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Chapter Thirty-Eight: Blood of the Dragon

"Ser Alliser saw you."

Jon looked up from the papers he was poring over, to where Melisandre stepped through the door of his rooms. Nothing about her had changed since they last met. At least, not outwardly. She wore the same gown of red, with a matching cloak the hems of which whispered softly over the floorboards as she walked. Like they did now, as she approached the desk he was working at with Ghost by his side. Only, since they last met, she had burned a child at the stake. It was that act which made her appear different. Slightly warped, like she might shed her human skin and reveal something much worse beneath.

"Ser Alliser and I have seen all too much of each other over the years, my lady," he said. "It's something we've both had learn to live with."

He had hoped the flat indifference of his response would shut the conversation down. But, as always with the red witch, her expression remained impassive, like she had not heard him.

"He saw you with her. The Dragon Queen."

"I am aware of the situation, my lady," he said. "It will be dealt with."

"By whom?"

With a resigned sigh, Jon sorted his papers into a neat pile and slid them to the side. It seemed they would have to wait a while. But however unpleasant talking to Melisandre had become, he saw clearly enough that it would have to be done. Indeed, Ser Alliser had seen him. It wasn't something he didn't already know and nor would it be the first time Thorne had tried to pull him down over his alleged involvement with a woman. He remembered Ygritte and how close he'd come to losing his head over her. Back then, it was Thorne who led the charge against him and only Aemon who spoke up for him. Now Aemon was long dead and Jon was alone.

"Thorne mutinied against me, my lady," he said. "He's lucky I don't have his head – it's not like I need him since my brother and his men entered the war."

"If he mutinied and you no longer need him, why is he still walking?" she asked.

"Because the last thing I need right now is discord among the ranks of my men," Jon answered. "I may not like Thorne, but he commands the respect of others- "

"Do you think that is what Thorne is saying right now?" Melisandre cut in. "Do you think he is saying to his allies: 'I may not like the Lord Commander, but he commands the respect of others'"?

Jon knew the answer, he just couldn't bring himself to put it into words. A surge of frustration rose up in him, a dread feeling of being forced from his chosen path to deal with more dissent and disharmony. On this day of all days, when the sun had failed to rise and the long night beckoned once more. And for all the antipathy he felt for Melisandre, for her bloodlust and callous fanaticism, she was damn right about this. They looked at each other from across the desk, their eyes meeting and the understanding passing between them.

"I was supposed to be leading a ranging beyond the wall," he said. "I can delay."

He didn't elaborate since he couldn't help but remember that Melisandre had returned to Castle Black at Thorne's side. For all knew, she would leave his chambers and go straight to Thorne, divulging everything he had said. He almost expected it. But rather than dwell on the duplicity of others, he formed a plan of his own. He would call a meeting of the Watch for the evening and spend the day gathering support from among his own allies. No one here needed the mutiny proved to them, they had lived through it. All the same documented evidence would help.

"Is there anything in writing?" he asked, looking up Melisandre. "Anything that you know of."

Just for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of regret in her eyes.

"There was. Your brother has it."

And no one knew where Robb was. "Why does he have it?"

"I gave it to him to pass to you," she said. "I thought he would go straight to Hardhome, where you would meet him. Had I left it with Thorne, he would have destroyed it and the evidence would be gone for good."

All the same, Jon sighed and rolled his eyes. "I would that my brother had dealt with this- "

"Your brother is not the Lord Commander and to move against the mutineers would have been undermining your authority. King Robb knew that."

Of course. Robb had learned his lessons well and Jon knew it was time he did the same. He would speak with Dolorous Edd and the others, make sure they were all onside and then move against Thorne as soon as he knew he commanded a majority. It wouldn't take long, but if Thorne's men got to some of the newer recruits, many of whom were not present for the mutiny, he could sway them. Jon wasn't prepared to let that happen.

"Melisandre," he said, stopping her retreat from his rooms. "Is Janos Slynt still here?"

"He returned from the Shadow Tower with Thorne and I," she said, looking back at him from the doorway.

Jon smiled and nodded. "Good. That's good."

She looked puzzled. "Is it?"

However, she did not wait for an explanation. Even if she had, he would not have told her that Slynt was among the men of court who had stripped and beaten his sister in front of King Joffrey. Sansa had told him during one of their long talks and now this opportunity had presented itself. Wherever Thorne went, Slynt followed like a simpering lapdog. Seconds later, Melisandre left and the door closed softly behind her. Alone again, Jon drew a deep breath as he steeled himself for what was coming.

Soon, he was out in the yards where southern soldiers were gearing up for a foray north. Word had come that Robb's man had reached Hardhome, where the town was now being refortified to give them a foothold beyond the wall. But Robb was not among them. He had Ser Garlan were missing in action, no one any the wiser as to where they were. It made Jon's blood run cold to think of his brother, missing in the wilds just like their uncle Benjen. All he could do was use the grim news to spur him on in his mission to deal with Thorne and the mutineers as quickly as possible. The sooner they were dealt with, the sooner he would be joining his brother's forces to find him. He spoke with Edd and Ser Denys Mallister, both of whom would be on his side. Under the guise of arranging the venture north to find his brother, Jon exchanged whispers and plans among his supporters – getting word out that they would be moving against the mutineers that evening. Several times he spotted Thorne, eyeing him suspiciously from across the darkening courtyard as the southern soldiers rode out into the wilderness beyond the wall. Even now, when the night settled and the white winds blew, they thought only of tearing each other down.

"Jon."

Another female voice spoke his name. A much more welcome one this time.

"Daenerys."

He turned to find her swathed in furs and ready to go. "It's time, are you coming with me? Or leading the ground troops?"

Jon's heart sank again. "Neither. Look, something's come up. I won't ask you to go out there alone, but I think it would be for the best if you were not here."

"Why? Jon, what's happening?"

She looked rightly concerned. But when she stepped closer to him, he instinctively flinched away – all too aware that Thorne and his cronies were watching him like warged hawks.

"It's nothing," he lied. "All it is, is that I've never had the command of this many men before. I need to delay a while, make sure they're all organised and everyone knows what they're doing."

That wasn't altogether a lie. It was true. All nineteen of the castles had been manned, with many of the southern soldiers choosing to formally take the black and join up to the Night's Watch permanently. Several of them were knights, all of them already battle-tested. Now they had seen what was happening and what went on, they wanted to be part of it.

"But what of your brother?" asked Daenerys. "We flew here so you could get searching all the sooner. Now we know he is not at Hardhome, the situation is worse than we imagined- "

"I know that," he cut in, impatient now. He drew a deep breath and calmed himself. "I didn't mean to snap at you. Just believe me, there is something here I must take care of first and then I will join you, you have my word."

Still standing in the courtyard where all could see, sneaking off for a moment alone was out of the question. So, only with the greatest of restraint did they keep their distance and arrange their faces into utmost neutrality. Beneath that glacial veneer, however, Jon yearned to tell her all that was happening. He wanted to get her far away from the bloody aftermath he knew was coming, out of the way of the red witch who threatened to burn their ancient uncle, Maester Aemon, for the royal blood in his veins. He shuddered to think what Melisandre would do to lay her hands on Dany's blood.

In a low voice, barely above a whisper, Daenerys said: "I know there's more to this than you're telling me. If it's about that letter- "

"It's not the letter, Dany, I swear. When we find Robb, we'll talk about the letter."

"Very well," she said. Drawn to full height, she turned her lilac eyes to Drogon, now restive and grumbling nearby. The men gave him a wide berth. "I will take Drogon and Viserion; Rhaegal will stay with you."

Jon was puzzled. "You need him more than I do."

Daenerys cast a furtive glance around, checking for listening ears, before leaning closer to Jon. "You were not brought up to understand our ways, I know that. But you need to know, you are the blood of the dragon. Just as much as I. Remember Meereen, and how Rhaegal warmed to you?"

"Dany, I am not like you. I can't fly, I don't even know the Valyrian words," he protested. Without meaning to, he had raised his voice and they were now drawing strange looks from passers-by. Checking himself, he continued: "I'm sure I have a lot to learn."

"Remember the word 'dracarys', that's all you might need for now," she said.

Jon nodded. "All right. For you. Are you leaving right now?"

"Yes," she said. Looking him in the eye again, she continued, "and I will come back with your brother. I swear it."

He two brothers out there, he remembered. Robb and Bran. But in his heart, he knew that Bran was already dead and he didn't want to be taking liberties. Robb would do for now.

"Thank you," he said. "And good luck."

He wanted to damn all the Watch and kiss her right there. But he could not. So, with only the greatest of reluctance, he turned away and walked off into the darkness where the torchlight did not reach. He heard the gates opening and the sound of war horses charging through the wall as another company of soldiers rode out into the wilderness. Castle Black was emptying again, since another company had ridden out for East Watch, from where they would set sail for Hardhome and new garrison that was being built there.

The sound of beating wings turned his attention back to the wall. Their slipstream was like a storm blowing through the castle and a cheer rose among the men as Daenerys took flight, with Viserion flying ahead of her and Drogon. For a moment, he watched her flying away and sent up a silent prayer to the old gods and the new that she would come back safely, with or without Robb. He could not lose her. Not now.

She was soon lost among the dark skies and he turned again, continuing his short journey. Only half a mile or so south of the castle, it didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for. Although not as large as his brother, Rhaegal was still huge to Jon. His large bronze eyes flickered open, his head rising from where he lay in the snow, emerald scales rippling in the light of Jon's lantern.

'You are the blood of the dragon,' Dany's voice echoed in his head once more. Despite what she had said, he did not feel it. Without her here, his heart was racing as he approached the fire-breathing giant in the snow. His breaths were short and rapid, unable to stop the tremor in his limbs as he stepped closer and closer. Although Rhaegal lacked Drogon's fearsome aggression, he was still a dragon. He could still kill a man with one fiery sneeze. He could still tear an aurochs in two with his jaws without even trying. Tyrion tried to feed them once, and ended up fleeing for his life, keeping his distance ever since. The anecdote rang in his memory once more.

Rhaegal remained still and placid. For what felt an age, the two of them looked at each other while Jon's mind raced. What now? He didn't even know why he had come here. Although tempted to just fly away and leave Thorne to stew in his own juices, it was not a feasible plan. Despite knowing the dragon's head was far out of reach, Jon extended a hand anyway. To his mild surprise, Rhaegal responded by lowering his head and his hand made contact with the warm scales of his snout. If he wanted, he could reduce Jon to a pile of ash right now.

"Rhaegal," he said, shakily he pointed into the darkness at nothing in particular. "Dracarys!"

The dragon blinked its large bronze eyes and did nothing. Jon stepped aside and drew himself to full height as he remembered Dany's words once more. "Dracarys!" he repeated firmly, louder.

For half a heartbeat the dragon's chest rumbled loudly, soon followed by a stream of fire that reduced the snowfalls to billowing steam. The whole world was lit up in orange and red flames. In a panic again, Jon fell back and scrambled to his feet as the flame died away. The dragon looked at him. Now what? He seemed to ask. But that was enough for one day. Back on his feet, Jon retrieved his lantern and set off at speed toward Castle Black. He could feel the dragon's eyes boring into his back as he went.

Still pale and with a brow beaded in sweat, Margaery at least managed to sleep. As she did so, Sansa looked to Arya and got her attention. She nodded, gesturing that it was time to leave the Queen to her rest and healing. The stillborn babe had been taken earlier that day and burned on a funeral pyre as all the staff looked on. 'Alys' they had called her, just so her parents would have something to remember her by, a name to recite in their prayers to the old gods and the new. Sansa had stood by the pyre with Arya and Rickon at her side. When she looked up, she saw Margaery watching from a window, white faced and mute with a choking, silent grief.

Once outside in the gallery beyond her rooms, Arya asked the question that had been on everyone's mind. "What now?"

"I'm going to find Lord Arryn," she said. "He still listens to me and I hope I can persuade him to return to the Vale. Should we need to evacuate, the Eyrie might be the safest place. The Bloody Gate, if not the Eyrie itself."

"Good. But do you think the darkness has fallen everywhere?"

"I do, but it is not unexpected, so we should not panic," she said. "We knew winter was coming. We knew the long night was close behind it."

She spoke with more confidence than she felt. Despite all the warning signs, the Others moving south and the wights at the wall, they had hoped against hope that would be the extent of it. But they reached the exit and looked out on a yard smothered by night. Not even the stars shone anymore and it was like stepping into one of Old Nan's scary stories. The ones that Bran had loved so much.

"You say you're planning an evacuation, but I don't think you're planning on going anywhere," said Arya. "Any more than I am."

The two sisters looked at each other for a long moment, until Sansa answered: "We are the Starks of Winterfell, our place is here. But Cregan and Rickon…"

It didn't need to be said. Should Robb die in the North and if Cregan, a delicate baby, should succumb to the harsh winter, Rickon was next in line. It was they who had to be protected above all else and the women, those who would never inherit and whose lives were not as valuable, had to make sure it was done. They would be the ones to stay, the Starks in Winterfell, standing their ground until the bitter end.

Sansa looked to Arya, her vision blurred as her emotion swelled. "There is no one I would rather have at my side than you, sister. With you, I can be brave."

"You are brave, Sansa," Arya said. "I couldn't have survived what you went through in King's Landing."

"And I would have lasted only a minute or two of what you went through in the Riverlands, at Harrenhal."

But they had survived and that was why they needed each other now. Working together, using each other's strengths, they had a fighting chance against anything heading their way. The Needle and the thread, the sword and the shield. United they stood.

Alone and growing weaker by the hour, Robb stumbled forwards through the endless forest. His bearings had long since been lost, thrown asunder by the night that refused to end. He was groping his way forwards and taking shelter where he could. However, no matter how effective the shelter, he dared not stay still for too long. He feared he would not be able to get back up again and every movement from within the woods he thought were the Others. If not the Others, wights or did their bidding or shadowcats moving stealthily through the trees. Shadowcats were usually seen before they were heard, which only made them more formidable predators.

Free folk were another matter. Jon had done much to mend relations between the Westerosi and the free folk, but those who had not made it beyond the wall remained hostile. Carrying castle forged Valyrian steel, he was never going to pass for one of them and any reception he might receive would just as likely be hostile as welcome. He hedged his bets and tried to stay out of sight of everyone and everything.

Despite his efforts, he came across the occasional abandoned settlement or small village. Places where people had lived until quite recently. The ruins of homes struck upwards from the ground like jagged teeth, left to decay a long time ago. He moved through them all, silent and apprehensive, not stopping to check for signs of life. Just trying desperately to regain his bearings. But there were no roads, no formal towns; only words and endless mountain ranges.

It wasn't long before he found himself climbing upwards. The forest had petered out, the trees growing sparser and thinner at the foot of the hills Robb found himself scaling. Part of him knew he was going in the wrong direction, but it barely seemed to matter since he was hopelessly lost anyway. So, he climbed. As he climbed, he remembered another lifetime when he had escaped the Twins and he found himself lost and alone in the Riverlands, heading south through woods and marshlands, staying off roads and hiding from all signs of human life. He had been sick with fever from a festering wound, half-starved and delirious. He'd been captured by Frays, beaten and whipped as they dragged him back to the Twins, until Harwin and the Brotherhood led an attack on his captors and freed him.

Back then, luck had won out and saved the day. Luck was something he had had an abundance of, or so it seemed back then. Right there, climbing a hill in the far north, he knew he was all out of luck. There was no cavalry charging over the hills, there were no powerful alliances surrounding his castle. Nothing stirred, no one showed themselves. He was alone. Properly alone for the first time in his life and there was no end in sight. Even Garlan was gone now and he felt his brother by law's loss acutely. But the one thing he did back then that he could still do now was refuse to give up. He pressed on, despite the hunger and the weakness. He dragged himself up the hill, until he gained the higher ground and could look down through the darkened valley below.

A source of light shimmered below, where dark figures moved between ice blue flames. Robb dropped to the ground, lying on his belly and looking down over the crest of the hill. He knew the darkness covered him, but he knew also those creatures had supernatural powers and he was taking no chances. And he wanted to watch them, to observe what they were doing. Although too far away to make out their features, he could see the light they made themselves. Shimmering and pale, they moved with a speed and dexterity that took him by surprise. The rode up the side of the hills with ease, untroubled by the treacherous terrain.

At first, he thought they were mounted on horses. But they were odd horses. The way they moved was different. Faster, jerky, more dextrous as they covered the uneven ground. Even their legs, appeared different as he squinted at them. Transfixed by them, Robb watched and watched, even as they began moving in his direction. A sickening feeling of having been detected closed over him as he began to retreat slowly back down the hillside. As he did so, Old Nan's voice drifted through his mind once more, an echo of a time long gone and he knew what they were. The realisation hit him in the face, jolting him into action.

His stomach roiled and he thought he would vomit, but he pushed himself away and threw himself down the hillside. Getting down was much easier than getting up and he covered ground speedily, but he knew he was being pursued by those … things. He could hear them over the wind whistling in his ears. He could hear their long, spindly legs cracking like ice as they drew closer and closer, pincers snapping shut with a 'click, click, clicking' that made his nerves stretch taut. At the foot of the hill, he found himself in open ground and vulnerable.

At a loss for anything better, he ran for the forest but the trees would be no match for them. All the same, he scaled the lower limbs of a weirwood tree, pulling himself into its ruby red boughs to take what cover he could. If ever he needed the protection of the old gods, it was now. And he clung to the upper trunk for dear life, his breaths coming in short sharp rasps as he looked down in horror at the scene unfolding below.

The ice spiders were huge, their long and bony legs picking their way through the foliage of the forest floor. Frozen hairs, shimmering paly, covered the vast swell of their bodies, numerous pale blue eyes formed perfect circles of blue light in the darkness. Scores of them, numbers beyond counting, swarmed about the base of the tree he was hidden in, their pincers feeling the air around them. Several were mounted by White Walkers, but by no means all. Robb, hidden in the highest boughs of the weirwood tree, pressed himself flat against the trunk and didn't dare do as much as breathe. Keeping perfectly still, he watched as they searched for him, his flesh crawling off his bones. Spiders, he thought to himself, it had to be the fucking spiders.

It was time. The noise inside the common hall of Castle Black was rising rapidly. Jon could hear them from across the courtyard as he made his way over. However, it was impossible to pick out what they were saying. It was a wordless, senseless buzz of noise that filled the air outside. After leaving Rhaegal, he had spent the day consolidating his own support among the watchmen. To his relief, many of the southern soldiers who had taken the black expressed loyalty to him – for Robb's sake, if nothing else. And given the low numbers of Jon's old supporters, with Aemon dead and Sam studying at the citadel, it was always going to be down to him to rally the new recruits to his side.

Still, he was apprehensive. He paused outside the hall, where Ghost was waiting for him and scratched his old wolf's ears. As silent as ever he was, he nuzzled close to Jon and nipped playfully at his hands. But they didn't have long together.

"Lord Commander, there's a message from your brother."

For a moment, Jon didn't recognise Olly, his old steward. He'd grown since they last met, more than a year ago. He nodded and rose, bidding Ghost to stay put and following the young lad toward the Lord Commander's hall. "Is it from Robb himself or something writing for him?"

No answer came as he was led around the corner, away from the place where the ravens were kept. Confused, Jon was about to say something until Ser Alliser Thorne stepped out of the shadows. Already sensing trouble, Jon reached for Dark Sister but, before he could defend himself, he caught the flash of a blade as it was sunk deep in his gut.

"For the Watch," said Alliser, looking him in the eye.

There was no pain, only shock but Jon was still on his feet, not quite believing what was happening. But as he tried to back away, he slammed into another person coming up behind him. Thinking it was someone from the hall looking for him, he reeled around only to find Janos Slynt, blade in hand.

"For the Watch," he said. It felt like a punch to the gut, winding him and no more. But he could feel the blood seeping under his tunic. 'The blood of the dragon,' said the voice of Daenerys.

Another wave of disbelief hit him. Dazed, he couldn't even call out but he managed to pull Dark Sister from her scabbard. And Ghost, sensing his master's danger, had come leaping into the fray, clamping her jaws around the legs of on of his assailants. From somewhere nearby, a screaming roar filled the air. With his sword drawn, he was almost able to defend himself against Bowen Marsh. Even so, the blade still glanced off Jon's throat and dug into his shoulder. Then the pain of the wounds hit him, pushing him downwards no matter how hard he struggled to remain on his feet.

Dark Sister fell at Jon's side, hitting the snow now stained red with blood. His blood. The blood of the dragon, he remembered as the screaming roar came again. All hell broke loose as the murderers cried out in panic. Then it was Olly who approached him, face grey and grim set. The frightened child he had left behind when he went to Meereen, was gone. In his clenched fist, a clean knife glinted sinisterly in the pale light.

"Olly no," said Jon, breathless and defenceless.

Above them, Rhaegal screamed again and spread his vast wings. It was he who had set panic among his attackers. Prone on the ground, unable to move, Jon looked up at the furious dragon and summoned what was left of his ebbing strength just as Olly's blade sunk deep in his chest.

"Dracarys!" he bellowed over the commotion. The world lit up in oranges and reds as the dragon's flame burst over the courtyard. It was the last thing Jon saw as he slipped beneath the deep, dark tide.

Thanks again for reading, reviews would be great if you have a minute.

Some of you may remember, ages ago, that I categorically stated that the "assassintion" would not happen in this story. The whole pretend death of Jon Snow seemed utterly pointless since you, I and everyone knows this is merely a temporary blip and he'll be back next chapter. But, commentators convinced me the death scene needed to happen and I guess they're right. Besides, I thought having Rhaegal there might spice things up a little. Anyway, let me know what you think.

Thanks again and a happy and prosperous new year to you all.