When Daenerys came to the dream once more.
Frostflame was no longer inside the cave, but lay quietly outside it, letting the moonlight fall over her snow-white scales, looking all the more majestic for it.
Her body heat had melted the snow beneath her into a shallow hollow, and her breath condensed into pale wisps of mist in the night air.
Jon stood before Frostflame, his hand reaching out to stroke her snout.
On noticing Daenerys, the white dragon’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before finally settling into stillness.
Jon turned, grinning broadly at Daenerys.
“I found her. I’m with her now.”
She said it softly at first, her face breaking into a radiant smile, and in a few quick steps had crossed to him.
Before he could even react, she leapt up and threw her arms around him, holding on for a long moment before finally letting go.
“Jon, you did it!”
Frostflame let out a low growl, curling herself into a ball as if settling in for a nap, the tip of her tail curling around her claws to cover her snout.
Daenerys gazed at that great white curled shape, the smile still lingering on her face.
“What’s Frostflame like, in the real world?”
Jon stepped back slightly, still holding her by the elbow, his breath still carrying a trace of unspent excitement.
“I flew with her.”
“What did that feel like?”
“It’s freezing up there.” He thought a moment, then added:
“But it felt amazing.”
Jon told her about the dangers of that first flight, and what it had felt like to look down over the snowfield from high above.
As he spoke, he couldn’t help glancing down at his own hands, as though that stinging ache still lingered in his palms.
Daenerys listened, utterly absorbed, breaking in now and then with a gasp of astonishment, laughing again and again, as though she too had flown along with him.
He trailed off partway through, his gaze settling on her face, tinged with a searching curiosity.
“How have you been, lately?”
A night wind blew in from some unseen direction.
Frostflame yawned, burying her head a little deeper still, the moonlight rippling faintly across her scales.
Daenerys pressed her lips together.
“Viserys and I have arrived in Pentos.”
“We’re staying now at Magister Illyrio’s estate. He’s the most powerful merchant in the city, and the manor is huge and beautiful, better than anywhere I’ve ever lived before.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It sounds that way.” Daenerys paused, her gaze slowly dropping.
“Viserys likes it there a great deal. But I keep feeling like… Magister Illyrio is being too good to us.”
At the name, Jon’s brow furrowed slightly.
Illyrio Mopatis.
Of course he’d heard the name, a shrewd merchant, and a schemer who never made a losing bargain. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
“There’s no such thing as generosity without a reason. Especially from a man like Illyrio.”
Jon’s expression grew steadily more serious.
“If he’s willing to take you in, feed you, house you, even help Viserys look for some chance to reclaim the throne, he’s after something.”
“What exactly he wants from the two of you, I can’t say yet.”
He looked at Daenerys, and said, low and steady:
“So don’t trust him easily.”
“Especially whenever he’s trying to talk Viserys into doing something. You need to be careful then.”
Daenerys nodded, a touch more worry entering her eyes.
“So what should I do, then?”
Jon thought it over for a moment before answering: “Nothing, for now.”
“Live as you normally would. As long as he doesn’t do anything too far out of line, don’t provoke him yourself.”
“I’ll come find you, as soon as I can.”
He paused, his gaze softening.
“I’ll bring Frostflame with me.”
Hearing this, Daenerys’s face lit up at once.
“Mm. I’ll wait for you.”
Seeing the smile return to her face, Jon finally felt himself relax.
Then the conversation turned.
“How is your brother Viserys doing these days?”
Daenerys pressed her lips together, and it was a moment before she spoke.
“He’s changed a lot. He smiles far less than he used to.”
“The only time he smiles at all is when he talks about his coming ‘great conquest’ of Westeros.”
“Conquest? With what army?”
“He tells me there are still many people in Westeros loyal to House Targaryen.”
“That once we return, they’ll come forward and help us take back the Iron Throne.”
“He’s also planning to raise an army of his own in Pentos.”
Daenerys looked at Jon and asked quietly: “Is what he says true?”
She paused, then asked again: “Do the people of Westeros… really still want to support us?”
Jon was silent for a moment.
“I don’t know.”
He admitted honestly: “Westeros is quiet now. Most of those loyal to House Targaryen are either exiled, or already dead.”
Daenerys’s expression dimmed a little.
“Jorah?”
“A knight from Westeros. He came to protect us. He’s very kind, and he’s always been patient with Viserys.”
Jon frowned slightly.
“That name… I think I’ve heard Uncle Benjen mention it before.”
He thought about it, then said: “I believe he’s of House Mormont. Exiled over something or other, if I remember right.”
“When I’m back at Castle Black, I’ll ask Lord Mormont about it.”
Behind them, Frostflame stirred suddenly.
Their conversation broke off.
Daenerys looked at him and asked quietly: “Is it time?”
“Yes.”
Jon let out a soft sigh.
Only once every few months could they meet like this in the dream, and every time, what little time they had together was far too short.
“Take care.”
“You too.”
Frostflame let out a low, soft sound too, her tail sweeping gently past their feet.
Morning light filtered through the gauze curtains, falling gently across the bed.
Daenerys rolled over, burying her face deep in the soft pillow, trying to hold onto the last traces of the dream — even one more word from Jon would have been enough.
But the dream had ended all the same.
Before long, the servants would knock to prepare her bath and dress her for the day.
Daenerys had to admit she liked the life here.
The soft bed, the warm bathwater, the fresh fruit, the servants who always greeted her with a smile.
None of it was anything she had ever had before.
And yet, beneath all this comfort lay a nagging unease that would not go away.
She still couldn’t set her mind fully at ease.
Illyrio had given them far too much.
Why would a merchant, a total stranger, be so generous to two exiled Targaryens?
Jon was right.
There’s no such thing as generosity without a reason.
Just then, a familiar, hurried sound of footsteps came suddenly from the corridor outside.
Daenerys’s body went taut on instinct — that was Viserys.
She curled rigid beneath the covers, her heartbeat suddenly quickening.
Sometimes just the sound of his footsteps was enough to tell her whether her brother’s mood that day was good or bad.
Daenerys lay back down on the bed and closed her eyes, as though doing so might let her escape whatever unpleasant thing was coming.