Title: Northern Fire
Crossover: George R.R Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire & Dreamwork's How to Train Your Dragon
Genre: Adventure, Drama, Fantasy, Romance
Summary: How fitting the Mother of Dragons would be aided by the Tamer of Dragons; her children need no taming, but there is no doubt the two of them were a legend in the making.
Author's Note: It has been a while since I have used this website and I plan to do this correctly. It is without a beta at the moment, but I will comb over each chapter well before posting. The idea to combine the two universes is not mine, it comes from AvannaK's Dany and Hiccup drabbles. Additionally Hiccup's journey will be very inspired by AvannaK's story Hitchups, which I highly recommend. Dany's world is also much harder to navigate than Hiccup's, so I have to give credit to DeviantART's scrollsofaryavart for their beautifully accurate maps of Westeros, Essos, and Sothoryos.
Hiccup's journey will begin when Astrid discovers Toothless, however diverging from canon, Hiccup will leave as planned. He is fourteen. Dany's story begins at the end of A Storm of Swords, where she decides to rule Meereen before conquering more territory. Dany is sixteen, going on seventeen. I have opted to stay ignorant of Martin's plans for Dany in Meereen and create my own plot for her. As the summary suggests, I plan to make a legend of these two; the story will alternate perspectives like in Martin's books, however the tone will be closer to the darker moments of the Dreamworks film. I enjoy both stories very much and look forward to what will come of this; I hope you enjoy Northern Fire.
Prologue: The Milk Eyed Man
Around a campfire, in the shadow of the cursed castle of Harrenhall three travellers rested. One was a young peasant, his stomach curving in as it growled for more than the simple fare of hard cheese offered by his companions. The outlaw with his black mask rested without it now, his tattered face had been handsome before the Starks and the Lannisters started fighting. Now it was weathered and tired, even as he jested and crackled off colour jokes at the expense of the starved man to his left. The third however, was a man in the furs of a wildling far from home. Below the Wall, perhaps fleeing like his kin, although he had not mentioned his purpose thus far. His milky white eyes suggested blindness, but he could see as well as any other man, perhaps even better.
"Master Wilderness, tell us a story." The outlaw chuckled, his words cracked as much as his parched tongue did. The peasant passed him a cup with melted snow but he refused.
The trees behind the milk eyed man caught the shadows from the flames. The peasant huddled closer in his cloak, sipping his autumn snow as the man stayed silent. He expected an owl to jump out to speak for his companion. Luck would have it though it would just be a tale.
"You say you want a story? What about?" The milk eyed man asked, his voice more vigorous than ever before. The peasant wondered how it was their aged companion was healthier than the two others combined, but he didn't speak up out of fear. Since they had sat down so close to the haunted fief he had been worrying about the ghosts who drew men to their deaths; it wasn't hard to imagine the flicker in those white eyes to be otherworldly in nature, even without the ghost stories whispering in his ear.
The outlaw laughed. "Tell us about beyond the Wall. That must be where you're from, looking like that. Or what about a legend? Something grand, like the dragons of old Valyria."
The milk eyed man chuckled darkly, sending a chill up their spines not from any autumn wind they knew. The flames leapt higher, twigs crackling and snapping in the heat like bones. Their companion put down his own cup of snow and looked at them with his white gaze. "You want to hear of Valyrian dragons? Ha, I will tell you the true origin of those monstrous lizards, something you slaves of the south have never even questioned."
"Slaves?" The peasant asked.
"Aye slaves. You think you know everything down below this Wall, even where the true nature of creatures lie. I tell you all nothing of it is true. It has been centuries since you have been able to look to the skies and see scales and tooth above you. Dragons have vanquished from even from the Iron Throne, as it is the usurpers not the dynasty who sit their unworthy feet on the banner of wings and valour. The presence of the auld beasts have faded here, drying up so much it's like they were only just stories to scare younglings like you around a fire."
"We're not scared." The outlaw declared, the peasant would have disagreed but the ice was making it's way up his spine so deftly he thought it wiser to let the milk eyed man continue.
"Yes you are, scared little fools who think this just a story. If dragons were truly gone, then how could any spells work in the whole wide world? Dragons are the root of magic! Even your little educated masses deny that their brews work better when the hatchlings were born to the Unburnt. They think it just a fluke because they think they know everything." The milk eyed man threw his head back in laughter, snow white teeth glittering in the firelight. "It is dragons! Big and small they bring magic to the hands of even the poorest man, showing him how to use the fire within.
"Ah but chained fools don't travel far, none are explorers who look for the root of their powers. If they just crossed the sea they'd find the Unburnt and her children, the legendary stormborn who will take back her birthright and raise it from the ashes. She will reduce this land to dust and cherish the remains of her people."
"The Unburnt? Who is this?" The outlaw asked.
"She is the Queen of Queens, the mother of dragons. Just this very moment she had awakened three eggs and brought the magic back to her own lands across the sea; she is the old blood, from the far south; Valyria like you spoke of. She is coming for Westeros, but even she is blind to the root of the magic she used to awaken her children." The milk eyed man whispered reverently, "The queen herself is blind like many think me. Ah but she will not be blind long."
"You speak of the Targaryen brat, the whelp whom King Robert could not kill right?" The outlaw asked before roaring with laughter. "The horselord slut? Ha! as if she had dragons."
"Fool!" The milk eyed man stood. "You doubt my words? You are speaking of the most beautiful and terrifying woman the world will ever know. She will have your head peeled and fed to her children for a quick bite; she is the blood of the dragon and you will be wise to bow when she comes to the Westerosi shores." The flames cracked and spat sparks at his words, fury in his breath as he spoke.
The peasant broke his silence a second time. "What is the Queen blind to?"
The milk eyed man smiled. "The root. Your masters are not explorers and never crossed the Wall to my lands. They never travelled far north to the seas and archipelagos of the free men; but even we wildings could have conquered the world if they had only made a boat and met our northern neighbours." He let the wind whip his hair, whispering the words to let them carry and rise. "They are called Vikings, fiercer than us 'wildings', braver than Dothraki, and more vicious than bandits; they are leagues north where the seas turn to underfoot and the skies are black half the year, even in the middle of summer. It is the Vikings who make their titles and forge their lives around defending their shores from dragons.
"It is in the icy north, not Valyria where dragons are made. True dragons, the multi faceted and fierce of claw are born in the land of the Vikings. On the roof of the world, far beyond any lands of Essos or Sothoryos, or Westeros, there is a volcanic island housed in ice where once a year the eggs are lain and hatched. It is amongst the frost and fire is where true dragons were born. The Northern Fire are the root of all magic and wonder in the world."
"How long ago did these Vikings and their enemy dragons die out?" The outlaw jeered.
"Did you not listen to what I said? I said they 'are'." The milk eyed man impressed. "At this very moment a youngling is mounting the head of a Nightmare on a pike, a chief is ripping the wings off a Zippleback, and the bravest of them all is defying their laws to do as the Valyrians once did."
"What did the Valryians do?"
The milk eyed man looked at the outlaw like it was obvious. "They rode them."
The wind was the only thing heard for a while around the campfire, the bizarre idea that dragons of the thousands still flew around them was absurd to believe. How could one think it was true when they hadn't seen dragons for centuries- but even so, the outlaw had heard whispers of hatchlings across the sea, a million whispers from a million people, all with the same message: dragons lived across the sea, they breathed as well as any person. Even the peasant had heard the stories, strange though it seemed to him who had never encountered more than a spotted toad. Magic returning seemed too miraculous to be true in a way.
The peasant broke the silence for a third time. "You said the Vikings would have a rule breaker, and the queen would learn the truth…"
The milk eyed man peered at the peasant queerly. He chuckled darkly. "So I did Sharp Ears. The queen will be awakened to the truth of dragons, like you and your friend are right now. The Viking traitor will ride the dragons like no one has seen before. His destiny will be intertwined with the Unburnt, carved into the stone of the world itself. He and She will be known for centuries; his own titles being the Tamer of a Million Flames, the Consort of the Storm, and the Unbeatable Rider; but in truth it is his destiny to stand by the Queen of Queens, to be the wings to her birthright. It is the Mother of Dragons who he will serve; she, who could birth a dragon as if she breathed the mother flame herself. They will be great."
The fire danced and the icy winds blew as the milk eyed man uttered the last words with finality, a prophecy and a declaration: "The Rider and the Mother of Dragons."
