The Wall

Melisandre of Asshai

Melisandre woke with a start, clutching and grasping at the swell of her chest in desperation as she tried to steady her laboured breath. She sat straight up in her bedding, looking around the room with great care in search for the fire made flesh. She let the furs slide down her pale and naked body, her brow and breasts were covered in sweat and her copper hair was damp, sticking to parts of her face.

Her chambers were dark and the sun had not yet risen at the Wall, the windowless room was cold like the wall of ice they were residing at. She rose and dressed with haste, wrapping a simple red robe of silk around her waist and pulled on her leather boots that were stained red. Melisandre moved to the door of her chambers before she stopped abruptly, her mouth falling agape in both confusion and wonder.

The fire of R'hllor that burned within her very soul and heart had dimmed, in all her years of life, she has never felt this cold. Melisandre has never felt cold. If she was feeling particularly weak, she perhaps felt a chill or shivered but she had never felt the true cold air of the Wall. The fire within her ever since she was a child had always kept her warm. Melisandre wrapped several layers of thin furs around her body but she still managed to feel the cold which made gooseflesh appear on her skin. She raised her arm to her face and watched in fascination as her skin prickled. She has never felt such a sensation.

What a strange sight to behold? Melisandre thinks to herself, running the tip of her finger down her arm to feel the small bumps on her skin. The winds blow softly, whispering to her as it raises the hair on the back of her neck. Her red hair fluttered softly as she opened the chamber door wider before she walked into the dawn and across the small bridge to where Jon Snow was standing, staring into the flames like she has seen him most nights doing. The crow was a creature of habit and each night she caught him, holding a piece of cloth to his lips and staring deep into the flames as if the Lord of Light had gifted him with the same sight she had. In a place surrounded by ice and snow, it became a comforting sight to see.

"Lord Commander," She addressed.

"Lady Melisandre," Jon began, turning to face her in surprise, his brows furrowing further when he caught sight of her. "Are you well?"

He stared at her with a burning intensity, his lips tightening and she knew why he cared greatly for the Dragon Mother and he viewed her as a threat. Lord Crow saw everything that opposed the Bride of Fire as a threat, the love he held for the silver haired girl burned fiercely within him. Though despite his dislike for herself and her King Stannis, he did something uncharacteristic of his nature when he caught sight of her shivering when the icy winds were blowing strong, the wind was screeching in her ears and it resembled the screeches from her dreams. The Lord of Crows shrugged off his cloak of black from his shoulders and wrapped it around her own, causing her to grip it to her body as she sought after the heat.

"I am well," Melisandre lied. In truth, she was freezing, the winds of winter were chilling her bones and blood. "Lord Commander..."

Her voice lowered then to a hushed whisper as two soldiers walked passed, she felt their eyes on the back of her head and she looked over her shoulder at them, eyeing the men that were adorned in Baratheon armour that bears the sigil of the burning heart of her Lord. The true King Stannis's soldiers were lacking, most had lost their lives due to a fever that spread throughout the camp on their journey to the Wall.

At that thought, she erupted into more shivers. Melisandre lifted a brow towards the men, knowing that they were most likely ordered to keep a close eye on her by the Onion Knight. The bearded man did not like her nor was she particularly fond of him. He demands too much. Melisandre gripped Jon Snow's arm and pulled him closer to the edge of the Wall where the wind was strong enough to blow away their secrets before a soul could hear them and the wind were sharp enough to attack anyone that tried to come closer. The dying fire of the hearth lit up as she stood next to it.

"What is it?" Jon questioned, his eyes held a wariness as he caught her unflinching gaze.

The Lord of Light has blessed him, Melisandre thought. A light smirk appeared on her face when she thought back to when they had first met, he had looked much older than he had when she had first met him. His lips and brows were frowning. The fire was roaring in him. As she noticed the longing in his eyes, it seems she has caught him off guard. The Lord of Crows seemed more man than boy, even beneath the several layers of leathers, armour and the black garb of the Night's Watch, she could see the hardness of muscle, his shoulders were broad and strong. Jon Snow's eyes were dark and hooded like a shadow, his face always etched into a frown but when he stared into the fire, she had caught a fondness dancing in his eyes. A love of flame.

"You will hear the song of the dragons," Melisandre started, causing him to stiffen. "In the flayed man's hold, I have come to believe Naelahrys Targaryen is in Dreadfort."

"What?" He demanded, her eyes widened in surprise at the fierceness in his voice as his hand gripped her shoulder roughly and turned her to face him. "How?"

"I dreamt of it," Melisandre clarified. "R'hllor-"

"When?" He asked, his voice filled with fear anger. "How? Who? Is she...has she?"

"You must let her become the dragon," Melisandre breathed, holding his hard gaze that went manic every time she mentioned the Dragon Born. "The world will be lost to the night if the dragons do not dance. It is night in the Seven Kingdoms. The sun will not rise until dragons grace the sky. They have. The war of the dawn has begun, can you not hear the winds of winter blowing? The dragons sign for you, Jon Snow. As the wolves howl for you. Naelahrys Targaryen is one of the Lord's chosen. The Bride of Fire. I have seen her in the flames...like you do. I have seen her lead an army to the Wall. The flames do not lie, Lord Crow. It is written in the prophecy as well. When the red star bleeds and darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone."

"Will she..." Jon trailed off, a noticeable hitch in his breath as he spoke. "Will she live?"

"No," Melisandre spoke softly. "It is too late. Her son gave his life so she could keep her own. A life for life."

"Her son?" Lord Snow inquired, before a look of realisation crossed his features. "Her dragons."

"Her child," She confirmed. "The night is dark and full of terrors and these terrors will strike."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jon Snow demanded.

"I want you to come with us," Melisandre tells him, edging closer towards him. "Stannis intends to take back Winterfell. We can lay siege to Dreadfort beforehand. You can have your Bride of Fire back. You and Naelahrys know Winterfell. You know the tunnels, the crypts, the weaknesses, the strengths and the people. You were raised in Winterfell. It is your home. You can avenge them. Your brothers. You can avenge the North."

"I will not break my vows for you nor Stannis," Jon replied. "I swore an oath-"

"What of Naelahrys?" She asked. A smirk appeared on her face as she walked up behind him and gently wrapped an arm around his neck and brought her body closer to his own until her breasts touched his back. He tensed but made no move to shrug her off as she leant up until her red lips were pressing against his ear. "You made an oath to her. You made an oath to yourself. The oath you have sworn to the Night's Watch is meaningless as you have already dishonoured it. I know where she is, I can see her in the-"

"I don't trust you," Jon Snow said coldly, shrugging off her hold as he turned to face her. "I don't want any visions, my Lady."

"You have power," Melisandre muses, trailing her hand to his chest and let her palm rest against the beating of his heart as she draws herself closer until their lips were almost touching. "A dragon raised by wolves. The Lord of Light has gifted you power, so much power and you abuse it by ignoring it. You dismiss it as if it were nothing. You are making a mistake. If you join me and embrace it, you can have all you desire. You can have a name. A true name. You can have a home and a castle and children. And a dragon. You can have your Queen of Fire, Ice King. Embrace it. Take control. Our King Stannis will-"

"He is not our King," He retorts, grasping her wrist firmly but somehow he still managed to hold her gently and pried her hand away from his chest. "He is your King. Not mine. The moment he said that Naelahrys was to die, he stopped being any King I could ever follow."

"You are a fool," She said. "You know nothing."

"...I do know somethings," Jon replies, his pale lips pressing into a thin line as he glares at her, backing away as she leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Until we are old and grey," Melisandre murmurs. "Jon Snow."

Melisandre takes a few steps back, eyeing him with hidden humour as she watches his entire being stiffen and watches as his jaw clenches, his mouth parting and at first, she wonders how he will respond but he says nothing. He stands rigidly next to the hearth, staring into the flames intensely but watched his eyes glaze over as if he was in a far away place. Melisandre lets the cloak drop from her shoulders and turns, leaving the crow to his thoughts.


Dreadfort

Naelahrys Blackfyre

"Naelahrys..."

"Mother..." She murmured, searching for her sweet voice once more.

"Naelahrys..."

Naelahrys stirred, a soft hiss waking her and her eyes slowly fluttered open and she was greeted with tall trees with mangled branches and dark leaves. As she lay there, staring up at the sky, she could barely see the sky above her as the dense woods prevented any light. It was dark and cold. All she felt was pain as she sat up, propping herself up with her elbows as she tried to recall her last moments. It was difficult and she found herself unable to remember until the soft hiss was heard once more.

A small groan parted from her lips when she felt a sharp pain within her as she slowly rose to her feet and turned to the where the noise was. The trees in front of her were knocked down, broken and burnt and a large hole was on the ground. Elirion, she thought with panic as she limped towards the broken trees. Her clothing was sliding from her ash covered body in burnt tatters as she moved slowly, holding her belly tighter and approached her green scaled dragon. Naelahrys knew that she was fading but for some reason, she felt herself uncaring for the true danger she was in. All she cared for was Elirion. His name was like a mantra in her head.

"Elirion?" Naelahrys croaked, her voice hoarse and throat aching as she held her stomach. "E-Elirion?"

Naelahrys found him, stumbling down the small hill before she collapsed against a tree, throwing herself at it as she gripped her wound. Through the smoke that was clearing, she could see his fierce yellow eyes peering at her. He seemed tired but as she stared through the smoke, breathless sobs escaped her throat as she takes in the various arrows piercing him but nothing made her weep more than the large branch of a tree that was embedded in his belly.

He blinked at her, tilting his head to the side and purred as she neared him, gathering up her strength. Naelahrys eventually reached him and when she did, she placed a tender hand on his head, stroking his scales softly as she looked at him with tears sliding down her cheeks. The thought of seeing him like this was too much for her to bare. My son.

"I-It's alright, my sweet," Naelahrys crooned, stroking his beaked snout. "We are safe now, I promise. You saved me...I am so proud of you."

Naelahrys traced the pattern of his green and yellows scales with the tips of her fingers, lightly touching him in case she hurt him. She shook her head fiercely, bitter tears sliding down her face as she stroked his head, kissing his cheek gently and a soft purr omitted from him followed by a rumble and a hiss. Naelahrys collapsed to her knees, shuffling over towards the large branch and with two hands, pulled the large branch out of his side. This caused him to screech in protest, his vacant eyes staring at her as he flapped his wing weakly. She raised her hand out and hushed him, her voice wavering as she spoke to him in an attempt to soothe him from the pain.

"I-It's alright, my love," Naelahrys hushed, placing her hands on his neck. "I will make everything better."

I will keep you safe, Naelahrys thought as she looked around fiercely for any danger as she pulled the arrows from his body. Her fragile frame was wracked with sobs as she took in the weakened state of him. Of Elirion. Naelahrys gripped on to his neck slightly, releasing her hold on her own bleeding stomach and pulled the arrow that was lodged in his neck and threw it away, cursing the arrow and the man that fired it. All the men and their arrows she cursed them to the Hells. Elirion cooed again but it was rough and sounded watery as if he was crying and she let out a short whimper, placing her head on his and her eyes meet his own.

"It's alright..." Naelahrys trailed off, her grip slackening as she lay down beside him, her eyes closing. "Everything will be g-good..."

As she lay there, Naelahrys was sure that she was dead. She did not like the feel of it. It was a black nothingness. There was nothing but a dark abyss surrounding her that she was slowly drowning in, as it consumed her whole but she felt a strange movement which made her stir but as she started to fade once more, the movement was felt again and she let out a short, raspy breath and her eyes slowly opened.

Mother, she thought as she stared at the brown eyed woman smiling kindly down at her. Although her smile was gentle her eyes held sadness. She reached up and returned her mother's smile but her mother turned to ash and became smoke, drifting away with the light breeze. Naelahrys sat up, her smiling falling when she turned slowly to face Elirion and her grip on him slackened.

At first, she assumed he was sleeping; his wings were curled inwards, his body was slumped slightly to the side and his eyes were closed. The two legs that he had were curled into his body but she slowly dragged herself closer, the only strength she had was in her arms as her legs were numb. Naelahrys did the only thing she could do at that moment, she stared. She expected him to wake up and nuzzle her side or crawl onto her body like he did in his youth but instead he lay there, unmoving, not breathing. Why am I crying? She thought, growing puzzled when tears gathered in her eyes.

"E-Elirion?"

The blood of the dragon, she knew what the term meant then as she rolled his large head onto her lap. She was covered in her own blood along with his and she began to do the only thing she was able to, she screamed. She shook him harshly, trying to rouse him awake but he just slackened again in her hold and the shaking of his body stilled. Naelahrys threw herself over him, clutching him to her chest as she rocked him back and forth while she screamed for him.

Her screams had turned to wails and the wails turned into hoarse cries as she curled her hands into his scales, gripping onto him tightly as she whimpered, letting her head rest on his neck until she felt his warm, furnace like body slowly turn cold in her arms. Not a soul could hear the mourning of the dragons, she recalled what Old Nan had told her. No one but I. Naelahrys looked down painfully at Elirion and sobbed harshly, though all she felt was a burning fury. I will kill them for this, she thought. I will kill them. All of them. Naelahrys let herself rest against her green scaled dragon, staring impassively at a nearby tree as she held a blood stained arrow in her hand. I will burn them all.

"When...When...The dragon..." Naelahrys began, her voice far off as she stroked Elirion's neck absentmindedly. "When the dragon seeks revenge. The lions shall no longer roar on that day, nor will any stag graze in the winter fields. The roses will burn under the inferno, the snakes will hide under the sands...it will be as if the sun has fallen from the skies when the dragons arrive. The krakens will cook where they swim, the flayed men will rot and will be burnt to a crisp...and when those that claim they want to help you have turned the other cheek, you will only hear the dragon screech."

As she kept screaming, she could hear Jonos and Aryion in the distance, screaming for her. The three of them screeched. It felt as if someone had a hand wrapped around her throat as she felt silent, clutching her throat as the world went deathly still. Her downcast, swollen eyes glared towards the woods as she inspected the movement. Her head slowly turned and she rose to her feet, clutching her stomach as she looked on. In the distance, not that far off. Men. Men encased in blackened armour with a sword and shield marched in formation and she frowned, taking in their flesh coloured sigil. The soldiers of House Bolton drew closer and she raised her head higher than she ever has as she looked on, her face impassive and her eyes were ice.

Naelahrys has never known the true meaning of loneliness until now. In Winterfell, she had the Stark's and Jon. In King's Landing, she had Ser Barristan and Sansa along with Nissa and Raelyx. In her journey to Robb and Lady Catelyn, she still had them until she lost them. All her life, all she had was her fire and all she had was her dragons. Now, she truly had no one. Eddard, Bran, Rickon, Catelyn and Robb were dead. Arya, Nissa and Ser Barristan were missing. Even Sansa. Jon was at the Wall. Her dragons could not save her. She was alone and unafraid of death.

Their blades may be born from fire, she thought. But they are not.


Author's Note: Hey, I hope you like this chapter! I would like to, first of all, thank everyone who has read this story. I would also like to thank everyone who has made this one of their favourites and has followed it and a massive thank you to every who has left a review, they mean a lot to me. If you have any questions, feel free to ask and the next update should be up soon!

Reviews-

Arianna Le Fay: Thank you! I'm glad you liked the part when she finally rode her dragon but it didn't go exactly as planned. The dragons are different sizes. Jonos is the largest and he is near the size of a mammoth, Elirion is slightly taller than a bus and Aryion is sort of in between them in height. I hope you like this update! As for Jon and Naelahrys, I can't mention much yet.

RHatch89: Thanks!

Guest 1: Thank you! I'm glad you liked it and I hope you like this chapter!

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you! I hope you like this chapter.

Slytherin Studios: Thanks, hopefully, you like this chapter!

The Jabberwocky High Priestess: Thank you! It means a lot to me that you think that and I hope you like this update!

Guest 2: Thanks, I hope you like this update!

Court725: Thank you, it mean a lot to me that you like Naelahrys and I hope you like this chapter!

MashedBraintatoes: Thank you, I'm glad you like her devotion to the Stark's!

Sk8ernv: Thanks! I'm glad you think so and I hope you like this update.