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magalidragon · 3 years

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drabble 68 + 76?

Absolutely! These two prompts are obviously best for fluff but I went angst 🤭 I know WHAT!? This is a peek into a universe I planned to write earlier this year and I teased with a moodboard (it caused drama because someone thought I was ‘remixing” aka stealing two other Jonerys fics, because of course 🙄) but I plan to return to it soon. Enjoy!

just one word | 68. “He’s four years old!” & 76. “Daddy!”

They all told her not to worry. Everyone said kids were different, they were resilient, and they “marched to their own drum beats.” Most people said that. It seemed to be the default reply, when she expressed her fear and her worries over her son’s development. They were their own drummers, they had their own tunes, etcetera. Except if that were wholly true, then kids would be doing things at all manner of ages and development stages. They wouldn’t follow a trajectory.

It just seemed that Rhaego had always been a little bit behind. A happy, bright baby, and a happy, bright toddler, but…she knew that his father’s death had hit him hard, even if he was so little he would have no memory of him. It wasn’t like he even saw him frequently. It just…it did. She did her best, but she really didn’t want photos of her ex-husband around the house. There was a single one in his bedroom, on his dresser, and that was it.

Even adding in the turmoil in his young life, Dany knew something else was going on in her son’s head. Appointments, specialists, and here they were, a few months into a new therapist. ASD. Autism Spectrum Disorder. Asperger’s Syndrome. “Don’t worry about it,” the doctor told her. “He will talk when he’s ready to talk.”

“He’s four years old!” Children should be talking at four, she wanted to cry, but her son didn’t. He just…didn’t talk. Not a word. He would point and smile and nod and generally make some sounds, but beyond that…nothing.

She stood in the stables one cold evening, not ready to go in just yet, watching from the corner as he worked with Rhaego. It had been something of a miracle when he managed to get her son to approach her horses. He had alays been sos cared and it made sense. Horses were big, unpredictable, and the stables were sensory overload. Sounds, smells, and sensations that most people didn’t generally like, let alone a small boy on the spectrum.

When she’d called to him, telling him it was time to go back up to the main house, she hadn’t heard him walking towards her, his little boots scuffing on the hard packed dirt and stone flooring, dragging along his ratty, nasty blanket he never let go. She had followed the sound of a horse in the ring, wondering if one of the horses hadn’t been put up for the night, and saw them.

It broke her heart, but made it whole too.

Her son, so frightened of the animals she had fallen in love with, had made it her life’s mission to care for, sitting atop one of the oldest ponies, an amiable, bumbling Shetland named Havzi—Dothraki for cat—because he would fall asleep anywhere and follow people around like a cat when he was a baby.

The little boy sat in the saddle, clutching the pommel, and made no sound as her--- Trainer? Boyfriend? Partner? Love of her bloody life? It was hard to place his role these days-- walked them both in small circles in the ring. It was so quiet, just the hooves plodding along in the sandy dirt they used in the ring, she could hear him speaking.

His Northern burr was always so soothing, lulling her to sleep some nights as he told her stories or they talked of nothing. It rolled, low and steady, carrying on the one-sided conversation without any concern. “See Rhaego? He’s a good boy, just likes spending his days walking around in circles and eating all the grass up on the hills. Nothing to be scared about, he’s as gentle as a lamb.”

Tears pricekd the orners of her eyes and she covered her mouth with her palm, watching them. Rhaego was so calm, steady, and his gaze fixed straight ahead, but she could see his smile, curving on his silent lips. He just seemed…free. She swallowed the dry lump in her throat, watching them, transfixed.

It might have been hours; she did not move. When he finally stopped, he waited, holding onto the horse’s bridle, talking to Rhaego, calmly, gently, telling him that he was going to help him get down and to remember to thank Havzi for letting him ride him today, and that they would need to take him back to his stable and feed him and brush him. Rhaego nodded and didn’t cry or scream when he got off the little pony.

And she watched, awed, when he pet the pony and then sat down beside him, as Havzi shifted and moved to stand in front of him. They engaged in some exercises, just a few minutes of them, and then it was time to take him back, the three of them—the Northerner, the little boy, and the pony—left through one of the side entrances of the ring to the stables.

She hurried to join, rubbing her arms briskly and approached. “Hi guys,” she called, laughing and reaching her hands to Rhaego, upright so eh could see her palms. “Look at you! I saw you! You did so good!”

He ran towards her, grinning and flung his arms up around her. She squeezed him hard, hauling him up into her arms. He was so heavy; he was getting so big. She sniffed and laughed again, so he couldn’t sense her tears. They always caused him distress. “You’re such a brave, big boy. Did you learn a lot?” He nodded and continued to smile, gazing lovingly at the man approaching them.

“Hey.” He leaned down to brush his lips over hers. She returned the kiss, still smiling. He gazed at her with such love; she sometimes couldn’t believe she was on the receiving end of such a lok. His gray eyes twinkled and he nodded to Havzi. “I’m going to put him up. Rhaego? Are you going to help me?”

Rhaego nodded eagerly and she set him down, patting his back. “Go on, wait, wait, let me take your helmet…oh, okay nevermind.” He squealed, grabbing for the top of the helmet, rushing away, not wanting her to. She sighed and watched from the other side of the stable, when Rhaego helped with the tack.

A few minutes later, while Rhaego fed Havzi an apple, she turned towards her Jon. My Jon, she thought possessively, and pressed her palm to his heart, as he wrapped his strong arm around her shoulders. “He’s doing so well,” she marveled. “I remember when he would scream at the thought of coming to the stables…youv’e done wonders Jon.”

“You have, Daenerys, he’s your son.”

And yours too, she thought, because after almost a year together, Jon was the closest thing to a father that Rhaego had. Even her brother Rhaegar, who lived and worked with them, saw him every single day, had always been his uncle. There was never a confusion in her son’s eyes, but she knew he saw Jon as the father he didn’t have.

She took a deep breath, slowly exhaling. “He still isn’t talking,” she mumbled.

“He’ll talk when he has something to say. Talking is overrated.”

“Says the man who only speaks in monosyllables,” she teased. He had been silent when she’d hired him, so quiet, lost in his own world.

Jon grinned down at her, cocking his head. “I speak.”

“When you have something to say.”

“I love you. That’s something to say.”

She kissed him again, giggling. “I love you too.” Turning back towards the stall, she whistled to catch Rhaego’s attention. He glared at her, annoyed she distracted him from feeding Havzi. “Come on little cowboy you! Dinner time and it’s getting cold! How are you not cold?”

He shrugged and walked through the door, Jon closing it and latching it behind him. They all walked together from the stables up the winding path towards the main house at Dragonstone Ranch. Her gloveless fingers were freezing, trying to stay warm in the clutch of his hand in hers. Behind them, she heard Rhaego kicking at stray rocks and scuffing his feet. She stepped up into the house, calling out, “Rhaego, hurry up, we’re letting the hot air out.”

Jon took off his boots and shoved them in the cubby near the back door, in what was appropriately a mudroom. No boots in her house, that was the rule; gods only knew what was on the bottom of them. He spoke, as Rhaego brought up the rear, still goofing around by the stoop “You were really good today Rhaego. Tomorrow we’ll give Havzi a good brushing, maybe even wash his mane, does that sound like fun?”

“Daddy!”

It was just two syllables.

A shout.

A protest.

A name.

It was a word that all children said at some point in their lives. Usually Dada. Papa. Da. All manner of variations, but it was just a name.

Except.

Now.

It was joy. It was heartbreak. It was exclamation.

She gaped, unable to believe what she’d just heard, thinking she’d imagined it. “What did you just say?” she whispered, after an indetermined amount of time, staring at her son in the doorway, who was swaying side to side, not at all bothered. She dropped her boots on the floor with a clatter and fell to her knees inf ront of him, gripping his shoulders. “Rhaego? What did you just say?”

Rhaego turned his face to Jon and smiled, pointing at him. “Daddy.” He took a deep breath. “Daddy? Help me. I can’t get them.”

Every single word crystal clear. Complete sentences. The most beautiful sound she had ever heard, ranking only to the sound of his first cries as he entered the world. She swallowed back her sobs, letting go of him and falling to the side, watching as Jon said nothing, his face pale, and fingers trembling, helping Rhaego with his boots.

“Thank you,” he chirped, and ran off into the house.

Leaving them aghast in the mudroom.

She peered up at him, her fingers reaching for his blindly. “I…did he…did you…”

“Aye,” he gasped. He laughed and pushed his hand through his hair. “I…I can’t…Dany…”

They clutched each other, her face buried into his heart, sobbing. She released all the fear she’d been bottling up for four years, the worries she still had for him, but it was sheer relief. He was speaking. Talking.

He said ‘Daddy.’

She wiped at her eyes and hiccupped, whispering, “He called you Daddy. Jon…I…”

“He’s my son Dany.” He was firm. He cupped her chin, his thumb flicking tears away. He touched his forehead to hers, fierce, vowing. “He is my son.”

“He is,” she cried. They were a family. They had never talked about it specifically, but it was understood. She pushed her face back into his chest, clutching his hand, and he swayed in place with her in his arms as she cried in pure joy that the notion that everything would be alright.

#jonerys #jonerys fics #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #drabble challenge #drabble ask #flangst #tw autism

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