A/N:...happy holidays...but not for me. Teeth are chattering as I write this.

Short update today due to the storms. Winter blast screwed my power over and I'm updating this from battery backup.

Because you see. My power. Keeps going out. Every few seconds. Needless to say, I'm not happy. And of course, BECAUSE its the holidays, no one's around to fix a damn thing. Ergo! Neon's sitting at home freezin', in the dark, wrapped under a bunch of blankets. Ho. Ho. Ho. A fine Christmas present this... I'm so unbelievably angry I can barely bring myself to type straight.

Speaking of which!

I'll say it plain, if this email opt-in business with the site doesn't get resolved soon, I'm probably going to retire.

It HURTS to say that; but with this new system, reviews and readers have dropped to an all time low, authors are leaving the site in droves, and it feels like the end of an era. Sometimes the app helps, other times...not so much.

Sometimes the app helps, sometimes it doesn't.

If you're not already aware of it, ever since the 16th of November, you now have to turn ON your email alerts in account settings-MAKE SURE YOU CLICK SAVE SETTINGS!-else you won't be notified when anyone updates. No alerts, no email, no nothing. Apparently that's a thing we all have to do every ninety days or so, now. Alas, not many are aware of it...which is a problem. As things stand this new "fix" as it were, has cut everyone's viewership/reviewers in half because most folks don't know about it. Authors are leaving/quitting because of this.

Sometimes opting in works. Sometimes it doesn't. Really depends. Hopefully the devs can fix tweak/update this system before everyone leaves.

So here we go. The fate of this story depends on you, the reader. Your feedback determines the fate of this story, and all others.

I hate having to beg for feedback, but without it...well, it feels like I'm not making an impact.

Once more, we're sticking with the "Embers" rule for this story...and others.

If folks don't like this, it won't be continued. Meaning that if the story itself ain't popular? Well...I won't be able to continue it. I'm working two jobs with ever-increasing hours and the holidays are right around the corner; I barely have time to write; as such, I cannot afford to write something folks don't enjoy. So by all means, speak up! Your voice matter! Make yourself heard! As ever, reviews are the fuel that sustains me. Without them, I cannot write a single word. Simple as that. So by all means, speak up! Raise your voice! Make yourself heard! Your reviews matter! Really, they do!

Alright, I've kept you long enough. As ever, I own no quotes references or themes. Not a wit or one! T

hey're tributes, one and all. Now then...here...we...go.

Once more, to clarify, Dany's dragons are growing fast. Really fast.

And dragons gotta eat...

"Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and full of ketchup."

~?

Here Be Dragons

Drogon was starving.

It wasn't his fault. This place was cold, with little food to be had. It made his scales itch. He knew his brothers felt the same way. There was prey here to be sure-but prey between three dragons was scarce prey indeed. The game had gone thin in passing days and he was so...very...hungry.

For the North was cold indeed. And the Wall loomed ahead. Drogon liked it not.

Too big. Too much ice. Not edible.

In short, not food.

He'd much rather be back in the south, safe and warm in Kings Landing. There was fish and prey there aplenty...even if Mother didn't like it when he ate the noisy meatbags. He didn't mind Mother's Mate. He was alright and the Chosen of Viserion. Drogon accepted him, as did Rhaegal. The one who smelled of flowers slightly less so, for no one could ever be better than Mother, but he could tolerate her. She gave good chin scratches and didn't balk-much!- despite how big they grew.

But back to the hunger. It gnawed at him. His stomach ached.

So when some noisy meatbags started shouting, he took notice.

Even here, high in the sky, he couldn't ignore the shrill shouting in the distance the Wall. So many men running about, like little ants. He swept past them heedless of their shrieks, skimming the wall. Seven beats of his great wings brought him to the top. His brothers weren't far behind. The air was thinner here. Colder. His stomach growled anew.

Had Drogon possessed the capacity for it, he would have grimaced.

There were even less men atop the Wall, many of whom even fell to their knees at the sight of them. Hopelessness and awed flashed across their face as he winged by.

This pleased Drogon. He was strong. He was mighty. He was powerful. The fleshy meatbags were right to fear him.

But not all gave the respect they were due.

One drew Drogon's eye from below; a bald, fat man, barking orders at men in the yard, hollering everyone but himself. Hardly armored at all, and utterly unaware of the approaching army. Loud. Noisy. He would not be missed or mourned. Surely Mother wouldn't mind if he took a nibble. Just a taste, really. Fuel for the furnace at all that.

Drogon swooped.

Swooping was good.

Yes, very good indeed.


(.0.0.0.)


Jon had never seen a dragon before.

He'd heard tell of them of course -who hadn't?- but to actually see one up close, much less three of them...it took a man's breath away. He hadn't thought to see them in his lifetime, or ever, really. The sight of them stunned them into silence. Even Ser Allister was stricken by the sight of these massive, majestic beasts. All of Castle Black was up in arms to see them.

Less so Janos Slynt.

The oaf was still shouting orders when one the beasts -the black one- swooped down and caught him in its talons. In a moment he was swept away, shrieking into the air, high, high above.

A vicious tug of war ensured between the trio of dragons.

Slynt did not survive it.

Blood and viscera rained down upon them all. Perhaps, were Jon Snow been a more vindictive man, Jon might have smiled. As it were, he permitted himself a grim moment of satisfaction, little more. Then came the horror as he realized what such a beast might well do to the rest of them if they didn't think up something quickly-

"Oi, oi!" a man's voice barked from beyond the gate. "Viserion! Drop him!"

Jon rounded on the noise, just in time to see someone vault over said gate. A young man with fiery hair and piercing blue eyes. How in blazes had he-

Said man whistled sharply. "I said drop him!"

One of the smaller beasts -and small was a relative term for creatures so large!- landed atop Castle Black's wall. Its chosen perch groaned ominously beneath its weight, but held... for now. Jon noted its red jaws and was that...oh. Oh, dear. It certainly was. Seemed this one had gotten a rather hefty chunk of Slynt indeed.

"That's right!" the blue-eyed man stalked forward, shaking a rigid finger at the beast as though the digit were some mighty spear, "I'm talking to you!"

Viserion looked away like a chagrined dog, still clutching of Slynt's mangled lower torso between its mighty jaws.

"Don't give me that! You drop him right now, mister! Your mother's going to be so angry with you!"

Viserion growled.

"Eh? He's already dead?" Belatedly, Jon noticed the crown upon his head. This must be the Prince, then. "Fine, fine. Stop playing with your food."

The dragon made a pleased noise and scarfed down the last of Slynt.

Jon winced at the audible crunch that followed.

Even here at the Wall, they'd heard tell of what happened, of the new power in King's Landing. Stannis had sacked the city and taken it for his own. Beyond that, reports were...sketchy at best. Castle Black seldom concerned itself with the outside world save where it was necessary. If they'd known he had dragons-

"JON!"

Jon whirled, startled from his reverie. Grunted now, as Arya -ARYA of all people!- slammed into his chest.

Six words summed things up quite nicely.

...what the devil did I miss?"

A/N: There you go. Happy holidays. Still having power problems. Guess I'm just going to freeze it out.

So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...

...Review, Would You Kindly?

And have some previews.

(Preview)

"Go on. He likes you. You'll not have a better chance than this.

"What?! I don't know how to ride a bloody dragon!

"Nobody does. Until they ride a dragon."

...what if he doesn't want me to?

"Then we've enjoyed your company.

"Where do I hold onto?

"Wherever you can."


"Ygritte, don't."

Someone thumped her on the back of the head.

Naruto caught her as she fell and handed her off to Jon. "She'll live."


Tormund took one look at Viserion and grinned. "You're a big beasty, ain'tcha?"


I swear to you, those who would harm you will die screaming.

Show your strength to them.

Here. Now."


Dark steel flashed in the gloom. The battle was joined.

R&R! =D