A/N 1: Inspired by the fictional TV show in 'Here Be Dragons', this fic is a cross-over of sorts, retaining a few key terms and concepts from 'Magical Menagerie' but with the characters and settings being taken from 'Game of Thrones'. Reading that modern AU shouldn't be necessary but here are the few differences that might be of help.
Wargs are common place and are typically called Riders. They are mostly trained in the Citadel in Old Town where they learn to warg whilst also doing most of the maesters' jobs in this world.
The term Warg here is usually used to describe those Riders with exceptionally abilities.
There are no maesters in this AU with the Riders filling most of their roles, and the religions hold considerably less sway.
There are 2 Factions/Kingdoms in Westeros, the north and the south, rather than 7.
For readers of 'Here Be Dragons'
In 'Magical Menagerie', Khaleesi is a Warg Rider with dragons who trained in Old Town and interacted with a number of key GOT characters before being forced into exile (because the actress Daenerys Targaryen quit the show due to ill health.) Here, of course, Khaleesi IS Daenerys.
In MM, Jon Snow was a minor character who nonetheless followed a similar plot path to his GOT counterpart. No relation/connection at all to Daenerys' boyfriend/bodyguard in HBD ;)
Act One: Emotion
A Dream of Battle
The Climax of 'Magical Menagerie', the fictional TV show from my Modern AU 'Here Be Dragons'
Jon
He was reliving the Battle for the Dawn, the great northern ice war, the final, desperate attempt to stop the Night King and his army from continuing their deadly march south and destroying the realm.
And it was exhausting.
As a Warg Rider with exceptional sword skills, Jon was effectively having to be two soldiers at once; mentally directing Ghost and his huge pack of wolves and direwolves, whilst also physically fighting as himself; his Varyrian steel blade able to destroy wights and White Walkers alike.
"How can we possibly win this?" he wondered for the hundredth time. Every living fighter who died - human and animal - instantly became turn-coat and fought on the enemy's side and most of the living soldiers held ordinary weapons which required them to 'kill' their opponents many time over to render them ineffective.
He felt Ghost bite through another wight, and tried to suppress the now familiar nausea as the taste of dead flesh also filled his mouth whilst, at the same time, Longclaw sliced though another in front of his own eyes. Then, to make matters worse, he received a third point of view, Bran choosing that moment to let his brother know what he could see whilst flying high above in a raven.
"Seven Hells!" Jon cursed as he quickly finished off another wight and backed away from the oncoming tide of the dead, trying to get his brain to focus on this new image and see if he could glean any tactical advantage from it.
The dizzying birds-eye view revealed a swarm of white and grey dead, pressing forwards on a mass of darker living humans and their Familiars: Direwolves, shadow cats, bears, foxes and - flying alongside Bran's ravens - crows, owls and eagles. For one terrifying moment Jon's talent became a disadvantage as his Warg brain tried to connect with all of them and see through their eyes too. No wonder his brother was so changed. Spending your life Riding so many different animals would send most people mad and, if this battle continued for much longer, Jon feared his own sanity would be severely tested.
"It's hopeless," he told Bran through their shared connection. "How can we win this?"
"Hold on a little longer," his brother said. "There is help coming."
"Help? What help could possibly arrive now?"
It has taken years of minor wars, petty squabbling and frantic negotiation to ensure that as many of the northern houses, Wildling tribes and Riders joined their cause. Cersei's horrific Cull at the Rider's school in Old Town had actually worked to their advantage in the end, with numerous southerners rebelling against her and coming to their aid, including her own brothers; Jaime with his Valyrian steel sword and Tyrion with his shadow cat. It was a nervous alliance, likely to cause its own issues further down the line, but at least those two - like many southerners here today - had realised just in time where the true threat to the Realm lie.
Having seen what he needed to through the raven's eyes, Jon pulled his focus back down to the ground and shouted out a few commands, making sure their forces rearranged themselves to the best effect. He had dedicated the last few years of his life to this cause, to convincing as many different types of people as possible to come together to fight, and had gained a level of standing and respect which frankly astounded him. He had always been a reluctant hero - his special ability and destiny a constant weight around his neck - but, if that is what it took to keep the realm safe, then he would gladly accept it, no matter how strange the various honours felt to him.
He was now back focusing on his double battle; fighting the wights with his sword, whilst simultaneously adding his own tactical and fighting skills to Ghost's natural instincts and intelligence. Working through his Familiar, Jon was able to command the great wolf pack too, just as Arya was doing over on the other side of the battlefield through Nymeria. He briefly moved his thought that way, worried about his sister when she did not quite have his level of Riding skill, but, so far, see seemed to be coping well. In front of his own eyes the wights surged forwards again and Jon growled, falling back whilst commanding the wolves to do the same and shouting out instructions to all those around him.
They were losing. It was hopeless. They didn't stand a chance.
"They're coming," Bran said.
"Who are?"
"Look up."
And there high above the battlefield three more winged creatures joined the fray but these were larger by far than any animal currently involved in the battle.
"Dragons!" Someone shouted. "The dragons have returned."
"She is alive then," Jon thought briefly before shaking his head, willing himself to focus on what was going on. The largest one dived first and there was a gasp from all around as he opened his great mouth to breath fire on the wights below and causing Jon to stagger back, able to feel the heat and the wind from the wings even from this distance. As the beast banked, ready for another attack, Jon tried to see if there was an actual rider on his back but he appeared to be here on his own. Someone powerful must be Riding his mind then and, if that person was not physically close, then it hinted at a Warg ability very much like his own.
As the largest dragon focused on the rear of the wight army, the two smaller ones came down on the flanks, apparently sizing up the situation below them. Jon guessed that they were controlled via the black beast, as his wolf pack was controlled through Ghost, but, when it became obvious that their fire would not be able to distinguish between friend and foe, the pair moved to the front of the living army's line and hovered there, holding their flame and waiting. Jon then felt a push on his mind and the vague sense of powerful communication, frowning as he tried to interpret the instruction before realising that it was actually pretty obvious.
"Back!" he yelled at his troops. "Fall right back, quickly and run! Unless you wish to be roasted alive!"
He was fairly certain Ghost would have got the message but repeated it internally anyway, asking his Familiar to pass it onto his sister too. This would only work if the dragons could focus their efforts entirely on the dead.
Necessity dictated that Jon remained near the front as he continue to yell and urge the soldiers and animals to retreat. And then the green dragon landed right next to him, his neck swaying side to side as he obviously geared up to flame the approaching wights.
"Hold!" Jon called out instinctively and the dragon abruptly stopped his movement, snapping his neck around to confront the small human who had dared to command him. Jon swallowed hard as a long muzzle and curious eyes stared at him and then staggered as he felt the great beast briefly in his mind. A dragon! He was a breath away from Riding a dragon. He could almost sense it. If he could just ...
He pulled his mind back sharply, knowing now was not the time to be tempted or distracted. What he could though was perhaps reassure the creature and his Rider that he knew what he was doing.
"I am the commander here," he said. "Ready?" And, in his head, he let the dragon know what he had in mind; for him, the green one, to move further to the left, the white one to move to the right and then their leader could come from the north and herd them all into the centre.
'Understood.'
Jon fell to his knees in shock at the strange and powerful communication. It was somehow both incredibly faint and deafeningly loud, the words rushing through his head and vibrating through his body. It was the odd sensation of this dragon communicating with the lead dragon talking to ... his Rider probably. Jon nodded, understanding that it was akin to his regular communications with Bran and yet ravens, for all their intelligence, were not dragons and this experience was ... intoxicating. He hauled himself back up to his feet, turned to run a little further away and then shouted his command both verbally and in his head.
"Now!"
He continued to run as he felt the heat sear at his back and heard a sound behind him which was half-explosion and half-flood from the melted snow and, the next moment, he was flying through the air from the force of it. As he landed heavily in the snow, part of his mind continued to soar high above, breathing flame on the wights to destroy them and, on touching that great mind, he felt something else. Something thrilling.
Despite the violence and anger in the dragon's head, Jon could sense something soft and warm and ... He soaked up the sensations - breathed them, tasted them, drowned in them - and the intensity of it all was overwhelming.
Home. Family. Love.
~o~0~o~
Jon gasped, sitting up in bed, breathing in blessed cold air, feeling both fear from the battle he'd just relived and very real grief at the loss of the intense emotions he'd experienced when he'd touched minds with the dragons.
"Your Grace, are you well?"
He blinked to see Davos standing by his bed and looking concerned. "Yes ... nightmare ... again," he gasped.
"The battle?" Jon nodded. "Not surprising, but it's over now. We won." Davos handed him a horn and he knocked the liquid back in one gulp.
"I know."
"I'm sorry to wake you so early but young Lord Stark's birds have seen a party approaching and Lady Sansa needs you there when they arrive."
He nodded, hauling himself out of bed. "Do we know who it is?"
"I suspect your brother does but, as usual, he is not exactly being generous when it comes to sharing information."
Jon scoffed as he moved to dress. "Aye, nothing new there then. Tell them both I'll be there shortly."
Winterfell
The Stark family waited for their guests in the Great Hall, as the winter weather was still too unpleasant for greetings to take place in the courtyard. Jon took his customary position by the side wall, a dark shadow against grey stone, trying not to draw attention to himself, whilst his half-brother and sisters sat at the head table.
"Queen Sansa of House Stark," Davos announced. "Her Rider-Hand, Brandon Stark and her sister Arya Stark."
"And I am Tyrion Lannister as most of you know," the dwarf said. "My party and I have come here to discuss our mutual needs and to possibly join your rebellion against the south and its queen." His speech was greeted by a brief, shocked silence.
"You'll forgive me if I appear sceptical, Lord Tyrion," Sansa said eventually. "But, last I heard, you were travelling to King's Landing to rejoin your sister, and yet you now appear in my Hall with this ragtag group and claim to be on our side?"
"I fought for you in the Battle for the Dawn, your Grace," he replied. "I Rode my shadow cat into that battle against the Night King." He looked around the Hall, his gaze briefly falling on Jon, a small frown on his face. "I recognise many of you here today and I'm sure that you all know me."
"We certainly appreciated you and your fellow southerners joining our cause two years ago," Sansa continued. "But we also remember the conditions you laid before us at the time. You said then that you would help us defeat the dead, despite Cersei's indifference to our plight, but could not fully ally yourself with us nor give your support to our independence claim."
Tyrion winced. "All of that is true however, as I was returning home, I discovered what my sister had in store for me after the part I played in your war, and her plans for the south in general and … well, after hearing that, I decided to reconsider my position."
Jon frowned, distracted for more than one reason. Just like his sister, he did not believe Tyrion was being entirely truthful here and the fact that he had not introduced any of his party, all of whom were well bundled up in cloaks and head coverings, was concerning him. In addition, Ghost was prowling the Wolfswood - jittery about something he could smell out there - and his Familiar's confused emotions were also playing on Jon's nerves.
"Can you tell if there are any Riders here?" he asked Bran via their Familars. Sensing Riders from a distance was a rare skill and something not even a powerful Warg like Jon was able to do, but then his brother was something of an exception in more ways than one.
"Yes," the younger man replied. "There are four others here in addition to Tyrion."
That their guest had chosen not to introduce such talent amongst his party was further proof to Jon that he was right to distrust this situation and it appeared that his sister felt much the same.
"I hope you can understand my scepticism," Sansa was saying. "Our father died whilst in King's Landing, our brother Robb during the Citadel Rebellion and many other friends and trainee Riders also fell victim to your sister's Cull. And yet, despite being a tutor at the school, you've somehow managed to survive unscathed?"
"A great deal of people survived in one way or another," Tryion countered. "Although, unscathed? I would certainly debate your choice of word in this case." He sighed. "It's true that those who openly objected to my father's plans for the Citadel were far more likely to be targeted but his reaction to the rebellion and my sister's subsequent Cull are the reasons I left my position there. A school is no place for the vicious politics of the Realm to be played out. In that you and I are in full agreement."
Jon quietly bristled, his fists clenching and unclenching by his side. It was at times like this that he hated playing the shadow and denying his true role here. He desperately wanted to step forward, call Tyrion out and demand the truth of the situation.
"Now is not the time."
Bran's calm voice did little to settle him and so Jon distracted himself briefly by searching out Ghost. His Familiar seemed calmer now although still not quite his normal self, dwelling on something that Jon found hard to grasp, distracted as he currently was. Over at the head table Sansa was consulting with Bran and Arya in quiet whispers before nodding her head subtly and turning her attention back to the visiting party.
"You must all be tired after your long and cold journey," she said. "Please accept my hospitality and allow us to escort you to the Guest House." She turned her head and nodded to Jon who copied the gesture, acknowledging her silent request. "I hope you understand that we will need to place guards around the building for the time being. Just until the full nature of our alliance has been decided upon?"
Tryrion nodded his head. "A wise and understandable precaution, your Grace."
Jon stepped forward then, one hand on Longclaw, working hard to keep his mind away from Ghost and focus fully on the foreign party in front of him. "This way, please," he said, waiting for them to follow him before leading them out of the keep.
"Jon Snow," Tyrion said, moving alongside him. "I remember you from when I was last here, of course. One of the true heroes of the Battle of the Dawn."
He pulled a face. "I don't know about that. I played my small part as did we all."
"Ah, a modest Rider," Tyrion continued with a sly smile. "A rare breed, but I certainly understand why you were chosen as our guard. A man with your ... dual abilities must be of great use to Queen Sansa?"
Jon just shrugged in response. His modesty here was a necessity, as Sansa and Bran did not wish their guests to know his true status or that he was a Warg - a strong Rider with a number of additional abilities - hoping to be dismissed by their guests as a common soldier and perhaps gain some extra information in the process.
"Here is the Guest House," Jon said. "I'm sure you'll find everything here you need but just ask the guards if you require anything more. You are honoured visitors here, despite the security, and Queen Sansa wishes to make your stay a comfortable one."
"Thank you," Tyrion said as Jon stepped to one side to let them all through.
He watched them closely as the party filed past, trying to get some measure of this odd little group despite their cloaks and head coverings. A number of darker hands and faces hinted at an Essos background for some and Jon felt he was also able to identify the military within the party; their confident and poised strides a dead give away. Near the back a smaller figure was approaching wearing trousers, but Jon's initial guess of a boy almost grown was quickly proven wrong as a pale head was raised to reveal light eyes and the most beautiful face he had ever seen. He gaped at the sight of her and the young woman stared back, her lips parting slightly in surprise as she looked at him. Then she tipped her head and smirked, amused at his gawking, and the illusion was quickly shattered.
'Focus, Jon,' he scolded himself. He could not let a pretty face distract him, especially considering the uncertainty surrounding these potential new allies.
The others had moved on but the girl had not. She was still staring at him curiously, numerous emotions playing across her features, most of which Jon was quite unable to interpret.
"Is there something you need?" he asked, looking back towards the Guest House to see Tyrion hover for a moment before heading back inside with a shake of the head. Jon turned back to find the girl still looking at him intently.
"I was just wondering if we've met before?" she asked.
"You do seem a little familiar," he replied, "But I've spent most of my life here in the north so unless you've ever travelled up this far ..?" She shook her head. "Unlikely then."
"So, you've been pledged to the Starks all your life?" she asked.
"Pledged?" He tried not to let his amusement show. "One way of putting it, I suppose."
She nodded down at his sword. "Sorry if I misunderstood but you look quite the soldier and I thought I overheard Tyrion saying something about the Battle for the Dawn?"
"I fought in it, aye," he replied simply, unable to look at her, still trying to act as if he were not important. Not only did he need to do so for these negotiations but it had become something of a habit anyway from years of living in Robb's shadow. Despite having a more natural Riding ability than his brother, and with his sword skills almost as good, Jon had quickly learnt that it was easier to hide his talents, seeing as Lady Catelyn would never have acknowledged them even if she had been fully aware. And Lord Stark had always walked a nervous line when it came to his bastard son, wanting him to be raised in Winterfell but knowing how much it hurt his wife when Jon drew attention to himself.
"And you survived," the girl continued, "which I suppose is why you were chosen for this role."
Jon frowned, trying to work out why she was still here questioning him and what exactly she was trying to glean. "Role?"
"You escorted us over here all by yourself. No extra security?"
Jon raised an eyebrow, wondering what she was implying. "Do we need extra security?"
She smirked again, tipping her head as she studied him, and her light-eyed gaze was making him nervous and also very slightly dizzy. She had just been one of the crowd - someone he hadn't even noticed in the Hall - and yet now she had his full attention and not just because of how beautiful she was. Who was she? Her determination to remain out here to question him, along with an odd nagging feeling in the back of his mind, was making him suspect her to be one of the Riders that Bran had sensed in the Hall, although he wouldn't be able to tell for certain unless they touched.
A loud cough from the Guest House had both of them turning around. "Are you coming in or not?" Tyrion asked the girl.
"Of course," she replied calmly, but Jon noticed the faintest flash of annoyance pass over her features at the summons. "I'll be right there." She smiled brightly at Jon, although it didn't quite reach her eyes. "And I shouldn't keep you from your duties. It was nice talking to you."
He nodded his head a little deeper than required, playing the subservient role that she seemed to believe him to hold. "I hope you find the accommodations satisfactory, m'lady."
~o~0~o~
"Well?" Sansa asked Jon as he walked into the small solar they used as their private meeting room.
"Two thirds of them seem to be from Essos, I counted five with obvious military bearing and Bran sensed four Riders in addition to Tyrion?"
Their brother nodded. "Even I cannot tell how powerful without getting closer."
"Tyrion knows I'm a Rider, of course, if not the exact nature of my ability, and one young lady started questioning me quite vigorously which made me worry that she might have guessed too." Arya giggled. "What?"
"Perhaps it wasn't information she was after?" she suggested with a smirk.
He glared at her. "Behave, child. Whatever her intentions, I wouldn't be at all surprised if she was one of the ones Bran sensed."
"Hmm, I'd love to feel cross with Tyrion for not introducing his fellow Riders," Sansa said, "but then we're not being entirely open about the talent we have here either, are we?"
"I suppose it's only to be expected that each side will try to hold onto their advantages in such a situation," Jon said. "All I can say is that any secrets that they are keeping are making me exceptionally nervous."
"Well, you know I'll trust your instincts on this, Jon. Yours and Bran's." Sansa frowned, looking pensive. "'Join your rebellion,' Tyrion said. What can he possibly have heard to make him think that that is what we are planning?"
"I suppose he's just assuming that us wishing to keep our independence means we mean to make war on the south," Jon replied.
"Well, you know my thoughts on that," Arya grumbled.
Jon shook his head. "I do, but we don't have the numbers for such a fight and no-one up here has the inclination after everything that happened two years ago anyway. The Neck helps keep us isolated and our bird Riders down there can let us know if we're going to be attacked." He shrugged. "I just don't see any reason to make things more complicated right now."
"I know," Arya said with a sigh. "But I still think we're going to have to deal with Cersei eventually. Once she realises who's really in charge up here and what our long term plans are, you can be certain she won't just sit down there and let us get on with it."
Jon pulled a face. "That's true, but that's even more reason why we need to be careful during these initial discussions. We cannot yet take the chance that our new 'allies' will end up pushing us into the very conflict we've been working so hard to avoid."
~o~0~o~
A/N 2: Welcome to The Ride.
I hope my notes and the first chapter have orientated you sufficiently for this AU world. Always a tricky balance, telling you what you need to know without massive 'info dumps' but I have deliberately left questions here which will be answered as you progress through this fic. I'll list a few more things below and edit it further if the comments dictate it. Please check my profile for updates and more information.
This AU has been inspired by the idea of the fictional show I created and, as part of my planning, I sketched out many of the events that might have happened there, a few of which I've referenced in this first chapter. As HBD readers will know, Daenerys' character was a bit of a bad girl at the start although, like many GOT characters, she had something of a redemption arc, meaning that she is now a lot closer to the Dany we all know - but maybe not quite there yet?
As my regular readers know, I have a reputation for staying well ahead and updating once a week EVERY week and I've now reached the point where I'm confident I'll be able to do that. So, I know where this is going, already have a number of chapters roughly written and will respond to any questions you wish to ask me. And yes I did say respond and not answer because I'm a big tease!
Terms
Familiars: The main animal a Rider connects/bond with.
Riders: Modern/southern name which has now been adopted for all those who can connect to animals.
Wargs or Warg Riders: Those who develop the skill untrained at a young age. Usually end up with exceptionally abilities like having wild Familiars and hopping between animals with ease.
Sleepers: Ex-Riders who lost their ability when their Familiar died and were unable to connect with another. Dreamers: Potential Riders who only have the skill when asleep. Usually children.
The Citadel: The training school for Riders. There are no Maesters in this AU.
Outsiders: People with no Riding ability.
The War for the Dawn: Fight against the NK army which happened two years before this fic starts.
Citadel Rebellion: The equivalent of the Red Wedding (similar casualties)
Citadel Cull: The equivalent of the Sept Destruction (similar casualties)
