Chapter Six – A Storm of Flames

Part 2

Daenerys bed felt empty as she reached an arm over to the uninhabited space. Jon never visited that night. She laid on her side, fixated on the speckled night sky out her window. The pounding in her chest escalated at the concept of Jon stepping onto her balcony, materializing from either anxiety or anticipation of his presence was unclear.

The next morning she dressed herself in her custom Targaryen armor, empowering her to focus on the ultimate goal. The Seven Kingdoms. During breakfast, the clanking of silverware on plates with the occasional thud of glasses was the only the sound to break the silence. No one spoke. The scraping of leather on the stone floor disrupted the noiseless chatter. Sam scrambled into the hall with a message directed for Queen Sansa. He hovered behind her while she read it. Her face contorted into trepidation as the severity of the message played out.

Sansa covered her mouth with her hand, "Winterfell has been attacked. Many accounts report that Jon was the one who did it. No one survived." One could see Sansa draw back her true feelings, realizing the implications of the note. She looked to Bran with imploring eyes, "I am sorry for the way I acted last night." She glimpsed back at the message. "But if this is the start of another war against the dead..."

Kinvara reaches out in a second attempt, successful this time in making contact. "My dear, no one wants to hear their family has turned against them. We will make a plan to put a swift end to all of this, I promise." Sansa dips her head in understanding.

Kinvara, Bran and Sansa proceed to discuss their strategy to stop the developing aggression in the North but their voices were drowned out by static in Daenerys ears. She nibbled on the sweet roll in her hand as she contemplated the message Sansa had just received. She had a hard time believing Jon would besiege the place he once considered home, let alone kill everyone living there especially given the state or lack of undead army. Daenerys decides to personally confirm this allegation and was able to discreetly sneak away from the table.

Daenerys mind was racing as she was once again flying Drogon north to confront Jon. She pondered about what she would even say, how she would present herself. She flew over Winterfell only to see it in utter ruins. Smoke bellowed out from the rooftops as flames still burned within the remaining structures. Everything was blackened, scorched by the devouring heat. Her household anger surged with the amount of evidence against him started to stack up.

She landed Drogon directly in front of the fortress in an attempt to draw his attention, she wanted him to be aware of her arrival. But as she walked through the halls again, there were even more white walkers creeping in the darkened haze. She paused briefly at another revelation; more wildlings roaming the halls and corridors. This type of practice did not resemble the Night King, but maybe the guardian side of Jon Snow. She had to centralize her priorities, she was here for a purpose. She carried on to find Jon in his own quarters. Daenerys rushes up to him, slamming her palm into his face.

"What is wrong with you!?" she shouted. "How could you reduce to such low levels?" Jons face did not move nor did he react to the slap across his face, rather gave her a puzzling look to her frivolous questions. His lack of answer and befuddled facial features convinced her to go on. "Winterfell. How could you destroy your home?" Anger accented in her voice.

Jons befuddlement visibly dissipated but there was still no explanation from him. The perpetual silence from him was making Daenerys stir crazy.

"Sansa received a note saying you lead an attack on Winterfell." Daenerys stated.

Jon pursed his lips together and jerked his head away. He stepped past her to grab a piece of venison, tearing off a bite. He had to do something to take the edge off, distract him as the edges of his vision were blackening. Winterfell. His childhood. Ned Starks bastard. Despised by Catelyn and treated as such. Jon was not attached by a sense of belonging. He never had that luxury. Though pleasant memories still surfaced; Aryas devilish smiles, Robs laugh. His chest swelled with unease as it fed his dark passenger giving it strength. Jon needed an out before he lost control.

Daenerys swiveled to find him eating a piece of venison. She was dumbfounded at the realization that a supposedly dead person was eating. Which one would assume is null under such standards. Daenerys walked over to where he now stood. Jon still had not said a word since her arrival.

Jon watched his fingers as they shredded the piece of venison into individual fibers of dry meat, "Let's go." He tossed the frayed venison to the ground with Daenerys following closely behind. They mounted their dragons before heading to Winterfell.

Daenerys and Jon gingerly neared the castle entrance which had caved in, the sides spilling to the ground. Daenerys paused just outside while Jon advanced forward, stepping over debris as he entered the court yard. They scanned the area but there was no sign of life and anything previously living had been reduced to dust. Continuing their surveillance, they made their way into the great hall. You could make out several individuals who had tried to hide near the walls and beneath the windows during the attack.

Distant screams echoed like a dream. Men and women clawed and scratched at the walls while the heat cooked them. They hid in the crevices of the castle, trying to avoid the scouring flames. The charred bodies remained unchanged, like a snapshot into the past. Their skin melted and black to the bone. The smell of burnt flesh rotted the inside of his nose.

His emotions bled through, to great to bottle up. In the preceding days Jon had been preoccupied, searching for a balance between appeasing his dark passenger and managing the influx of emotion that escalated since she walked back into his life. The feelings she created was pushing him out of the backseat, forcing him to come face to face his inner demon. It was difficult. So many slips ups were evident by the additional blue eyes holding resident in the fortress.

With Jon conscientious now and at the forefront of their actions, he attempted to maintain some form of his own morals. Jon Snows guilt was heavy, still processing everything yet it was not enough. The Winterfell attack was not his doing.

Jon trudged to the front of the room, ice trailed his fingers as they brushed along the table top. Daenerys halted to observe the spectacle. He withdrew his hand, clamping it down into a fist as he shook it in the air. His eyes scanned around the room. Ice began to form at his feet, radiating out. Daenerys looked at Jons face to see authentic grief etched into the stone cold exterior. Pain. Sadness. It was all there in this very moment. She walked towards him with her arms extended. Sliding her hands on either side of his face, drawing his focus to her.

"You did not do this." She whispered. Another sign, a trace that perhaps her Jon was still in there but the discomfort retreated from his face, replaced with nothing. His eyes exploring the ceiling above.

"Your dragons. Is it possible they..." Daenerys started.

"No." Jons face dropped back down. "It is not possible."

Daenerys felt for Jon in this moment. She has stood in the shadows of her dragons and reaped the ramifications of their uncontrollable nature. "Jon, I have had similar incidents with Drogon. It happens."

Jon left her embrace, walking over to the walls. He leaned in, touching the burnt residue with his finger tips. Rubbing his them together as he analyzed the consistency. Something in the powder triggered a cold sensation in the back of Jons mind, running down the length of his spine. The dark passenger was beginning to pull at his strings.

"Tell me about your priestess." He said.

"Kinvara?" Daenerys was thrown off by the request. "She serves the Lord of Light. She is just like any red priestess, I suppose."

Jon stood, turning to face her. "You suppose." He mocked Daenerys for her anemic statement.

His reply struck a nerve, "What else would you like me to say?" She raised her voice.

Ignoring Daenerys question, Jon knelt back down next to a victim sitting against the wall. His eyes inspected the position of the body and the composition of their remains. There was something off with the residue on the wall and within the remains of the victims. His passenger reacts negatively to the lingering deposits leftover in the dust, coiling around Jon and extracting him from control of this vessel. It knows.

His doubt in Kinvara flared Daenerys temper, "Priestess Kinvara is here to help restore the Seven Kingdoms, to support and do what is best for the people." Daenerys was doing her utmost to keep a level head with him. "Are you denouncing her true intentions?"

Jons head abruptly snapped north, compelling him to run out of the great hall and back to their dragons. Black started to trickle into the whites of his eyes as the heat from his limbs was depleted.

Daenerys flew slightly behind Jon barely able to keep up through the clouds above. She watched as he flew with such elegance, you would have figured he had been flying for years. They exited the clouds to find a blood bath unraveling below. The Kingsguard were engaging white walkers and wildlings alike, striking down even the children. On the outskirts of the area laid several bodies in the snow, drenching it with red blood. One of Jons dragons was included in the scattered corpses.

Jon sat on his dragon glowering down at the scene. Wildlings were being struck down without cause, without reason. His vision clouded and the voices exploded in his head. His face contorted, letting out pained breaths as everything was coming undone. He could feel cold, dark fingers weave their way around him. Jons posture changed entirely as he was taken over.

Commanding his forces with unspoken words, Jons remaining dragons joined him at his side in the sky. He drove his dragons downward, performing a low fly by and alerting not only the Kingsguard but the wildings and whites of his return. Wildlings sprinted for the forest to escape the slaughter while White Walkers defended their retreat. It seemed that some of the guards had been outfitted with valyrian steel as random whites burst into shards of ice.

With enough space placed between the wildlings and Kingsguard, Jon ordered a second run and commanded his dragons to rain liquid ice on these below. The dragons flew in single file, firing upon the same location as the one before it. Their synced movement and similar mark constructed a wall of ice, disrupting the guards assault on the wildlings and remaining White Walkers.

Jon arches his dragon back to towards the battlefield when an unsuspecting bolt flies by in close proximity. He does not even bother to follow the bolt as it zooms past. Rather he scans the ground for the source of the projectile. He notes several scorpions dispersed on the ground as they strive to shoot him and his dragons from the air. He instructs two dragons to diverge from the group therefore creating three separate moving targets. Jon dismantles the various scorpions, weaving amongst them as he engages his dragons breath and spiked tail.

Jons face was void of any satisfaction as the final scorpion was destroyed. His dragon launched vertically, climbing higher into the air followed by Jon yanking him back into an inverted dive. Wings brought in tight to boost their velocity, releasing a screech as it plummeted for the Kingsguard. His blank stare displayed his regard for the helpless lives below. The dragon released its wings about fifty meters above their heads, opening its mouth and expelling freezing rain onto the guards, solidifying them in place. Another dragon follows in suite by slamming its hind paws and talons into the ground, crushing a group of guards underneath and snapping its jaws on another. It was back flying almost immediately after its feet hit the ground.

As Jon bombarded the Kingsguard, Daenerys noticed a figure at the base of the fortress. A figure wore a deep red dress the length of their body. She landed Drogon some distance away from the fight, in the bordering woods to keep him from getting involved. Moving Drogon out of sight would allow her to get a closer view without being seen. Daenerys stepped to the edge of the forest, eyes wide with shock as the Kingsguard were being massacred by Jon.

A wilding battlecry drew Daenerys attention. She watched as they stormed Kinvara, dagger pulled back. In return she simply waved her hand, engulfing them in flames. Arms flailed as pain seared cries left the individual, lasting only seconds before the charred corpse fell to the ground.

It was only moments later when she shifted to another target. Kinvara held up her open hands as flames spiraled into an elongated spear about three feet long. The base of the flames was black which faded into varying hues of reds and oranges.

"Jikagon."

Daenerys watched as the spear flew from Kinvaras hands, tracking directly to Jon. Her heart stopped when it hit Jons shoulder sending him flying from his dragons back and into free fall. She kept her eyes on him as she started to run back to where she left Drogon. Jon repeatedly flipped head over heels, pelleting to the ground. Suddenly, to her relief and horror, a black and red dragon flew low overhead catching Jon on his back. The abrupt stop forced Jon to tumble down the back of Drogon. He was able to catch himself at the base of Drogons tail, gripping tight to the armor placed there.

Daenerys had slowed down when she was startled by a smaller dragon landing close by. It touched down in her intended direction, letting out a snarl. Daenerys wavered unsure of the dragons motives. Not until it shuffled to the side, lowering its shoulder. She glanced back at Kinvara who was now looking in her general area. Daenerys sprinted towards the dragon, clambering up onto its back before it took flight. She slid from side to side as the dragon fought to catch up to the others. She had not realized how accustom she had become to her saddle as she struggled to stay on.

Kinvara marveled with eager eyes as Daenerys flew off, leaving her and the rest of the Kingsguard to finish what they started. Kinvara turned back to the fortress and raised her arms high above her head.

"Perzys." Fire raced around the edges before engulfing the fortress whole. The flames reached as high as the tallest tower. A blackened and faceless shadow covered in royal garments approaches, garbling incoherently.

"I will take care of the wall. After that, hunt them down. Kings orders." The Kingsguard bowed his head before returning to the rest. She smirked as she witnesses the fortress fall under the immense heat.