When he stepped off the ship that carried the name of the giant he knew very little growing up, Jon turned, watching the sailors of King’s Landing steer “Hodor” towards west, towards home. He, however, was headed in the opposite direction. East. This was his first time stepping onto Essos. He knew very little of it, only what Dany had told him about her days spent in the cities around Slaver’s Bay, now The Bay of Dragons. She talked about it so passionately though, that he often found himself unable to let her finish. Once, while they were sailing towards Winterfell, she spoke about the first time she got to fly. All Jon had to do was look upon her face to see how excited it made her. And that excited him. So, while she was going on about the most intense euphoric feeling she had ever experienced, he disappeared down under the cover and parted her legs placing soft kisses up her inner thighs, which only caused her legs to part even wider. This time, he needed not look upon her face to know that this excited her as much as flying did. When her body heaved up and shuddered under his kisses, her flying story turned to quickened breathing and soft moans. And that was all the confirmation he needed.
However, now he wished he had let her finish her stories about this land at least once. The heat was unbearable for someone who has spent most of his life up in the North, in the most freezing places one could be in this world. He rode following the rivers and streams along his way as much as he could, soaking his thin, sandy-yellow garment to keep him cool. He liked the northern sun but here, it was just making him light-headed and dehydrated. He had always preferred the cold, he was a Stark after all. Well, partly. Shouldn’t his Targaryen part make this heat, at least, bearable? Dany always preferred the heat and he the cold, so it was hard adjusting the temperature in their rooms, soothing for both of them. Although, when they would curl up next to each other, skin to skin, none of them could even tell cold from hot apart.
All he knew was that a road as long as the Kingsroad awaited him in only one direction. East. The hours passed slowly, the days even slower. To save the pies and the dried fruit he took for the road, he would stop by the river and catch himself fish. He hated the thought of lighting up a fire in that heat, even at night, so often he would eat the fish raw which only led to a rumbling belly and an even more uncomfortable ride.
When the yellow dried grass spread over the land before him, an image of young Dany being swallowed by the tallness of the weeds, parting a path as she walked through, crossed his mind. He couldn’t tell why, but it made him smile. She was, yet on another journey, his greatest distraction. However this time, it did not seem an endless losing battle. If anything, when he finally gave in and let his thoughts wander off to her, it made the journey seem pleasant even. Each coming thought happier than the previous, as if he had forgotten the ending of their story and she was waiting for him at the end of this journey.
For only a heartbeat, it seemed as if the sun had disappeared from the sky or hid behind a cloud. Jon looked up but the sky was as clear as it could ever be. He focused his eyes back to the road. Feeling tired and dehydrated and light-headed and now, he seemed to have reached the stage of hallucinations. Just as well, he thought. Daenerys would be riding alongside him any minute now… unless… a loud roar echoed above him sending shivers down his spine. Drogon. The beast covered the sun once more, casting an even larger shadow with each passing heartbeat. He is coming straight at me. He is hunting and I am his prey. He bent forward as if few inches could have saved him from what was coming from above and dug his heels into the stallion hurrying on. Where though? As if a horse could outrun a dragon. Drogon came diving in so strong that the wind the beast brought along pushed Jon off his horse. He stumbled to the ground as Drogon unleashed his fire over his prey and the running stallion screeched in agony. The beast dug its teeth around its lunch and disappeared in the endless blue sky.
Jon opened his eyes and sat up feeling dizzy. The sun was lower than he remembered. I must have passed out. As he stood up, a tremble arose in his weak legs. His wondering sight was caught by a hill rising from the endless grass like an island. He decided to head towards the only thing he could see. I can walk that far. Trying not to think about how far away this island is or the pounding of his head, or that from this point on - he walks, he took the first step. Take one step. Take the next. Then another. What else could he do?
It was quiet in his yellow sea. Now and again, the wind would blow and the grass would sigh as the weeds brushed against one another. Insects buzzing around him and now... a new sound… a sound of gurgling water. Water. He hurried clumsily as if suddenly, his life had meaning again. The stream accompanied him all the way up to the hill. Here, he found whatever was left of his stallion and an empty lair. Drogon’s lair. He had finally reached his destination. A sharp flash of sunlight caught his eye, irritating it. He wiped the tears off and walked to the source of reflection, recognizing the sharp object right away. He should, it did after all belong to him... before he thrust it in the heart of Daenerys Targaryen.
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