Chapter 9: Maybe

Chapter 9: Maybe

Daenerys POV:

Screeches filled with pain and anguish filled my ears as I woke up, and the warmth of my bed slipped away from me, my silk sheets puddling in my lap. The warm air felt cold against my skin as I noticed a group of men in the room. Ser Barristan smiled gently at me as if I were some wounded bird.

Grey Worm gripped his spear tightly, his brown eyes gleaming dangerously, his body tense and ready to strike. Then there was Daario, his eyes calculating and cold as he studied me, a small smile spreading across his full lips.

"Your Grace, are you alright? We heard you screaming in your sleep, calling for a man named Aemon," I looked over at Missandei. Her mocha face glistened with a thin layer of sweat, her frizzy golden-brown curls spilling down her shoulders as she held a glass of deep purple wine.

Shakily, my arm reached out to grip the glass, my knuckles turning white as images of screeching dragons filled my mind. My mind wandered, and my bones ached as the coolness of the air forced me to shiver. Taking a few tentative sips, the sour red wine helped ease my racing heart as I wrapped myself in the white lion pelt that Drogo had given me.

The silky pelt smelled like rose petals, and I let out a sigh of relief, but the screams that haunted me were still there, screaming out for their father. But I knew his name was Aemon, but how?

My mind slipped as I looked over to Ser Barristan, the only person who knew what that name meant to me and my family. My nephew was dead and gone. I sucked in an unsteady breath as my shoulders shook, gripped by fear.

A lonely tear slipped down my cheek, but the dragon they were calling for, this Aegon, if it wasn't my nephew Aegon, then who was it? Doubt gnawed at my mind as I sucked in a steadying breath and did my best to calm myself.

I could sense Rhaegal and Viserion lounging on the balcony, and Drogon snoozing softly on an even larger balcony connected to the throne room. Even in this bed, I could feel each of them, and their presence helped soothe me.

"I dreamt that Aemon was dying. In his last breath, he called out to his three dragons. They were screeching out to him, calling him father. They sounded familiar, so real, so painful that I must have startled them in my sleep. I'm sorry to bother all of you. You may go, to Ser Barristan. Would you stay?"

I looked up to see the others nod their heads, still unsure if I was truly okay, but each of them left, leaving only me and Ser Barristan. Dressed in a loose-fitting shirt and black trousers, his sword hung at his side, hidden in a yellow sheath. He walked over to the bed, the soft, cool breeze of Yunkai swirling around me. Soon, we would leave for Meereen, but at this moment, I needed something to hold onto.

Even if it was a city that I would soon leave, I looked over to Barristan. His sad blue eyes looked gently over me as he spoke in a soothing tone, "Your Grace, there is no way that Aegon lives, and this Aemon, there was no living Targaryen by that name." I nodded my head numbly as his sullen and almost broken tone filled my ears. I knew that he was close to my brother, so seeing his son that way must have been heartbreaking.

I closed my eyes for a moment, and the screams returned, haunting me until I opened my eyes as a thought popped into my head, one that I couldn't control, the same thought that filled my head when I looked at my children. Maybe I'm not alone.

This Aemon that called out to me in my dreams, might not be a Targaryen, but he could be a lost dragon seed. Maybe I just wanted a family so bad that my mind made it up. I didn't know what to think.

"Even if he is dead, I'm not so sure that my dragons are the last in the world. There were three dragons. I know that dragons don't have set sexes, but they felt female, like small children calling out for their father. They were in some kind of yard, crying over his dead body, flames burning in them, but they didn't know if they should act on it. These men were his brothers, yet they killed him, and they weren't sure if they would get revenge."

I shook my head as the details began to get jumbled in my mind, and even though my face flushed with embarrassment for how I spoke, a part of me still hoped that there were more dragons out there. When I died, I didn't want my sons to be alone, but there was a very real chance that all of this was just a dream.

Sadly, I shook my head as Barristan smoothed my hair out as if I were his frail granddaughter afraid to sleep. "Your Grace, I'm sorry to say, but you are the last Targaryen, and your children are the last of their kind until they hatch eggs. But who knows how long that can be, and if you bring them into a war that might never happen. It's sad and heartbreaking, but it's the reality."

His gentle tone forced a wave of ease to wash over me as I slowly began to nod my head. Quickly, he made his way out of the room, and I curled tightly into a ball. With a heavy breath, I slipped back to sleep with hopes fluttering as the sound of a man gasping for air played in my mind, and I just knew that it was Aemon. Maybe I'm not alone.

Aegon POV:

"My prince, please calm down," a worried voice that I knew was Jon woke me from my sleep. Even in my sleep, I could hear the sound of dragons screeching out in pain, a sharp, twisting feeling in my heart and stomach as the world grew cold around me. In my dream, I was dying, and dragons were screeching for their father, but the only dragons left in the world were waiting for me in Meereen.

My head pounded painfully as I gripped my soaking wet silver hair, sweat dripping down my face. I looked over at Jon, his own faded blue eyes studying me, worry evident on his face. He was more of a father to me than my father ever would be, and while that might not be his fault, it didn't take away the hate that I harbored for him at times like this. My mind spun, and since the emergence of the first blood-red comet, I had been plagued with dreams of dragons.

I tripped and ended up falling into the fire at a campsite, and instead of my flesh peeling from my bones and slipping onto the ground, I wasn't the least bit hurt. Since then, it had been one weird thing after another, but this took the cake. I didn't think that I would dream about anyone's dragons except for Daenerys', but those dragons felt so real.

"My prince?" I looked over at Jon, his bushy red beard streaked with new streams of gray. I sighed heavily, my shoulders dropping as I rested back on the padded floor of the tent. The smooth furs felt good against my skin as I looked over at Jon. His brows furrowed in worry as he sucked in a heavy breath, sitting back on his heels and folding his legs under him. His shoulders grew weary as his tone shook slightly with worry, "You kept screaming out for a boy named Aemon. You were begging him not to leave you alone, and then you just snapped up like that."

His tone sounded equal parts confused and frightened, and he wasn't the only one. I didn't know anyone named Aemon, but that was a Valyrian name, I knew. Maybe someone from Volantis. But why would I care if they left me? I had Dany waiting for me. I didn't need some brat that I didn't even know. My brows furrowed as warm tendrils of sweat dripped down my back. I knew that the camp had to hear me, but they couldn't bring themselves to come in here and ask me about it. Something that I was grateful for right about now. I shook my head sadly as I looked over to Jon before resting an arm over my tired eyes.

"I was lying in the snow, dying. Blood pooled from my body, and three dragons, I could hear them. They screeched, and this sick satisfaction ran over me like I knew that the men who killed me would get what was coming to them, whether I killed them or the dragons did. It was so strange, it felt so real, so vivid, like I was the one dying, and then I was here, listening to you calling out to me. I don't know what or why, but I could almost see it so clearly in my mind that it was frightening. The face was so blurry that I couldn't make it out."

I felt a frown pulling at my lips as exhaustion started to grip me tightly. I knew that I wasn't going to be able to stay awake for much longer, my lids already feeling heavier as I rolled onto my side. My shoulders grew relaxed as I curled tightly into a ball and started to drift with ease. A soft whimper left my lips as darkness swirled around me. Please let that just be a dream. If another Targaryen died, then Dany and I would truly be the last.