Jon and Daenerys stood looking at one another for a long while, until the sound of footsteps carried from somewhere off in the distance.
It was Jorah Mormont.
Too uneasy to stay back, he had followed her here regardless of the danger to himself.
He didn’t come any closer.
Ever since he’d drawn near, the great dragon had kept her eyes fixed on this unfamiliar stranger.
With every step he took, a low, threatening sound rolled from deep in her throat, as though one more step would be enough to bring an attack.
Jorah could only watch Daenerys, his face taut with worry, wanting to speak but afraid of provoking the dragon.
On the walls of Pentos, Viserys stared fixedly at the scene below, watching Daenerys walk right up beside the dragon, unharmed.
A thought began to take hold of his mind, slow and insistent.
Dany could do it.
So why couldn’t he?
He was a Targaryen too.
The blood of the true dragons ran in his veins the same as hers.
Thinking this, the fear in him was swallowed up, bit by bit, by greed, and the weakness that had crept into his legs faded along with it.
He waited a while longer, until he was certain his sister wasn’t about to be attacked.
Then he could hold himself back no longer, and hurried over to Illyrio Mopatis, talking rapidly all the while.
“Did you see that?”
“It accepted her.”
“She’s a Targaryen. The blood of the true dragons runs in her veins.”
“So it will accept me too.”
Watching him in this near-manic state, Magister Illyrio thought it over a moment before asking, “Your Grace, are you certain you wish to go?”
Viserys nodded, unable to wait.
“Have a horse and an escort readied for me, quickly!”
His head had been turned entirely; he had already begun picturing himself astride the great dragon, returning to Westeros.
“Once I have that dragon, I’ll make you my Hand of the King!”
A flicker of contempt crossed Illyrio’s eyes, though his face kept its deferential smile.
“Of course, Your Grace.”
What he was really thinking was that this made a fine chance to let Viserys go test the waters first.
If the dragon truly proved willing to accept him, then everything after would be far simpler.
Illyrio glanced once more at the dragon on the hillside, his gaze slowly turning calculating.
As for whether Viserys might be hurt in the attempt, or even killed…
that was no concern of his.
He instructed a nearby guardsman to see to a mount, then ordered the gates opened.
Viserys rode out through the gates and galloped hard toward the hill, muttering to himself the whole way.
He too had to go the last stretch on foot, and by the time he reached the foot of the hill, he could barely contain himself, calling out at once: This chapter was copied from novelping . com without permission.
“Have you come for me?”
Jon, seeing the long silver-gold hair of the man approaching, guessed his identity at once.
Viserys Targaryen.
He only glanced at him once, and didn’t bother to answer.
That cold indifference froze the smile on Viserys’s face for an instant.
But he quickly turned his attention back to Frostflame.
By now, watching three people in a row draw near the dragon without being attacked, the people of Pentos felt their initial fear beginning to give way to curiosity.
More and more of them came out through the gates and gathered toward the hill.
The noise of the crowd carried from a distance, growing clearer by the moment.
Frostflame’s great violet eyes shifted away from Viserys, turning toward the growing crowd at the foot of the hill.
A low growl rolled up from deep in her throat.
“Screeee—!”
The crowd below the hill flinched as one, trembling with fear.
The people who’d only just worked up the nerve to approach fell instantly into chaos.
Many scrambled back the way they’d come, half-crawling, as though wishing for a few more legs to run on.
Within moments, the once-crowded hillside stood nearly empty.
In the end, only Viserys, Jorah, and a handful of the bolder few remained.
Jon patted Frostflame’s neck.
“Lykirī.”
At the command, Frostflame let out a low rumble and slowly settled to the ground.
Only then did the onlookers finally tear their eyes away from the dragon, and notice the tall, straight-backed young man standing at her side.
His black hair stirred loosely in the hill wind, his deep grey eyes calm and sharp.
His pale complexion set his features into sharper relief, his black cloak stirring gently in the wind, the sword at his hip, Longclaw, catching a cold gleam.
A startling thought rose in everyone’s mind at once.
Could it be…
Could this young man before them be a dragonrider, that legend gone from the world for a hundred years?
Watching this, the wild joy on Viserys’s face gave way at once to confusion, and he couldn’t help calling out loudly.
“Who are you?”
Jon still didn’t answer him.
Ignored once again, Viserys’s expression darkened further.
“Dany, who exactly is this? Do you know him?”
Daenerys seemed not to hear her brother’s demand at all, standing quietly at Jon’s side.
Since arriving here, she had eyes only for the one man and his dragon.
She was afraid that if she looked away even once, this person who had stepped out of her dreams would vanish like a dream himself.
Ignored again and again, the greed in Viserys’s eyes slowly curdled into jealousy.
He could bear it no longer and stumbled forward.
Jorah called out sharply behind him, but Viserys paid him no mind at all.
“This dragon is…”
The words weren’t finished.
Frostflame, who had been lying on the ground, rose again.
Her massive body lifted off the earth, wings spreading slightly, a low growl sounding once more in her throat.
Scorching breath streamed from her nostrils, and Viserys could actually feel the wave of heat rolling toward him.
His steps stopped dead.
Jorah’s face changed at once, and he turned instantly to Daenerys.
“Princess, get away from there! It’s dangerous!”
But Daenerys didn’t move, didn’t even turn her head.
From beginning to end, her eyes stayed fixed on Jon.
Jon, watching Viserys come rushing closer, put his hand at once to the hilt at his hip, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched him.
The instant Viserys met Frostflame’s cold violet gaze, his whole body began to shake.
He opened his mouth, meaning to say something more, but no sound came out at all.
Jon swept his gaze once around the gathered crowd, and spoke, his voice carrying clear:
“I am Aegon.”
“Aegon Targaryen.”
This was the identity he’d already settled on during the flight to Pentos.
As for whether his black hair and grey eyes might raise questions, he had no intention of explaining himself to anyone.
The moment the words left him, more than a few faces in the crowd changed.
Having said it, he paid the crowd no further mind, turning instead to Daenerys.
“Dany, there’s a great deal I need to ask you. Come away from this place with me first.”
Hearing this, Viserys set aside his fear of the dragon for the moment, his face darkening at once.
“Aegon?”
“Why should you take my sister away?”
Then he turned and shouted an order at Daenerys.
“Dany, come back here to me. Now.”
Hearing the tone of his voice, Jon turned his eyes back to him once more.
“By right of being a Targaryen.”
“By right of my dragon.”
“By right of my power to protect her.”
Viserys opened his mouth, wanting to argue.
Daenerys watched all this, and the tension that had gripped her for so long finally began, slowly, to ease.