"Mercy."

By B.B. Asmodeus.

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Fandom: Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire.

Pairings: Jon Snow/Tyrion Lannister; Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth. Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen (implied); Jaime Lannister/Cersei Lannister (mentions).

Rating: Explicit.

Categories: AU-Like-You-Have-No-Idea. Fix-it fic. Close to crack!fic, but not yet. Omega 'verse. Romance, Humor, Drama, Suspense. Alternate reality of 8x04 / 8x06. Jumps in time.

Spoilers: Books, Seasons 1-8.

Timeline: This chapter starts in 8x04 "The Last of the Starks." After the feast, some things will change, though.

Summary: Daenerys was intrigued by his request. She acted as if Jon had stuttered, tilting her face with the curiosity of a lethal bird. "Forgive Tyrion." Jon mumbled. "Show mercy." "WShy, because you love him?"

WARNINGS:

#1. I, by no means, consider myself to be an expert at military strategies. But hey, I tried my best. Hope it stills entertains you. Also, I have studied the maps of King's Landing, but what D&D gave us doesn't make sense. I ended up with a weird mash of the two canons.

#2. My version of Dorne in not based on the show, except for Myrcella's death and Ellaria Sand taking over Dorne. I'm taking elements from the books, but the story it's not going to be based on that canon either. Again, I'm taking liberties. Enjoy the ride.


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ii.

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"And sometimes

duty

is the death of love."

-Tyrion Lannister, Game of Thrones, 8x06 "The Iron Throne."

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Before.

Winterfell.

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TYRION II

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Tyrion awoke startled.

In front of him, Ghost wasn't making a sound. The beast just stared at him without blinking, its front legs over the foot of the bed. Tyrion sat up, scratching his head. A rat had definitely perished in his mouth. It felt just like it. His head was also threatening to split into four different parts.

He found himself alone.

Tyrion sighed.

When he breathed in, dense pheromones filled his lungs一Alphahoneycinnamonblood. He choked and coughed.

Seven hells. That Wolf had really done it.

He kicked the furs off of his body, ready to get up in seek of milk of the poppy to alleviate his mortal headache.

"Could you at least turn your snot the other way? I assure you there is not much to see." Slipping out of the bed left him bare from the waist down, his small tunic reaching only to his knees. His small clothes had not survived the event一That much he could recall. Jon had ferociously tear them apart.

He crouched down to see under the feather bed for his jerkin and breaches. It was a challenge. Ghost, now snuggled near the fireplace, continue to silently criticize him, seemingly enjoying the scene before him. Damn animal.

"I see the ear is healing well. Too bad it will not grow back like the scales of dragons."

This time, the direwolf did growl.

Kneeling on the floor with a boot on his left hand and his breaches in the other, Tyrion smiled. "Ah. Jealous of flying lizards. A terrible misfortune. "

Once dressed一or close to it一Tyrion opened the door carefully, glancing both ways, before venturing into the hall. There was commotion of people waking up. Bodies wandering around, not that dissimilar from the undead they had just defeated. Tyrion hear cursing and giggling, and saw more than one girl sneak out of the rooms along the tower.

He was surprised to feel the direwolf following him out.

Perhaps it was the smell that kept it close. Tyrion knew well the mistrust Ghost had for strangers. He still remembered Jon's warnings at Castle Black, when Tyrion had wanted to pet its head. -"If I wasn't here, he'd tear your hand off."

He was not particularly hungry. He postponed the walk to the Great Hall to head to the Maesters' tower first. Ghost deserted him for an instance, only to reappear when Tyrion had obtained his treasure from the Maester, waiting for him outside the east tower. By then, he had worked an appetite.

The Great Hall was semi-desert on arrival. Only the brave were awake.

Tyrion recognized a mop of strawy white-blonde hair and walked towards it. He was amused by what he found; a Knight harshly judging her bowl with oatmeal.

"Ser Brienne. Good morning."

"Lord Tyrion." She didn't appear particularly excited to have company. Tyrion snorted, recognizing a hangover when it was presented in front of him.

"This will help with the pain. Among other things." In the most subtle way that he could, Tyrion slipped the small leather pouch in the woman's direction. "We can share half of it. Consider it my apology for my big mouth last night. We can ask for one of the kitchen maids to take care of the infusion. I fear the preparation is not one of my specialties. "

Brienne of Tarth was no fool. Her eyes carefully analyzed the contents, traveling from Tyrion to the pouch and back again. She nodded as final verdict.

"Apology accepted."

Tyrion rubbed his hands. "Excellent. Let's get some breakfast. A real one. Please stop torturing yourself with that oatmeal. Not even direwolves find it enticing."

"I firmly believe that I could not stomach anything else right now, my Lord."

Answering his hand gesture, one of the kitchen maids approached them, wiping her hands on her cloth. "Nonsense. How can you refuse freshly made bread slices with butter and well roasted bacon on top?" Tyrion smiled at the girl, making clear that the order was for her ears. "Bring two plates, my dear. Also," He passed the pouch to the maid's open palm. "two infusions of Moon tea. Bring back the leftovers." He gave her two golden coins to motivate her to come back fast.

Brienne watched the exchange with her usual apprehensiveness. Tyrion smiled sweetly at her to placate her. It didn't work.

"So." Tyrion interlaced his hands over his stomach. "That was a rather joyful night, wasn't it?"

The reddish tone was instantaneous in Brienne's broad cheeks.

The woman's bright blue eyes were rather fascinating too. Innocence mixed with an old soul. Ser Brienne was young, yes, but the things she had witnessed and survived already… Tyrion admired her for her courage. For still wanting to venture into the prairies of Lannister Lions. Brienne of Tarth wore her kiss-swollen lips with head held high.

"Did you rest well?"

"I would love to say so, my Lord." The woman finally put aside the bowl of oatmeal. As previously predicted, not even Ghost bothered to sniff the contents. "Unfortunately your brother's snores made me realized that I would've had better luck sleeping in the barracks to feel fully rested."

Tyrion tried to hold back the laugh. Truly. "Oh please, tell him that to his face in my presence. I beg you! He has always denied it!"

Brienne allowed her mouth to curve in something close to a smile.

Tyrion appreciated the woman's openness. He felt relief, thinking of everything that had been denied to his brother for Cersei's benefit. For the first time in his miserable existence, Jaime shouldn't be a dirty secret.

The maid returned with two cups of Moon tea first. Tyrion wrapped his hands like Ser Brienne around the cup's warmth. The first sip was always the worst. Tyrion blew at the steam, trying to drag the moment.

When the kitchen maid came back, she brought with her two metal plates with bacon and fluffy slices of bread. The butter was still soft and greasy, just as Tyrion preferred.

He salivated at the smell. He gestured at his companion with his fork, before breaking fast. "After you, my Lady."

The woman lifted her fork. She poked at the bacon but made no further advance. A real shame.

"Don't play with your food." Jaime caused them both tremendous shock at his sudden appearance. His face peaked out of the Beta's shoulder, smirking. "Better yet, share it with the less fortunate."

"You're right, Ser. I'll save it for Podrick." She slid the plate in opposite direction of his brother's expectant hand, earning a pout from the man.

"Don't be absurd. The bacon will harden if you let it cool for too long. "

"Exactly! And the butter!" Tyrion gasped. "Think of the butter, Ser! It will melt away by the time Podrick shows up."

"If he drags his arse out of bed at all." Jaime intersected, settling across the wooden bench, to fully devote himself to Ser Brienne's skepticism. "Gods know at his age I wouldn't have. Not if he truly desires future heirs down the road."

-Here we go. Another litany about frozen balls. Tyrion snorted, munching at his strips of beacon happily. Crunch-crunch-crunch.

He could hardly believe his good fortune. An excellent fuck, followed by a delicious breakfast.

This kind of pleasures… It's been a long a time since Tyrion had considered himself worthy of it all.

The blond Beta did not relent to his brother's insistence. Quite the opposite. "Order your own, Ser." After rolling her eyes, she took the first sip of Moon tea. She didn't appear very impressed with the taste.

Defeated, Jaime exchanged glances with Tyrion from across the table. It wasn't long before the man was twisting his brow for different reasons. Tyrion swallowed the bacon too fast, almost choking in the process. "Ser Brienne was…" He coughed slightly to help the pig move more smoothly down his throat. "Ser Brienne was just telling me the funniest story-"

Jaime raised an eyebrow. "Brienne?"

"Aye, aye. To be more specific一"

"Why do you sound surprised? I can be able to express humor with people that inspire it from me. "

"Whilst sober?" His brother stretched his one good hand towards the Lady's broad right shoulder. They soon learned one of the leather straps was wrongly crossed and thus the intervention. "So far I haven't had the privilege of seeing it."

Ser Brienne allowed Jaime's touch, peering at him under her long white eyelashes. "Maybe you don't inspire it enough."

Jaime grinned. "Is that a challenge, wench?"

"To make me experience less frustrating moments involving you? You are more than welcome to remedy that, Ser."

"I don't know." Jaime produced a meditative sound. "I was under the impression we already had the opportunity… to vent our frustrations quite well."

"I'm eating." Tyrion muttered.

Jaime's graying bangs moved up with mirth. "Cover your ears, then."

The kitchen maid, without being called, brought a metal plate with the same contents to Jaime, earning a gallant expression of gratitude. The maid was incensed by the charm, and mumbled to herself all the way back to the kitchens.

Tyrion rolled his eyes at the whole spectacle.

"I wouldn't expected to see you up so early, dear brother." Not bothering with the fork, Jaime used his fingers to take the bacon into his mouth. "I dare say you look rejuvenated. Mm. You didn't shave. So that cannot be the reason. "

Cursed man. Tyrion wiped his mouth with the napkin. "Effects of continuous survival against impossible terrors. It has forced me to realize what you can lose in a blink of an eye."

"Like the birds singing?" His brother mocked.

From the corner of his eye, Tyrion observed Ghost lifting its head from its resting position, followed by whining. A tell of Commander Snow approaching the Great Hall. "More like a discovery of unattainable things, now finally within your grasp."

In front of him, his brother stopped chewing and Lady Brienne seemed to cease breathing, her hands still around the cup of tea.

A few meters away from them, Jon entered.

He was accompanied by his younger sister, Arya. Ghost ran to their side immediately, and the girl Stark was the first to pet its head. Jon was smiling. A rare occurrence when ale wasn't involved.

Under the table, Jaime's boot shook the bench where Tyrion was sitting on. It was enough for Tyrion's head to twist back to his brother.

He found a peculiar expression on his face. Uncertainty. A little bit of fear.

Tyrion cleared his throat.

The few souls who were breaking their fast with them tried to get up to greet their Lord and Lady of Winterfell. Jon was quick to order them back down, still unable to accept the recognition of something so simple.

They settled down on the main table, still engage in conversation. Jon's attention was never drawn to their table.

"Ser Brienne. You're being summoned." A maid in the service of Lady Sansa appeared next to Brienne of Tarth with a scroll in her gloved hand. It served to halt Tyrion's ridiculous gawking. "Lady Sansa requires your presence in her solar."

"Does Lady Sansa ever sleeps, I wonder?"

With the message in his hands, Ser Brienne threw his brother a murky look to shut him out. "Please tell her I'll be there right away."

"You have barely touched your food."

Wordlessly, Brienne yielded to Jaime the meal previously reserved for her squire. A communication consisting on intense stares unfolded between the two, and Tyrion turned his own eyes away, suddenly feeling as an invader.

"Winterfell's reconstructions requires our presence at the earliest hour to take advantage of all daylight at our disposal." Pathetic excuse, but functional. Ser Brienne got up from the bench, tucking her furs around her monumental body. "Lord Tyrion, enjoy the rest of your breakfast."

Tyrion tried to smile. It felt more like a grimace. "Please let Lady Sansa know that any support in her planning that she may need, we are at her disposal."

Brienne of Tarth nodded, accepting the offer with her usual nobility. She left uneasy, though. Tyrion knew who to blame for that.

"You're acting like a child desperate for attention."

Jaime lifted his gaze from both untouched meals. His face reflected quite the storm. "At least I don't reek of wet dog after it had rolled me around the yard all night."

Tyrion gasped at the low blow, and even Jaime seemed to recognize his harshness, a moment too late.

"Thanks the Seven, any matter involving any of my smells is not of your concern." Satiated from breakfast, the Omega took the last sip of the cursed tea and readied himself to get up.

"It is, if my concern is justified." Jaime stopped him with his hand on his forearm. "Tyrion. After what we survived, it would be a pity to lose your head for something as stupid as getting the Dragon Queen's toys dirty. "

"Keep your voice down." Tyrion whispered. "There is nothing to worry about, because nothing has happened. Neither this conversation, or whatever notions you're assuming in your head. "

It was a curse the two knew each other so well. Both were so transparent in each other's eyes, their strengths and weaknesses clear as the summer sky.

Tyrion pulled his forearm free and rose from the bench. He intended to flee to his room to prepare the hottest bath possible and get rid of all trace of Jon Snow.

He chose one of the secondary exits, away from the vicinity of the King of the North. Cold wind slapped his face once again when he needed it the most.

Snow-crunching sounds behind him caused him to roll his eyes.

"Do not misunderstand me. I admire your desire to act as overprotective brother, but I think we're already too old for this kind of gestures."

Jaime fortunately remained quiet during the walk to the tower where his little brother was hosted. They stopped at the bottom of the stone steps, face to face, and still freezing down to his balls.

"I've seen that look before, little brother." Jaime shared the strange line with a gentle grip on Tyrion's shoulder. "Be careful."

Some farewell.

Tyrion climbed the stairs weary, his legs getting numb with every stone step. When one of the maids finally readied his hot bath, Tyrion's entire body seemed to sigh in pleasure once he got in.

Alone, Tyrion mapped his bare skin.

He revived memories, going over each mark with his fingertips.

Tyrion considered them a torment. The kisses. The caresses. Jon's voice, hoarse, snarling Faster at his earlobe while the Omega rode him into oblivion. Tyrion still felt his cunt swollen with the savage treatment he had received.

Tyrion had loved it all. The discomfort. The clash between their bodies一that kind of battles were always his forte.

To be fucked by an Alfa was never as romantic, as Old Septas make it out to be. That kind of affairs would often involved rawness, and the basest of instincts at play. Rarely sweetness had a place on that kind of rutting. To experience pleasure on an Alpha's cock, you had to learn to enjoy the pain that came along with it.

That had been the way of things for millennia. And Tyrion would've been content to leave it at that.

A drunken fuck.

Jon, of course, in all his inexisting wisdom, had to prove his assumptions wrong.

Tyrion splashed water out of the tub with the strength of his washing.

Fuck him.

Fuck Jon Snow.

Fuck his unusual gentle restrain. Fuck his ridiculous bottomless black eyes. Fuck the way he had made Tyrion shiver down to his every pore, pulling from his wet center not one, but three culminations worthy of sobbing into his pillow like a whore on his first day of work.

Jaime had been right.

-"I've seen that look before."

Tyrion had felt this way before.

It hadn't led him to any good path.

By order of his Queen, Tyrion was forced to conclude his bath earlier than planned. He dressed in rushed manner, and no one could blame him for not paying attention to the people he passed on the hallways.

The Council was already in session when he arrived.

He walked straight to the fire, the voices of Varys and Daenerys locked in debate. Never a good sign.

Between them, Jon Snow looked quite trapped. Upon seeing him, his relief was discernible.

"Lord Tyrion. You took your time."

Tyrion did not bother with an apology. "What did I miss?"

Varys took the initiative. "Dorne has declared neutrality in the Great War. It has retained its ships in the narrow sea, as well as any representation of support for our Queen. At least until their new terms of negotiating are accepted. "

Stunned, Tyrion felt his eyes widen. "Something must've happened for Dorne to change its mind."

Indeed, Varys nodded. "It appears rumors of the death of Prince Oberyn Martell have been highly exaggerated. He has taken his brother's place in Sunspear. "

"Shit." Tyrion made two fists out of his hands. "Oberyn Martell. The man hates the Lannisters. He must know one of them serves as the Queen's hand. My father's actions cost him a sister, and a Half-man like me has cost him the life of his young nephew. He would never help us."

"Quite the contrary." To his surprise, Daenerys looked entertaining. "As Lord Varys has mentioned, Prince Oberyn has sent his terms to forge a new alliance."

"Which are?"

Daenerys pointed her chin towards Jon, who became a victim of some dire facial contortions.

"The Prince of Dorne proposed a marriage alliance."

Tyrion began to smile.

"With the King of the North, apparently."

Tyrion was left gaping.

At his reaction Daenerys continued. "Martell refuses to join in marriage with a Targaryen after what happened to his sister at the result of my brother's actions. But he has expressed an interest in the North." The woman passed the parchment to her Hand for further examination. "He says he has heard of the heroic deeds of Jon Snow. A brave man. The Bastard that rose as King." The Queen's tone indicated the bitter taste Prince Oberyn's appreciation left in her mouth, considering the great good she had done herself from Meereen to Winterfell.

Tyrion felt an incredible empathy for her. He cleared his throat. "Are we accepting the terms?"

"Have you gone mad?" Jon Snow's growl echoed throughout the meeting room.

"It is a sensible proposal."

"I am not interested!"

"Even if it costs me certain victory against Cersei?" Daenerys intercepted, sharp and direct. "We need Dorne's support. Their resources are key."

Tyrion watched Jon closely. Trapped in the middle of Daenerys and Varys, Tyrion feared steam would soon puff out of the man's ears and nose. "Let's not lose our heads yet. We are merely looking at the possibilities we have at hand. Considering options. Jon, please don't blind yourself into absolutes until we have examined the pros and cons. "

Jon did exactly the opposite. "I won't accept it." He glanced around the Council with utter disdain.

Tyrion sighed. Daenerys growled under her breath.

Varys turned away from the War board, exasperated. If the man had hair, Tyrion knew he would be pulling it out from the roots.

"Would it really be so bad, Your Grace? For years, Oberyn Martell has been regarded one of the most attractive Omegas in all of Westeros. Lord Tywin himself considered joining houses using Queen Cersei and the young Prince, way before Robert's Rebellion."

Jon crouched over the board. Somber, he stared at the map without really seeing it.

"Let us consider possible complications in accepting this proposal, if it is the matter of Prince Oberyn's gender that is upsetting you一"

"It's not that kind of complication." Jon interrupted Varys at once.

The reply caused more than one eyebrow to rise. Tyrion was mindful of the Queen's reaction一brief surprise, only to fade quickly into blankness.

"So, if it's not a matter of gender or status… What is the real problem?"

Jon shot the adviser a look that at some point had stroke down best opponents to the ground.

"Notions of misplaced fealty or fear of a love lost, perhaps?"

Considering the state of past affairs, Lord Varys was right to direct the query in both Daenerys and Jon's way. Tyrion had expected it.

Even when Jon turned towards him, to seek guidance, Tyrion didn't consider it an extraordinary thing to expect. It was well known Jon respected his opinion.

It still didn't stop the panic flaring in Tyrion for half a minute. -Don't be an idiot. He implored, voiceless, wide eyes staring up at Jon's conflicted expression. -Do not be an idiot, please.

Jon sighed.

"I'm familiar with the mistake that cost my brother Robb the war, Lord Varys. What he did was impulsive, resulting in being betrayed by Walder Frey. This is precisely why I'm not eager for a repetition because we feel desperate. I do not know Oberyn Martell, much less trust him… Think about it. Regardless if we succeed or fail, we all know Dorne that hasn't been conquered in over a thousand years. The Prince of Dorne has no need to get involved in the Great War against Cersei. Not if he truly wishes to keep his people safe. Why sent this proposal to someone who has sworn his loyalty to Daenerys Targaryen, the same person he refuses to help in the first place? This is a trap."

Tyrion pursued his lips. All valid points.

The Red Viper was known to be half mad. One could say Tyrion had taste of it from Princess Arianne at her attendance to Joffrey's wedding, ages ago. The woman had enjoyed immensely his trial proceedings and the subsequently bloodbath that had followed. Quentyn's death could hang over Tyrion's head, but her goading at having his young brother volunteer as champion had been all her doing.

At least her head had rolled at Ellaria Sand's hand. That misfortune couldn't be blamed on him.

Daenerys, restless, walked around the room. It was beginning to become a familiar sight. His Queen was losing all patience when it came to Cersei.

"It's a risk, Your Grace." Jon insisted.

"You're right, it is." Daenerys stopped right in front of him. Her left hand reached out to grab one of the pieces that had represented Ellaria's ships. "But it's a risk I'm willing to take."

Tyrion swallowed.

The piece of wood was viciously thrown across the board. "Are you?"


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Now.

King's Landing.

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JON III

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Dodge. Dracarys. Sōvegon.

Dodge. Dracarys. Sōvegon.

Dodge. Dracarys一

"ARRH!" Jon temporarily lost control when Rhaegal was hit from the side. The collision made them spin, leaving Rhaegal's stomach and chest exposed. Drogon tried to get their claws in again, and succeeded in scratching its brother's thigh.

To get rid of Drogon, Rhaegal defended itself with its tail一an impressed trick. The series of lashes brought out results, hindering Drogo's eyesight temporarily.

Soon, they vanished from their trail.

Rhaegal, affected by the injuries, started to swerve inconsistently in the air.

Jon growled as he felt his hands slip down the scales. They were wet with blood. Jon wasn't certain who's exactly, his or the creature's. Dragons bled crimson-red just like men. He clung with every part of his being. He begged Rhaegal to do the same.

Rhaegal flew low, near the sea, the tips of its wings touching the water's surface.

He eventually rose, however. Stubborn and persistent.

Jon whispered grateful nonsense at its back, rejoining at the center of it with more flexibility than Jon thought himself possible.

Recovered, they flew over Blackwater Bay.

Jon had the opportunity to analyze the battlefield.

His people were retreating to the Kingswoods, just as Jon had hoped Davos would order them. The more time they stayed away from the open fields, more difficult it would be for Daenerys to eliminate them in a single shot of fire.

The Dothraki had been dragged to the ground by the infantry, and were forced to fight the Northerners at close range. They weren't dying as quickly as they should; but they weren't creating the bloodbath Dothraki they were prone to.

Without the Unsullied, Dany was incapable of a second overwhelming victory. At least of this, Jon was certain.

They dived straight north; to his people.

"Dracarys!" The command hurt his hoarse throat. Rhaegal obeyed. Fire scorched another row of Dothrakis on the west side, cutting them off and preventing them from following the ranks of the Vale to the forest一

一The second impact against them left side stole his breath.

His gaze locked on Daenerys, both beasts now tangling their necks, fighting for dominance.

Rhaegal danced in continuous circles, just as he had done so against Viserion, seeking escape.

Drogon's jaws went straight after Jon, wanting to yank him off. Everything that followed happened in a chaotic sequence of maneuvers that made it difficult to process. Jon heard Rhaegal's roaring and whining, but couldn't do a damn thing. Its right flank was covered in claw marks in minutes, Drogon never giving rest to its vicious attack.

Drogon would kill its brother. Jon clenched his fists at the certainty. Drogon would kill them both.

"RHEAGAL, KELIGON!"

Jon gritted his teeth.

He looked straight into Dany, wind gusts hitting their faces.

On the next charge against him, Jon was ready. He rammed his dagger directly on the scales around the beast's eye.

Drogon groaned.

It shook its head, hitting Rhaegal in equal measure. Jon held on and yelled at Rhaegal to fly away, needing distance. Daenerys screamed at her child一at both of her children.

Jon wasn't able to measure the exact damage he had caused around Drogon's eyesight but at least he had produced enough discomfort for Daenerys to struggle keeping the animal at bay; fluttering around the sky in messy twirls.

Rhaegal released a sharp whine, his wings flexing back and forth to keep them suspended.

This time, the crash was brutal.

Jon's vision went black.

At once, he lost all sense of orientation.

Indeterminate time later, the pain forced him awake.

Jon coughed sand from his mouth. Face up, his hands explored the place of his landing. He was bleeding from his head. His right leg hurt.

Jon moaned something incomprehensible. A call.

Rhaegal replied, laid over a bed of dragged stones near the bay. Jon crawled towards him一himhimhim一standing up despite the pain in his leg. Seeing this, Rhaegal mimicked him, stretching his limbs at his direction. The dragon's thigh was bleeding along with the tearing at his chest.

Yards away, Drogon landed. The ground shook with the impact.

"No." Jon growled, stumbling over the sand. He stood up right back, rushing toward the creature. It didn't seem fair. To Rhaegal to suffer the consequences of Jon's actions. He felt unworthy of the creature's fealty.

"Sōvegon!" Jon shouted, stumbling in his desperation. "RHAEGAL, SŌVEGON!"

Rhaegal roared like a lion. He stood up on its two hind legs and spread his wings wide. A warning to Drogon to stay back.

He did not flee as Jon had commanded. -Stupid beast.

Perceiving Daenerys' approach with Drogon, Jon made the last leap in Rhaegal's direction. He crawled until he was within reaching distance of his torso. Then he deliberately turned his body around, facing what was coming.

He waited.

On top of his son, Daenerys's face was a mess. A fine sheet of wetness shined when the sunlight hit her features. Drogo had its jaws open slightly open, growling.

It was facing Viserion all over again.

Jon yelled at them with all his strength. An impetus came from his gut, unknown even to himself. His tired body was shaking. His throat was swollen up. Blood covered half of his face. A dam inside the Alpha burst open, and ran through his blood. A powerful sense of challenge.

Daenerys pressed her eyes closed.

Jon extended his arms, standing in front of Rhaegal.

When she opened her eyes back again, Dany looked indecisive. Full of grief. For a moment, Jon recognized a piece of the woman he had believed lost to him.

A mother rather than a Queen.

Rhaegal poised himself for imminent attack behind Jon. He kept whining at his brother for mercy.

Drogon reciprocal roar indicated a similar bereavement under the scales. Jon wondered just how tick their bond as brothers was. Just how far Drogon could recognize between friend, foe and family.

"Go ahead." Jon spit blood to the ground, snarling directly at Daenerys. "What are you waiting for?!"

The Targaryen's expression twisted into despair. The horror of her actions seemed to hit her all at once. Jon saw everything pour out of her, breaking apart in front of him. The realization. The fall of her idealism.

Guilt began to sink into her. Maybe even remorse.

Jon couldn't evoke empathy on her behalf. He only felt pain and emptiness.

"Drogon." Daenerys' command was a fragile thing. "Draca一"

A wave of sand hit Jon in the face, stinging his eyes.

He did not find out the cause until he shook his face and recognized a spear stuck in the sand a couple of yards from Rhaegal. Stunned, Jon instinctively covered his head, hearing more similar impacts begin to rain around them. He slid under one of Rhaegal's wings for protection.

Drogon reduced the landed spears to ashes. Jon felt the heat of the flames.

The dragon sounded and looked totally enraged. Daenerys tried to reign him in with the Valyrian commands she had trained him with, but something seemed to break free inside the beast.

Another gust of wild wind warned Jon of their retreat.

Jon squinted his eyes at the point where the spears had come from, cleaning blood from his face to do so. It was too far to see clearly but the commotion at the Gods's Gate was the direction Drogon was flying at.

Climbing back to Rhaegal was complete agony.

Just knowing that the opposite option would mean certain death一not for him but for his people一it was what pushed him through. His companion, equally wounded, stretched his wings in preparation, gathering momentum to take off the ground.

Within minutes, they were back in the sky.

He spotted Daenerys again一going after the Scorpions at the Gates. Jon coughed blood, his head spinning abnormally, as he made an effort to focus his gaze on the horizon.

Jon pressed Rhaegal on. -Go after her.

It was something peculiar. Ceasing to feel afraid. Knowing exactly what your duty dictated.

-Get closer. Above her. Get closer.

Northmen were running atop the wall using the Scorpions, and to his surprise, a handful of the Lannister soldiers Greyworm hadn't yet killed. Brave men determined to take down Drogon. Their actions sparked some life back to Jon. Hope. Their efforts compelled him to keep going.

-"It's horrible thing that I'm asking."

Rhaegal showed incredible strength in carrying out his last wish. He flew over his brother in parallel, creating a shadow over rider and creature.

-"But it's also the right thing."

Jon let go of Rhaegal's spine, and started to climb to his neck. Over the leathered shoulder, Jon peeked down.

He didn't allowed himself to think twice about it. As Daenerys looked up, feeling his presence, and Jon knew it was the last chance.

He jumped.

He clung to the small body as he made contact, and although Daenerys struggled, Jon's body weight, was an inevitable force.

Dragging her along, they both fell down.


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End of Part II.

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NoA: Writing this chapter was a complete mindfuck.

You shouldn't feel so attached to two dragons made with CGI, but I do. Forcing them to hurt each other sucked. Alas, dragons are dragons. Drogon was entitled to feel conflict about it, but in the end, we know he's loyal to his mother.

Talking about happier things... OBERYN FUCKING MARTELL IS IN THE HOUSE. As you could see, I replaced his S4 storyline with Princess Arianne Martell (Doran's daughter). Who's like the female version him, anyways.

I did warn about the crack and the AU!