Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Ice and Fire Novels, Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon TV shows. However, I decided to have a little play around with the characters. I do not earn any money from writing these stories, it is for my entertainment and is something I like to share.
Jon II
Jon's eyes were drooping when he finally came to land. Instead of flying south east to Dragonstone, Drogon had flown slightly north-east, or so Jon thought. He had to admit he was a little confused as he was so tired. He hadn't expected flying to be quite so exhausting. They were still in the north on the first night they stopped and Jon still had enough food for him to survive for a few days, although he had no idea what he was going to feed to Drogon, unless he was to be the one on the menu. The notion of Jon being Drogon's dinner was quickly disappearing with every moment he was spending with him. Jon wasn't sure why but he sensed something different about the dragon, it was as if Drogon was lonely and needed Jon for company.
"You've always known us humans, eh boy?" he patted the scales of the creature as he descended through the skies. "I suppose I'm the last choice you'd want, but I guess the list's not very long." he said sadly as Drogon landed them on the snow with a quiet plop.
The place Drogon had decided to set them down was close to some trees, some which had been felled due to the frequent high winds that battered the north, although they seemed to have calmed down somewhat since winter had begun to abate. As he slid down from Drogon's back, he looked around to see how to make camp. Nobody was going to come searching for him here, and this far north the snows hadn't begun to melt. The woods would probably have enough branches for a fire to stop him freezing to death, he just hoped Drogon wouldn't mind him walking off to get fetch it.
Jon hadn't walked far when he heard a crunching noise behind him. Forgetting he was with a dragon, he drew Longclaw from it's sheathe and spun around, half expecting to see a bear or boar. Instead Drogon was right behind him, looking at Longclaw curiously before turning to look back at Jon, with an expression which Jon could only suspect at being offended.
"Bleedin 'ell. Creepin' up on me like that. I thought you were a bear or something." Jon shook his head in bewilderment as he put Longclaw back away. "I'm just getting some firewood." he told the dragon, not that Jon expected him to understand, it seemed Drogon only understood High Valyrian, which was definitely going to be problematic for the time being, but if he could get Drogon to Dragonstone he knew there had to be something there to help him learn, a book maybe. He was living proof Targaryens weren't born with an innate knowledge of High Valyrian, it was a learned language, which among Targaryens, he suspected was for the sole purpose of riding dragons. It certainly wasn't to make communications easier with the free cities of Essos. Surely a book must still be lying around in Dragonstone somewhere to help him grasp a few words of the language, just to get him by for commanding Drogon.
Once he'd gotten into the woods he began to search for branches which would provide kindling and logs to burn. The light was low and the pine trees were so thick and dense, there was hardly any snow on the ground. Drogon wouldn't be able to follow him in here, Jon thought, unsettling him as Drogon would stand a better chance against a bear than Jon would. He searched around for something suitable, but all of the trees which had uprooted where large and old, the wouldn't be able to carry one out on his own. However, if he used one close enough to the edge of the woods, he could break it up enough not only to carry it, but to take some with him on the next part of their journey so he wouldn't need to find firewood.
Jon selected the large uprooted tree close to the edge of the woods where he'd walked in, and using his saw which along with an axe, was always carried around during hunts, he managed to chop up the fallen pine tree, breaking it down so that it would be light enough to drag through the snow, but only just as he didn't want to have to make the trip too many times. He pulled the first part out of the canopy of trees, walking backwards. Once he got out into the open, he saw Drogon was laid down, his head on his legs looking at him with curiosity.
"You don't fancy helping by any chance? This thing is bloody heavy." Jon complained, not expecting any response from the dragon. However, to his surprise, Drogon got up, nudged Jon out of the way and took the tree in his mouth, pulling it a safe distance away from the trees before lying it down on the floor. He walked back over to Jon, stared it him and to Jon's amazement, he could have sworn the dragon was not only looking pleased with himself, but was expecting some sort of praise for helping.
"You're a lot smarter than I gave you credit for." Jon grinned at Drogon. "I better not underestimate you. Thank you." he added, noticing the expression on Drogon's face, if it was possible for a dragon to appear smug, this was the look he'd expect. Oddly, Jon even felt the smugness flowing through him, as if Drogon was able to communicate with him in a telepathic way. Jon shrugged it off, instead he laughed. "You stay here while I fetch the rest." he added before heading back into the woods.
With the help of Drogon, it didn't take long for Jon to move the tree to a safe distance from the woods to light a fire while he set about chopping the rest of the tree into firewood. Even more surprising was Drogon's ability to create a small spark instead of the huge fireball, enough to get the fire burning without charring all of the wood. When he'd finished with the tree, Jon gathered some snow into his tin cup and placed it besides the fire to melt, he then sat down and took out a piece of salted boar to eat. The hunters always carried a bag of supplies with them in case any should get stranded from the group. There was always salted meat in there as it kept well and was lightweight, albeit not very appetising.
"Want some?" Jon offered a small morsel to the dragon. Drogon sniffed at the salted boar and turned his head in disgust. "Thought not, don't blame you, it's not very nice, but it's food." Jon shrugged and took a bite, wondering again what Drogon was going to eat while they went wherever they were supposed to be going. Jon unwrapped the sleeping furs and got settled down. "What are we going to do boy?" he asked the dragon, deciding the best way to talk to him was as if he were talking to Ghost, whom he oddly didn't miss. "I suppose, wherever we go, we need to make sure you are fed on something that won't annoy anyone, like children or livestock. I know we can't stay up here, it's too cold for you." he patted Drogon on the side affectionately. "I'm sure we can work something out." he yawned, closing his eyes, sleep coming quickly and for the first time in years, Jon slept soundly and dreamlessly.
When Jon woke, he was cold. The fire had burned out and Drogon was nowhere to be seen. He sat up, furs wrapped around him, feeling a little unnerved. He knew he had headed north east instead of south, but he had no idea how far they'd flown and he didn't recognise any of the landscape. Just as he wondered where Drogon might have gone, he heard a screeching noise and a thud behind him. He turned around and saw Drogon had landed with a huge dead stag, which he had just dropped from his claws. Drogon nudged the dead stag towards Jon, as if offering him the first choice of the meal for them to share. Jon's jaw dropped at the gesture, kindness and thoughtfulness was not what he expected from the nature of a dragon, it certainly hadn't been in any description he had read from the books when growing up. All he knew was they were good for was destruction and death, something which Daenerys had put to good use in the shape of the dragon right in front of him. It made it difficult to reconcile the thought that this was the very same creature who had almost burned Kings Landing to the ground. That was when Jon realised something had changed about Drogon.
Over the course of the last day spent with Drogon, Jon had come to realise a few things; Dragons had personalities of their own, but they were also an extension of the rider they were bonded with, and as Jon was finding out, he himself was also becoming an extension of Drogon. When he first sat on the dragon's back, he wanted to reclaim Westeros, be King Aegon and rule the world. Now he simply wanted his freedom to roam as he pleased. He suspected his initial response was the leftover emotional desires of Daenerys as Drogon would not have known a rider who wanted anything other than to take over Westeros with fire and blood, and to rule. However, Jon was not Daenerys, he only killed when necessary, Dany killed to make a point, even if the victim was innocent. Up until Jon, this was all Drogon had known and had probably expected him to be like his former mistress, and was emotionally invested to act that way. However Drogon had quickly assessed Jon to have different needs and had changed behaviour accordingly. Jon couldn't be certain this was the case, but he was growing to realise the dragon and rider bond went far deeper than he had expected, although it hadn't quite reached the point of being able to control Drogon in flight in any language other than High Valyrian.
After Jon had removed a leg from the stag, he gave the rest back to Drogon while he chopped up more wood to light a fire and cook the leg. Jon skinned the hide from the leg, rubbed some salt into the meat and placed it over the fire to slowly cook. He turned the leg a few times, the fat dripping into the fire, occasionally sending sparks up into the air.
Jon picked up the leg just as a steam of fat dripped out and into the fire. Sparks flew everywhere, the fire doubled in size, forcing Jon to drop the leg. He noticed his arm was on fire although he didn't seem to feel it, so he rolled his arm in the snow to dowse out the flames. Jon examined his hand and arm, not a mark. It didn't even hurt. Then he remembered Daenerys was able to walk through fire, maybe he could also also resist the flames. He looked at his old burn wound, the one he had gotten when he'd saved the life of Lord Commander Jeor Mormont and compared it to the fat burn he should have on the other hand, but there wasn't a single mark, it wasn't even slightly red. Jon held his hand out towards the fire, not knowing whether he should see if he did burn or not, but withdrew it. Having a burn was no laughing matter and their wasn't a Maester around to rustle up a poultice to help heal it. Instead he looked around for a cinder, a tiny burn on his fingers wouldn't be too bad and would heal by itself in a day or so. He found one which had rolled free from the fire. He took a deep breath and picked it up between his thumb and forefinger.
"FUCK!" he cried out, dropping the cinder which burned his fingers. "That hurt." he shook his head, realising he wasn't quite as invincible as Daenerys. Although the pain disappeared almost immediately and when he inspected the damage, there was none. Jon turned to look at Drogon who was staring back in bemusement. "It's alright for you, you don't feel it." he complained as the dragon simply grunted and continued to watch him. Jon decided to give it one more go. This time he picked up another cinder which was still red from the heat. Again it burned him, but Jon this time wrapped his hand around it and kept hold of it long enough to make sure a mark should be there when he let go. After a few seconds of agony he dropped the cinder into the snow and examined his hand, there was no mark. "Well look at that." Jon frowned, talking as much to himself as he was to Drogon. "I think we should keep this bit of knowledge between us." he told Drogon who simply grunted. "People might think it a bit strange, although if I needed to disappear, I could convincingly burn to death and survive, I've already gotten burn scars." he shrugged. "Anyway, I think it is time for some food and then we can get going." he smiled, ripping off the hot meat which had almost burned and rubbing in more salt which he took from his salt pouch. "I'm going to let it cool so you don't need to share your food with me next time you catch something." he told Drogon.
As Jon ate, he noticed the sun was already starting to lower in the sky. "How long was I asleep?" he asked. Drogon grunted as if trying to answer, then he looked up to the skies. Strangely, Jon understood what Drogon was trying to tell him. He had been left to sleep most of the day, so they could eat just before sunset and fly through the night, that way they wouldn't be spotted.
Being seen had given Jon cause to worry. Before he was exiled, he had been threatened to never leave the north or he would be killed by Daenerys supporters, chiefly Greyworm. Should he be seen, the Unsullied, Dothraki and Ironborn could all invade either Westeros or the north, and despite being angry at his exile, Jon wanted neither, especially the north where his cousin Sansa ruled as Queen and where Jon had been raised as a child. Flying at night would enable them to head to Dragonstone silently, although Jon had no idea how long the flight would take and how they would stop for food, water or even to take a piss or shit. He just had to hope Drogon might be used to the needs of a human, so he was going to leave that part up to the dragon and dross his fingers for the best.
Going to Dragonstone seemed like a good idea in principle, and he knew he had no choice but to go there, if only he could find a way of explaining what he wanted Drogon to do in the manner of getting there. He couldn't exactly just fly in over Westeros and expect to go unnoticed, no matter what the time of day was. They were going to have to be a bit more stealthy. Jon also knew he couldn't stay there long, instead he was going to search the island for anything which might come in useful, books on High Valyrian and maybe anything leftover from the dragonlords of old. Sensible dragon riding clothes would be good idea too if anything fit him. Then they would need to go somewhere for he and Drogon to be away from the clutches of those who wished him dead. Maybe he would be able to discover a new sense of freedom, even allowing him to occasionally return to see the freefolk once he'd gotten used to his new companion. There was even a possibility he could find a completely new life in Essos. Maybe, he thought, he ought to look for something on Dragonstone which might be valuable for him to sell when he got to one of the free cities. If he had enough money he could make a good life for himself, maybe even have a family in a place where bastards and Targaryen blood no longer mattered.
As great as that plan was, it still felt like a punch in the gut. Although there was a chance of seeing Tormund again, he still wouldn't be able to see his real family; his brother, the King of Westeros who forced him into exile, is little sister Arya who was the fiercest and scariest warrior he had ever encountered, although she was travelling herself, so maybe he might be able to one day find her. Most of all, he would miss the one he had grown closest to over the last few years, his cousin Sansa. It was easy to refer to her as a cousin due to them not getting on as children and never having the sibling relationship like he had with the other Stark children. When he and Sansa reunited, they believed they were the last of the Starks, and became extremely protective of one another. Sansa had clearly wanted Jon to resume his role as King in the North, but it wasn't allowed because of the threat of war posed by his enemies. They could have ruled together well, although there might have been issues when it came to heirs. They'd have worked something out, Jon had no doubt about that, but it was all irrelevant now. Aegon Targaryen was going to fly away to another continent, to become someone else, to become Jon Snow again. However, what he desperately needed was one last look of childhood home before he left, he just didn't know how to tell Drogon to make him understand.
As soon as Jon had thought about Winterfell and how to tell Drogon, the dragon stretched out his wing. Jon looked at him in confusion. "Do you understand what I'm thinking?" he asked, but the dragon couldn't answer except by nudging Jon with his wing as if to tell him to climb up. Jon had seen Drogon do this for Dany when she was to climb on his back, therefore he gathered his things and fastened them to him tightly before climbing up onto Drogon's back and flying off into the skies.
This time, Drogon flew south west and faster. Jon was having trouble holding on, but he was sure Drogon would catch him if he fell. He was sure he'd never seen any of Dany's dragons fly this quickly before, it was quite frightening, yet exhilarating at the same time. Whatever Drogon's plan was, he was heading towards the wall and soon beyond. After around three hours of flight, Drogon slowed down, and flew beneath the clouds. A castle came into view which Jon immediately recognised as Winterfell. He saw the light was on in what would be Sansa's rooms and a lump rose to his throat. Suddenly Drogon screeched, but to Jon it was more like a wail of sadness, reflecting his own feelings. Slowly Drogon raised himself up in the air, but not before Jon saw a face peering out of Sansa's window, looking up to the skies. He wondered if she had seen him. A tear fell down Jon's cheek and he could no longer bear to look at the castle, knowing in all likelihood it would be the last time he laid eyes on it and Sansa.
Drogon sensed Jon's mood and climbed up into the skies among the clouds with only the stars as company. They flew south east at a more leisurely pace, the dark skies slowly turning purple in the distance. Drogon dropped down below the clouds and Jon saw the sea in front of him. Below was a castle and a small town. It wasn't White Harbour, so he suspected it might be Ramsgate.
Once out to sea, Drogon continued flying, heading east for another hour before diving down towards the sea, giving Jon, who was starting to get sleepy a jolt. He had no idea where they were going to land or how they were going to rest. Jon didn't even know how much sleep a dragon needed, but all he could do was put his faith in the warm scaly creature beneath him.
Jon needn't have worried, Drogon must have had a plan all along. As they plummeted down from the sky, Jon noticed what initially looked like a tiny rock poking out of the sea. As they got closer, it became apparent it was an islet, just big enough for the two of them to rest out of sight of anyone who dared to look. They were far away from the main shipping lanes, although it was not out of the question for a pirate ship or a rogue boat to sail by, but it was unlikely.
There wasn't much room on the islet, but it had space for Jon, Drogon, a fire and somewhere to lay down. After Jon had slid down from Drogon's back, he stretched his arms and legs and grabbed the tied up wood from the back of the dragon to make a fire. As soon as Drogon was unloaded, he took to the skies once more leaving Jon alone. Not sure where Drogon had gone, he decided now was a good time to relieve himself in privacy, even if it was only to piss into the sea. He'd only just made himself presentable again when Drogon reappeared with what looked like a huge dead seal in his mouth. He dropped the animal and burned it before swallowing it whole. Drogon then laid down and curled up around the wood and blew a spark onto it to create a small fire. He closed his eyes and within seconds he was making small grunting noises. It took Jon a minute to realise Drogon was already fast asleep and snoring. Jon realised the speed Drogon had flown to get Jon to Winterfell in time to see Sansa must have exhausted the dragon. He smiled to himself and lay next to the winged beast before falling fast asleep himself, dreaming of winter roses and a warm fire.
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