the sword in the darkness
DISCLAIMER: Every character mentioned and anything in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire belongs to George R. R. Martin. I own nothing except the writing.
20. fire
Fire and blood.
Jon remembered the Targaryen words as he stood stoically in wait, his eyes fixed upwards on the huge black figure on the horizon, with the slight golden-haired form on its back. After months of dreaming of restless flying over a city that must be King's Landing and the news of Targaryen claimants in the South, his aunt's arrival was no real surprise. He did not know whether or not she knew that he was her nephew, or that her green dragon would be his, but that was of no consequence. He was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and that would not change.
When the wind around him buffeted and his brothers drew their breaths in sharply at the sight of the creature alighting on the ground, Daenerys Targaryen descended, sliding down from her dragon in one smooth move. Her eyes were violet and cool, her poise proud and expectant. She was younger than he, he suddenly remembered. Jon knelt, his men following.
"Your Grace." His voice sounded distant and cold.
She walked over to him, and her black dragon's eyes followed her path, the red as threatening as they were fathomless. Her hair fluttered behind her was she strode over, and her eyes were wary and surprised. "Nephew," she returned. "You are not… what I expected."
"No, Your Grace." I'm not a Stark, he remembered that he had said that a long time ago. I am not Targaryen either, though. His mouth twisted, and he stood, towering over her. "May I ask the purpose of this visit?"