jeer at Daemon. "Y-you don't know. You d-d-don't know the weapon that the Kraken King holds. Even your d-d-d-dragons can not stand against him."

Daemon raised his eyebrows in surprise but before he could question the solider further he noticed the man's eyes dart behind him as Viserion reacted. Without looking Daemon leapt onto the rampart and ran up to Viserion, who leaned down to allow his mount. Swinging into his saddle Daemon saw the small contingent of soliders creeping out of the archway with spears held forward, their faces immediately etched with fear as they realized they had been caught. They scrambled and tripped over one another attempting to move backwards, but it was too late. "Dracarys" Daemon commanded as Viserion let loose a nearly liquid jet of dragonflame, melting the soldiers including the one he had questioned into the stone they stood on. Launching into the air Viserion circled the keep, bathing the castle in flame so as to douse any soldiers who hid within. The stone melted beneath the dragonfire, screams echoed out of the castle before stopping abruptly into a mangled silence.

If this were to be a trap, he would spring it. If Tyrion wanted Casterly Rock to be the seat of his house and prison for Cersei after, he would melt it. There would be no reprieve for the lions, no safe hole to hide in. Dragonfire lighting the night Daemon and Viserion circled the castle, ramparts and towers falling in on themselves as the castle rubbled to nothing but liquid stone and dust, the city around the keep sitting silently in witness. Flying like a whisper over the ocean, Daemon steered Viserion like the white death he was in search of the Targaryen fleet, to turn them around back home for there was no point. The seat of House Lannister lay in smoldering ruin behind them and was no more.

He had to stop and rest before nearly a full day of flight later he found them, a hundred ships in the water shining in a sunrise. The wind had been kind to them, but they were still several days of sailing away from the Rock. As Viserion swept from the sky a horn bugled his arrival, but the Unsullied and Greyjoy men on board ran to arms as if he were an enemy. He did not blame them. He was not Daenerys.

Directing Viserion to the lead ship, the dragon glided low and slow over it, allowing Daemon to slip from the saddle and hit the deck hard as he tucked into a protective roll. Standing he was met with the point of a spear at his throat from the hands of Grey Worm, who looked at him with apprehension. Daemon put his hands in the air. "I've come to bring you a message". Daemon said.

"At the leave of our Queen?" Grey Worm asked, unflinching and not dropping the spear.

"Well, not quite." Daemon said, shrugging lightly. Grey Worm pushed the spear harder into his throat. It took every bit of his willpower to not snatch it from the slave man's hands and snap it over his knee. "But she knew I left. In my travels I discovered something important."

Grey Worm lowered the spear and twirled it behind himself, Yara coming from below the belly of the ship to join them with shock on her face as Viserion circled overhead.

"Where did you come from?" Yara demanded, her hair streaming in the salt wind. "You weren't supposed to be part of the assault."

"And you were supposed to be pirating in Blackwater Bay." Daemon countered. "Yet here you are. It seems I'm not the only one with a thirst for the war."

Yara glared, Grey Worm crossing his arms next to her. "I left Theon to man the ships at Blackwater, he's more than capable." She responded.

"The silver haired bastard was just about to tell us of a discovery he made in his traitorous travels across the continent." Grey Worm said with disgust.

"Watch your tongue, eunuch, or it will be another appendage you lose." Daemon snarled at him.

"Enough." Yara snapped, moving to stand between them. "What news have you brought?"

Daemon smiled at her. At least she was able to move past ego to care about the information he brought. "Casterly Rock is abandoned. There's no one there." He said. "I captured a guard and questioned him before laying waste to the castle with dragonfire."

"You did what?" Yara asked sharply. "You decimated the castle? On whose orders?"

"I am the White Dragon, I don't need permission." Daemon said confidently. "You should be more concerned about what the soldier told me. Maybe you can explain why a Greyjoy fleet sails north of the Rock, ready to ambush us when we arrive?"

Yara's face went white. She stepped away and looked out over the ocean, confusion on her face as she considered. "It's Euron." She said. "My uncle. It must be."

"So there's a split among the Greyjoy army. Did you inform Daenerys of this or did you just hope it would remain inconsequential?"

"I told her. Of course I told her." Yara responded. "But I didn't expect Euron to declare for the other side in this way."

Daemon nodded, walking to join her by the rail of the ship. "The soldier also mentioned a weapon your uncle holds. Said no dragon could stand against it."

Yara leaned forward on the railing and put her face into her hands. "f*ck." She whispered. "He's brought the horn."

"The horn?" Daemon inquired.

"I don't think it does what he says it does. But with my Uncle you can never tell what he says is truth and what is lie." Yara explained. "At the Kingsmoot to decide our next ruler after my father died, who I believe Euron killed, he showed up out of nowhere. He had been gone for years sailing the seas of distant lands. He claimed he was been to the ruins of Old Valyria. He brought a horn with him that was covered in glyphs and characters I couldn't understand. He claimed that it binds dragons to his will. Riled the Iron Born with promises of stealing Daenerys' dragons and taking over the world."

"Your Uncle sounds insane." Daemon said sharply. "A horn that binds dragons? From the ruins of Old Valyria? No one has been to the ruins of Old Valyria and survived to tell about it. He's lying."

"Insane he is, but he's not to be underestimated." Yara said. "He dances with darkness and blood magic with as little consideration as you or I have when we don our clothing. He drinks Shade of the Evening and has visions and thinks of himself as a God. Despite his lies he wears a set of Valyrian steel armor, I've never seen anything like it elsewhere."

"That's not possible." Daemon insisted. "I would sooner believe you don't know how to spot Valyrian steel."

"Believe what you want. If what you say is true we should turn back for Dragonstone." Yara said with malice. "Casterly Rock is pointless and I'd rather not face my uncles fleet without consulting our Queen first."

"On that we can agree." Daemon said. "Grey Worm?" Turning to appraise the Unsullied Commander, Grey Worm sharply nodded and moved off, barking orders at the men on the ship who moved quickly to begin to turn.

"If my Uncle has truly sided with Cersei we need to reconvene." Yara said sullenly. "There is more to be considered now."

Daemon could not imagine the merit of a man who drank Shade of the Evening, the drink of sorcerers and who claimed to carry Valyrian steel. He spent the remainder of the morning questioning Yara about her Uncle, growing more and more unsettled with the information he learned. Deciding to spend the night on board the ship and Viserion resting on the shore, Daemon prepared to bring the news of this madman to Daenerys while also preparing for her wrath she would surely unleash. He had promised to be gone for no longer than three days and had already been gone past that with several days of travel still ahead of him.

Before falling asleep he thought more on what he should do regarding his identity and the choices that lay before him. It had felt sobering to unfold his true name before the soldier he had captured, styling himself the White Dragon and the wielder of the Undead Fire. He did always have a good love for the dramatics of titles. But he had said those things knowing that the soldier would die and the words would never leave the air between them. He considered the possibility that he could tell Daenerys he was brought from a past time, giving her all the truth aside from the specifics of his name. In that way he could reveal a partial truth and still hide the ugliness that was the history of Daemon Targaryen. However partial truths had caused her to lose her breath and he did not wish to harm her more.

Sleep took him before he made a decision, his dreams thick with fighting dragons and a black kraken that held them all in it's tentacled grasp.

Notes:

Shorter chapter now but whew Daemon went to work.

We are definitely going more book Euron for anyone wondering. I hated TV Euron. Horrible waste of a good actor and easily the most terrifying character in the books.

As far as Jon and Daemon and their character differences from the books and shows versus my fic, I want to note that I don't believe in the shows interpretation of how these characters come back from death. In the show when Jon was resurrected he came back the same Jon as he was before he died, which I found lazy. Lady Stoneheart for example had little left of Catelyn when she was revived. I'm not going to that extreme but to me it makes sense that these characters would be profoundly changed after dying and coming back to life so I am going to reflect those changes. Daemon is wrestling with the mistakes of his past self, tripping over mistakes he's making now, who would die for 200 years and come back perfect and confident without any struggle of personality? This Jon will be more ruthless, more cunning, more willing to do what needs to be done than the Jon we know in the books which is saying a lot because book Jon was already pretty ruthless. This Jon was killed by men he trusted and gave his all to and is disillusioned with all the values he held dear previously. We will see more of that as well.

Daenerys is feeling the pull of several magical forces all at once. GRRM wrote a world with a very populated and powerful unseen world, with Gods that had their finger in the pot so to speak. Our Queen is feeling the influences of prophecy, dreams, blood magic and more.

Tyrion is holding on to his family by a thread, but I'm going to snap that thread very soon.

Stick with me as I plan for this to be a fairly long fic. As always thanks for reading!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

It was the morning of the fourth day after he had left. He had promised her he would return on the third day. Her mind raced with the possibilities of what could have happened, but she tried to calm herself remembering that Viserion was with him. What could stand against her white dragon? Through her bond she was convinced that Viserion was still alive, but when the servants brought breakfast to her chambers she refused. When Ser Barristan came to offer her a sparring match, she refused. When Tyrion came to discuss the presence of Jon Snow and any tactics they could use, she sent him away. Her mind could focus on little else, her worry consuming her.

She sat on her balcony and looked out over the water, hoping to see Viserion in the sky at any moment. As the sun moved across the sky and morning turned to noon, noon to dusk, Missandei came into her room and sat with her. She said nothing, only sat with her overlooking the water. Missandei held her own worry she knew for Grey Worm and his safety. They sat in that worry together for some time before Daenerys spoke.

"He said he would be back. He has Viserion." She said quietly.

"I know, my Queen." Missandei said sweetly, reaching out and touching Daenerys' hands which were folded in her lap. "Viserion is strong and fierce and Aemon intelligent and cunning. I'm sure whatever is keeping them is in service to you. They will return soon, you'll see."

Before night fell her friend managed to warm her enough to eat some fruit and bread and drink some wine, tucking her into bed after brushing her hair and giving her a sleep remedy. Daenerys dreamt of nothing that night as the medicine kept her mind quiet.

The next morning she awoke later than intended, the sun already falling in the sky. She shot up and ran to the balcony, hoping to see Viserion or Aemon, but neither were visible from her overlook. Running to her door she flung it open to find Ser Jorah at post, her eyes wide with the question she didn't need to ask.

"Not yet, my Queen. Not yet." He said sweetly. "I'm sure you don't need to worry."

She felt her heart fall through her chest like a stone as she turned back into her bed chambers, Ser Jorah following her inside. Sitting on the edge of her bed she put her face in her hands and tried not to weep. The mixed emotions of worry and fury coursed through her. How could he promise her that he would return and then not do as he said? How could he not consider how that would make her feel? Did he truly not know how desperately she would miss him? How much she would worry for Viserion? She would never forgive him.

The bed lowered as Ser Jorah sat next to her, putting a hand on her back. She looked up into her knights face, so distinguished and handsome and so full of love and caring for her. He had been with her since the beginning, had stood by her every step of the way. Despite his own mistakes he was here now, fought through greyscale and being banished to sit next to her in this very room in this very place.

"I want to go and get on Drogon and find him." She said grimly.

"My Queen, would you even know where to look?" He asked, his voice remaining calm and comforting.

"No. I wouldn't." She said with bitterness as she looked down to the floor. She had no idea where Aemon went. She supposed to the Riverlands, where he claimed he was from. He said where he was going was familiar to him, but she knew better than to believe the narrative of his past that he trickle fed to her. It was likely none of it was true. He'd said that there was a dream passed down among the Targaryen heirs. How could she confirm that? Who else besides Viserys or Rhaegar could she ask? They were gone now and there was no one to verify. Unless...

"My knight, could you send for Ser Barristan?" She asked and he nodded. After he exited she dressed herself, brushing through her hair but not braiding it. Her servants brought her tea and breakfast which she sat at her serving table. About half an hour later both of her Queenguard came back through her door, Ser Barristan with hair still wet from bathing.

"Yes, my Queen?" Selmy asked as he approached her and she gestured for both of them to sit at her table and they did.

"Ser Barristan, I wanted to ask you about my brother, Rhaegar." She said as she poured them each a cup of tea.

"Of course, Your Grace. Whatever I may know I will happily share." Barristan answered warmly.

"Did my brother ever speak of a dream? A prophetic dream that my father may have passed down to him?" She asked as she passed them both their cups, Ser Jorah sipping quickly at his while he looked to Selmy.

The old knight seemed to think for a moment, looking upwards as he contemplated before answering "No, not that I can recall. He did have dreams much the same as you, though I wouldn't have called him a dreamer."

"So nothing about a dream from Aegon the Conqueror? Nothing about a dream regarding an enemy to the north that we must defeat?" She asked, leaning forward and into the table.

At that he seemed to pause, almost answering and then closing his mouth again. "I don't know about dreams, Your Grace, but one of the many things your father would say in his rants and hysterics was that there was an enemy to the north and he seemed absolutely petrified of it. I never could get him to clarify, but he was ranting about it when he burned Rickon and Brandon Stark alive."

Daenerys frowned. If such a dream had existed and it had been passed down, would it have presented itself in that way in her father's madness? She couldn't be sure.

"Why do you ask, Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked, finally taking a moment to sip his tea.

"Aemon has shared some information with me that has me concerned about things my family could have known that I do not." Daenerys explained. "He claims my family passed down the knowledge of a dream from heir to heir, all the way from Aegon the Conqueror. In this dream the Prince Who Was Promised was of Targaryen blood, born to defeat an enemy to the North."

Ser Jorah sharply frowned, Barristan's grip on his cup tightening slightly. "Daenerys," Jorah said tensely. "I know you care for Aemon. I know he has brought you a sense of family that you never had before. But the things he tells you are lies."

Daenerys sighed and leaned back in her chair, looking out of the balcony opening and to the sky beyond. "He knew things about me no one could have known. Claimed he saw my face in the flames and I believe him. He saw me hatch the dragons, saw me give birth to Rhaego. How else could he have known those things?"

"There are many people in this world with knowledge of dark arts, many artifacts and magicks that give people knowledge they wouldn't ordinarily have." He responded. "He wields the sword of your house, carries it's face. Knows things he shouldn't know. I have no explanation for him but he should be treated with caution not reverence. I fear for your heart in this matter."

Daenerys snapped her face to his. "You have always worried too much for my heart." She spat. "Regardless of how you feel about him, he has Viserion with him now. He has my child."

"I know, Khaleesi, I know. I only meant-" Ser Jorah started.

"Perhaps he is telling the truth in some things." Barristan cut him off. "And not in others. It's impossible to tell."

Daenerys thought of what Ser Jorah said. Magicks and artifacts. She thought back to the warnings Quaithe gave her. "The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and darkflame, lion and griffn, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal." she had said. Too many warnings, dreams and prophecies to keep track of. However glass candles she forgot, and a glass candle could give Aemon the knowledge he wasn't supposed to have.

"Is it possible that Aemon is in possession of a glass candle?" Daenerys asked of her guard.

Ser Barristan looked surprised. "I suppose so. I hadn't though of that. But glass candles are extremely rare and endlessly powerful. I think it would be more obvious."

"Who would know?" Daenerys asked.

"The maesters of the citadel." Jorah answered. "They have several in their possession. I was close with one who cured me of my affliction."

"Write to him immediately." Daenerys commanded, and Jorah rose, nodded and left the room.

"I should like some time to myself, if you wouldn't mind Ser Barristan."

Her old knight smiled and left her to her thoughts.

For the next two nights Daenerys drank sleep aids to keep herself from dreaming. She was afraid of what they might show her. With all of the overlapping prophecies, dreams and warnings sitting on her chest like a boulder she couldn't take it. Aemon still had not returned. She was doing all she could to keep herself busy. She had begun her training with Ser Barristan again and spent time among the Dothraki, requesting a saddle be made for Rhaegal. Even though he had no rider she did not wish for him to be left out.

Drogon and Rhaegal seemed unbothered by Viserion's absence which comforted her. She was sure that if something had happened they would know it and alert to it. She did not fly as her lack of appetite had her nauseous and dizzy and her last flight had been with Aemon. It was a lot to think about now.

Most of the time spent now was a waiting game. Waiting for Aemon to return. Waiting for word from the armada and from Casterly Rock. Waiting for the Dornish and Tyrell armies to return. She caught several glimpses of Jon Snow as he walked across the island, usually with his crow, back and forth from his room to the place she assumed they were mining the dragonglass. Several times she had considered going to see their work, but couldn't bare the thought of looking into those grey Stark eyes after what Aemon had told her.

One week past the day that Aemon left they heard back from Ser Jorah's friend at the Citadel, a maester in training by the name of Samwell Tarly. Jorah explained that he was the second son of Randyll Tarly, disowned by his father and sent to take the black where Jon Snow tasked him with going to the Citadel to become a maester and to learn as much as he could about the Long Night. He confirmed Jorah's suspicion that the Citadel held several glass candles and other magic artifacts.

"He says that glass candles are very powerful magical items that allow men to see across the world and communicate with one another at the same distance." Jorah explained to her as she was getting ready for bed. "He also claims that it's entirely possible for someone to know things they shouldn't when they are in possession of one that is lit. He promises to ask his archmaester who has a lit one more about them and to write again soon."

Daenerys nodded. "This man seems a kind one, very forthcoming with this information. Thank him for me."

"I owe him my life." Jorah said quietly. "He is a good man."

"Then thank him doubly." Daenerys said as she put a hand on her knights cheek, sorry for the way she had treated in her earlier turmoil. "Because in saving your life he also saved mine. I'm not sure what I would have done if you had never returned to me, Jorah."

Jorah smiled painfully, and she knew that he knew her remark was more about Aemon than about him. She took her hand away and he left the room, surely to send his raven. She took her sleep vial and laid down.

The next day bred more of the same, and she spent most of her time with Drogon and Rhaegal in the field past the training yard. She was laying against Drogon and tossing rocks at Rhaegal who was melting them with small jets of flame from his nose when footsteps crunched approaching her. She sat up and looked towards the training yard to see Jon walking her way, no crow today. Laying back down she closed her eyes and pretended to have been napping.

"I'm busy today, Lord. Much to do." She said as her eyelids darkened from his shadow in front of her. When he didn't answer she opened her eyes to see him staring in wonder at Drogon behind her, mouth agape and his usually impassive face instead full of awe. She watched him for a moment before he tore his eyes away from her dragon and looked down at her.

"The most powerful creature to exist in the world and here you lay, napping against one." He said incredulously. "I see now why people spoke of Targaryens with such reverence for hundreds of years. Why they said they were closer to Gods than men."

As he spoke Rhaegal swung his head over from where he sat behind him, making Jon freeze in place as the dragon sniffed him. The force of his breath moved Jon's hair and cloak, his face one of pure terror and surprise. He turned towards Rhaegal still stiff as a board and pulling the glove from his right hand, he extended his arm.

"I'd be careful with that, you did just say-" Daenerys started but he words died in her throat as Rhaegal leaned forward, pressing his snout into Jon's violently shaking hand. At the contact Jon seemed to relax a little, rubbing his hand up and down the dragons gorgeous emerald scales as he looked up into Rhaegal's face.

"What a marvel they are. I never knew to be sad that they didn't exist, but now I know to be grateful that you brought them back. Magnificent." Jon said with wonder, breathless. Daenerys stood and as she did Drogon shifted and got to his feet, moving away as his brother joined him and the dragons stalked off, leaving Daenerys staring at Jon who stared after Drogon and Rhaegal.

"You spoke truth when you said you had a way with wild things." She said coldly. "But I'd be careful in the future. They're not dogs. Dragons are not pets."

Jon dragged his gaze away from Rhaegal and turned back to her, putting his glove back on his hand. "Yes, Your Grace." He said, his mask falling back into place as his features reset into passiveness.

"You were coming to see me for something. What is it?" Daenerys asked, not hiding her annoyance. She still had not settled from what Aemon had told her and loathed being this close to Snow.

"I want to request for you to accompany me to where we have begun our escavation. There's been some discoveries I think you should see." He said formally.

"I'd rather not, my Lord, but thank you for the invitation." Daenerys said as she walked past him towards the training yard.

Surprisingly Jon reached out and grabbed her sleeve. She made to snatch her arm away but paused when she turned to look at him and caught his eyes, her mind flashing to his face in her dream, seeing them as purple for a moment before they returned to normal. The sleep aids must be clouding my mind, she thought.

"Please, Your Grace." He pleaded, taking advantage of her pause and releasing her arm. "I know you'll want to see this."

She straightened and glared at him. "Very well, lead on." Her sudden change to agree surprised even her. Something about Jon was missing, she felt pulled towards him like the moon to the earth. Caught in his orbit despite her sharp desire not to be.

She followed him down to the beach and around the island, stopping at the entrance of a thin and shallow crack in the looming grey rock of a cliff. Stepping inside all sound of the beach muffled, the distant and echoing drips of water accompanied by the sharp clangs of metal on stone replacing it. The cavern was thin with barely enough room for a person to pass but there was a torch on the wall as they continued inside, Jon grabbing it and using it to light their way as they entered a slightly larger cavern. In this opening there were several other tunnels that forked off, the sounds of the digging echoing back to them from down those tunnels.

"We were mining here when we found more." He said, walking towards the leftmost tunnel and entering it, glancing back to make sure she followed. They walked about a quarter of a mile through the darkness, no sound other than the distant rumbles of the miners and the hollow sound of the space around them. Suddenly they came upon a much larger opening, a sprawling crevass that opened upwards above them, shiny and black and made of dragonglass. The torch light reflected off of all the walls, twisting and turning in the different shapes the stone made hundreds of feet above their heads. She looked towards Jon and caught him studying her.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? The entire mountain is made of it. Deep enough into its core its all dragonglass. All obsidian." He said as he walked deeper into the cave, Daenerys keeping close behind.

"And you say you need this stone?" She asked. "To fight the dead?" Her tone was apprehensive.

"When we ventured north of the wall we found a stash of it buried at the Fist of the First Men." Jon explained. "My friend used some of it to kill a white walker. We need more of it to arm ourselves against the coming army."

Daenerys felt herself growing annoyed again at more talk of the dead and of white walkers. "Is this all you wanted to show me?"

"No." He said quickly and he reached towards her and took her gloved hand in his, walking deeper into the crevass and into another narrow tunnel. She allowed him.

Deeper in the tunnel the dragonglass went away, the walls turning into stone once more before the slope angled upwards. After a bit further the tunnel opened up again and they were in a round room.

"Look, Your Grace." Jon said, tugging her forward and handing her the torch. "Look at the walls."

She did as he bid, and as the firelight illuminated the walls beyond him she gasped. Carved into the walls were ancient pictures and symbols, words she couldn't read in a language that had likely been long lost. The pictures were of men, tall men, standing with children and eating, making fire, then fighting and killing one another. "What is this?" She asked.

"We stand just below the place where the weirwood tree used to grow on Dragonstone, it's roots have petrified in the stone above us." He said in the darkness behind her. "It was here that the First Men came upon the Children of the Forest, and here the Children carved upon the walls the story of their war with them. Walk further, Your Grace."

Walking further into the room, she watched as the images turned sad. Bodies on either side, dead men and dead children. Graves and many lost on either side. Walking further on she saw pictures of them appearing to make an agreement, the fighting ceased as the men and children stood together. Then, larger than all the other carvings, stood a depiction of a man, no a skeleton, with ice blue eyes. In the next pictures the men and the children stood against several of these skeletal figures, their blue eyes stark against the white of the other figures, their importance prominent against the rest in their sheer size. The men and the children carried fire to march against them, but the pictures explained no farther.

"They were here." Jon said. "Before Targaryens, before Starks, before Lannisters, they were here. They fought each other but joined together against a common enemy."

Daenerys had heard the stories of the Children. She knew her histories. It was her understanding that the First Men drove the Children into the North, killing them to extinction. This told a different story. However as she looked at the carvings she felt her chest stir deeply, knowing in her very core they were ancient and they were real, and it made her tremble. She turned to Jon, her amazement and her fear clear on her face. She wondered what Aemon would say about these.

"They did as we need to do now. They joined together to defeat the white walkers and the Night's King." Jon's pleading tone had returned. "Your Grace, I need you. The entire world needs you and your dragons. You were born to bring them into the world and to defeat this enemy with us. You must have been. They were a gift from whatever force fights with us against this."

Daenerys stared at him harshly. He did not wilt under her gaze. "I was born to take the Iron Throne. You expect me to drop everything to fight this war for you based on cave carvings and your claim of magic. I've not seen this magic. How can I give up everything I'm fighting to do on something I haven't seen?"

"You say this as if you haven't seen magic. You've both seen and created magic." Jon said sharply, throwing his hands in the air. "Daenerys, fight with me. Fight for me. Defeat this enemy and I'll bend the knee. Help me see this through and the North is yours."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I can't give you the North, because we will all die anyways." Jon said sadly, his face falling.

"I only know my magic." She said. "I can't believe in a magic not my own, that I've never seen. The dead don't rise to walk again."

Jon straightened. He sighed and turned to look down the tunnel, checking for something. "I can't show you the magic that makes the dead walk." He said. "But I can show you other magic. Old magic. Magic that the world thought was gone, much like your dragons."

"What do you mean?" Daenerys asked, concerned as Jon looked around suspiciously.

"Don't scream, don't leave me." He said as he sat down on the stone. Before she could interject he tilted his head and his eyes rolled into the back of his skull, an eerie whooshing noise flying down the tunnel as a sudden wind sent the flame in her torch dancing madly.

"Jon!" She yelled, shaking him as his eyes twitched and his hands trembled in his lap. He did not respond. "Jon!" She yelled louder.

Looking to the tunnel, she made to walk down it when a sudden flapping of wings startled her, and Pebble materialized out of the darkness, flying past her to land on Jon's shoulder. The crow looked at her and squawked, pecking at Jon's head.

"What are you-"

"Daenerys." Came the crow and she nearly leaped out of her skin. The voice was that of a crow, but it was a mimic of Jon's voice. "Daenerys." It said again, more forceful this time. She stepped backwards.

"I don't understand." Daenerys said. "What is this?"

It was then that Jon's eyes rolled forward out of his skull, fixing themselves on her as he took a deep breath and shook his head, shook his head like a crow shakes theirs. "You wanted to see magic besides your own."

Daenerys was breathing quickly again, Jon noticing and standing to extend a hand towards her. "I'm a warg, my Queen. There's more magic in this world than you know. Wargs had been gone for centuries before I was born just as dragons had been gone before you. We were meant to come together to fight this."

He was approaching her slowly but before his hand could touch hers, Daenerys whirled and sprinted down the tunnel, trying to get as far from him as she could. He followed behind her, calling her name. Entering the larger dragonglass tunnel she fought to catch her breath as she panicked and waved the torch around, trying to find the exit. Before she could Jon caught up to her, grabbing her arms as she tried to sprint into the darkness again.

"My Queen, stop, you're going to get us lost. I haven't explored all these tunnels." He pleaded.

"What are you?" She asked sharply, trying hard to overcome her fear. She had little good experience with male sorcerers.

"Please, calm down." He said. "You've never heard of wargs? Of skinchangers?"

Skinchangers. That term she had heard. Skinchangers were people that existed long ago among the First Men that could enter the minds of animals and control their actions. They were said by some to have never existed or to only have existed long ago, yet here one stood before her. The ancient magic of the First Men and the Children, in flesh again. Her breathing slowed as realization dawned.

"I almost told you when you spoke of flying." Jon said. "Until we found Pebble I had never inhabited a winged creature, only Ghost."

"Ghost?" She asked breathlessly.

"My direwolf." He explained.

"Oh, so you just happen to have a direwolf too?" She asked incredulously. "Get me out of this tunnel so I can better catch my breath."

Without hesitation Jon took the torch from her, leading her out of the cavern and into the next network of tunnels, through the larger crevass where she could hear the miners again and out of the last tunnel back onto the beach. Her chest heaving she put her hands onto her knees and took giant gulps of air. Jon stepped forward and put a hand on her back.

"Breathe." He said steadily. "You've seen stronger magic than this. You wield it."

She stood again and looked him in the eyes. "So you're a skinchanger. That doesn't prove that an army of the dead march on the wall."

"Then why don't we go and see it?" He asked plainly. "You have dragons that can make the journey there and back in under a week. We could fly over the wall and you could see them for yourself."

Daenerys scoffed. "You're truly insane. Maybe you've spent too much time with the brain of a bird."

"I'm desperate to save my people." He said. "I have a duty to them. I have a duty to my sister."

She knew the call of duty. The weight it was to bare. Better than anyone she understood the need and the drive to protect those who relied on you. "That's exactly why I can't do as you ask." She said again. "I have a duty to my own people to earn back the Kingdom they came to help me win."

"You have a duty to keep them alive." He said. "Please. Consider my request."

"I will. If you bend the knee."

He straightened. His face going cold. "If this is the path you're determined to take, despite all I've shown you. I won't. I will not betray my people who sent me here to get help. They've suffered too much under foreign rulers for me to toss away their loyalty for no guarantees after all I've shown you." He said viciously. "If you can't set aside your ego for your duty to your people, then maybe I-"

"What do you know of my duty?" She snarled. "Of my ego? What do you know of what I've had to overcome?"

"I know you feel entitled to a throne, to a position over your obligation to protect those in your rule." He spat back. "The Daenerys I thought I came to treat with was a champion of slaves, a herald of freedom. The woman who stands before me is little more than a power hungry tyrant. I'm not afraid of your fire, bathe me in it. If you won't help me I'm dead anyways."

"Ironic coming from a man who refuses to bend the knee. Me? A tyrant? You fashion yourself King with no birthright." She began walking sharply away, determined to find her guard and have Jon thrown into his solar.

There was a pause as he did not follow her. After a moment "Then I'll go on my own." He said.

She turned to look at him, darkness falling as the sun set behind the island. "What?"

His face hardened. "Then I will go on my own. I'll bring back one of the dead. Somehow. I'll bring you the proof that you need. The proof that Cersei needs."

"You're not allowed to leave this island until you bend the knee." Daenerys said.

"Then I'll send out another party to do it. I'll send a raven."

Daenerys rolled her eyes. "Whatever fools errand you want to send. But for now we return to the castle and you're confined to your chambers until further notice."

As they stalked back up to the castle she fumed in her fire, desiring nothing more than to sentence Jon to death for his words. But she did not have Drogon or her guard and made herself vulnerable coming out here with him alone. And despite her anger something deeper screamed at her that Jon was right, that there was magic beyond what she knew and larger forces at work, and before she sentenced him she wanted to speak to Aemon. She felt so bare and not herself without him around, she didn't trust herself to make this decision truly. He had disappeared with her child and had taken all of her fire with him. It wasn't until they started on the incline up to the island that she realized she was faint, and suddenly the world spun and she stepped backwards.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jon was behind her quickly, putting a strong hand on her back.

"I haven't been eating." She said. "Not enough anyways. I've been so worried since Aemon left with Viserion. I'm dizzy." Her raw emotional state had her pouring herself out to him, a traitor who called her a tyrant.

She wobbled again and without pause Jon leaned down and scooped her up into his arms, carrying her up the slope. She made to fight him, but realized she was significantly more tired than she had originally thought. "So that's where he went." Jon said. "I've meant to ask about him."

"That's above your station." She said as she closed her eyes just as her vision began to blur and the castle came into view.

"I suppose it is. But I thought you were the last Targaryen?"

"I am." She said.

"Then who is he?" He asked, swaying as he took larger steps with the castle getting closer.

"Some riverlands bastard." She answered.

"Seems unlikely." He said and she didn't respond. For a moment there was silence before he spoke again. "I could find him, if you want me to."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He avoided her gaze and was looking towards the castle and she couldn't help but think how handsome he was in this light, his dark features elegant and fierce. Mentally she berated herself, surely she was touch starved with Aemon gone. "What do you mean?" She asked.

"I've gotten used to the minds of birds. I can bounce between them and search large areas of land. Viserion would be hard to miss." He explained.

"You would do that for an egotistical tyrant?" She jeered.

He sighed, lightly setting her down as they came up to the steps of the training yard. He supported her weight and helped her walk the rest of the way. "I'm still trying to convince you, Your Grace. I'm still waiting for you to inspire me."

"I'm still locking you up for being a traitor." She said sharply as a few Dothraki spotted them and ran back inside to grab her guard.

Ser Jorah was only a moment behind, running out of the castle with worry sharp on his face. "What's happened?" Ser Barristan was behind him with Tyrion and a group of Dothraki.

"I took her to see the mine, she's dizzy." Jon explained.

"He called me a tyrant." Daenerys said as Jorah took her arm. "I want him locked in his chambers until Aemon returns and I can decide what to do with him."

Tyrion scoffed. "She's been drinking a night remedy, she shouldn't have been off castle grounds." He said and looked to the Dothraki. "You heard your Queen. Remit Jon Snow into custody and see him to his room."

Jon did not struggle as the Dothraki surrounded him and took him to his room, shooting Daenerys a look as they escorted him into the castle, Pebble suddenly lowering from the sky and following them through an open window.

"What's happened to you?" Tyrion asked viciously back in her room as she settled onto her bed. "Where is your head?"

Daenerys stared at him, too tired to bite back in the way he deserved. "I'm exhausted." She said.

"That's not what I mean." Tyrion said. "Letting Jon Snow call you a tyrant? Waiting until Aemon returns to make a decision? Since when did the Mother of Dragons need anyone else's approval to use her fire?"

She frowned at him. "Surely you're joking." She said. "My advisor who cautions me against my fire at every turn is surprised when I hesitate to use it? I'm tired and I'm worried. Aemon has Viserion."

"Drogon went missing for months and you never acted like this." Tyrion pointed out. "There's something more. Something about this Aemon that has you wrapped around his finger."

"That's not true." Daenerys snarled but it was half hearted. Tyrion was right. Aemon had given her the comfort of family, the reassurance of a like mind and then ripped it away. In such a short time she had become dependent on him, it felt like half of her was missing.

Tyrion grabbed a platter of food and brought it to her in bed. "Eat." He said. When she tried to protest he put a piece of fruit in her hand. "Eat. No arguing. We need our Queen. And no sleep remedies tonight, they're bad to take long term."

She begrudgingly took a bite of the apple he had handed her and then a chug of water from the chalice he handed her as well. "I'm sorry." She said as she felt some of her life return to her. "This has been hard, coming to Westeros. So many things pulling at me all at once and I feel lost. Aemon has given me a sense of family."

"I understand more than most what it is to desire security in family." He responded. "But you must keep your head. We still have a Kingdom to win. We still have houses to convince."

Daenerys leaned back and ate slowly, listening while Tyrion listed off the different houses they had account of. It appeared most of the southern portion of Westeros had heeled to her call, but the North still pivoted on Jon Snow. "I have an idea about that, by the way. A means of joining houses as old as the realm itself."

"What's that?" She asked, but before Tyrion could answer there was the loud sound of a struggle outside followed by her door swinging open and Jon Snow shoving his way in, Ser Jorah's arms wrapped around his middle.

"Khaleesi," Jorah said, struggling. "I'm sorry, I tried to keep him back. He insisted on speaking to you."

Jon stopped struggling and fell to his knees inside the door, refusing to move by making himself dead weight. "I found him." He said breathlessly. "Aemon and Viserion, I found them both."

Tyrion's eyes went wide as Daenerys felt her chest tighten. "Where? Where are they?" She asked.

"He's headed south towards your armada on the water, he's burned Casterly Rock to the ground." Jon said.

"He's done what?" Tyrion howled, jumping immediately to his feet. "How do you know this?"

Jon looked to Daenerys as Jorah allowed him up, his eyes wild and face more expressive than she'd ever seen. "That's not all, Your Grace. There's more."

Daenerys stood from the bed and approached him, mouth open and heart hammering in her chest. "What's happened?"

"The Lannister army marches on Highgarden. They have it surrounded. The Tarly forces stand with them, they've betrayed the Tyrells and have layed siege to the city." He said strongly. "They will have taken it before the night is through. They'll kill Lady Olenna before we could ever hope to arrive to counter."

She could hardly hear Tyrion screaming over the ringing in her ears. Viserion and Aemon were alive, they had burned Casterly Rock to the ground. But the Lannisters were coming for Highgarden and she could do nothing to stop them.

Notes:

Daemon and Daenerys reunited next chapter. We are going full skinchanging Jon. Just wait for Bran, the show really wasted him but I'm not.

Also I know this chapter was a painful one for those who like Olenna, dislike Jon, and for those who prefer BAMF Dany. Don't worry she's coming back. She has a lot of existential pressure on her right now but Daemon is going to help her keep her head on straight and it'll be fire and blood. Lots of confusing stuff going on for her right now.

Think of the love triangle I mentioned in earlier chapters as almost a Twilight-esque type deal without the sh*tty Twlight writing 😅🤣

As always thanks for reading!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

It took him nearly a full day to reach the beginning of the Blackwater, with the wind blowing west and Viserion growing tired. Seeing the ocean below made him remember a time hundreds of years past when he would race Rhaenys on Meleys and him on Caraxes from King's Landing to Dragonstone. It was a bright memory but a bittersweet one, to know that in this time Meleys and Rhaenys were both dead as well as Caraxes. Everything he had ever known for most of his life was gone replaced by a new world, a new purpose for himself and a new Queen.

He was worried for how Daenerys would react upon his return. He had been gone for over a week, several days past when he said he would be back. Full of apologies, he was ready to tell her all that she wanted to know and more. She was his Queen and she deserved to know, deserved to have whatever reaction she would have.

As Dragonstone came into sight on the horizon he felt his heart soar in anticipation of seeing her. It wasn't until this moment that he realized how much he had missed her, in all ways. Her beauty, her radiance, her strength and her fire. He wondered how it had been for her in comparison and felt guilty that they likely had different experiences since he knew he was returning and she didn't.

Getting closer now he noticed that the Dothraki were readying in groups on the beach, boarding the longships to be carried to the mainland. Had something happened? As he lowered Viserion to the field before the Dragonmont he heard Drogon and Rhaegal screech in welcome and come flying from inside the crevass, Viserion vocalizing in response. When Viserion landed and he dismounted, the three dragons came together touching snouts and flapping their wings in excitement. Daemon decided he would come for his saddlebags later and give Viserion time to rest.

The training yard was surprisingly empty as he approached it and it was apparent the remaining soldiers were preparing to leave. As he ascended the steps into the yard he noticed a crow perched on a ledge high above, eyeing him as it cackled and the doors going into the castle swung open.

And there she was. Dressed in her fur riding suit with her silver dragon chain and hair tightly bound, her face was all rage and he felt his stomach twist as he noticed dark circles below her eyes. She was accompanied by her sworn shields and Tyrion, who looked at him with a similar anger and he flung his guard up.

She looked down at him where he stood without descending the stairs into the yard, her mouth twisted in a hateful grimace. He kneeled immediately, bowing his head in a show of submission to curb the impending punishment. She spoke then, a question that surprised him.

"What thef*ck have you done?" She snarled, every word spat like a curse. He looked up at her with shock.

"My Queen, what are you-" he began.

"You know exactly what I speak of!" She screamed, coming down the steps at last to hover over him as he kneeled. "Casterly Rock. What have you done?"

It wasn't as if he intended to hide what had happened. Of course his intent was to tell her. He just didn't expect her to learn from anyone else but him. He kept his head down and did not meet her gaze. "I took it in your name, Your Grace. The Lannisters left it open in a trap, Euron Greyjoy's fleet waiting in the waters to the north to ambush yours." He explained. "They left the castle as a trap for you so I burned it down and alerted your armada. They've turned around and are on their way back."

"That wasn't your call to make." Came Tyrion, his voice thick with anger of his own. "Casterly Rock was the seat of my house, the castle has stood for hundreds of years."

Daemon raised his head to look Tyrion in the eyes. "And now it stands no more. No space for the lions to tuck their tails and hide in when this war is over."

He chanced a look at Daenerys, her face still full of hatred. "Why did you do that? Was that your plan all along?"

He shook his head. "My Queen, if we may speak in private-"

"We may not." She snapped. "Because while you were off gallavanting around, burning cities without leave, the missing Lannister army along with the house Tarly surrounded Highgarden and is sacking the city."

Daemon's eyed widened in horror. So that's where the army had gone. The Tarly's had turned their cloaks and betrayed their banner house.

"We must fly there now with haste to stop them. If you had returned when you said you would, we would have been able to leave immediately and possibly save Lady Olenna. As it stands I doubt we will find her alive." Her voice was coated with grief for the old woman, he knew she was fond of her.

But he shook his head. "We can't leave now. Viserion flew here slowly, he's winded and needs a break. At least half a day." He said apologetically. "You could have gone when you found out, you're more than capable of-"

"She didn't go because she's been too ill worrying about you and Viserion. Your actions were stupid and rash. She's been taking night remedies to sleep properly." Snapped Tyrion, clearing blaming him with every word like a punch. "She can't go alone, she's still off center."

"Daenerys.. " Daemon whispered, rising to his feet and extending a hand towards her. "I'm sorry."

Daenerys shot a warning glare at Tyrion and the dwarf recoiled. "Take Aemon to his solar where he will remain until I come to speak to him." She commanded her guard. "I will assess Viserion."

As Ser Barristan approached him, he reached a hand out and placed it on Daenerys' arm. "Daenerys, please..."

She snatched her arm away violently, her lip trembling as she appeared moments away from openly weeping. "Do not touch me." She said viciously. "Do not f*cking touch me."

As she walked off towards the Dragonmont and Ser Barristan grabbed his arm, he shouted after her "My Queen please, don't go alone. There are reports that Euron Greyjoy possesses a weapon that can defeat dragons. Don't go alone."

She did not respond or look at him and continued walking to Viserion, Jorah and Tyrion hot on her heels as Ser Barristan gave him a soft tug. "Let's go, Aemon. I'm sure she will come and speak to you shortly. Let her process that you've returned with her child." The old knight said softly. Wrenching his gaze away from Daenerys with his heart as heavy as lead, he followed Barristan with his head down in shame, the crow above cackling almost in jest of his mistakes.

He paced his solar feverishly, from the window to his door, hands folded behind his back and brow furrowed deep in thought. She was angry, furious, but she must forgive him. Together they were true fire and he was sure her anger stemmed more from worry born of affection. However she had seemed betrayed as if she believed him to have left for the sole purpose of burning Casterly Rock.

Honesty now would be his only choice going forward. It was time to tell her the truth. Whether she believed him or not, much pain could have been avoided had she simply known where he was going. It was excruciating for him to know that in trying to avoid hurting her he had only harmed her more. His stomach turned at the thought of the bags that had been under her eyes, the gauntness in her cheeks. Tyrion said she hadn't been eating or drinking or sleeping. He knew she craved his touch but her reaction to him being gone longer than he should have been was not what he expected. Did she truly feel for him the same way he felt for her? He agonized.

It felt like hours had passed, his hands in his face while he sat on the foot of his bed when a knock came at his door. He leaped up and ran to open it, but Ser Jorah was already walking through.

"You have a visitor." He said.

"Yes, yes please. Send her in." Daemon said, standing back to allow Daenerys entrance.

"It's not a she." Jorah remarked with a grin as he stepped aside and Jon Snow strode fluidly through the door, dressed all in black with a black fur cloak. He considered Daemon with an almost sarcastic look on his face.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, my Lord. I only wanted a word or two since you don't seem occupied." He said. "They almost didn't let me since we both seem to be in hot water with the Queen and confined to our rooms."

Daemon sighed and waved Jorah off, who exited the room and closed the door. Walking to his bench, he sat down in front of his table and gestured for Jon to sit as well. Anything to keep his mind off of Daenerys until she came to see him. "What did you do to end up in her flames? I know what I did." Daemon asked.

Snow sat down across from him, pulling his cloak to the side to avoid sitting on it and plopping down, back straight. "I called her a tyrant and said she had an ego." He said honestly.

Daemon frowned. "Sounds like you deserve to be in hot water then. You'll watch how you speak to my Queen." He said stiffly. "If I had been here when you said that we might not be having this conversation."

Jon's eyes flashed with amusem*nt before it disappeared. "Noted, my Lord. Though I would say you're hardly one to judge. My words didn't have quite the effect on her that your absence did."

The comment hit it's mark, Daemon's stomach turned. "A regret of mine, to be sure. I had no idea she'd react that way. It will never happen again." He said assuredly. "Now, I'm clearly waiting on her to visit me and while you're quite pretty in your own right, I'd prefer her. What do you need so that we may cut this visit short?"

Jon smiled, a genuine smile with a slight chuckle. "That's funny." He said warmly. "Growing up my brothers used to tease me about being 'pretty', though I never got half the attention from women that my brother Robb did. He was less dark, more charming. Meant for Lordship, he would have made a much better King in the North. He did." Jon reached forward and grabbed a goblet, looking to Daemon for permission to fill it, which he gave. As he poured his wine he continued.

"That was until the Lannisters and the Freys conspired to murder him, and killed him and his pregnant wife at a wedding." He said darkly. "They beheaded him and sewed the head of his direwolf onto him, mutilating him and denying him the honor of a proper burial."

"Is this what you came to speak to me about?" Daemon asked sharply. "I read about the Red Wedding. One of many atrocities committed by house Lannister."

Jon swallowed. "I only meant to express that I hold no ill will for your burning of Casterly Rock. If I had my own dragon I would have done it myself." He said. "But no, I did not come to speak about my brother."

Daemon considered the man in front of him. He was younger than him, articulate but dark. He carried the same torch that Daemon did and for a moment he considered asking him about his resurrection. Jon must have noticed the words on his lips because he spoke before he could.

"Seeing how Daenerys, our Queen, responded when you were gone..." He shook his head. "It let me know that you're important here. That convincing you would be just as valuable as convincing her."

"Convincing her of what? Of fighting your war in the north?" Daemon asked.

"Yes."

"You don't need to convince me. I believe you and I think she should." Daemon responded quickly and he was met with a look of shock on Jon. "But I am here to back her in what she chooses to do. I don't control her. I advise her and I have advised her, but I support her decisions. If she wants to take the Iron Throne first, that's her choice. I will fly wherever she tells me to."

"If you care about her, you'll try harder." Jon said. "All our lives hang in the balance."

"If you care about your people like you say you do, you won't push her." Daemom retorted. "Push her and she will send you away and where will that get you?"

"You don't understand what's out there." Jon said strongly. "You don't understand what we face."

"I understand more than you think I do." Daemon said. "Melisandre told me about you."

For once, Jon's smug face paled. He sat up and turned his head to the side, considering Daemon more carefully. "Melisandre is a monster of a woman. I should have taken her head."

Daemon chuckled and leaned forward onto his elbows on his knees. "Why didn't you? More reverence for death after experiencing it yourself?"

Jon inhaled sharply, clearly uncomfortable. "I don't know what you mean, my Lord."

"Of course you do, Jon Snow. Or should I call you by another name? How much of you is left in there after your men stabbed you to death?"

Jon stood quickly, frowning at Daemon who stood as well, looking him directly in his eyes. "I don't know what you think you heard. But Daenerys-" Jon started.

"Daenerys doesn't know." Daemon said. "I won't tell her, not if you return the favor."

Jon looked puzzled, but before Daemon could elaborate there was another knock at the door. This time Daenerys came sweeping into the room, shocked when she saw them together, then suspicious as she took in the tension in the room. "What am I interrupting?" She asked coldly. "Why am I not surprised that the two you somehow got together when you're both supposed to be confined to your solars?"

Jon took the opportunity quickly to bow his head and make for the door. "Apologies my Queen, I'll return to my confinement at once." and before either of them could protest he was gone, his cloak snapping through the door behind him as he closed it.

Daenerys looked at him puzzled, her eyes much more softened from her earlier gaze of hatred. "Is there something else I should know?" She asked.

Daemon rose to his feet and approached her slowly. "He wanted to convince me to convince you to fly north." He said. "That's all."

As he approached her she slunk past him, going to sit on the foot of his bed and looking to him with sadness and disappointment clear on her face. He ached again as the light of the fire contrasted the dark circles under her eyes, the grief that seemed stuck to her. Silence hung between them thick and cloying while he waited for her to speak. She looked down at the floor, avoiding his eyes. He stood frozen in place, longing to go to her. He had missed her more than he could say.

"You're right." She said quietly. "Viserion is winded. We will have to wait until nightfall to depart."

He took the opportunity and clasped his hands together in a praying motion. "Daenerys, I'm sorry." He pleaded. "I had no idea you would react this way. If I thought for a second that you would stop eating, lose sleep... I never would have gone. Never."

Her eyes snapped up to his and he noticed they were red and glistening, brimmed with tears she wouldn't allow to fall. It was then that he realized that her earlier rage was a mask for her pain, he had hurt her very deeply. "Where did you go?" She asked shakily. "Where was so important for you to go that you had to leave me?"

Honesty, he reminded himself. "I went to the Mountains of the Moon in the Vale." He said, clipped.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not from the Riverlands, Daenerys. I was resurrected in the Mountains of the Moon." He said cautiously, seeing how she would respond.

"Resurrected?" She asked incredulously. "I don't understand."

"I'm ready now, Daenerys." He said strongly, his heart pounding in his chest. "I'm ready to tell you who I really am and where I really came from."

She sniffed, trembling. "Is it anymore complicated than that you're from somewhere different, like the Vale?"

"Yes, much more."

"Then for now..." She said and he felt like he was going to die as her voice broke. "For now can we wait? Can we just be a Targaryen man and a Targaryen woman, about to fly to war on our dragons?" She clapped a hand to her mouth and stifled a sob as her chest heaved. "I hadn't realized until you. The weight of it all. The weight of prophecy, the weight of dreams, the weight of the deaths of my entire family. I hadn't realized how heavy it was. Until you came to help me carry it. You offered me a safe space to process all that had happened to me and that is still happening to me. Then you ripped it away. I have never felt so crushed. I thought you were gone. I thought you had taken Viserion and that you were never coming back."

He couldn't hold himself back anymore, he rushed to her and fell to his knees in front of her, taking her hands into his and gazing up into her beautiful violet eyes, pressing tender kisses against her knuckles wet from her tears. "Never, Daenerys. Never. I will never leave. Until my last breath I am pledged to you. I'll never make a mistake that will have you questioning that again." He said softly, closing his eyes and pressing her hands to his mouth. She trembled under his touch.

"Part of me hates you for doing this to me." She said solemnly, putting her head down to press her forehead against his. "I've never struggled with being alone before. Never have I cracked like this. I am a Queen, what have you done to me?"

He opened his eyes and peered up into hers, but she had them closed tightly. He reached a hand up and curled it around the back of her neck, rubbing it with his thumb. "I'm sorry, Dany. Really I am. I went because I thought it would help you. I thought leaving would give me time to think and I thought taking the Rock would help ensure your fire by taking away any possible retirement for Cersei." He explained. "I was very wrong. It will never happen again."

She opened her eyes and looked into his, a swirl of emotions within them. Tenderness. Hatred. Confusion. Anger. Sadness. All in one. How could he have been so foolish as to abandon her with the pressure of the world upon her? The pressure to take back the throne. The pressure to save the world from the darkness. The voice in the flames made more sense now than ever, he had been commanded to drive her and support her. This is what it meant. Without him these forces may have consumed her, they would certainly have consumed him. She was light and he was her shield in the dark, whole together and strong together.

"Can we start with one thing?" She asked as she looked at him.

"Anything, my Queen." He answered.

"What's your name?" She asked cautiously. "Your real name?"

He paused and released her neck, sitting down on his feet and putting his hands in his lap. "My name is Daemon Targaryen." He said with his heart in his throat. "That's my real name, my Queen."

"Daemon." She said softly and he felt his heart flip as she said his true name for the first time. And she smiled, the first smile he had seen in too long. "It's quite similar to Aemon, I see why you chose it."

He sighed and smiled back at her. "I needed something I would be able to answer to easily."

"And you'll tell me the rest?" She asked. "When we get back from Highgarden?"

"I'll tell you the rest." He agreed. "Whatever you want to know."

She looked sad again and he raised his eyebrows with silent question. She looked away, over his head to the wall behind him. "And you won't go again?" She asked, her voice trembling as her lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears again. "I've never felt so weak, so scared, so alone. In my dreams last night I was being pulled apart by vicious creatures, Gods and men and everything in between. A Kraken, a dragon, a wolf and a lion pulled me limb from limb. There's forces at work I can't face alone in this. I need you."

He reached a hand up to touch her face and she broke again, a choked sob escaping her throat as she spasmed. "I missed you so much." She said.

Standing, he took her face into his hands and leaned down, kissing every tear that fell off of her face. "I missed you, too. I didnt realize how much until I saw you again. And Gods, you were so f*cking beautiful even in your wrath and in your grief. You're beautiful now, even as you cry. Hauntingly so. I missed your face, your voice, your touch, your skin..." He said as he dragged a thumb across her cheek. She brought her hand to his and turned slightly, kissing his palm. He ached and turned his head upwards, looking towards the ceiling and biting his lip.

She snaked a hand back up as she rose to stand in front of him, her body flush against his as she pressed her hand to the back of his neck and tried to pull his face down to look at her again. He softly resisted. "Please." She whispered. "Daemon."

And his true name on her lips was his undoing. He looked down at her, nose brushing against hers as she looked at him through her eyelashes, eyes bright and beautiful and he tangled a hand in her hair. "Daemon." She said again as he brought his lips to hers, tenderly, slowly, barely making contact as he looked at her. Then her eyes fluttered closed and he lost himself in her, crushing his mouth to hers as she wrapped her arms around him. Her lips were soft and supple, everything he had dreamed they would be. He wasn't sure where her hands were, where his were, as she opened her mouth and his tongue brushed hers, feverish and ravenous. All sensation fell away except for the sensation of her lips moving against his as he tasted her deeply and fully, a ragged moan escaping her as he pulled her body tight against him.

He removed his mouth from hers for a moment, cherishing as she gasped for air and he brought his lips to her neck, sucking and nipping as she arched her back into him. Pulling away he cupped her face in his hands, loving the pink tint to her lips from his kisses and the blush across her cheeks. "Is this okay?" He asked her. "Are you okay?"

"More than okay." She said breathlessly. "I missed you. I want you so bad it hurts."

He grinned at her then, loving her language. "My Queen." He said as he pushed her back until the back of her knees hit the bed, lowering her down onto it with one arm wrapped around her. She gladly complied, laying back on the bed and looking up at him as he stood, lips parted and eyes hungry. "Allow me to worship you."

Without prompting she reached up and unclasped the front of her furs, pulling them back at the front opening to reveal her shift underneath and her leather pants. He helped her shirk her arms from the fur suit, leaving it laying beneath her as he pushed her shift up, revealing her breasts that puckered in the cold air. He took one into his mouth, sucking the nipple while he massaged the other, rewarded with a soft moan as she tilted her head back and tangled a hand in his hair.

Remembering their guard, Daemon stood for a moment. "One second." He said as he strode across the room, struggling from the tightness in his pants. He grabbed one of the wooden chairs around his table and braced it against the door, not wanting to chance any interruptions this time. As he turned back around, she had removed her pants and was laying on the bed waiting for him, completely bare and legs open. She was the most godly thing he had ever laid his eyes on, and he found himself silently thanking whatever force had made him this lucky as he approached her and leaned over her, kissing her again as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

He had meant it when he told her that kissing was almost as erotic to him as the act itself, his co*ck pulsing against the tie of his pants. She was open and pliable, her tongue frenzied against his as he kissed her hard, then kissed her tenderly, alternating between until she was gasping and writhing beneath him. She was grinding herself against his pants, slick and warm and he could barely handle himself in the heat of it. Slowly he pushed a hand between them, sliding it down over her breasts, down her stomach and in between her thighs, bringing his mouth to her neck as he slipped a finger inside of her. She was soaked and brought her hips up to meet his hand, pulling him deeper as he pushed a second one in to join the first.

"I missed this." She said, breath hot against his ear as he began to pump his fingers in and out of her, dragging his thumb in lazy circles around her cl*t and she moaned. "You make me feel like I'm flying."

He kept his fingers inside of her, curling them upwards to hit a spot of pleasure while she ground her hips against him and he dragged his body down hers. He looked up at her face as he parted from her, kissing down her chest, her stomach, each of her hips as he brought himself to kneel at the foot of the bed. He dragged her down it, bringing her core to rest on the edge of the bed while he pushed her thighs open, marveling at the beauty of her sex.

"I want to taste you again." He said hotly and she looked at him with eyes glazed as she put a hand on the back of his head. "This time without interruptions."

"I want you to have pleasure too." She said, pleading.

"I will, my Queen." He said as he inserted a third finger from his right hand inside of her, the wetness shining up to his wrist as he worked her. She stopped looking at him as she slammed her head back onto the bed and groaned. "But for now I want you to lay back, relax, and let me show you what it is to be truly revered."

At that he put his mouth on her, his tongue circling her cl*t in steady motions in time with his fingers pumping inside of her. She began to pant, her hips bucking in time with his thrusts as she whispered his name. He took his left hand and replaced his right, renewing the friction inside of her and taking his right hand to undo his breeches. The ties were wet from her earlier grinding and he worked her slightly faster with his tongue, loving the way she bucked in response. Undoing his pants he freed himself, unable to stifle the moan that vibrated against her from his mouth as he took himself in his right hand, her wetness slick upon his fingers and now on his co*ck.

Balancing himself on his left elbow he pounded into her with the fingers of his left hand, feasting on her with his mouth and tongue while he stroked himself with her wetness on his right. She raised her head and looked down at him, noticing his arm movement beneath the edge of the bed and reached for him. "Please, I want you."

Pulling his mouth from her momentarily but not ceasing the movement with either of his hands he shook his head. "I told you when the first time you feel me would be. For now this is for you. Lay back and let me give you this. I want to taste you when you come." And he put his mouth back, feeling his own climb to climax tightening as he felt her rising to it as well, her walls gripping his fingers tighter and tighter.

Keeping the same steady movements she began to tremble, and with his name on her lips she came, slamming her thighs together around his head and quivering around his fingers and wetness seeping from her. Her speaking his name while she climaxed brought him to his own release, and he groaned while he came onto the floor, meeting her eyes as she cupped his face with her hand. He quickly pulled his pants back up and brought himself up and over her, kissing her madly and laying next to her with his arms around her. They slid together up to the pillows of the bed and he pulled the furs around her, her eyes on his as they sat for awhile in silence, taking each other in and coming down from their moments of pleasure.

He stroked her face lightly as she stared at him with her beautiful eyes, drinking in her expression as she brought his other hand to her mouth and kissed it. "I never knew it could be like this with anyone." She said. "It'll be hard to convince me to get out of this bed and go to war."

"I'll be going with you." He said in response. "You should try to sleep in the meantime. I'm here. I won't go anywhere."

She smiled lightly and let her eyes flutter closed as he brought the furs around her shoulders and pet her hair, watching her until her breathing was even and he was sure she was asleep.

After she had been asleep for sometime, her side rising and falling steadily and her face pristine in a restful peace, he carefully slid off the bed. She did not stir as he stood and he felt regret that he could not sit and watch her angelic face until she opened her eyes again. In sleep all the tension fell off of her, face relaxed and brow unfurrowed, lines of worry gone for the moment. Her dark circles remained, lighter now than they were earlier in the day, and he knew with the conviction of fire that he would never do anything again to harm her that way.

Walking to the door he removed the chair and opened it quietly, not surprised to find Ser Jorah still at post. The knight did not turn to face him, he only straightened and asked in a hushed tone "Is she asleep?". Daemon was sure that he had heard them but felt no embarrassment or concern. Despite the obvious feelings the guard held for Daenerys he must have stood at her door while she took her previous lovers and Daemon internally respected the man's fortitude. He could never.

"She is." Daemon said, still whispering. "I figure once she's had a good rest we will take flight. Could you have some food and tea sent up for her? And some goats for Viserion and Drogon as well."

After Jorah nodded and departed, Daemon feigned closing the door but opened it again, peaking out into the hallway. Technically he was still supposed to be confined to his room, but he had words he needed to exchange with Jon Snow. Stepping out into the hallway he made to walk down it but only made it a few doors down before he came upon Tyrion and Varys talking and walking together, all three of them freezing in place as they saw each other.

Tyrion looked absolutely livid as he appraised Daemon. "Sneaking off again to destroy more familial history in fire? Or did you have some other fantastically stupid plan in mind?" He asked savagely, Varys raising his eyebrows in pretend shock.

Daemon straightened and made a point to look down his nose at the dwarf. "My dearest apologies for destroying the home you had hoped to protect your murderous Mad Queen of a sister in after the war. I'm sure we can find a more suitable hovel for her to squat in after we take King's Landing."

Tyrion's already twisted features somehow looked more malicious. "You know not of what you speak." He said.

"Don't I?" Daemon whispered, leaning down to look at Tyrion's ugly, noseless face. "How is it that the Lannister army knew we were coming? Who warned them?"

Varys looked sideways this time. "I hope you aren't suggesting our Lord Hand had anything to do with that. He is a pure and staunch supporter of Daenerys, despite your issues with his ideas." The spider said smoothly.

"I only wonder, Lord Varys." Daemon responded.

"Who knows, with the magic that appears to be loose and wild in the world as of late. Maybe someone was warned in the same way we were warned about your actions and about Highgarden." When Daemon looked confused, a horrible smile crept across the imp's face. "Oh, she didn't tell you?"

Daemon shrugged, refusing to be rattled. "I figured a raven had come."

Tyrion shook his head and looked to Varys, he joined him in their tut-tuting. "No, Lord Rivers." The dwarf said haughtily. "You were seen by none other than Jon Snow himself, through the eyes of a bird he inhabited. Apparently the man is a skinchanger, and a talented one at that."

His shock must have been plain on his face because Tyrion laughed openly. "It must be hard to realize that you are not the only advisor who brings power in magic to the table." Tyrion prodded. "He brings more in other ways, as well. I've done my best to advise Daenerys to take advantage of them."

Daemon felt his face grow hot with anger as he frowned at Tyrion. "I see. You're losing your position with her because your plans are failing so you're attempting to install another puppet."

"Not a puppet, Lord Rivers. A husband." Tyrion said sharply. "What better way to bring the north into the fold than to marry their leader? Daenerys understands the benefits of a political marriage."

"She has no interest in marrying the Stark bastard." Daemon snarled. Tyrion's thorns had found their mark.

"She spent most of her time with him when you were gone." Varys pointed out. "Did you assume she was going to marry you?" The eunuch laughed.

Daemon could have spat on them. He thought about throwing it in their faces that Daenerys currently lay naked in his solar, tired from the pleasure he had given her, but felt better of shaming her in order to gain the upper hand against these slimy men. Tyrion had slowly been growing his trust but with his reaction towards the burning of Casterly Rock, it was two steps forward and four steps back.

"Tell me, my Lord." Daemon whispered with a hiss. "Were you hoping to become Lord of the Rock yourself after the war? To marry some Lady assigned to you that never would have blessed you otherwise and to give her gnarled imp children as twisted and dogged as yourself?"

Before Tyrion could open his mouth to retaliate a gruff and sharp "Enough." came from further down the hall. Ser Barristan was walking up the stairs to where they stood, in full regalia with a fierce look on his face. "Will neither of you be happy until you have torn our Queen limb from limb with your bickering?"

Limb from limb. Daemon recalled the dream Daenerys had described to him from last night. A kraken, a dragon, a lion and a wolf pulling her apart. He was standing in this hall, the dragon, bickering with the lion and fulfilling her worst fears. Again. How would he ever overcome his nature to stop harming her? He immediately dropped his head.

"You speak true, Ser Barristan." He said solemnly. "I will return to her side now."

Ser Barristan nodded as Tyrion and Varys continued on their way, saying not a word to the Queensguard Commander. Daemon reentered his solar where Daenerys still lay sleeping, ignorant to the squabble that just occurred.

So he watched her again. He watched her and thought of her dreams and their meaning. He watched her and thought of Jon Snow, whether she would really marry him in order to take the north. A skinchanger, he was shocked. Though it made sense for that old magic to resurface now, and it made even more sense that it came back in the form of a Stark, who carried more thickly the blood of the First Men than any other house of men. Daenerys said she felt larger forces at work and their fingerprints were evident on all the pieces moving now. The return of dragons, men coming back to life even after hundreds of years, skinchangers materializing from ancient houses. He wondered if they would see more magic awaken, like Greenseers and the use of blood sacrifices in front of the Weirwoods. He hoped not.

Several hours passed as the light outside of the windows began to lessen, late evening turning into dusk. Nobody disturbed them, everyone aware of how important it was for Daenerys to feel rested before they flew on Highgarden. But as dusk turned into night she stirred, opening her eyes to see Daemon kneeling on the bed beside her, offering her a cup of tea.

She wiped the sleep from her eyes and sat up, gratefully taking the cup from him and smiling at him as she drank. "Have you been watching me the whole time?" She asked softly.

"Not the whole time, no." He said. "So, Jon Snow is a skinchanger?"

Her eyebrows raised. "He is. Who told you?"

"Tyrion threw it in my face while telling me about his plans to make Jon Snow your husband."

Her face fell. "Daemon, I-"

He shot a hand up to cradle her face. "No, not now. We don't need to talk about that now." He said sweetly. "How are you feeling?"

She seemed suspicious for a moment before swinging her legs over the side of the bed and rising, the furs falling off of her and revealing her naked body to him again. Her pale skin prickled with goosebumps, and he rounded the bed with her shift to help her get dressed.

"I feel better." She said as she raised her arms for him to pull her shift over her head, dragging his hands down the side of her body as she shivered. "Much more like myself."

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, tender and quick. "Are you ready for what needs to be done?" He asked her.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of you kissing me like that." She said as she reached out to grab his face, pulling him into another kiss that she deepened, threatening to drag him back into bed with her. He pulled away and laughed at her.

"Woman, you know not the power you hold. But we have an army to burn."

She gave him a grim smile and she pulled her pants on, grabbing her fur suit still on the bed. "Is that the plan? We fly there and set fire to the Lannister army?"

Daemon straightened. "What do you want to do? It's your call. You're the Queen."

"I have an idea for a stop we can make on the way back." She said, smiling wickedly a mirror image of his own deviations.

"Oh?"

"I'll tell you after, but yes. That's what I want to do. I want to fly to Highgarden and melt the Lannister and Tarly armies into the ground for what they've done." She said fiercely, clasping her furs around her neck. "Tell me about this weapon you heard of later as well. There's no time now."

Her fire was returning and he was more than glad to fan the flames. "At your lead, Your Grace." Daemon said, bowing and waving his hand for her to walk ahead and she did.

Through the castle they walked, Ser Jorah catching them at the door and reprising to them the preparations they had made. Drogon and Viserion had been fed and like Daenerys, Viserion had spent the time napping and appeared refreshed. Their saddle bags had been filled with more than two weeks worth of food and provisions, overkill but they wanted to be sure. As they made their way to the Dragonmont they were joined by Ser Barristan and came upon Missandei, Tyrion and Varys waiting for them in the training yard.

They walked as a group towards the dragons who waited, Daenerys approaching Rhaegal first. Putting a hand on his face she kissed him and whispered "Umbagon kesīr, ñuha jorrāelagon. Mīsagon se sombāzmion hen ñuha kepa while gaoman skoros ēdruta sagon gaomagon." Stay here, my love. Protect the castle of my ancestors while I do what must be done. Rhaegal understood immediately and retreated, allowing Drogon and Viserion to come forward.

Turning to the group who had gathered, Daenerys smiled at her advisors and her pledged. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could, Jon Snow came out of the castle doors and through the training yard, the crow Daemon had spotted earlier on his shoulder. His skinchanging companion he assumed, though he has heard that inhabiting birds became dangerous, giving the shifter the unending desire for flight. Everyone turned to look at him in surprise.

"I had to come and see you off." He said loudly over the group as he cut through them and approached Daenerys. "You have my support in this endeavor, I hope to see you return. For now, take Pebble." He took his hand and put it to the birds chest, Pebble stepping onto his fingers as he brought him before Daenerys. She hesitated.

"This is an immediate line of communication to us." Jon explained. "You can tuck him under your arm or put him in one of the saddle bags, he'll be fine to come with you. But it's pertinent that he comes with."

Daenerys nodded and took the crow onto her shoulder, Pebble clacking his beak together in excitement. She looked to Daemon and he approached her, removing Pebble from her shoulder and taking him to her saddle bags, the bird eyeing him with one solid black eye full of suspicion. However he willingly allowed Daemon to tuck him into one of the empty sacks, curling himself inside and closing his eyes to nap.

As Daemon returned to Daenerys' side, Jon Snow had retreated to regard her from among the group. Tyrion stepped forward. "My Queen." He said, head low. "May I request to accompany you?"

Daemon was shocked he would ask such a thing. "This is no leisurely flight my Lord. We are flying to war." He said firmly.

Daenerys raised a hand and Daemon quieted. She looked to Tyrion and frowned. "No. You may not accompany me. We fly to finish a problem you created. We should have taken our first chance to blockade the capital, this was your oversight." She said firmly. "I will expect for you to use this time to reflect on how you can better serve me in the future. You will not convince me to pull my punches past this."

Tyrion did not question her but stepped back among the group. "Of course, Your Grace."

Daenerys stood tall and looked again at everyone around her. "For the first time in Westeros I fly to war." She said, projecting her voice into the night air as the wind whipped her hair behind her, shining like silver in the moonlight and looking like the Queen she was. "The bards and the maesters will speak of this moment for hundreds of years to come. The day Daenerys Targaryen flew to set fire upon our enemies. They will try to use it to lessen me, to claim me as mad. But let all of you stand in witness, I do this to protect the realm and all who inhabit it. My enemies have killed women, they have killed children, they have killed unborn babes in the wombs of their mothers. No more. It will not stand. Now they have taken Highgarden and likely killed it's Lady, a woman no bigger than a child. We all met her. Now I fly to show them what happens in my Westeros when an evil Dowager Queen calls for such disgraces. They will never again ask what will happen when they stand against Daenerys Targaryen. They will know. Lannister and Tarly alike, they will know."

Daemon was never more proud of her than in this moment. He smiled strongly and as she finished her speech he looked to Ser Barristan. "Ser," he asked. "Will you give me a sword?"

Daenerys looked at him with confusion. "A sword?" Her face matched that of Ser Barristan's.

Unbuckling his own weapons belt, he unclipped Dark Sister from it and approached Daenerys, falling to his knee and presenting the valyrian steel to her. "You once requested this sword as the heirloom of your house and I told you that you could have it when you learned to wield a blade. You are still learning, but you have done that." He said confidently. "Dark Sister belongs to you. You should carry it into battle."

She took the sword from his hands and clipped it to her side, unsheathing it and weighing it in her palm as he stood. She smiled widely at him, every person around them smiling in turn as she flourished the sword and held it beside her, looking as fierce as Drogon himself. Ser Barristan rushed up and brought him a replacement sword, nodding in approval. Daemon placed it on his hip, not Valyrian steel but it would do. Turning, Daemon made to mount Viserion.

"I'm not finished, my Lord." Daenerys said and he turned to look at her, surprise etched on his face. "Kneel."

He did as he was told. Kneeling before her she took Dark Sister and placed the flat of the blade on his shoulder, bringing it over his head to sit on his other shoulder as the people before them held their breath.

"In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave." She started fiercely and he couldn't help his smile as his heart hammered in his chest. "In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and the innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women." She was rewriting him, imbibing him with strength and character he had never held before in much the same way he was doing for her. He knew as he raised his head to look her in the eyes that he would follow her anywhere.

"In the name of the Crone I charge you to be wise." She continued. "In the name of the Smith I charge you to be strong and unyielding. In the name of the Stranger I charge you to respect and revere death, for it comes for us all."

As she removed the blade from his shoulder and sheathed it again she smiled, wide and beautiful and remarkable. "Rise now." She started again and he did. "Rise and be known here and now and forever with witnesses to know you as Daemon Targaryen, true, natural-born dragon of my house. I declare this as Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, you are my blood and my kin. You are Ser Daemon Targaryen of the House of the Dragon, the White Dragon and my Master of War. Let no one ever question your name from now until the end of your days, until the end of all days."

His heart swelled as the onlookers clapped and it took everything in him not to pull her into a fierce kiss and he could see her struggle herself in her eyes. She was everything he could have ever dreamed of, the force that kept his soul on this plane. In her energy he felt the strength and beauty and grace and ferocity of Rhaenyra, never without her as it felt like she stood right here. Stronger and renewed and endless.

Standing he bowed his head. "You honor me, Your Grace. My sword and my life are yours." He said. "Until the end of my days."

Beaming she turned and nodded to her advisors and her people, pivoting on her heel to approach and mount Drogon. He did the same on Viserion and with a war cry that she echoed, answered by the raised swords of her Dothraki below, they launched into the air. Turning eastward with the moon at their backs they flew, ready and prepared to lay fire upon their enemies and take back the world that belonged to them.

Notes:

They are a force when together, that's for sure. This was by far my favorite chapter to write so far.

Next chapter in the works, I hope you guys are okay with how often I'm updating. Would you rather me release multiple chapters at once with longer periods in between or do you like quicker single chapter posts? Let me know.

As always thanks for reading!