The Forgotten Son

Chapter 3 To Court a Dragon

This may well be bumped up to M in the future.

Still here? Great! If this makes it to 300 by some miracle, I'll update it early again. It'll receive an update regardless of course; time and feedback tend to determine update speed for me these days; that, and my health.

Maybe a vacation is in order, perhaps it might even be time to reprioritize my life.

Alight, I've kept you long enough. As ever, I own no quotes, references, quotes, themes or memes!

They're simply tributes to legends far greater than I; an old man who writes as a pastime.

Now, then...Shall we Begin?

"Are we to see the Dance of Dragons once again, then?"

"I certainly hope not! I'd prefer it Daenerys and I could get along."

"Did you think I meant...? No, no, no, dear nephew. I was talking about an entirely different kind of dance."

"Wait, if you didn't mean the Dance, then what the hell kind of dance did you mean...oh. Ohh. Ohhh. You're an awful bastard, uncle Oberyn."

"Nonsense! I'll have you know my mother was a perfectly lovely woman~!

~Banter.

To Court a Dragon

Nephew.

She had a nephew.

How in the seven hells did she have a nephew?!

Daenerys was still struggling to make sense of it all come next morning; she avoided her council and broke her fast alone in her chambers, the better to master her emotions in relative privacy. Needless to say, she failed spectacularly. Now her entire venture was in danger of doing just that, failing. It was unacceptable. Not having a nephew, his presence didn't bother her so much as the possibility of what said nephew might represent. His very existence threatened to undermine all that she'd fought so hard to achieve.

It all made a twisted sort of sense, really.

Dorne had been awfully determined to work with her, eager even on Lord Oberyn's part.

At the time she'd foolishly assumed their cause was vengeance against the Lannisters. Now she knew the truth.

She didn't know how her nephew had survived. She wasn't sure she wanted to. He was missing an eye and the scars on his head told a story all their own. There could be no denying his Targaryen blood, either. Ancalagon -gods what a name for such a terrifying beast- proved his claim more than any blood might.

Unfortunately, that left Daenerys at something of a crossroads.

She had come to Westeros with two goal in mind. Take the Iron throne. She would seize what was rightfully hers, destroy those who had senselessly slaughtered her family, then break the Wheel. Then she would rule and come what may. It all seemed so simple. In hindsight she should've known better. Nothing was simple in this world. If that wasn't difficult enough to wrap her head around, there was also the matter of the dragon. How anyone could command such a fearsome beast was beyond her.

Aegon was certainly bold enough, and also unafraid of her.

Attractive qualities in a potential partner-no! Bad brain! Not the time!

But her mind dwelt on it still. When was the last someone she'd received a hug like that?

No ulterior motives, no slavish devotion, no fear of what she might do if he upset her; just the simple joy of one relative meeting another. Simple and clean. It felt...nice. And yet if her nephew took it into his head to stake his claim over hers -most would say it was a better one- with a dragon that large, it would not end well...for her.