.

.

"Dracerys."

The feeling of its sonant rolls off Jon's tongue like a deep, steady roar.

He cranes his neck, watching in fascination as Rhaegal hisses a long stream of flames in the direction of an empty vessel. Billows of powerful, invisible heat drift into Jon's face.

Perhaps there's more Stark blood in him than Targaryen. He's not much of a dragonrider. Jon feels himself tumbling about, his legs flailing, scrambling to grip onto Rhaegal's spines. Rhaegal — named for Rhaegar Targaryen, Dany's older brother and Jon's father. His green-gold colouring reflects brightly against the sunlight. Jon squints, and then he raises his arm to shield his eyes.

Rhaegal jerks sideways and upwards, causing Jon to hit his nose against the gem-hard scales, injuring himself. He gasps through the pain, and falls, falls, his blood as dark as rubies and streaming down towards the ocean's water far, far below.

As Rhaegar died… his breastplate rubies and his highborn, ancient blood pouring into the crystal-clear water.

Sov…

Jon hears Dany's tongue, but not her own words. Not his words. Jon never fully understand the language of Old Valyria, even when Maester Luwin did his best to teach Jon all of their meanings. But now they're coming from inside him, fiery and forgotten.

Sōvegon naejot nyke!

A loud, screeching noise. Rhaegal flies to him, under him, as Jon yells and lands against his hindquarters, gripping onto more of the tough, thick dragonspines for his life. He pants, Jon's cloak whipping around him, and listens to Rhaegal growl earnestly.

It's… almost as if he wishes for Jon to respond to him.

Jon belly-crawls his way back to Rhaegal's head, petting him and thumping his shoulder-joint. "Thank you," he half-shouts into the wind, and Jon swears… he swears Rhaegal knew even in the Common Tongue.

.

.

GoT isn't mine. Requested by Guest (FFN): "Jon falls off a dragon (pretend Rhaegal is still alive and Jon is learning to ride him) and falls up high into the sea. Maybe Davos has a ship nearby and can rescue him."