The "peace summit" at Dragonstone, which ended up consisting of not just Daenerys and Aegon, but their major allies as well, took place on an overcast, windy week. While not fond of the humidity, Jon had no problem with the chill, and most of Daenerys' forces, after having spent months in the North trudging through the snow, also fared well.

Aegon, meanwhile, looked miserable the few times Jon saw him around people he'd let see his true feelings.

"Do you think if we just offered her this place, as it is our ancestral seat, she'd be happy? She's welcome to it," he muttered, sinking deeper into the furs he'd grabbed as soon as he'd entered the private tent.

Jon chuckled and went over to him, picking up one of his hands and rubbing it between his. "Now you know how miserable I feel in King's Landing with the heat."

"They're so close! How can the temperature be so different?"

"It's not that different, it's just that one's an island and the other isn't, I suppose."

Grimacing, Aegon sank deeper into the furs. "She seems..."

"Nice? Kind? Easy to work with?" Jon asked, hopefully, but Aegon rolled his eyes at him.

"Demanding. Entitled. Seconds away from burning all of us alive and flying off to take my throne."

"She's really not...she's...she's been through a lot of things, awful things, practically alone. The entire time, the throne has been something she could focus on. When we found out that I was a Targaryen...it was very difficult for her. She desperately wanted more family, to not be alone, to not be the last of us, but she'd also worked so hard to get what power she had and she worried that it would all be taken away from her. Then, after doing the right thing, saving the North, she turns around and...her fears had come true even without my participation."

"I can understand that," Aegon insisted, "but it doesn't change that I, too, focused on the throne, that I couldn't have a normal, peaceful life. I was raised to take back my place as king, to restore our family to its glory. I cannot simply step aside because her delusional brother gave her false hope."

Jon was finding that dealing with his Targaryen family was not very different than dealing with the highborn at Winterfell when he was still nothing but a bastard boy. He kept quiet, even when what he had to say made sense, because he knew they wouldn't want to listen. Neither Daenerys nor Aegon had lived the life of luxury they could have had, but they hadn't grown up as Jon had, thinking they were naturally less than the others around them, and therefore they were used to the lies people told them to keep them comfortable.

"Have you...considered marriage?" His own people had suggested that, when it was just Daenerys and himself.

That pulled a surprising laugh from Aegon. "I'm afraid that won't be the solution we might hope for. Neither of us is willing to accept being the consort, neither of us is willing to make the sort of compromises on our power the other desires. And nevermind how Arianne might react to that, with all she expects." He sighed. "If only you'd been born Visenya like our father hoped, we could wed and merge our claims against hers, and live happily."

"And what makes you think I'd be happy just being your consort?"

"I know I could have made you happy, all it would take is meat pies, sword practice, and belly rubs for Ghost."

Aegon laughed again, Jon joining him after a moment. Finally, he sobered, leaning closer and meeting Jon's eyes. "Do you plan to marry her, if I do not?"

Jon blinked. Daenerys was sweet, in a way, and if he'd had to marry her to get her help against the Others, he would have. But now, having had the chance to see how driven she was for the throne, he couldn't imagine a relationship between them working out.

"No? I know I'm not the sort to seek out power, but nor do I wish to be a prop. Both my last namesakes never married and took vows to foreswear their claims. I'd much rather be a Dragonknight than a toy."

Aegon visibly relaxed. "If you think I'm going to put you in my Kingsguard, little brother, you might have more of the family madness than it appears. I won't have you dying for me."

"And the Night Watch is no more. I suppose it's the Citadel." Jon made a disgusted face and the two of them laughed again.

"He is so-so!" Daenerys didn't finish her sentence, just let out a noise of frustration. "You did not warn me about this!"

"I don't know how I could," Jon argued, "he was stubborn with me, but only on the same issues you are. I figured that would make the two of you get along, not..."

She scowled, rubbing her forehead. "No, I can't blame you for this, you're so...you."

A servant came in with tea and small cakes for them and they both helped themselves in the silence. Jon smiled wistfully to see lemon cakes on the platter, he had told Daenerys of his sister Sansa's love for them and how nostalgic they made him feel, and near every time they had a dessert they were featured.

"We're going to war," she said, out of nowhere, and Jon choked on his tea.

"What?!"

"It's inevitable. We've agreed that you will return to Winterfell with guards from both of us, to keep the other side from using you as a hostage."

Jon stared. "...Why send guards at all? Winterfell is my home. The North won't be a threat, not with the Boltons gone and the Others sorted."

"Because you are our heir, you are mine and you are his. If we both fall in battle, you will be the only Targaryen left to sit the Iron Throne and continue our family line."

Jon couldn't imagine a worse situation to be in. Perhaps, if such a thing happened, he could still find one of Robert's bastards to legitimize.

"Is there nothing for it? Couldn't you go back to your kingdom in Essos and the two of you have your children wed?" he suggested, desperately. Daenerys had spoken wistfully of her time in Meereen.

Daenerys looked into the distance for a moment, then shook her head and focused on the small cake in front of her. "No. No. Essos was my home only because Westeros was taken from us. I have worked too hard to get to this point, I've sacrificed too much. Far more than that sanctimonious little-" she bit off her insults, with a sullen glance in Jon's direction. "If it were you on the throne, maybe I would be happy with that solution. But after everything? After we saved the world? I can't think he's the best person for the throne. I can't think he's anything better than the Usurper or the Mad Queen Cersei. I can't trust in another stranger."

Jon grimaced. "Did trusting me work out so badly?"

"...I didn't mean that."

"You'd have the throne, possibly, if you hadn't come to help me."

"And I'd be ruling over a graveyard, just as you'd said. We had to work together to stop the Others. What sort of Queen would I be if I ignored the cries for help of my people?"

What sort of King was Aegon, that he did? Jon filled in what she left unsaid, knowing that a part of him agreed with her.

"Well, at least Rickon will be excited I'm back."

"And Ghost, as well, I'm sure he missed you."

"He would hate King's Landing, Dany, I hate it, and I don't have a full coat of fur."

"Poor little nephew. That wolf clothing you're wearing to hide your dragon must be so hot in the South." She chuckled, flicking a berry at his nose and he made a mummery of pouting in offense, sticking his tongue out.

"You'll take Viserion, as well."

Jon stared. "...Truly?"

"Aegon has very few forces left from his own battles and it wasn't our numbers that mattered at the Wall, so my forces are still near intact. I'd feel better if Viserion was with you, just in case. And I know he would, too." She frowned in thought. "I may also send Rhaegal to you, if they find a way to make the battle dangerous for my dragons. I will not have another repeat of what happened in Meereen."

"And I'll have to spend months explaining to Rickon why he can't be a dragonrider."

"Better you than me."

***
Jon and his people were packed into a ship ready to sail for White Harbor, the only delay being Aegon's attempts to meet with him. He and Daenerys were having a few last minute meetings, as if that could possibly change the upcoming war, and there hadn't been a good time to see each other since.

They met on the deck of Jon's ship, far enough away from others to not be overheard, with the guards Aegon had assigned to him making a further buffer. The King hugged him tightly, as if memorizing the feel of it.

"When next we see each other, this problem will be solved."

When next we see each other, you may be a kinslayer. Jon bit his tongue.

"If you have need of anything, send a raven to Dragonstone. It's enough of a roundabout flight that it shouldn't be shot down and someone will see that I get the message."

"Shouldn't it be you that I worry about? You're the one going off to war."

"It won't be my first war, little brother. This one may have dragons, but Dorne has beaten dragons and they have my back now."

Jon nodded and, after a brief hesitation, pulled Aegon in for another hug. "Be safe, big brother. If you find a means to have peace between you, take it. I don't want to lose anymore family, not to war."

"Oh, Aemon, this must be horrible for you. Trapped North while I go to war." They'd only discussed Robb once, when Jon had let himself drink too much one evening at a feast, but of course Aegon would remember that. "I'll keep you as up to date as I can. And I promise to not do anything stupid."

"You say that, but you can't know in advance. Robb thought he was being honorable."

"Well, it is a good thing I have had you to show me the pitfalls of honor," Aegon teased, lightening the mood just a little. "Don't go freezing to death on me, I won't be forgiving if my guards return me an ice block for a brother."

Jon snorted and pulled away, finally. "Oh, please, I'll be fine, it's you who will need five layers of furs just to survive a walk in the Vale."

A few more words exchanged, their final goodbyes, and a thick, sealed letter that Aegon left with him in case he were to lose, and they parted.

In the distance, far above, Jon could feel the pull of Viserion's attention and he let it wash over him, the dragon's calm relaxing his worried mind. There was nothing he could do to fix things, to stop the inevitable war, all he could do was pray that they both survived and that he could keep whoever lost from losing their head in the end.