Followers & reviewers as of 4/16/2013: DementedDementor101, Gloriana the Younger, CasperGhost, AlwaysGryffindor13, Darksnider05, harrylee94, & Rileyshima
Wouldn't it be great if, by the end of this fic, the above list takes up a page by itself? I think it would be fantastic.
Title: Winter Is Coming
Rating: T, may increase to M for bloodshed and general GoT-style awesomeness
Genre: Drama/Hurt/Comfort/Betrayal/Adventure/Action…basic ally a bit of everything
Category A: Rise of the Guardians
Category B: A Song of Ice & Fire/Game of Thrones
Characters: Jon Snow, Jack Frost, Ghost, Daenerys, probably heavy mentions of Arya because she's fabulous, appearances by assorted other characters from both fandoms.
Summary: The Stark words: "Winter is coming". But Jon wasn't a Stark. He was a Snow. A bastard. A brother to the heirs of Winterfell and a Brother of the Watch. He was a warg and a Wildling. And, unknown, but most important, he was Winter's champion.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I am not the genius behind A Song of Ice & Fire, nor one of the ones behind Rise of the Guardians. All I own is my own insanity, which I claim proudly and fully blame for this convoluted mess.
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Chapter Seven: DAENERYS
Stars twinkled in the sky, dancing blurrily behind the tears that threatened to fall. Slowly, Dany blinked them away, refusing to succumb to such weaknesses as crying. She was a queen, khaleesi of the Dothraki sea, the Unburnt, the Mother of Dragons; crying was for children and beneath her. And yet the tears returned, distorting her vision and stinging her eyes. She was twice widowed, and both times, her husband's death had been at her hands. She was not saddened for Hizraqh; his fate was just and better than he deserved. He had tried to poison her and usurp her city. He had screamed for the death of her children. He had tried to turn her people against her. She had no tears for him.
No, her eyes brimmed for the stars above her and the brave, strong, kind man who rode eternally through them. "I miss you, Drogo," she whispered into the night, rolling onto her side. She pressed her cheek against the cool tiles of her terrace and squeezed her eyes shut, letting the tears slip out beneath her lashes. In the darkness under her eyelids, his face appeared; both the stern, fierce warrior's mask that led an endless horde and the soft, gentle visage that had smiled so radiantly, just for her. He should have been her king; was supposed to be.
In the distance, sounds of merriment filtered up from the city. Her people, celebrating her return from the dead and the end of the siege on Meereen. She should have reveled in the sound, should have felt some swell of joy, but the laughter and music only served to remind her how alone she was. She could not afford to let down her guard, not even for a moment. If she did, someone would strike at her weakness. Despite what she said at court, she knew much about the ways of war.
But right now, there was no one around. No one to see her, spy on her, judge her. Only Ser Barristan was anywhere near, and he was a terrace and a room away, on the other side of a thick door that was locked on her side. She could drop all her defenses, just for a minute, and pretend she really was an ignorant young girl.
Instead, she wept, letting the bitter tears fall. She wept for everything she had endured, everyone she had lost, every betrayal she had suffered. And when she ran out of things to weep over, she wept simply because she had more tears to spill, and then, exhausted from weeping, she cried herself to sleep, oblivious to the creeping tendrils of gold that came to dance over her head.
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Whiteness stretched all around her, blanketing the ground and cloaking the trees that stretched to the sky and on into infinity. Though she had never seen it before, Dany knew she was surrounded by snow. She knew it should have been cold, seeping through her thin gown to freeze her skin, but for some reason, it was not. There was no sensation whatsoever. There was just her and the snow and the silent trees.
She called out, but no sound broke the quiet. No breath of wind stirred her hair, her gown, or the bare branches. She took a few hesitant steps, but there was no crunch of snow. Onward she pushed, pausing now and again to glance back at the trench she cut through this mute world, marveling at the crisp purity of the white world. Everything was eerie and still, but she was not afraid. The dragon fears nothing.
And then, suddenly, she was not alone. A figure stood in front of her, tall and pale, with rotted hands and eyes that reminded her of the fires in the House of the Undying Ones; icy blue and without warmth or light. A stain of red painted the front of the figure and Dany did not have to guess what it was.
Blood.
An eternity passed as she and the figure stared at each other, unmoving, she barely breathing. For the first time since entering this empty realm, Dany felt the tickling fingers of fear grazing the hairs on the back of her neck. This…thing…was unnatural. It had no place in the realm of men.
"Leave," she commanded, her voice stolen by the void. She spoke regardless. "I do not fear you. Leave or suffer the wrath of the dragon." Still the figure did not move. "Go!" Dany ordered.
The pale mouth opened beneath those haunting eyes, making her go tense, human instinct rising from her gut and howling about danger. A piercing, inhuman shrieking filled the air and the figure lunged forward, racing over the snow. Dead black hands reached forward, grabbing for Dany. She could not move, could not flee, could do nothing but let her eyes go wide and feel terror grip her. She would die.
There was a flash of white then black, and then gleaming steel, and the awful screaming quieted into the sounds of flesh ripping and cutting. A flare of heat washed over her, followed by the scent of something foul burning, and then all was empty again.
Fear had blinded her, but now she blinked, revealing a change of scene. She still was not alone, only now a man stood across from her, dressed in black. A massive white wolf stood at his side, nearly lost against the snow, and two sets of eyes watched her with intense gazes; one red, the other a hard, flinty grey. A gloved hand reached out, inviting her across the again-pristine snow, and for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to take it and run into this magic land where no one would think to find her. Her own hand moved slowly, tentatively, as if the slightest touch would cause the world to crumble.
Just before their fingers met, a yawning blackness opened around her and she vanished into darkness, her screams of protest ringing silently into the abyss.
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Dany woke up shivering, blinking as the gold hues of predawn bled into the eastern sky. A solemn face nestled into her memory, grey eyes boring into her before fading as consciousness regained control of her mind. Had it really all been just a dream? Parts had felt so real, so right, that it scared her. But no, it could not have been real. After all, she had never seen snow. And wolves did not grow that big. No, she had most definitely been dreaming. She felt a tad ashamed, dreaming about strange men, even if they were not real, but it was her secret to keep. And keep it she would; she would store it away and revisit it when she was alone.
Which was not now, she realized as a gentle knock rapped on the door. "Khaleesi? I have brought you some food." The familiar voice was a welcome relief. Dany moved to the door and opened it, locking it again once Irri had entered.
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A/N: Ack. More Daenerys. Hope it's better than the last Dany chapter. Let me know. Oh, and while I'm at it, are there any requests on any GoT characters you want to pop up in the story? I'll do my best to acquiesce. Just, no zombies. If they were confirmed dead by the end of A Dance with Dragons, I'm going to have to say no.