0540 hrs

Unknown location

A crackling of the air and whining screech of the radio inside the Tiger 2 tank was deafening and undeniably ear piercing causing the occupants of the cramped space to flinch in irritation. The radio operator chuckled nervously as he fumbled with his equipment before getting it on the right end up and plugging the end of his throat mike's wire into the port receiver of his radio transmitter. Several clanging bangs from the outside drew the four men's attention to the top of the inside turret as the hatch opened and revealed the face of their commanding officer. Who looked annoyed for some reason if his scowl was anything to go by.

"Mein Gott! What the bloody hell was that?! Are you trying to get us all killed you swine!" Their commander, Oberst Konrad Hartman, a veteran tank commander since the war began in 1939, he was 48 years and by far the oldest man and leader of the hastily reformed 5th Panzer Division, which also consisted of the 20th Motorized Infantry and the last remaining 12th Artillery Regiment as all three groups were retreating from the eastern front.

Now they were in the middle of a fog with Soviet T-34 monsters currently trying to sniff them out as they make their way west over rain swept terrain and misty valleys occasionally dodging Soviet patrols or engaging in short but hazardous skirmishes for the past fourteen days, today was no different but their numbers had dwindled down from the initial 8000+ to a little under 5000 men and from roughly 200 tanks to just 105 most of which were Panzer IVs and Panthers but Konrad and four other tank commanders managed to save what Tiger 2 and 1 tanks they had left.

So when Konrad nearly fell off the Tiger's turret when he heard that god awful scream from inside his tank he immediately responded with his usual booming voice which in the end defeated the whole purpose of staying as quiet as possible but the expected response from the Soviets never came. After a relatively long pause without any sort of rattling or cracking gunfire and thundering explosions or that awful Soviet scream of Ooorraaahhh, the aging tank commander swiveled his head scanning the mist but could barely see in front of him even with the Tiger's headlights shining through the fog ahead. He could make out the outline of the halftrack transport behind his tank and the silhouette of its occupants when his observation was interrupted by his radio operator.

"Herr Oberst, its Major Heinz on the line." Konrad raised a brow, wondering what the younger tank commander wanted to talk about that breaking radio silence was necessary.

Grabbing his throat mike and headphones he answered the radio call with a low threatening growl, his years seemingly catching up to him. "You better make it good or I'll come over there and shove that 88 down your throat."

He smiled with evil satisfaction as he heard the other man gulp before replying in earnest whisper, "I'm sorry, Herr Oberst, but I thought I should inform you that we might be lost."

"Lost?"

"Yes, mein herr." Konrad pictured the other man nodding as he heard him continue whispering over the radio. "I've stopped my tank and we've gotten off, the fog seems to be lifting considerably ahead of the main column but..."

"Spit it it out." Another gulp from the Major.

"You have to get out of your tank, herr oberst."

"I'm already out of my tank you dumpkoff." Konrad pointed out to his subordinate before shaking his head, as if the other man could see him through this fog let alone know that he was out of the tank, he must be getting old! "Whatever, why do I have to get out?"

"Well, herr Oberst, I think we're not in the Eastern front anymore." The Major said, his words heavy with worry and concern but mostly confusion and utter disbelief, not that Konrad cared for it but he decided to humor the man and with leap he was off his tank and on the ground...only his feet sunk a few centimeters into the ground causing him to lose his balance and falling onto his backside with a heavy thump. He was a little disoriented at first but regained his senses and wondered how in the hell did all this sand get here before the fog began fading away revealing to his horror that the moon was now shining down on him and his Panzer column, what remained of it, but that wasn't what caught his attention.

Oh no.

It was probably the never ending sight of sand, sand, sand and even more sand as far as his sight could go. There was sand all the way to the east, right up to the west, over the northern horizon and even down south. He was literally lost in the middle of nowhere. After finally regaining his mental faculties he muttered softly to himself, "Well this is different."

The men of the 3rd reincarnation of the 5th Panzer Division stood stupefied at the vast emptiness of the sand dunes with the occasional shrub of withered brush here and there. The wind swept sand around in swirls and eventually the clamoring yells of confusion and bafflement began rising in an ascending crescendo of mixed voices each vying for attention and demanding to know just what the hell and where the hell they were at. Most notably was the question of how the hell did they get to where they were now floated audibly in the air filling the silence and shattering the peaceful night as the moon smiled openly down on the confused assembly of battered men of the once mighty Eastern Offensive that had so dramatically entered Soviet territory in the hopes of crushing the Bear only to end up freezing to death in the cold.

"Leutnant Kruger," Konrad spoke into his throat mike getting a response of Jawhol, "I want everyone assembled into an orderly fashion within fifteen minutes. Relay my orders to the other tanks and vehicles to position themselves into a circle around the assembled men."

"Ja, mein herr." Luetnant Hans Kruger, the Oberst's second in command of the Tiger 2 tank he commanded, the man was young at 25 years but his exemplary skills and command abilities made him the perfect choice for the Oberst when he was selecting his new crew. He was also a hardworking man, dedicated to his work and loyal, he is also quite ruthless in dealing with enemies that show too much disrespect for him or any others, he is quite easy to get along with and has a moderately tolerable sense of humor. So when he poked his head out to check his commanding officer only to find himself staring into sand dunes as far as the eye could sea, he immediately snapped out of it in favor of following his commander's orders issuing them out via radio and the column began moving as men dropped out of the halftrack transports and trucks with the Stugs and Panzers and Flakpanzers taking their positions around the hastily assembled formations.

A few minutes later when all was settled the Oberst looked over at the men before him, they all looked tired, ragged and very much wanted to sleep. They'd been retreating from the front nonstop and they could all use a good rest, heck he wanted to sleep too but duty demands he at least informs his men of what their situation is right now. Because for some reason, they are in a desert, how he knows its a desert is because of just how much sand there was and it wasn't the typical beach sand either but the more grainy and soft grating dusty sand of the desert...after all he grew up in the desert so he knows.

"Men," The loudspeakers mounted on one of the Panthers, out of twelve Panthers left, blurted out aided by the night air carrying the sound of his amplified voice to the gathered soldiers. "You've no doubt noticed that we're not surrounded by grass and the occasional Soviet so let me put your minds at ease and begin with the first thing that you're all thinking right now."

Several murmurs went around before they stopped as the speakers came on again bringing the voice of their commander to them.

"Yes, we're in the desert." Much louder murmurs was the men's reply before he quietened them down. "I too would like to know how we got here same as you but until then we must begin conserving water and other things for the foreseeable future. I don't know what is going on but we will endure this just as we endured the Soviet advance-"

He was interrupted by someone in the front scoffing and proclaiming loudly for all to hear, "Endure what exactly?! Just be honest and admit it, herr Oberst. We lost!"

Several shouts of indignation and incessant cries of traitor and he's right went around as accusations and blames were thrown at one another but one good roar from the speakers brought it all to a halt as Konrad glared down at the assembled men. He inhaled and shouted out, "Are you all soldiers or are you little swines bickering among one another for slight offenses? We are of the German Reich! We are sons of the Fatherland and although we did face defeat we are not beaten! Our counterattack was to be tomorrow morning but now we find ourselves here! I don't want another bout of doubt and pointing of fingers among you, am I clear?!"

The men intoned altogether as if they were back in primary school and when they realized that they felt embarrassed, even Konrad had to admit that the sight of several thousand heavily armed men would say and do such a thing. "The silver lining in all of this is that we managed to grab three of the ME 109 fighters and the two Stukas so reconnaissance will commence at 0700 this morning. I will brief your commanders in ten minutes but for now set camp and await further orders. Dismissed!"

10 Minutes later...

Hastily erected command tent

"Have we got enough fuel for the planes?" Rayner Shmidt, a rank under Konrad at Oberstleutnant, inquired of the man in charge of their munitions and logistics supply, Herr Major Renard Grimm.

"We've got enough fuel for the planes and the tanks and vehicles but I'm more concerned about the heat." Major Renard looked around the table at all of the commanders present. There was Oberst Konrad at the head of the table dressed smartly in his crumpled black uniform looking tired and old, Oberstleutnant Rayner with a concerned look on his face quietly biting his left forefinger and Oberstleutnant Lucas Muller who was in charge of what was left of the 20th Motorized Infantry. Renard himself was the 12th Artillery's only surviving ranking commander after a squadron of T-34s descended on their position at the battle of Kursk or was Stalingrad he can't remember which but that wasn't important. What's important is that they find our where they are and how the hell are they going to deal with suddenly finding themselves in the desert when they should have been in a valley somewhere west of the Soviet front.

"We can deal with that at another time." Oberstleutnant Lucas imposed before the Major could continue, a brief nod from the Oberst and he cleared his throat. Renard looked slightly annoyed at having been superseded by his superior but gave way to rank. "I propose we keep heading west from here, we use the ME109 fighters to scout ahead and keep constant radio communications range with them."

"A good idea, I assume you're planning on sending us after our own tails?" Rayner snarkily taunted with a smug smile but reigned it in when Konrad glared at him from across the table. "Sorry, herr Oberst, it was a jest."

Lucas' initial scowl was replaced with an equally smug look before he schooled it back into a more normal and professional expression lest he brings the Oberst's glare down upon him.

"Jesting aside, we still need to know where we are." Konrad placed his hands on the table and eyed his subordinates, his stare intense and scrutinizing as the men squirmed uncomfortably under it. Good, he needed to know that the was still in charge of the Division even if it was a wreck. "How we got here is something that is best left for another time. I suggest we send the planes up now. Have your engineers unpack them and get your pilots prepped and ready to go, I want those planes in the air by 0650 hrs. Dismissed!"

"Jahwol!" The underlings snapped a quick salute before filing out of the command tent. As the last one made his way out, Konrad collapsed on his bed cot and without further ado began snoring away much to the dismay of the adjutant who slept on the other side of the tent. The two soldiers standing guard at the tent's entrance both sighed as they too listened to the snoring, it was loud and irritating but it belonged to a man they respected and feared but sometimes they wished he had better sleeping habits.

0659 hrs

Flight Wing Wolf

Mersserschmitt 109 Fighter Plane

Hauptmann Gregory Shultz did the final check up of his ME 109 fighter as he sat there in the cockpit, checking dials and adjusting knobs and peeking out at the wings to see if they responded to his manipulating of the control stick and pedals. Satisfied he turned on the radio and keyed in the ignition of the plane, welcoming the sound of the engine sputtering then igniting into life with a loud roar as he waved okay to the other pilots of two other ME 109s.

His radio crackled to life as a voice came through the receiver in his flight helmet. "Sir, we're ready to go."

"Good." Gregory nodded and spoke into his own throat mike, "Usual flight pattern, V-formation until we hit 8000 feet then we cruise and split."

"Jahwol." Was the response to his order. He engaged the throttle to half and taxied onto the makeshift airfield, it was small but large and long enough for the purpose of getting him and his wingmen into the air. He pushed the throttle all the way and settled into his seat as the plane rushed forward sending dust in the wind behind him, he pulled down on the stick and his plane began ascending, slowly climbing before it plunged upwards at an odd 45 degree angle. His plane sailed into the air followed closely by his wingmen.

"Wolf Flight, this is Wolf Lair, come in." Gregory shook his head as he laughed internally at the callsign his flight was given by the Oberst Konrad just before they were given the go ahead for the recon mission.

"I read you, Wolf Lair." Gregory replied back trying hard not to laugh at his own thoughts. It was still funny, to him atleast, the idea of a flying wolf...he'd certainly heard of a flying fox but not a wolf. "Loud and clear, Wolf Leader and Flight awaiting orders."

"Wolf Leader, you are to ascend to 8000 feet as per the plan and proceed with split reconnaissance of the surrounding areas within 8 kilometers of our current position. You have orders to not engage any enemy hostiles and must return immediately to the encampment if any hostiles are encountered. Is that clear?" Gregory nodded while replying.

"Crystal clear, Wolf Lair. This is Wolf Leader, over and out."

"This is Wolf 2, climbing to 8000 feet, systems check out, I don't seem to see any problems." Wingman, Leutnant, Christoph Herman intoned over the radio as the three ME 109 fighters climbed at a steady rate of 17 meters per second, their wings cutting swathes through the air causing friction and leaving behind two trailing wisps of smoke. Though the pilots were not afraid due to it being a natural occurrence during high speed flights.

"Wolf Leader, this is Wolf 3." Gregory listened when Wolf 3 or Leutnant Martin Hess finally spoke, he had been quiet for quite a long time since they began their briefing only asking questions relevant to the task at hand. "I think this is the best time now to mention that...I have a bad feeling about this."

"You always have a bad feeling every time we go on a flight, Wolf 3." Herman laughed over the radio as they maneuvered their war planes into position after the climb. The turbulence was minimal so they weren't too concerned about that for now. "Perhaps this time around you'd like to keep your mouth shut so we can finally get some peace in the skies for once."

"He does have a point, Wolf 3." Gregory added helpfully as Wolf 2 laughed once more. He could hear Wolf 3 grumbling and muttering curses about traitors before he read his altometer at over 8000ft. "Alright, we should be spreading out from here. Break formation and head out into your assigned direction. Keep in radio contact and make sure you follow orders...I'm talking to you Wolf 2."

"Ja, Ja. I get it, but what can I say, I'm a rebel." Herman laughed as he banked left and away from the formation heading south, through his canopy he looked at the other two ME 109s and waved. "Adieu to you my friends and may we meet again."

"Just make sure you remember your orders, dumpkoff." Wolf 3 reminded him sharply but in a friendly sort of tone. They have been comrades for years ever since the war began and they had gotten used to one another's more obnoxious behaviors or in Herman's case, his sometimes over the top playful nature. Banking right and splitting away from the formation, Martin added with some measure of concern and a smidge of concern. "I still think something bad is going to happen but I'll see you all later...if we come out of this alive."

"Enough of the negativity already Wolf 3." Hauptmann Gregory admonished his wingman for being such a cynic and worrier. "But I wish you both good luck and if you see any flying Commies you let me know and bail out of there." Gregory paused then added as afterthought, "Though if you do see a Commie make sure to ask him if he knows where in the desert hell we are."

Both of his wingmen laughed that comment off and went their separate ways, Gregory himself headed west, continuing on their former course to see if anything or anyone was out that way. Wolf 3 headed North and as their planes became nothing more than simple dots in the distance he sighed and got back to scanning his own area of the vast sky. It was cold but his cockpit was warm enough with the pressurized environment it provided with the canopy closed around him. It was minutes later that he noticed something in the distance off to his port across from the fuselage, something was down there and he throttled the plane to full power and descended by a few hundred feet.

"Wolf Leader, this Wolf Lair, come in." The radio came to life and he answered almost immediately eager to report in what he'd found.

"Wolf Lair, this is Wolf Leader. I think I found a settlement."

"Come again." Gregory rolled his eyes, he could hear the other man's disbelief in the way his voice sounded incredulous.

"I said, I found a settlement," Gregory repeated, "I think it's one of the middle-eastern cities."

"How can you tell?" The man on the other side still seemed to not believe him.

"Because of the spires and minarets and the general way the buildings are constructed." Wolf Leader provided his answer but bit back the annoying sense and the want to scream at the radio operator on the other end. "Listen, I'm going to pass by in just a few more minutes. I'll inform you of my findings then."

He pulled away the clasp that held his radio mike and pulled off his flight helm setting it aside so he could get a better view of the settlement he was flying over. Tilting his plane on the left side he looked down and saw the city in all its splendor just as the sun was coming over the horizon and shone on the city's spires and domes. He smiled at the wonderful sight only to frown as he saw something that totally boggled his mind.

In the midst of the city was a raging fire and above said fire was something straight out of one of the those fantasy novels he was used to reading. Because if he was honest with himself, and he was, then there was no way in hell that he was seeing a large flying reptile which could be classified as a dragon, just thinking of that word made him shake his head and rub his eyes. He looked back and it was still there though this time it was looking up at him. In one moment it was hovering, wings flapping rhythmically and then the next it shot forward and upward and headed right toward him. He panicked for a moment and made a sharp turn to the right causing his plane to barrel roll on its right axis before leveling out and coming face to face with the dragon.

It was bigger that his ME 109, that was for sure, but he was willing to bet that he could take it on and so without further waiting he pressed down on the trigger of his plane's guns and let loose a hail of MG 131 13mm bullets along with the Mk. 108 30mm canon rounds and the MG 151/20 20mm rounds which went tearing into the dawn sky right into the flying lizards hard external scales. The 13mm rounds just pissed it off as writhed around in annoyance but it became downright angry when it was then hit by the 20mm rounds from the MG 151 mounted under the 109's wings. However, before the creature could react it was then torn to shreds by the 30mm with a velocity of 540 m/s and at a distance of just under 200 meters the rounds gorged themselves into and out of the creature sending parts of its flesh and guts down toward the burning part of the city.

Gregory was in deep contemplation as to why he had not noticed the smoke if half of the city was on fire as he saw it now, but then there was a huge thunk and his fighter plane lurched almost uncontrollably to the left as he passed by the place in the sky where his strange and scaly opponent had been. He fought to keep the plane leveled but there was an added weight to his fighter craft that the weight indicator kept blimping on about as the red warning light on his control board lit up in warning. He managed a look to his left to check on the wing when he came face to face with another strange sight. There hanging onto the wing for like her life depended on it, was a woman with long flailing silver-blonde hair and wearing strange clothes.

He only had time to glance back to the front of his plane only to come up against a long shaft and spearhead plunging into his plane's fuselage completely wrecking the engine and ultimately disabling the aircraft. "Shit!"

He cursed out loud and didn't care if mother scolded him for it, his plane had flown too close to the city's walls and atop the parapets he could see huge ballistae all aiming at him. He glided his plane away from the city and opened radio contact. "Mayday, mayday! This is Wolf Leader, my plane has been shot. I am going down! I repeat, I am going down!"

"Wolf Leader, this is Wolf 2." Herman's voice came over the radio, sounding excited and calm at the same time. But there was that underlining concern for Gregory to which Wolf Leader was grateful for, "Hang on, Wolf 3 and I are coming over to your position! How bad are you hit?"

"Not too bad but they took out my engine!" Gregory informed them as he struggled to keep his plane on the straight and narrow but breathed a sigh of relief as he had flown out of the city's limits and well away from it but now his plane was dangerous coming close to the ground.

Meanwhile...

She was holding onto the strange metal beast's wing as best she could hoping and praying that it wouldn't let her go. She was conflicted over the fact that the beast had killed her friend and dragon, and then had the gall to capture her but for now she focused on holding on lest she fall to her death. Oh she would make the Martells, especially that blind bitch, rue the day they had embarrassed her. However, she was brought away from her musing as the beast lurched around trying to maintain its balance when she noticed the ballistae bolt sticking into and out of the nose of the metal beast. She smiled happily at the thought of it dying but then realized in horror as the beast slowly began descending yet slowly and in a glide managing to turn away from the city and heading out toward the dune seas around the city.

"What is this..." She muttered before gasping, she had turned her head just so and was now looking at a strange sight she'd never seen before. On the beast's body there was glass and through it she saw a man, he was young but maybe older than her, her sight was much better than an average human seeing as she had her genetics to thank for that, and what she saw amazed and confused her. This metal beast was no beast but a machine contraption, her mind analyzed this discovery as she still held on for her life. It was the only logical explanation of this thing's existence of course because she couldn't feel the magic in it, as she had felt in her own dragon beast. Besides that it was cold and she didn't like the cold.

Right now though she was cursing her rash decision to attack the city so openly and will mourn the loss of her dragon later on but first she braced herself for the coming impact with the ground.

Also meanwhile but a little while back...

"Whoo Hoo! Great shot!"

A loud cheer and declaration was made as the young lad raised an eyebrow and muttered under his breath, "But I was aiming at the white haired bitch."


Writer's Block can produce interesting ideas...

Disregard any historical relevance whether fact or not. I also do not own anything related to Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire which is owned by GRR Martin and HBO. This is made entirely for entertainment purposes.

Please leave a comment and hopefully I can get past the fear of every writer before I expire.