[His touch is a comfort, one that is shocking since they've only just met, but she can feel it. There's a pull there, a familiarity that extends beyond the binds of time and reality. Rhaenyra doesn't question it, like she doesn't question her attraction to Daemon. It just is. So she smiles lightly.

She deems that Jon is a good and caring man. There aren't many of those, that much she knows for certain. She thinks she wants to get to know him better, know more about the Westeros he lives in, hoping it truly is a better world than the one she comes from.

But the talk of dragons does lighten things a little, and still she does not let his touch go.]

He is your dragon then. He will not let anyone ride him until your death. [It is how dragons operated, she knew. This Daenerys may have raised him, but if she sat atop Drogon, than Rhaegal would need a rider, and Jon was his rider.]

There is a bond we have as dragonriders. It is in the blood. The blood of the dragon.