Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anyone in this fanfiction.

Spoilers: none. Okay, minor hints to next books of aSoIaF.

Rating: T, in case.

A/N: First thing I publish in a while (huge while tough). Written for my perfect twin (epicstory on tumblr). Happy bday S!

In general: pre-series, characters study (I re-found my love for Daenerys), R+L=J is a fact.

Music (recommended): Rubik's Cube, Athlete.

WON'T LET IT GO

Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned.

Jon felt like a whole room went much colder. Even as for Winterfell.

"So you did? You promised?"

"She was my sister. Of course I did." Eddard cleared his throat and looked him in the eyes. "I promised to her, and I sworn it before the heart tree. That I will rise you and you'll be my son. Nothing but a love."

Jon has been imagining this talk since he could understand a meaning of word "bastard". But now, everything seemed to be wrong. So wrong.

"It doesn't change anything", he heard his father's voice… not his father. Not anymore.

"No. It changes everything."

Braavos in the light of day could look better if she hasn't had to run for her life.

She hated running away. She hated the fact they have to hide, constantly move on, look for spies and assassins with every step they take. She hated that feeling of fear when she saw steel's shining, feeling of weakness – both for body and mind. She was tired, but her hatred came from other reasons than her brother's. Viserys was full of bitterness and anger because of his throne, the Iron Throne made of thousands swords which by right was his… but only by right. He felt stolen from their father's legacy, while she felt stolen from her life.

Crowds usually helped them. They used to disappear among all people, and in the end assassins got lost. But today, the crown separated Daenerys from her brother, not from Usurper's mercenaries. But she couldn't stop running, not now. Unnamed faces, people being like a blur – enemies everywhere. We can't trust anyone but us.

She heard one of assassins screaming something, but she didn't know language of Braavos very well. His hand grabbed her wrist… just for a second, though. Someone ran between them, but she didn't bother to look back. If I look back, I'm lost, she thought, and fighting to take next breath, she turned left to some street. She could smell her own fear in the air.

Our plan was easy, Daenerys thought, when she almost fell on some tattooed man. They were in Braavos just for four days and tonight, around midnight, there was a ship to Pentos. Illyrio waited for them, and Viserys was really glad, because Magister has found a resolution, like he said, to solve their problem. An army problem. She had no idea what it could be and she didn't care. She knew one: the army meant home. Ships on the Narrow Sea will take us home. Home. Funny thing, she had no idea how that home looks and what is happening there, but only Westeros was on her mind.

It's been awhile when she realized she is not being chased anymore. Looking around, nothing seemed to be familiar – buildings, all red and stoned, and people… Street was almost empty. She couldn't help but look back, trying to remember the way she got here – left, left, right, left... What's the way to a port? Viserys told her that if they'd get separated, they should stay close to the port.

I need to go back, she decided, turning back on the way she came from. Step by step. Day was still long to go. No rush. Slowly, but still watchful. Who minds the girl like her? She hasn't even looked like a blood of Targaryen now. Typical clothes for a maidman, and her skin was more bronze, because of some kind of flower – the same goes for hair. Most of time she was making a braid. When she had maybe seven years, Viserys had to cut her hair. She cried back then, and they both decided cutting hair is a bad resolution. And then she made a promise to herself – until they'll get back home, she won't let anybody to touch it. It was a stupid declaration of seven year old little girl, but she was still up to it.

And there, only her eyes were still so blue. Like sapphires, said once Illyrio. All Targaryens had blue or blue-violet eyes. Rhaegar had violet, she remembered, passing away a fishman. Has that wolf maid from the North fallen for those eyes? Viserys told her it's a stupid story, but to her, it seemed… a sad one.

Suddenly, she felt a hand pressing on her mouth and she was pushed on a wall of some house. One of the assassins has found her again… or maybe he never lost her track. Steel of his knife was cold, and his eyes were so dark, almost black.

"Pretty girl", he said, and she barely understood him. His voice was so tough, so nosed. He pressed the knife on her throat harder, she felt some blood. "Stop running."

I wish I could, she thought. Daenerys wanted to be brave, to be strong, to be unbroken – she wanted to be all good of her family. She was the dragon… but she was still just a girl. Who lost her way in every meaning of this.

Make it end, you foolish bastard, she wanted to say, but only thing that came out of her mouth was sob. Warm tears streamed down her face. Viserys told her that Rhaegar died because of his bad decisions, but he died fighting. So shall her death will be caused by her own naivety.

I wanted to be a true Targaryen, she thought. At last.

The steel remains cold on her throat...

Daenerys opened eyes and quickly got on her feet. I need to run, run away…

"You're safe now", she heard, and just then, she saw a boy sitting next to bed she was sleeping on. She was in a room, window was closed and everything seemed to be dark.

"Where am I?", she asked, her voice was weak, so she cleared her throat and repeated. "Where am I? And who are you? Are you from Westeros?" She suddenly realized that he's speaking in a common language.

"You're in Brusco's home. He saved you from that… man. On the street. Remember that?" When she nodded, he continued. "He lives near and brought you here, you fainted. I wanted to take a look on your neck, there's a small wound, nothing serious, but you still have blood on throat."

She raised her hand and touched throat. That's true, she could feel some blood left. She sighed, quietly. How close that was? How close…

"Can I?", he asked, and she agreed, not really being sure why. He could've been the Usurper's spy or maybe even an assassin. Maybe him and fishman were in common pact? He could easily snap her neck or pull out a knife. Something cold but soft touched her throat and she felt some pain, but mostly cold relief all over her body. The little wound she got has not caused pain anymore.

And yet, the boy was standing right next to her, and she could barely see him. Darkness in the room started to quite… well, embarrass Dany.

"Thank you", she said, and stepped to window, deciding to open it, because suddenly she felt fear. How long she's been sleeping? Is it night yet? Is Viserys waiting for her? Her hands were trembling when she finally opened window.

Sunset was beautiful. The sun was slowly hiding behind the horizon; big red, maybe quite pink, round shape, sparking on the water, changing it constantly. Buildings were making shadows like they've bleeding. It was…

"Terrific", the boy said, standing by the right side of window. Now, she could see him clearly. He was probably at the same age what her, quite tall and slim, with pale skin and curly, black hair. He was wearing trousers made of linen, and dark blue shirt. It suits his grey-blue eyes, she thought, as he directed them at her.

"Yes, it is", she agreed, looking at the sun again. She wasn't very sure how to behave with the strange boy in the room of man who saved her life, but she was trying to stay confident. "I asked who you are."

"No one", he answered immediately. She gave him a surprised look and he shook his head. "I'm just… someone who hasn't really got an idea what he's doing here."

Just like me.

"And do you have a name?"

"Oh, right. I'm Jon. From Westeros, as you said." He put his hands on a windowsill. "And you are…"

"Illia. I'm from Westeros too, but now I live in Free Cities", Daenerys said. She and Viserys always have prepared some new story, in case of emergency. "And as much as I am grateful Brusco for saving me, I have to go..."

"You weren't followed. He is sure of it."

Now, she felt irritated. This boy hasn't known everything. Honestly, he had no idea about anything.

"That's not it. I'm supposed to meet with my brother at the port later. I just don't what him to wait too long…"

"You think he would wait for you?", asked Jon, when he approached to a bag, probably with his stuff. His words made her angry.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you haven't showed up. He would wait for you?" He was certainly looking for something, but still, she could say that he's really interested about her answer.

"Of course he'd", she said… And then, she felt insecure, like a girl she still was. Viserys was her brother. Sometimes he wasn't treating her well, but most of time it was her fault. You don't want to wake up the dragon, do you? He was the right king of Iron Throne, the future king of Westeros... wasn't he? He loves me, she thought at last. Maybe. But after all, he also needs you. And it's probably stronger than love, answered a voice in her head.

"He would wait for me", she repeated, and her voice sounded more sure. "But there won't be a need of that."

"If you say so… Oh, here it is." He pulled out a knife. "Don't worry. I'm not going to attack you or something. If you really want to come to the port, I'll go there with you."

She blushed, couldn't really say because of what. "I can take care of myself. I don't your company."

"I'm not going for as company." He smiled, as he was looking for fun. "You can never know what's gonna happen. And I kind of feel sick here. Fresh air will be good for me."

"Are you hiding?"

Now Jon was the one surprised by the question. He raised his eyebrows, and finally answered. "Well, let's say that I could… annoy some people by asking some not nice questions. But it doesn't matter, anyway." He sat on a windowsill and started to hone the knife. "The thing is closed, I guess. Before it was even opened."

Daenerys backed out in the deep of room and sat on the bed, looking as the boy carefully hone weapon. Sun went down awhile ago.

"You initially didn't want to take the knife, right?", she heard herself asking, out of pure curiosity. "Someone gave it to you."

"Look like you guessed", he said. "My sister gave it to me..." And then, she could feel another change in his mood.

"You have sister?" She would rather say that he was a single child.

"Two sisters", he corrected slowly. "And three brothers."

"So where are they? Not with you?"

He put away the knife and looked directly in her eyes. Again.

"Imagine that your whole life was a lie. By all these years, you lived something you hoped to find, you built your world around it just to find out… that was all a lie. So every person, every relationship – it was not the same again. If any of this was true? What was a duty, what – if – was a real thing?"

What if there's no Iron Throne to get back with fire and blood…?

"Well, you can act a lot of things, act by years, but… acting, pretending love is not easy." Her voice was low and slow. Darkness came to the room again. "I don't know your story. But after time, growing feelings are not just a lie. Things change, and sometimes just a duty can become… a form of redemption. Something true, more true than it should be."

He looked away, through the window.

"Maybe you are right", he said, still looking at the city. "But why years of lies? Of pretending?"

She thought of Viserys, who not always was telling her everything, who sometimes even lied to make things right, better. Easier. But easier for him or her?

"It's harder to say truth after years than right away, when after time everything is sorted, obvious, organized. That person who finally said you the truth was waiting for you to grow up, become more a man than a boy. Yes, he or she, I don't know, was waiting to get more time, to be ready, but after all, think – wasn't it all for your own good? It was obvious that you'll get angry, and you'll want to find… something, someone. It was a risk. That you could never go back. Truth is bravery and you should be glad that someone was willing to tell you this. Better late than never."

Why you never tell me about our father, Viserys? About our mother? Why the Usurper decided to start a war? Was it all just because of the wolf maid? All the people were fighting just about the girl from the North? Why you never tell me more about dragons? Even if there's no more of them? Why everything you say sums up in Iron Throne is mine by right?

Coming back to this room and Jon was hard. "So, did you find what you were looking for? Are you coming back?"

"No. But yes."

Streets of Braavos were surprisingly empty at night. Maybe it's because of the weather. Strom was coming, but the ship to Pentos was there, waiting. Daenerys saw her brother speaking with a captain. She could recognize him even from far away. The time has come.

"So, why are you coming back to lies?", she asked Jon, when they stood in an entrance of the port. "Just because you have not found what you were looking for?"

"Well… I guess, not everything was a lie. I think there are some people who care about me, and who I care about, despite not everything was the way I thought it was. I'm coming back… because I want to."

She smiled, looking at him. "Good. And thank you for your… company."

"No. I'm the one who should thank you", he said. And smiled too. "Hope to meet you one day again… Illia."

"You can never know, Jon."