Chapter Text
As a young girl, Daenerys loved hearing all about House Targaryen, as was her right as the last living female Princess of the once great house of the Dragon. She loved hearing about Aegon the Conqueror and his sister wives, Jaehaerys I and his wife and the rest after them.
As a young boy, Jon loved learning all there was to know about all the great Houses of Westeros. His favorite one to learn about was House Targaryen, and not because the lad was one of its last living and breathing male heir, something that he himself didn’t learn about until the near end of the world, but because Jon was fascinated by all things dragons and dragon riders.
Unbeknown to both of them, their favorite part of House Targaryen’s history was one and the same: the Dance of the Dragons.
Jon often times found himself acting as Daemon the Rogue Prince when Robb asked him to play knights in the courtyard, a fact often frowned upon by many lords. No one could make him stop despite their protests and Lord Eddard Stark’s warning. The lad was very attached to the historical prince.
Daenerys often times found herself acting as Rhaenyra flying atop Syrax the formidable golden beast, alone in her bedroom. She would try to make Viserys play with her, but the boy always screamed at her in anger, reminding her that all this play pretend was beneath them, that she was stupid and childish. But what was she if not a child?
Years have passed and they finally meet. One a Queen, three full grown dragons at her command, an army of Dothraki and Unsullied ready to lay down their lives for her, and the other a King, murdered by his own people but back again and scarred for life, a Direwolf white as snow standing by his side and not so loyal people at his back.
Together they fall upon an old rock, even farther than the drawings of the first Men and Others in the Dragonglass mining cave. They feel drawn to it, both reaching their hands towards the rock, and the closer they get to it the more it glows. Until, finally, as they brush against each other and the rock, they both go up in flames and disappear.
Near the cliff of Dragonstone, Missandei gasps as she sees Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion seemingly go up in flames mid-flight.
In Winterfell, a lone howl is heard right before a fire starts in the Godswood. After the fire is extinguished, everyone starts to sweat when the King’s shadow remains absent.
Question is, where did they all go? And why?