Burning Cold

Chapter 2

The Wolf and the Dragon

Jon didn't understand what he saw, as he stared at the being that stood in front of him, the light finally capturing its full, titanic presence.

The creature seemed to envelop the entire room, standing taller than anything Jon had ever seen besides the Wall. Its body was made of ice, but it wasn't any that he knew of. This ice was brilliant, shining brightly in the fires of the torch, and… It seemed to beat and pulse, flickers of frost flashing onto the ground.

The wings were vast, so vast that they had to curl at the edges of the cave. They seemed to be made of interlinking spikes that stuck outwards like terrible spears of ice. Jon noticed that they were translucent, enough that they allowed him to see to the other side of the cave where the fire shone terribly.

His gaze slowly searched upwards until he was looking at the dragon's head, and then finally at its eyes. Those terrible eyes that seemed to bore into him as well, the crystal blue trailed on him with an indescribable look that lacked Ghost's familiarity.

Jon tightened his grip on his dagger, feeling a strange numbness rise in his body. His fear was still there, for he knew exactly what the beast in front of him was, and what that meant, but… It was tempered.

Hours ago, I fought against the Others and lived, he rationalised, swallowing hard as he stepped slightly backwards. He couldn't stay here, and yet… As he looked at the entrance, where the snow was slowly tumbling into the open space, he knew he couldn't.

The dragon shifted slightly, causing the cave to shake. It slowly began lowering itself, its neck craning towards Jon, continuing to peer at him. It opened its jaw, its bright white teeth shimmering in the light, baring them at him for a moment.

Ghost only did that when he was really hungry, Jon thought belatedly as he stared into the dragon's eyes.

What do you want? He wanted to ask, but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth, fear and exhaustion gripping his mouth shut. He focused on the beast, trying to discern its intent, as they watched each other for a long moment. This was an intelligent creature, he quickly realised, and… That meant something. That had to mean something.

It's hungry, and I'm likely the only food it's seen today… But it didn't try to eat me immediately, despite that. Jon thought quickly, wracking his mind as something niggled at his mind. He was slowly reaching that final piece of the puzzle, but something stopped him from reaching it… But…

"You're playing with me." He said roughly, staring at the dragon intensely as the pieces all suddenly connected in his mind. "I'm an injured, defiant prey… And you're waiting to see if I'll die now, or if you'll have to do something."

The beautiful creature blinked once, lowering itself to look at him more closely, the ground lightly shaking as he did so. Jon refused to move an inch, merely raising his dagger towards it, unwilling and almost unable to let the fear control him.

I'll die if it thinks I'm weak, he knew, but that wasn't the reason why he was standing tall despite all of his instincts telling him to run away. No, somehow… Jon ignored it all. This is madness, and I am mad, he thought faintly as he stared the dragon down.

It bared its teeth at him once more, its eyes never leaving his as it slowly moved towards him. Jon didn't move, watching with a careful eye as the beast's gargantuan head, larger than any stallion he'd ever known, settled in front of him, craning its neck to stare at him from above.

Sniffing the air for a moment, the dragon then sniffed him, cold air billowing from its snout. It looks strangely childlike at this angle, Jon thought. Like it was just uncovering something for the first time… And perhaps it was.

It seemed to blink languidly as it stopped, giving him a side glance that seemed contemplative. He felt a terrible urge to reach his hand out, stiff, exhausted and injured as he was. It was so close, the chill that radiated from its body somehow reinvigorating him to commit such a foolish action.

It'd be the height of stupidity, he knew, but he thought of the direwolves. The others had been afraid, and yet… He, Robb and Bran hadn't been. No, there was a strange power, an uncontrollable desire to keep the animals that had taken them that day.

Was it the same here, he wondered, or have I truly lost all of my wits?

He slowly put his dagger onto the floor beside him. The dragon shifted slightly, looking at his now defenceless form, but then halted as he raised his hand once more. Trepidation raced through his body, as Jon reached out with his hand.

His hand laid there in the air. The creature stared at the offered hand for a long moment, and… bared its teeth, Jon getting a look into the gaping maw of this legendary dragon, seeing naught but living ice, shimmering in the light of the fire.

He didn't budge for even an instant, gritting his teeth to ensure he didn't fidget. This was a contest of strength, of will, and if he faltered now… His efforts to pull himself out of that river would have been pointless, whilst Qhorin would have died for nothing.

I am a brother of the Night's Watch, he thought to keep himself brave, to avoid being craven as the dragon closed its mouth with lightning fast agility, making the air snap as it did so, a terrifying sound tumbling off the walls.

He couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes for a brief, terrifying, moment, only… To feel an absolutely freezing cold weight settle on his hand.

Jon stared at the sight of the dragon closing their eyes, lightly touching him with its snout. It opened its bright, blue crystal orbs, and looked straight at him… Jon felt something change.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he distantly felt himself fall on the floor, pain racing up his ribs and the back of his head. But it felt so far away, like it wasn't his body and yet… It was.

There was a subtle chill over his entire being, and he felt a part of himself cry out in revolt. It struggled against him for a moment, and Jon fought with all of his strength. It was all over in a moment, and he felt a strange balance settle over them.

Jon stared at his body for a moment, and reached out. A massive clawed wing loomed over his crumpled form, gently scooping him up before lightly depositing him next to the fire. He winced as the flames licked at them, but ignored it.

They were in an accord, he realised faintly. He didn't have control, not a direct one, but… They had established a bond, and as long as their goals aligned, they would act as one.

They turned away from his carefully placed form, feeling somewhat confident that nobody would come to harm him. Even with that chaos on the Fist, that had died down as the dead and the white shadows had departed to chase after the black crows, there was not much else around here.

The dragon crossed the cave, flying upwards if only for scarce moments, and then manoeuvring themselves around the massive maze of the cave system. Jon finally saw the piles of snow that stood at the mouth of their cave, standing taller than most of the towers in Winterfell, almost wondering by what way they'd get rid of this obstacle.

They batted their wings once, a single blast of air rippling outwards and instantly throwing the snow outwards with a loud rumble, and then… They flew.

Jon could only describe the range of emotions he was feeling right now as marvel. He could feel the rushes of the deathly, soothing cold air through their skin of ice, the feeling of beating against the wind with their wings, and… above all else, he could see .

The cloudless, black sky shone in front of him, illuminated in bright green, blue, and purple waves that seemed to ripple and move around them. He saw countless stars and constellations, some of whom he could place, and others that eluded him entirely, illuminating the sky. Towering and shining above them all, was the red comet that bled through the sky, like a scar on the surface of the world.

After what felt like hours of gazing at the stars, marvelling almost akin to a child at their beauty and mystery, he slowly and reluctantly lowered his gaze to the dark world of ice, mountain and smatterings of forest below them.

The dragon was used to it, looking at it with a detached coldness, merely judging if there was any prey for it to devour, or enemies to look out for, but Jon… He was utterly amazed, with a tinge of terror adding to the mix.

For while he was seeing places, things and imagery he couldn't have even dreamed up, it also made him realise how far the Others had travelled down to rout the Night's Watch. Were they truly around in every shadow, waiting for an opportunity to strike?

He wanted to dismiss the possibility out of hand, but the things he'd seen in the past day and night…

They stopped suddenly in the air, as they glimpsed past a mountain of the Frostfangs that still managed to loom over them slightly. It was then that they saw it.

It was only a slight glimmer, but as they flew towards it, Jon realised what lay in front of them. They were fires, countless in number and various in size, lit at every corner of a camp.

It was dishonest to call it merely 'a' camp, however, being far more close to thousands of individual camps all kept within the same space, like a disorganised sprawl of people and cultures.

The wildling host, he thought, his mind suddenly remembering. The one hidden in the Frostfangs, the one that they'd been searching for this entire time… And he had found it just like that.

A feeling of disgruntlement rose up within him, and Jon felt slightly embarrassed. It was their effort, he amended, feeling the dragon content itself slightly at the words.

He wanted to get closer to get a grasp of its true size, when the dragon resisted him. He fought against it, summoning a strength that he didn't know that he had, but it brought its own strength to bear.

Locked in a stalemate, Jon grimaced, as they kept themselves in the air with a firm, consistent beating of their wings.

I'm going to have to convince you aren't I? He thought with a scowl. The dragon didn't reply, but it hasn't closed him off… Or maybe it simply couldn't anymore.

He doubted it. The creature of ice was so willful that even Arya would seem reserved in comparison.

A sudden bout of melancholy struck him at the reminder of his sister. Gods, what would Arya have made of all of this, of the thought of him having a partnership with an ice dragon of myth? Of the Others coming back to haunt the realms of men?

She was safer in King's Landing then she'd be here, he knew, and that was… a difficult idea to swallow. That she was safer with the Lannisters that had killed his father then with him right now.

Jon had to get a better look. He had to get some sort of information on what the wildlings actually had… And the only way he'd be able to do that, was letting him share their consciousness.

The dragon stirred slightly at that, and he knew that he had his attention.

You want food. Jon thought quickly, as his mind raced through lessons that Maester Luwin gave him about beyond the Wall. If this camp is as large as it seems… It'll have giants and their mammoths.

It noticeably shifted, a small but unmissable intrigued roar tumbling from its mouth, rumbling across the empty landscape.

If we get closer… We'll grab a mammoth for you to eat. He promised, as the dragon turned towards the camp once more. Are we… agreed?

The dragon waited a moment, a brief feeling that Jon could only describe as ice cold warmth rising through his body. There was an emotion behind it that he couldn't really comprehend, intense and fleeting, but it had intent. It wanted him to feel this, he quickly guessed.

We cannot be hasty, Jon thought, perceiving that the dragon's mind was made up. Even in the dead of night they can see us-

The beast suddenly shifted its flight. It first soared higher then spun, using the momentum to fling itself like a stone from a slingshot down towards the earth. Before Jon's eyes, the world rushed headlong to meet them. Clouds turned into faint blurs, the torches of the vast camp beneath them drew closer.

W-Wait, wait! Jon tried to command it but the dragon paid no heed to him. Soon, the wind was in his ears, he could practically feel it crash against his face. Through the beast's keen eyes, he made out the shapes both small and frighteningly large about the torchlight.

Then, as suddenly as it spun about moments ago, the dragon's winged arms shot out in both directions and its form shifted again. The wind snapped so loudly Jon could hardly even hear the mammoth's cries before the dragon grabbed it by the back and lifted it into the air.

Jon felt it all, intimately and viscerally. Claws as long as a man dug into the poor creature's spine, rending flesh and bone as easily as he might've torn apart a chicken leg. The mammoth let out several long, pained moans ere it went limp and at last died in the dragon's clutches.

Jon gasped, his heart beat against his ribs like a hammer. They know. He thought with a cold dread. They might not have seen it clearly but they know all the same. They'll be looking for you now…

The dragon cared not at all. It was too content with its upcoming meal.

He could hear it however. The screams of the wildlings as they were crushed beneath the heels of the terrified mammoths, their shouts of panic as they tried to gather themselves into calming them down.

Dozens of lives lost, all for the sake of his own curiosity… Because he had meddled with a creature that he didn't truly understand, and allowed it to act on its basest instincts.

I'll need its help to have any chance of accomplishing what I want… Jon thought. And yet… I cannot control it… Where does that leave me?

Author's Note: I have to admit, this final part is what took me a month, and I wasn't even the one that wrote it… Ultimately, that entire section should be credited to a good pal of mine, Rolo, the author of the brilliant Wayward Wolf among other fanfics.

I'd tell y'all to check it out, but I'm pretty sure everyone who's reading the fanfic has read it, so yeah… Well, all I can say to him is a very public thank you.