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Be Who You're Meant to Be

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“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asks as he is lead towards the cliffs by his wife.

“The sooner you start, the stronger your bond with him will become and the easier it will be for you to fly,” Dany explains for possibly the fifth time that day.

He looks towards their massive children who are playfully snapping at each other and rolling around, causing the ground itself to shake. He still remembers those early days after their hatching when he and Dany would easily pick them up to separate them when they were too rough with each other. Now it seems like an impossibility that they were once that small.

He knows that if he turns around he will see their advisors watching their every move, waiting to see Targaryens flying on dragons for the first time in over a hundred years.

“Are you afraid?” his wife asks.

“A little. What if Rhaegal does not want me to? What if I am not enough of a Targaryen to be a rider? What if…”

She cuts him off with a kiss, slowly but surely removing his mind from these thoughts. A small tug on his riding trousers makes him pull away from his wife and look down. Jae is practically bounding from excitement, wanting to see his Kepa fly “just like Muña”.

“Do not get overly excited, lad, we are still not sure I can do this.” He had told the boy earlier in the morn but he did not care. As Dany had explained it, to Jae, his Kepa, could do anything and could do no wrong. A high bar to be sure, one he hoped to at least come close to.

“Come here, my love,” Dany laughs as she lifts their son into her arms. “Let us show Kepa how to be a dragon.”

She walks away from him and towards the dragons, speaking in Valaryan to their son. Taking a deep breath he follows. He is not afraid of his large children, if anything he feels calmer and safer surrounded by them, but the idea of failing at being a rider, of not being able to protect his family, not being the Targaryen his wife, his son, the whole realm needs him to be, terrifies him.

Rhaegal does not hesitate to approach him, demanding his full attention as Balerion and Viserion both take turns carefully seeking his wife’s and son’s attention. The green dragon purrs at his touch, acting more like the small hatchling that spent his days upon his shoulder than the giant beast he has become.

“Do you want me to do this?” he asks his father’s namesake, barely above a whisper. “Am I worthy enough to do this?”

The massive emerald dragon rolls its eyes at this question turning slightly to the side and lowering his shoulder.

“I do not think you need more invitation than that,” he hears his wife say with a giggle and as he looks towards her direction, she finds her already astride Balerion, their son strapped securely to her chest.

“We should look into saddles, especially if you plan to ride into battle and fly with Jae,” he calls out.

“You mean when we go into battle,” she corrects “Now stop wasting time and climb on!”

He turns back to Rhaegal, who lowers his shoulder even more. Taking a deep breath he grabs on to the closest spike and one by one he climbs onto the dragon’s back. He must look ridiculous for he hears Jae’s laughs as he finally manages to straddle the dragon. He feels a familiar presence trying to enter his mind, comparable to the bod he shares with Ghost, one he had begun to experience in Essos before leaving. When he allows it in, he feels power, fire, joy all overwhelming emotions entering his mind at once. He is quick to recover and shares his feelings towards his dragon, taking a moment to softly caress his scales. He can then feel eagerness prevail in his son’s mind as he begins to grow restless.

“What do I hold on to?!” he yells towards his wife.

“Whatever you can!” she answers with a shrug.

He feels Rhaegal begin to move and he quickly grabs on to the closest spikes he can find.

“Whoa, slow down, go easy on me,” he tells Rhaegal through their bond, but instead of some assurance, he feels some mischievousness coming from the dragon. It is only a moment before it occurs that he realizes what Rhaegal’s intentions are.

“Rhaegal!” he manages to exclaim before his mount nose-dives down the cliff. He feels himself grab on for dear life as wind streams past him and he stares straight down at the sea below. At the last possible moment, Rheagal pulls up, straightening himself and slowly climbing until he is on a gentle glide.

He releases the breath he had been holding and realizes that he is flying on a dragon.

He is in awe, he is amazed, none of Dany’s descriptions come close to the actual feeling of being on a dragon in flight. Over the gusts of wind, he hears his son’s voice.

“Yay Kepa!”

He turns his head to see Baleriion fly next to him, his on and wife safely on his back. He once again feels glee from Rhaegal and a yearning for directions.

“Right,” he orders in Valarian and he feels his dragon leaned toward the right. He tries it again in the opposite direction. After trying a couple of other simple commands he has Rhaegal turn and travels up the coast of Westeros, enjoying the movements and tricks the dragon wants to show him. As he travels North, he has the urge to visit Winterfell, to visit the woods and waterfalls he would hunt in as a child, some of the few happy memories he has, and share it with his family.

But the memory of Sansa’s attempt to undermine him, the hatred some Northerners have to this day of Targaryens stops him. It is not time yet to take them North, to expose them to the North’s small-mindedness. So sadly he turns Rhaegal around and heads back towards the island of Dragonstone.

When they finally land, he tries his best to appear graceful, or at least not ridicule himself. But he has no such luck. on his final step down he lands on his arse as he hears what can be considered a laugh coming from Rhaegal. Before he can scold the dragon, a little body crashes into him in a tight embrace.

“You did it, Kepa!” his son exclaims.

“Aye. I did.”

He looks up and sees Dany walking towards him, a bright smile on her face.

“I swear he was more excited seeing you on a dragon, that he was about being on a dragon,” she says with a laugh.

He laughs as well standing up with their son in his arms before pulling her in for a kiss.

“You, my love, did not do flying justice with your words,” he says against her lips. She leans slightly back, looking him directly into the eyes.

“It is indescribable. Mounting a dragon, feeling its power beneath you, becoming almost one with them, and flying above the world. All the while knowing that it is something only us Targareyns have truly experienced. Something only our family our blood will ever share,” she says her voice nearly breathless.

The mention of their shared blood causes him to bite back a groan as he tries to remind himself that his son is there and that he can not act as he wishes. Instead, he decides to lean in and whisper into his wife’s ear.

“You know what that does to me, the mentioning of our blood, of our family,” he growls and she dares to giggle.

“Of course I do and I also know what we would be doing if Jae was not here and we did not have work to do,” she answers and he sighs.

“You are right. I wish we could just tell them all to wait, but we cannot keep pushing back meetings.”

“I know,” she looks back towards the castle. “I will be waiting for you in the war room,” she says before turning to say goodby to their son. “Kepa is going to take you to your studies, alright? We’ll be busy but we will find you when we’re done.”

“Yes, Muña!”Jae responds happily. She kisses them both before leaving him standing alone with Jae and the dragons.

“Are you ready for your lessons lad?” he asks as he begins walking towards the castle.

“Aye!” Jae answers while lowering his voice.

He laughs at his son’s attempts to sound more like him and places a kiss upon his brow. He finds Griff, Rickon, Davos, and the Northerners waiting for him.

“That was amazing, Jon!” Rickon exclaims and he smiles at his brother.

“Maybe I will be able to take you up there one day, Rickon,” he teases, knowing full well his brother is not the biggest fan of heights. His heart pangs for a moment, remembering his youngest sister and how much she would have loved to see and ride a dragon. Lord Manderly then steps forward.

“It truly was a sight to see, your Grace. I am sure your ancestors, both Northern and Southern would be proud,” he says.

“Thank you, Lord Manderly.”

“Aye, seeing Northern blood ontop those beasts,” Glover interrupts, staring at where the dragons are flying. “It makes one proud,” he says with a chuckle he does not return.

“Let us not forget my lord, that it is our King’s dragon blood that allows him to ride a dragon,” Lady Lyanna reminds the Lord. “If we want him to claim his throne and ride a dragon into battle, it is necessary to accept that he is both wolf blood and dragon blood.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” he says and she responds with a bow of her head. “Now before the meeting starts, how are the mining operations going?”

“The first shipments have been sent to White Harbor and will be immediately be transported to Winterfell,” Lord Manderly answers.

“Good. Any word from Bran or Lord Royce?” he asks and Davos steps forward.

“Lord Brandon has sent word that everything is as it should be both up in the North and here in the South. Lord Royce has talked to the Lords of the Vale and they have decided that they will join forces both in the Northern fight and with Queen Daenerys’s forces.”

He sighs in relief with that news. He is still waiting for any sort of betrayal to occur but to know that his brother has yet to see anything gives him great relief.

“Also my King, I know a good blacksmith that may be able to help us with weapons, could I be allowed to retrieve him and bring him to the island?” Davos asks.

“Very well Davos, just make sure to come back alive and well. I still need you for the wars to come,” he says and the former smuggler bows before leaving. “Now I have to take Rickon and my son to their lessons. I will see you all shortly for the meeting.”

“Actually,” Griff steps forward. “The Queen pushed back the meeting for at least an hour, stating that she needed to talk to you first and that I should take the boys to their lessons.”

“Griff…” he warns, gently handing Jae over to the sellsword.

“No worries, nothing is wrong. She just said you needed to discuss dragon-riding,” Griff reassures him, but a certain mischievous gleam in his eyes unsettle him.

“I must have done something wrong up there, or it might be about the saddle and possible armor we discussed,” he mutters, trying to think about possible reasons for his wife’s need for this meeting.

“That must be it. Go she is waiting for you in the War Room,” Griff is quick to dismiss and takes the boys away.

The two Lords and Lady Lyanna bow to him before they too leave and he makes his way to the room with the painted table.

He finds two Unsullied soldiers waiting by the door but as soon as he arrives they both walk away, keeping watch further down the hall. He knocks on the door, and his wife opens it, allows him in, and promptly locks the door behind them.


Before he can say anything else her lips crash into his own and her hands are simultaneously working on the buckle of his belt and his cock. His own hands, without hesitating, begin to undo her clothes as well.

“Griff… dragons…” he says between kisses and moans, trying to understand what is happening.

But she doesn’t answer instead she pushes him back until he bumps into the carved table. For a brief moment the thought of how many Targaryens have used this table not just for battle strategy but for acts such as these crossed his mind, but it leaves as soon as he feels the bottom half of his clothing fall to the ground, quickly followed by his wife’s.

He is shoved into the nearest chair and in a blink of an eye, his wife has straddled him and has sunk onto him. They both groan having not done this in a sennight, impeded by a grey-eyed, silver-headed dragon, who demanded to sleep in their bed.

They both pant, trying their best to keep themselves together. Daenerys leans in, her lips kissing his neck before whispering in his ear.

“It is indescribable, mounting a dragon,” she rocks her hips, causing them both to moan, “feeling his power beneath you, becoming one. It is almost like flying.”

His self-control snaps as he stands, her legs wrapped around his waist, and places her on top of the table, roughly thrusting into her.

“Aye,” he pants into her ear. “And only us Targaryens have and will ever have this experience,” she moans again at another thrust, as he pushes her farther back onto the table and climbs above her. “If I were you, love, I would make sure to hold on to anything you can.”

She releases something between a laugh and a moan as they both lose themselves in the pleasures of dragon-riding.