Chapter Text
The winds in Dragonstone carried more than just the scent of the sea and taste of bitter salt. Some days, Daenarys can hear the distant sound of voices and chatter. Some days, it would be laughter. Others, screaming. And each time, her mind would conjure a different story to each one. Her ancestors discussing battle plans, children of silver hair running about the halls. Her mother having her amidst a heavy storm. That one would haunt her for days on end...
She sighed deeply as she watched her dragons in the distance, they almost looked to be dancing around eachother. Viserion often took lead, Rhaegal liked to follow in his wing flaps. And Drogon...
She smiled softly as she caught the winged shadow, just as he strayed from the path of his siblings to land at a lone rock formation amidst the angry waves. He always liked his time alone, sweet boy... he reminds her of herself quite a bit.
"My queen...?"
Missandei's soft voice broke Daenarys's little moment. Not that is angered her. She in fact turned with a smile to her long time friend, motioning her forward "Yes?"
Her advisor stepped over with a graceful air about her, something Daenarys always admired. Once she was close enough, Daenarys placed a hand on the small of her back, still watching her face with a glee she can only describe as childlike. She never could tame that particular side of her when it came out.
Missandei never seemed to mind that, she in fact would often return the same look. Though on some days Daenarys can see her hide that little girl inside her, a fear she no doubt developed after years as a slave. The thought alone boiled her blood.
It always ignited an anger within Daenarys. A burning in her heart. And a yearning to see that look once more.
Today was one of those days, Missandei stared straight ahead, a small smile on her face, though her feelings and her soul were locked away for safekeeping from men and their intentions.
Daenarys sighed softly and looked ahead as well, following Missandei's gaze to Drogon.
"It is a scary notion... that a dragon may be alone in the world." The words of her advisor had stung. Not that they were meant to... Daenarys knows that she only means to empathise with her.
Daenarys nodded, her own smile disappearing at the thought "Drogon is not alone."
"I do not mean Drogon."
Of course, Daenarys also knew that. She wanted to deflect. To not think about it.
She shook her head and glanced to Viserion and Rhaegal "They would've been beautiful... my two brothers upon their backs."
Missandei nodded next to her, not yet speaking, so she continued.
"Perhaps... before the exile. Before Viserys became...." she trailed off.
The pain of her brother's actions towards her never faltered. Every time she remembered, she would feel anger, and yet, pitty for the child he was. Afraid, confused, and just as mad as their father had been... sadly for him. At least, in her eyes. That's what she believed. She never inherited that Targaryen... madness.
Missandei moved a hand to sit atop hers, a motion that brought warmth to Daenarys's cold heart. But she knew that cold feeling would persist after her hand was gone. It always did. After Viserys died, Daenarys had felt a strange sense of dread and petrified stillness within her.
A dragon... alone in the world.
A small shriek from Viserion brought her back this time. Sometimes, she swears her brother's souls are in fact trapped in there. Responding to her thoughts every once in a while. Though she knew that's not possible, of course...
"Have you agreed to allow Jon Snow to mine the dragonless?"
Missandei's question was calm. Free of judgment. Something Daenarys always found comfort in.
"I have."
A nod from her advisor, then a look and a smile "You are always kind... I love that about you."
Daenarys's childlike smile returned, her once again bright eyes meeting Missandei's. At least someone can see past her anger and bitterness now adays...
"What is it...?" Jon asked as though the others had answers.
"A man." Tyrion replied unhelpfully. Always matter of fact. Unless, if you asked Jon.
"He's cold to the touch... yet he breathes...." Ser Davos stated the obvious. Again, unhelpful.
Jon shook his head and reached out hesitantly towards the sleeping statue. There's a look to his face he cannot place... an inhuman beauty. Much like Daenarys. It cannot be...?
Before his finger made contact, Ser Davos spoke next to him.
"He's got a dragon pin." He said "Is he...?"
"No." Jon denied, his eyes falling on the silver pin that held a crimson red cloak to the laying man's shoulder, before slowly wandering up to his hair. As dark as his own. "Targaryen's have white hair, do they not?"
"Some were dark of hair." Tyrion stated "Blood tends to play games at times." reaching out to touch said cloak where it dropped off the stone bed he was placed upon, he continued "It's untouched... he looks like he was placed her not long ago."
"Then this is a trap. For Daenarys, perhaps?" Jon was now worried, his brows furrowed and his eyes watching the sleeping man suspiciously. He finally made contact with the skin on his face, and paused.
"He's..." he tried to push at his face, but it didn't budge "He's unmoving...?" Yet his chest moves...
Ser Davos tried his foot. And again, didn't move.
"It is magic." Ser Davos finally decided, pulling away and taking Jon along by the arm "We must tell Daenarys... we don't know who placed him here, but this is a trap, most like." The urgency in his voice was worrying. Ser Davos has seen magic. Though Jon never saw it with his own eyes.
Tyrion didn't look convinced. He stood on his toes so he can get a closer look, his eyes falling on the tip of the man's blade hilt. "This is ancient work... this isn't recent. The engravings haven't been produced in such a way in years. And if he was placed here recently, why in the cave of dragonglass? Why not where she can see it? Nobody else knew about Jon asking to mine the dragonglass..."
Ser Davos shook his head "Whatever the intention, is does not seem wise to mess with such magic. We should inform her, she might burn it and be done with."
"Of course." Jon watched the sleeping man's face for a while. Mind already made up to tell the Targaryen queen. But Ser Davos's unease wasn't unnoticed by him.
Tyrion and Davos left first, but Jon stood and watched over the young man a while longer. Something about him drew one in... something like a whisper in the back of your head.
He froze and gasped when he realised he was leaning in to kiss the man, and quickly ripped himself away, eyes blown wide and heart racing.
Dark magic... made to invite one to kiss the corpse? Why? And why didn't it seem like Tyrion and Davos had the same draw that made your feet plant before the sleeping man? Why only him?
He didn't stay long enough to find out. Daeron would have to see for her self, and he would be there to protect her from the magic spell...