Chapter 7
Sansa put down the letter from Bran with a sigh, putting her head in her hands dry sobs racked her small frame. Ghost whined at her side, unsure how to comfort her.
Jon was alive, thank the Seven gods, but he had been an inch from death. The blasted South had almost taken another Stark life.
She heard a creak at her old wooden door. She didn't bother to acknowledge it, Castle Black was ancient and it moaned and groaned as if it were an old man. It was when she heard footsteps that she tried to pull herself together.
"R-Rickon, I'll play cards with you in a little bit, just give me a minute."
No response.
Ghost started to snarl and Sansa turned to look at who had walked into her bed chamber.
"Gambling, Little Bird? Is that how you Northerners pass the winters up here?"
Sansa's heart nearly stopped beating, Bran's letter laid forgotten on her desk.
Gendry hadn't come back the night before, so Arya made herself at home. A voice in the back of her head screamed for her to leave, steal supplies and head back North. But she couldn't do that.
Instead, she had taken off Gendry's wife's dress and changed into some of Gendry's softest clothing and then slept in his bed. Well laid in his bed, sleep elluded her.
She wasn't sure what to make of Gendry being married. She knew she had to start heading home, her family was probably worried sick and probably thought she was dragon shit about now but she honestly couldn't.
As always, her curiousity was getting the best of her judgement. Instead she closed her eyes and enjoyed his house. His blankets and sheets smelled like him, smoky.
At some point, the warmth and smell of Gendry's bed and the light cracking of the fire place had lulled her into a near-sleep like state. She was so relaxed, she almost felt like she was at home.
The blankets were ripped off of her and she curled up into a little ball.
"What are you doing?! You're in my bed and in my clothes, Lady Stark I gave you a dress to wear!" Gendry was back and with dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his chin. He looked horrified.
Arya's lack of manners struck again. Arya didn't particularly see the problem.
"You left and I thought I'd make myself at home," She shrugged, a scowl skewing her face, he wasn't the only one grumpy from a sleepless night.
"And my clothes?" Gendry whispered, a challenge.
"They're more comfortable and to be frank, it's odd to be wearing the lady of the house's clothing, where praytell is Lady Blacksmith?"
"She died, two years ago, giving birth to our first child, he didn't make it," Gendry's blue eyes looked down to meet Arya's, there was sorrow in their depths.
Arya looked down and sighed, "I'm really sorry."
"It's alright, I've moved on," Gendry looked away, toward the far wall and ran a hand through his hair.
"Obviously not if you've kept her clothing," Blunt as ever, Arya scolded herself.
"We were only married for four months, I was still an apprentice blacksmith at the time, my master had me married to her, to get her dowry to start my own smith. I did eventually grow to care for her but I won't lie and say her and I had a great love story, nothing song worthy."
"The song's are bullshit anyways," Arya smiled. "It still must her, I honestly am sorry I was blunt and rude before."
"I know you can't help it," Gendry grinned. Arya quirked an eyebrow, was that him accepting her apology or insulting her? She had no idea. "Want breakfast? I bought some bacon and chicken eggs while I was out."
Arya smirked, "I guess that'll do."
"Oh princess, my dearest apologies my fare isn't up to parr," Gendry grinned.
They may had been joking but there was still some uncomfortable edge in Gendry, she could see it in his posture, the emotion in his face. Arya would get to the bottom of it.
"W-what are you doing here? How did you get in?" Sansa whispered, nervous. Seeing her was bringing to light memories of King's Landing she had long repressed. Joffrey's abuse, the countless times he had protected her from Joffrey's wrath, the battle of the Blackwater when he had appeared in her quarters as the Alchemist's Guild ignited King's Landing in green firey hell.
"I walked in waving a Stark banner and they let me waltz on in," He smirked with the good side of his face, the handsome side, it was stark contrast to the burnt half. "As for why, well Little Bird I've quite missed your songs."
Sansa composed herself, she wasn't the useless little girl she'd once been. She was an adult now and the defacto leader of the Starks until Rickon came of age and the Watch until Jon returned, "I don't sing songs anymore."
"A pity," He grinned. "I guess we've both changed over the years, I no longer serve the Lannisters and you Bird, have changed greatly, mostly appearance wise."
His eyes took their time to graze over her body, languidly drifting from her toes to her eyes, drinking in every detail of her. Sansa attempted not to shudder.
"Stop calling me a bird," She grimaced. "I'm a wolf, I-"
"Lady Sansa!" Sam heaved open her old stone doors, out of breath and huffing. He stopped when he saw the Hound. "Th-The h-hound, I've heard stories about you."
"Call me Sandor," The hound turned his mismatched gaze on the meister.
The hairs rose on the back of Sansa's neck, suddenly very worried for Sam's life. Jon and Arya weren't here to protect them. Ghost was poised on his haunches, ready to strike.
"Is your leader here, tubby?"
Sam's mouth fell open, flabbergasted at the insult, "Uh Lady Sansa and I govern in his stead."
"Well then," He growled, turning back to Sansa. He dropped down on one knee, his hounds head helmet tucked under his arm. "I'd like to pledge myself to the Night's Watch."
Sansa froze, was it foolish to think he was still fixated on her and had travelled all the way to the Wall for her? She decided it was very foolish, "I accept your pledge."
Jon dreamt through Ghost's eyes, running through a forest. Home.
Stark white snow, silver sky.
From the aurora in the sky he could tell he was very North, definitely beyond the Wall.
First it started to rain but Jon kept running, his powerful hind legs propelling him through the forest.
Then it began to snow.
Jon's thick fur kept him insulated and warm, the snow nothing more than a passing thought. He kept running darting between ancient, sky-scraping redwoods and over fallen tree trunks.
A bright light repulsed him and he was thrown back. Jon shook his lupine head, this was wrong. It struck him that he had given Ghost orders to stay by Sansa's side until he returned. Ghost would never disobey and abandon Sansa.
Jon rose onto his four legs, he had been thrown out of a circle of trees. A circle where no snow fell and barren brown soil stood out in unsettling contrast. Trees with faces carved into them.
He had almost trespassed into sanctified ground, an unholy shame upon his Northern ancestors. Jon peered into the ancient shrine and look upon the faces of the old gods. They all had dragon heads.
"Look at you, a warg like my children." Catelyn Stark snickered, materializing in a gust of wind.
"Lady Stark," Human speech was strange coming from a wolf's mouth, it came out as a combination of his voice and a wolf's bark.
Why would she appear to him? The woman who had always hated him for the sins of his father. His only mistake had been being born.
"I know what you're thinking and I'd like to apologize for the way I treated you," There was something behind her eyes, some secret she was keeping. "What Eddard claimed of your origin, the things I blamed on you, they were false."
"False? He's not my father? He didn't lay with another woman that year he was away?
She didn't answer his questions, brushing them off as if she hadn't heard them, "I still hate you though, the things you've achieved, the greatness you're destined for. Why does a bastard deserve such grandeur when my own trueborn sons lie in a grave or crippled."
Jon growled, "Sounds like you're insinuating I don't care for my brothers! I always have, I almost left the Watch to help Robb! And Bran, I've done everything for him! And what of Rickon, are you forgetting your youngest? He's going to be King of the North now."
Catelyn Stark image began to flicker, her usual neat dress flickered on her, it started to look torn and bloody. Her face too, pale and clear one second and bloody and blue the next.
Jon backed away a little.
"How dare you call them your brothers, Snow!" She hissed, there was a large wound on her neck, a bloody line from ear to ear, it began to dribble blood. She tried to lunge for him but she couldn't leave the circle of trees, pulled back into the shrine.
She cursed and pointed at the trees with dragon heads, "And what do you make of this oh wise one? The peaceful faces of the gods you once worshiped replaced by the visage of the dragon."
Jon had been wondering that himself. Did it have something to do with Queen Daenerys.
Catelyn Stark cursed again, answering his thoughts, "Of course it does! Look! If your continue this obsession on the Dragon Queen it will be the end of Northern ways."
"I will!" Jon yelled back, terrified, it was all a dream he knew but a terrifying one. Even his own subconscious didn't want him to entertain thoughts of the Dragon Queen.
"The man you called father was a more honorable man than I gave him credit for, a man who always kept his oaths. If you honor his memory at all you'll keep your oaths. You chose to be a lonesome crow and a lonesome crow you must be 'til the end of your days. You chose to die on the ice wall, not in the arms of a dragoness. Do not do what your heart tells you too."
With that Catelyn Stark flickered out of existence, blood from her neck streaming onto her dark green dress.
Jon shook awake, freezing cold. He looked down at his bare torso, his hands and feet were nearly blue and his body cold and wet.
An alchemist walked into the hospice area, Jon flagged him down.
"Did you people drug me with milk of the poppy?" He asked, hoping to explain the vivid dream.
The alchemist shook his balding head, "No you're fine, we haven't need to dose you with it for at least a week, we've been keeping you to make sure you didn't become gangrenous or somehow infected. You're free to return to the Red Keep, Commander Snow."
Jon shook the man's hand, a little off key from his dream, "Thank you."
Jon turned to get dressed and warm himself in the Southron sun.
Daenerys sat on her throne, her golden crown heavy on her head. Jorah had had it designed to look like her dragon's horns and it made her look fearsome. She had taken a liking to the gaudy bauble immediately.
Today, officials from the East were visiting to discuss relations with the Seven Kingdoms.
She wore her grandest attire for the occasion, things that would make the officials think the Seven Kingdoms rich. She wore a red silken gown, with black jewels and embroidery throughout it. Her waist length silver hair hung to her hips in long straight, sheets. Unwilling to put her hair up, she hoped it conveyed she was an untameable queen.
The officials, about a dozen or so men of varying ages, body types and skin colors knelt before her. A few of them were even shrouded in cloaks.
"Please rise, it is uncomfortable seeing people near before me, as if I'm better than them. We are all all people and I hope that we can form a long standing alliance and peace between our lands." Queen Daenerys called out.
"Well of course it makes you uncomfortable, false queen, sitting upon your stolen throne you Dothraki whore," One of the cloaked men called out.
Daenerys stood grimaced, her Dothrakis had nearly lept on the man but she kept them at bay, "Such fierce, scathing words must come easily when one is cowardly enough to keep their face covered. If you dare insult me, I challenge you to take off your hood and look me in the eyes and do it."
The man stepped forward, only a grin visible on his pale face. He pulled off his hood.
Silver hair and lavender eyes.
"I am Aegon the 7th! Son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, the rightful heir to the Iron throne. I call every bannermen of the Targaryen's and Martell's to my side to take my rightful throne."
A dead silence fell through the room.
Jorah who sat calmly at Daenerys side finally decided to speak, "And what proof do you have of this? Besides being fair-haired and lavender eyed? You can bleach your hair and there are magics that can be used to mask eye color."
'Aegon' unsheathed his sword, Valerian steal gleamed with the sun from the stained glass windows. It's hilt was black. "This is Blackfyre, the long lost ancestral sword to house Targaryen, it is said in the hands of a Targaryen it can slice through anything."
He turned to a statue in the room and with an exaggerated sweep of Blackfyre he sliced through the statue like butter.
Jorah spoke again, "A talented swordsman can come from any family line, a royal prince or a lowly bastard. This still proves nothing."
Daenerys chose to speak out, "I have one test for you. A real one. A Targaryen can be burnt by dragon fire and remain unharmed. If you truly are the long lost son of my eldest brother than you will have no problem surviving Drogon's black flames. You showed me your Blackfyre, I'll happily show you my own black fire."
GLOSSARY:
When the Starks found Jon again:
-Sansa was saved by Jon two years before the story. See Battle of the Wolfswood
-Bran found Jon three years before the story.
-Rickon was brought to the wall three years before the story.
-Arya returned from Braavos 1 year before the story.
The Battle of Wolfswood: A battle where Jon broke the Watch's oath and marched them south, allied with the Wildlings and Stannis to take back Winterfell from the Boltons and save Sansa from the Boltons. (Escape with Theon that happened in season 5 did not happen)
The Battle of Skirling Pass: 2 years before story, after taking back Winterfell, Jon and the Watch, the Wildlings and Stark and Stannis' bannermen battled the White Walkers and the Night King for the last time. Jon won the battle by trapping the White Walkers in Skirling Pass and raining down a thousand dragonglass arrows on them.
Dragons:
-Drogon: Largest dragon, black with a red glint to his scales, red eyes and his fire breath is black and burns the hottest. Alpha dragon. Male. Daenery's favorite though he is arrogant, has a foul temper and listens to her the least.
-Viserion: Female. Mate to Drogon. Most intelligent dragon. She is fiercely loyal to her brothers and Daenerys but she is very proud and doesn't like humans or to be referred to as a pet or property. Cream scales with golden understones, her claws and eyes are golden. Her fire breath is also golden.
-Rhaegal: Male. Known as Rhaegal the Slow Roaster because though his fire breath isn't as hot, it'll kill you more slowly and painfully. Emerald colored scales with bronze undertones. His claws and eyes are bronze. His fire is green. Lazy like a cat, he enjoys sunning himself on top of the Red Keep.
-Rhaego: Hatchling of Drogon and Viserion, still tiny and very young. Silver scales with black undertones. Rhaego's claws, teeth and eyes are black and Rhaego's firebreath is black.