The bird had flown. Daenerys Targaryen were no longer in Meereen. While the language spoken here troubled him, because Ghiscari was forgine to him, the words originating in Valyrian had been plain for all to understand. The Queen been carried off on the back of the largest of the dragons, Drogon.
Meereen was not his, and he would not hold it for her, His ten thousand men wanted one thing, they wanted to go home, and they had the ships and the courage to depart tomorrow should it please Aegon... Soon, the would be king thought, soon we will leave. But First....
The Dragon pits had been empty when he had arrived, supposedly some poor fool had attempted to tame them, and had been burned alive for his folly.
The fool, had been his Cousin, on his mother’s side. but it was not his mothers blood that compelled, Aegon to attempt the same thing. it was his fathers - the blood of old Valyeria. it sang to him, like a siren, and he could not go to Westeros without answering it’s calls.
He had left early in the morning, with nothing but his horse, and his sword, a cloak wrapped around him to keep his silver hair from reflecting the light of the rising sun. he could not have people attempt to stop him - nor follow him, this he had to do on his own.
He came upon her at mid day, resting in the sunlight. he left the horse tied to a tree when it refused to go further. and approached the resting giant on foot. the closer he got, the more his heart pounded, nothing Haldon had ever taught him, would prepare him for this...
He was reminded of the cats that lived near the fisher’s hut, and how one would have to approach them.... So he crouched down, despite her size. and here he sat. “Hello.” he said in fluent High Valyrian - surely that was the language dragons preferred? “You’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.” he said honestly. “Is it - okay if i sit here with you?”
