[Chapter Size: 2100 Words.]

  Third Person POV.Winterfell.

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  ...

  The white wings of the dragon stretched over the water as it soared above the sea, heading in the dire Jon had instructed.

  They had already left the st traces of nd behind, and now all Jon could see below the dragon was the endless expanse of o. The creature kept a good altitude, ensuring no ship would be able to cim it had seen a white dragon flying over the sea.

  The dragon's movements had returo their frace, as they were before its freezing, and it was well-prepared to make the jourhe Dragonborn demanded. It glided through the sunny day, though it clearly didn't enjoy the heat.

  Jon sat on its back, sav the sea breeze. Finally, he had left the North behind aered a climate vastly different from the frozen nds he was used to. Although Winterfell was much warmer than the nds beyond the Wall, Jon still appreciated the ge. For someone who had spent much of his life in colder climates, even Skyrim's simir weather, this was a wele difference.

  "I feel your disfirl... I uand, but you'll get used to it," Jon remarked, patting the ice dragon. It was somewhat unfortable to ride on its back without a saddle, but nothing Jon couldn't e least Ghost, led against his chest, seemed the most fortable of the three. The wolf's fur rippled in the wind as it half-closed its eyes, rexed during their journey.

  They traveled for hours until, eight hours ter, they finally arrived at their destination. Jon guided the white dragon to nd in a desert near a small city.

  From the dragon's back, Jon spotted a group of people traveling through the desert. It seemed wise to approach them for information, as he had no idea where he was or the name of the nearby city, which didn't appear to be very rge.

  The group was a mert caravaurning from their journey when an enormous creature desded from the sky. Before they could fully react, the ground shook with the impact of the dragon's nding.

  The horses were the first to react, panig and throwing several men from their saddles. Skilled riders mao trol their mounts, but even they looked on in terror at the massive creature.

  "I'd better approach them myself," Jon thought. Making the dragon move closer would likely cause them to flee in terror. So, he dismounted, still carrying Ghost, and walked toward the group.

  Everyoared at him in fear, even those ihe wagons, who peered out cautiously at the dragon behind him.

  Jon stopped a safe distance away and raised his voice. "Does anyone here speak the on tongue?"

  A young maantly stepped forward. Jon quickly noticed he was a sve.

  "I-I... My master wants to know if you io kill us..." the young man stammered, his voice trembling with fear. Even though the dragon remai a distas presence was overwhelming.

  "No," Jon replied, uanding their fear. Many people in Skyrim had reacted simirly to the return ons—though there, the dragons truly did aim to kill without b to talk first.

  Jon tinued, still looking at the frightened boy. "I need information. After that, I'll leave. I want to know where I am, and I o get to Pentos."

  The boy swallowed hard and poio a map he carried. His hands trembled as he ope and showed Jon the region.

  "We're here, sir... a few days from Pentos," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Jon examihe map and nodded. "A few days for you, maybe—not for me."

  With that, Jon turned away, leaving the group behind to gape as he returo the dragon. The beast unched into the air, stirring up the desert sand as it asded, heading south and leaving the caravan in stunned silence.

  An hour ter, Jon began the shape of the coastline on the map. Finally, Pentos came into vierawling city with numerous ships docked in its port. Beyond the city walls, a rge encampment of tents stretched across the nd, capable of housing tens of thousands of people.

  As the dragon desded toentos, Jon took in the sight of the bustling city and the sea of tents surrounding it, preparing himself for whatever awaited him there.

  "There must be more than 100,000 people there… So, these are the Dothraki of this Khal Drogo I heard about iter?" Jon asked as he began to leave the area, choosing a better pce to nd. Ohing was froup of people to see his dragon; another was for aire city to witness it. That wasn't information he wanted spreading too quickly.

  He hid behind a mountain a few kilometers away before desding.

  "This is for you. You don't o leave this pce," Jon said, beginning to unload several carcasses e animals he had acquired, tossing them in front of the dragon. It would allow her to feed without needing to hunt, just in case Jon found himself needing her, especially with aire Khasar as potential enemies.

  Leaving her behind, he started walking toward the city. The day was ending, and he found himself trekking through the desert for the wo hhost resting in his arms. The fall of night gave him some measure of discretion.

  The city walls were quite tall, about 20 meters, and Jon noticed that the gates were closed, likely due to the Dothraki encampment outside. Fear of the Khasar stirring trouble withiy had likely led to the merts staying away as well.

  With no other choice, Jon began sg the wall. It was far easier than sg the Wall of the North. Slipping past the guards unnoticed, he made his way into the city.

  Meanwhile, a sixteen-year-old girl with ptinum hair sat alone in her room, wearing a silk dress that revealed intimate parts of her body. Her gaze was fixed on the dark sky, and she felt a pang of hunger. However, due to her brother's orders, she couldhat night.

  Her wedding was the day, and he insisted that she highlight her beauty without any fullness iomach. She was expected to ehis state until the marriage ritual took pce. This was one reason she couldn't sleep, though it was the least of her s.

  She couldn't say she was calm about it. In truth, she was terrified. She wanted none of it—didn't expect her life to be reduced to marrying a Dothraki and spending the rest of her days traveling through the desert. All of it was so her brother could finally acquire the army he believed was their birthright to recim what he cimed beloo their family.

  Even though she detested the idea, she had no choice. She wasn't allowed to voice her desires. All she wanted was to go home—a home she had ruly knowe that, her brother always said, "They are waiting for our return."

  It was fusing. She didn't fully uand. At least she hoped that, in the end, her brother's pns would work, and she could finally regain what was stolen from their family, even if it meant being married to a Dothraki.

  Perhaps because she was so lost in thought, she didn't notice the door behind her opening silently. Someoepped into the room, closing the door without making a sound. It was her than Jon, who had ehe city about two hours earlier.

  He had effortlessly infiltrated Illyrio's mansion after gathering information and disc that the Targaryehere.

  "At least I didn't arrive too te," Jon's voice echoed, startling Daenerys. Her eyes widened as she quickly turned around.

  She saw a straanding there, and her heart raced. Frozen in fear, she took a few steps back, pressing herself against the window.

  "Who are you?" she excimed, her voice trembling with fright. Her mind filled with dread. A stranger in her room? He could be an assassi by the king or even a man who had e to harm her before the wedding. She knew people like that existed.

  "I'm not here to hurt you, Daenerys Targaryen. I'm here to talk," Jon said calmly, but Daenerys still looked terrified.

  "You didn't answer who you are!" she retorted, trying to keep her voice steady, though it was shaking.

  Jon exhaled deeply, pg the silent wolf he carried in his arms onto Daenerys' bed. She watched, fused by his as but far more ed about the strahan the animal.

  As Ghost sat on the bed with a curious gaze, Jon turned his attention back to her.

  "My name is Daemon Targaryen. I am your blood he son of your brother Rhaegar," Jon revealed.

  Daenerys' eyes widened even further. She stared at him, frozen, trying to dis whether his words were truth or deception.

  "I know it's hard to uand…" Jon tinued, notig her silend clear disbelief. "But I came here as soon as I learned about your situation. I saw your brother before ing here, and, to be ho, I didn't like what I saw. I think what you two are doing is madness. And from what I see, you're not eveely willing to gh with this marriage," he added, his tone calm as he studied the frightened girl.

  "I... I…" Daenerys tried to speak, but her voice faltered. She couldn't finish her sentence.

  Hearing that, Jon realized he couldn't simply decide to leave with her. Moving to the ter of the room, he did something that made Daenerys' eyes wide again.

  He began juring a small table and two chairs. It was aem he had taken from Winterfell, and with a touch of dimensional magic, he pced preserved fruits—grapes, apples, and others from Winterfell's kits—oable.

  Afterward, he turned his gaze back to Daenerys, who was utterly stunned by everything she was witnessing.

  "I know I'm asking a lot of you, but sit down a something. I know you're hungry. I know you're scared. This is what you might call magic," Jon said.

  Daenerys remained frozen, her fear palpable, but she eventually obeyed, more out of fear than desire. She had no idea what this stranger, who cimed to be her retive, might do to her. Nervous, she walked to the chair and sat down, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor.

  Jon, oher hand, had expected to meet someoirely different, giveatus as a Targaryen princess. He had anticipated entering an arrogant young woman, but instead, she seemed withdrawn—a trait that perhaps shouldn't have surprised him, sidering what he had seen of her brother before ing here.

  Viserys was a plete fool, drinking with a sve while boasting about his "aplishments" and describing how he would quer Westeros and force everyoo k his feet. A total imbecile.

  Jon was beginning to uand the root of the problem. He had entered many people like Viserys, and none had met a favorable end. It was only a matter of time before Viserys faced his demise, given the level of power and loyalty he currently anded. It was a delusion to think the Dothraki would remain loyal to him simply because of a marriage.

  Despite that, Jon wasn't here to deal with the brother—not anymore. He was here for Daenerys. After all, he had pns to restore their family, though he had no iion of g the Iron Throne himself. But someone from their lineage should.

  " you tell me about yourself, Aunt? I'd like to hear your story. I won't do anything to you, and I'm only here to listen. I'd also like you to eat something. You're weak," Jon said, his gaze soft as he addressed her.

  "Why?" Daenerys asked suddenly, lifting her gaze to meet his. "Why are you doing this?"

  It was hard for her to uand. Even though Jon cimed to be her retive, to someone as fused as she was in her current situation, his sudden as felt utterly strange. She simply couldn't prehend his motives.

  "I'm here to help you, Daenerys Targaryen. To take you away from here and bring you home. That's why I io stop this marriage," Jon replied, leaving his words to linger in the air.

  Daenerys stared at him in surprise, unsure of how to respond.

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