The girls and their father stood aside, looking at the creatures of legend as they also looked at the new people.
A low growl escaped their maws as their heads lowered to the ground, rubbing against their partner, as their eyes never left Ned Stark and his daughters.
"Easy, they are friends at least for now, so no burning them to death." He whispered.
"Hahaha." Baqo and Rahko are true to the Dothraki sense of humor and laughed.
Aegon looked at them and shook his head.
"Alright, let's move. We will ride on Albion, with me keeping her calm; she won't throw you to your deaths."
"Baqo and Rahko, give the girls your cloaks; the night wind is freezing." Aegon says.
The process of getting everyone on Albion was slow, but it was done, and soon the two dragons took flight.
The night sky stretched vast and endless above them, thick with stars and shadow.
Two dragons soared low over the ground, on Albion's back, Aegon sat, his purple eyes looking into the distance as his hair blew wildly in the wind. Ned was flat on his belly as his hand found the best possible place to grab hold.
Sansa and Arya were wrapped in cloaks, protecting them from the cold, as Rahko and Baqo sat behind them, bracing them with their bodies to make sure they wouldn't be blown off.
Sansa's wide eyes never left the horizon. She trembled in silence, clinging to the bloodrider's cloak around her, as Albion's mighty wings beat through the cold. Every slight rise of the dragon's back, every sudden dip, sent her heart racing.
Arya, on the other hand, though frightened, stared in awe. The warmth of Albion scales pulsed beneath her; even as she shook, wonder filled her eyes.
The night wind tore at Aegon's cloak. Beneath them, the forests rolled endlessly northward, black waves of trees beneath a sea of stars.
They had flown for a long time, long enough that the sun was beginning to rise.
By the time dawn began to brush the horizon, Ned's body ached from the cold and the long flight. His arms had gone numb holding on to the scale of the dragon beneath him.
Luckily for him, Aegon noticed and sent a signal to Bahamut and Albion. The dragons responded immediately, circling downward toward a small clearing by a frozen river.
The impact of their landing shook the earth. Frost cracked under Bahamut's claws as the dragons folded their wings and huffed, sending out great plumes of steam.
Aegon dismounted first, his boots sinking into the cold ground. He turned as Albion lowered her great head, and he proceeded to help Arya down as she stumbled, her legs trembling from the long flight.
The bloodriders leapt down after, landing heavily as their feet sank into the cold frost frost-covered ground.
It was clear, even though the dragons were not flying at their fastest speed, they were closing in on the North and would arrive at Winterfell before the day's end.
The morning was pale and cold, the faintest touch of snow in the air.
"Rest," Aegon said, voice calm. "We'll fly again once you lot recover your strength."
Aegon then turned and approached the two dragons that had lain down a small distance away, and sat down against Bahamut's neck as the beast let out a rumble of approval.
Ned eased Sansa and Arya down beside him, wrapping the cloaks tighter around them. He looked at Aegon, the boy he had once named Jon, the boy he once held as his sister's son, and for the first time, he truly saw what he'd become, as he sat cuddled into the neck of a fire-breathing beast as if it were the most comfortable place to be.
Cersei Lannister stood near the great window of her chamber, her hair tangled, her eyes sharp and furious. The echo of dragons roars still haunted her ears, even though they'd faded hours ago.
Tywin Lannister stood opposite her, calm as ever. His golden lion sigil gleamed faintly in the dim light. Jaime leaned against the table, his jaw tight.
"Two dragons," Cersei said, her voice trembling with rage. "Two dragons flying so close to the city as if mocking us, and you're both just standing there?"
"And what would you have us do? Go after them on foot and demand they die for having the gall to do what has already been done? Or would you like us to offer ourselves up for the two dragons' supper?" Tywin asked.
Tywin turned his cold gaze on her. "Yelling won't change what's been done. Eddard Stark is gone. His daughters are gone. And the entire city was shaken by dragon roars."
Jaime straightened. "So it's true, then. Aegon Targaryen lives."
"Aegon Targaryen? The mountain killed that boy, this son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, maybe has the same name, or maybe he just thinks of himself as the second coming of the conqueror, after all, he also has three dragons to his name that we know of, not that names matter at this point."
"He could be named cunt, and it still wouldn't change the fact that he has dragon and fully grown ones at that." Says Tywin.
Cersei slammed her hand against the table. "Then we need to act. We need to remind the people who still hold the crown. Joffrey's coronation must happen now, before rumors spread too far."
Tywin's gaze flicked to her. "I was about to say the same."
He walked slowly to the table, setting down a rolled map of Westeros. His fingers rested lightly on the crownlands.
"Word will spread across Westeros that dragons have returned, that the son of Rhaegar Targaryen has come for his birthright. If the people of Westeros believe it, even half-believe it, we'll most likely face rebellion before summer's end."
Jaime exhaled through his nose. "And if they don't believe it?"
"Then they'll believe it soon enough when they see fire raining from their skies," Tywin replied.
He looked at Cersei. "Your son must be crowned within the week. The people need to see strength, unity. If we delay, the smallfolk and the lords will whisper of dragons instead of kings."
Cersei nodded stiffly. "Then it shall be done. Joffrey will be crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms before the week's end; we must begin sending out letters. Most of the lord won't be able to make it in time, but it must be done."
"Good, because from this stunt he pulled, it's clear we are dealing with someone who knows how to play the game."
Aegon stood by the edge of the frozen river, the wind teasing at his hair. His cloak fluttered faintly, dark against the pale light. Behind him, the dragons rested, Bahamut lying with his wings half-folded, Albion beside him, smoke curling from her nostrils.
Arya crouched near a hastily constructed fire, wide-eyed and restless, while Sansa huddled beside Ned, silent.
For a long while, no one spoke. Only the crackle of the fire broke the silence.
Finally, Sansa spoke. Her voice was small, trembling.
"Father," she whispered. "Why are we here? Who is he?"
Ned looked at her. His face was calm but tired, his eyes shadowed.
"His name is Aegon," Ned said slowly. "Aegon Targaryen… son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, but you may know him as your brother Jon."
"Jon Snow is dead," Aegon said quietly. "He was a shadow of who I am now."
Sansa shook her head in confusion and denial. "No… no, you're lying. Jon couldn't..... he isn't."
But Arya was already standing. Her small face was pale, her lips trembling.
"You're him," she said softly.
Aegon tilted his head. "And what makes you so sure?"
"Because you came for us." Her voice cracked but held firm. " And Father said it's true, so it must be."
"I've missed you, Jon."
Arya stepped forward and hugged him. Her small arms wrapped around his waist, and she buried her face against his chest.
For a heartbeat, he didn't move. Then, slowly, almost uncertainly, Aegon placed a hand on her head.
From the memories he had, he knew Arya was the only person the original Jon really cared for, and she was also the closest to him.
But still, he wasn't that Jon, so Aegon gently eased her off him.
'I'll protect her; she has a lot of potential.' Aegon thinks to himself, remembering how she turned out in the show.
"We need to move."
He turned toward Bahamut, his voice firm once more. "Winterfell isn't far now."
The dragons stirred at his words. Bahamut's wings stretched wide, shaking snow from the ground, while Albion rumbled low in her throat. The air filled with heat and thunder as Albion crouched low for them to get on.
Aegon lifted Arya first, then turned to Ned and Sansa. "Stay close. They don't like carrying anyone but me."
Sansa hesitated, glancing at the massive creature before her, but Ned's hand on her shoulder steadied her.
They mounted, followed by Rahko and Baqo, and soon the great wings of the dragons unfurled once more.
The wind screamed as they took to the sky, the ground falling away beneath them. The morning sun broke through the clouds, glinting off the dragons' scales like molten metal.
Below, the snow-covered North stretched endlessly.
Hours passed as they flew.
By afternoon, the forests began to thin. In the distance, rising from a sea of snow and smoke, stood Winterfell, the ancient home of House Stark, strong and silent in the heart of the North.
The two dragons began their descent, circling once above the keep.
The people below, guards and servants, froze where they stood as two massive shadows blotted out the sky.
Then, as if to announce their arrival to the world, Bahamut and Albion roared.
The sound rolled across the North like thunder from the heavens, a deep, earth-shaking cry that sent flocks of ravens scattering into the sky.