Burning Cold
Chapter 4
Culture Clash
A massive, inhuman head, horned and sleek with scales swung out of the cave with a quiet, yet immense presence. The wildlings were rooted in fear, staring at the dragon with near-reverent fear.
Jon cast a casual eye at it as it engulfed one of the larger carcasses with its massive mouth, making a satisfied rumble before retracting back into the cave to the sound of snapping sinews and crunching bones.
It reminded him of how Ghost ate his catches, and yet the cold claw of terror shot up his spine. Jon knew Ghost, the wolf was almost a part of him. This dragon? As of yet it remained somewhat distant from him, with the implacable strength of a glacier.
"That's… That's a real bloody dragon…" Ygritte said, her voice strangled by fear.
The blonde-haired woman, Val, swallowed hard, looking at Jon with wide eyes. "...It…"
"It won't hurt you." Jon assured her, wondering if perhaps he'd gone a bit far with the theatrics there.
"Why should we trust anything you say? Y-you…" Thistle declared fiercely, before a note of fear entered her voice as Ghost bared his teeth at her.
He quickly put a hand on Ghost's neck, scratching his ears to calm the direwolf. "You're my guests. No harm will come to you in the confines of this cave or its surroundings."
"And outside of it, Jon Snow?" Val asked with a deep frown, a note of fearful dismay in her voice.
Jon looked at her, wondering for a brief moment, if he'd killed a friend of hers in that stampede he'd caused, before dismissing the thought. "With any luck, Mance and I will come to terms… If he's coming."
"He is." She said with a small, slow nod. "It'll take him a day or so, but…"
"I can wait." Jon replied firmly, as he looked at the three women contemplatively. "You three should come inside - weather is only going to get worse from here on out."
They glanced amongst themselves for a moment, looking at him furtively, a silent conversation going by amongst themselves that he had little to no understanding of.
He felt a strange feeling rise up in him, distinctly reminding him distinctly of when he made a faux-pas talking with a girl, and Sansa and Jeyne would immediately start… well, doing what the wildlings were, for lack of a more appropriate wording.
"You're a pretty confident crow, huh?" Ygritte asked with a faint humour to her words. "Never known anyone who'd be willing to try and steal three spearwives at once."
"I haven't stolen you. You're free to go whenever you want." Jon replied confusedly, as he wondered at what exactly she meant.
"You're a confusing crow." Thistle pointed out. "You already stole Ygritte earlier with that direwolf of yours, and now it's us two with the weather and that dragon."
Val shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "You just said why… He doesn't even know what stealing is, does he?"
"Accidental or not, that's what he did." Ygritte shrugged, apparently unconcerned with the possibility of being 'stolen by him', which… certainly sounded terrible if he was being honest.
Jon looked at them with a deep frown settling onto his face, feeling like he was being blindsided here. "...What are you talking about?"
"Didn't they teach you what stealing is at that Wall of yours?" Thistle asked with an unsurprised shake of her head. "Guess not… Probably teach you to kill us on sight, don't they?"
"Thistle." Val said warningly, shooting a glare at the spear-wielding woman. "That's enough."
Thistle grunted angrily, seemingly unable to decide where or whom to direct her rage at, before stomping off further into the cave. Ygritte glanced at her leader for a moment, searchingly, receiving a quick nod for her troubles, before she darted after her fellow spearwife.
The blonde woman turned to him once more, a faintly tired expression settling on her face. "I'm sorry about Thistle."
"It's fine… She speaks truly, after all." Jon replied honestly, as he eventually found his extinct fire. "They likely teach you the same about us, do they not?"
He caught the slight hesitation on her face out of the corner of his eye, as he went about relighting it, feeling the dragon's aura of cold creep up his body. He'd gotten used to it, but it'd be unwise to allow it to settle in his body beyond what was necessary.
"...They do." Val admitted quietly. "From birth, we're told stories about the likes of the Halfhand, or even the looming fear of the Night's King… Your lot are in our fears almost as much as the white walkers."
Jon couldn't help the stab of anger and yet, mourning, the mention of Qhorin brought about in him. "...You'll be happy to know that Qhorin Halfhand is dead then."
She looked at him with wide eyes. "How do you know?"
"...I don't truly." He admitted, despite his reluctance to say so much to someone he genuinely wasn't sure to trust… Even if she seemed honest so far. "Last I saw of him was his back as he fought against the Others, whilst the dead were about to strike."
"A valiant death." Val whispered, unsure whether to curse or admire his death. "Mance will be…"
She stopped, catching herself before she said much more, but Jon could guess. It'd be either grief at a long lost brother or… mournful dismay at a man that could cause so much harm to his cause, despite their prior bond. Or maybe… Those were his own wounds talking, Jon thought darkly. Perhaps Mance didn't care, happy to see an enemy of his gone.
He'd been having a lot of these dark thoughts of late. Left alone to brood and stew as the dragon's cold slowly healed his bones and his health. He knew it wasn't perfect - whenever he slept and the dragon strayed too far, he could feel the pain of his injuries return with a bite that seemed to worsen each time.
He knew it was even a miracle he was even able to walk, but that didn't stop the nightmares or his dreams, that all foretold of disaster. The endless white of winter, the mountains of corpses that he alone seemed to stand on, the squawk of a raven and then… Nothing.
"How old are you, Jon Snow?" Val suddenly asked, interrupting the quiet that had landed on them, and his troubled mind along with it. "You look young, and sound young, and yet… Your eyes speak differently."
He looked at her warily, wondering why that question had come to her mind. "What does it matter?"
"Trying to judge whether or not I should accept the fact that you stole me." She said with a teasing tilt to her smile.
Jon hadn't heard a joke in so long, that he couldn't help the small chuckle that tumbled out of his lips. "I still don't know what that means, but I'd advise you to deny it. My vows are… strict on that."
"What a crying shame." She said with a mournful tone that made him oddly embarrassed.
Thankfully, before Jon had a chance to truly attempt to figure out the meaning behind her mournful tone, Ghost quietly bounded up to them, pulling the corpse of what seemed to be a deer as he approached, setting it down just next to the fire.
Val whistled loudly. "And here I wondered how you were going to feed us."
Jon was scratching the direwolf's ears, as he looked at her. "I'd have figured something out, but… Well, I'm happy he took the choice out of my hands."
Ghost looked between them for a moment, before laying down on his stomach and offering his head to Val. She looked at the pony-sized wolf with surprised eyes, before her eyes settled on his questioningly.
Jon nodded, almost as surprised as she was. He'd only seen Ghost be this affectionate to another human with… well, his siblings, Arya in particular. A pang of painful remembrance hit him at the thought, but he forced himself to push it down. He couldn't lose himself in nostalgia, not now.
Was that affection perhaps a sign that Val could be genuinely trusted, instead of being kept at arm's length like he planned to?
…He was likely looking too much into it, he decided, as he watched as the blue-grey eyed woman scratched the direwolf between the ears and beneath his chin exactly how Ghost liked it.
The deer had been skinned by the time the dragon came over to see what was happening, its massive head settling on the rocks far above Jon's head as it observed them.
It seemed to genuinely frighten the wildlings once more, but as the minutes dragged on, and they realized the dragon was highly unlikely to eat them or attempt to kill them with his 'master' right there, they continued as usual, albeit with an inescapable undercurrent of hurriedness to their movements and voices.
Jon briefly allowed himself to think that his own near lackadaisical calmness to the dragon's presence helped, but… Well, they thought that the dragon and he were one, didn't they?
It's important that I keep it that way, he thought. If not… I lose any negotiating power I might have, and be at their mercy.
As exhausting as it was. As much as he felt his heart rise up to his throat every time he saw it out of the corner of his eye, thinking that was it, and the dragon would kill him right there and then.
It never did, and Jon knew logically, that it never would as long as they were linked as they were. It felt faint during the day, not even a quarter as strong as what he felt with Ghost, but when he dreamed, truly dreamed…
Every night he flew, spying a prey with the precision of a dragon's eye. Of the quick death he'd grant with a lazily swung claw or from the mere impact of his landing, and the meat and blood and bone that trickled out of his mouth after a long night's hunt.
The dreams would end then, and he'd awake with the taste of raw meat on his tongue.
A lingering remnant of the dream, Jon could only think, but that brought about a fear.
A fear that he was getting too close. That one day, he'd awake to being completely subsumed by the dragon, any trace of Jon Snow completely faded from existence.
That night, he dreamt of premonitions once more as the dragon had stayed in the cave, but this time they were different… Instead of a mess of incomprehensible images that he couldn't make sense of, he saw an iron crown covered in blood, a direwolf howling in the distance.
That could only be-
"Robb." A voice rose quietly from nearby. He glanced to his left to see that it was Ygritte, who'd just woken up from the hurried way she's thrown her furs back on. "You kept on mentioning that name in your sleep, Jon Snow."
Ghost, who'd been curled up by his side, opened an eye as he looked curiously at the red-haired woman, before quickly shutting them again in disinterest. Jon sat up a bit straighter, allowing himself to sit back against the cold, dry and smooth rock surface.
"It's just a name." He replied, unable to stop the slight shake of his voice despite his efforts. He'd have thought that after weeks of suffering these sorts of nightmares, that he'd be used to it, and yet… "No need to concern yourself with it."
"I wouldn't be surprised if you had green dreams on top of the warging." Ygritte commented, looking at him with curious eyes. "It's rare, but… They do sometimes come hand in hand."
"...They don't feel like my own dreams," Jon confessed honestly. "Is that what a green dream is supposed to feel like?"
At that, she shrugged with a modicum of sympathy. "I don't know… Only ever heard tales of greenseers, you'd be the first one I've ever met - if I'm right, 'course."
"If you are right," he said tiredly, unable to stop the fatigue that rose through his body at the thought of this being the new norm for his nights. "Then I don't think I'll ever sleep soundly again."
"A small price to pay for being a dragonrider, some would say." Ygritre commented nonchalantly, tilting her head to the side as she observed him. "...Not that you'd agree, eh, Jon Snow?"
He stiffened slightly. What did she mean by that? "Depends on what price you think I paid."
"Dunno yet." The spearwife said with another shrug, as if she couldn't quite decide for herself what she had seen. "Not that you need to worry those pretty features of yours… I don't look and tell."
Jon watched her with somewhat renewed wariness. He'd almost forgotten who she was and more importantly, who she paid homage to… If she thought she saw a weakness in him…
"I hope not." He said coolly, as he reached to the side to grab his leather jerkin and other pieces of armour he only stopped wearing at night. "Would you mind giving me some privacy?"
Ygritte smiled crookedly, bowing nearly mockingly at him before sauntering off with the quiet grace of a trained warrior… Leaving him alone once more, as he began to prepare himself for the day ahead.
Jon found himself at the cave's mouth soon after, watching as the snow gently fell onto the ground, quietly extending his hand out.
Snowflakes fluttered gently onto his palm, a childhood memory flashing into his mind as he slowly allowed himself to forget. His worries, his fears, all of it.
It had been the final day of the summer snows that had lasted close to a sennight. Jon must have been no more than ten, and yet he remembered the sad expression that rose in Sansa's face as she saw the snow quietly melt beneath her eyes.
She liked the snow, even if she didn't dare admit it. She had always wanted to be south, and be a princess in King's Landing, wear the prettiest southern dresses, yet… He could see the melancholy in her eyes.
He remembered telling her that the snow would come back, and be just as beautiful as the ones they had just experienced… She quickly regained the joy in her eyes at the reminder.
It was one of the few fond memories he had of Sansa… At least of them on their own, but… He cherished it.
We'll make more, Jon promised himself and her, as if she could hear him. If I can get the wildlings and the Night's Watch to make peace, and then I'll…
He stopped, his vows flashing into his mind and perhaps most damning of all… The dragon. He couldn't control it, let alone ride it. It was at best a tool of fear, one that'd surely and slowly fade with time.
Especially if… or rather when, people found out about that little fact.
"You're going to freeze if you stay out there." Val said honestly as she approached him from behind.
"I haven't done so before, and I won't now." Jon replied with a small shrug, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "Do you think Mance managed to make much progress in the snowstorm last night?"
The blonde woman looked out of the cave with a frown. "I don't know. Mance is tough, but this amount of snow would halt just about anybody."
She was definitely right about that, Jon had to admit. The snow had built up to be knee height at its shallowest, and taller than most men on the average, with the tallest snow drifts he could see in the small valley were almost the size of a mammoth.
"We'll be sharing each other's company for a little longer then." He noted idly.
"Is the prospect terrifying for you?" She teased lightly, genuinely grinning at him.
"No, funnily enough." Jon admitted. Despite his fears of them discovering his lack of control over the dragon, it was eclipsed by his genuine desire for human contact after weeks of having none. "You're not bad company all in all, after all."
"Nor are you for that matter, at least if you ask me." Val said, looking away from him with a surprisingly regretful expression on her face. "You want to know something, Jon Snow?"
"Yes?" He asked quizzically, wondering where she was going with this.
"Don't treat Mance like he's a king, nor like he's your enemy. Just treat him as you see him in front of you, and you'll get him to listen to you." Val said softly, as if torn on what to say.
"... Thank you." Jon said quietly, wondering why she'd revealed this… And if she was even telling the truth. "I'll keep that in mind."
"You'd better." She said, an uncertain smile on her lips. "Now get back inside. You'll freeze and stay that way if you don't."
"Give me a moment, and I'll be right behind you." He replied, his mind swirling.
Val nodded in response before disappearing back beyond the rocks, leaving him alone once more.
Wait for his first move and proceed from there, if she's not lying. Jon thought, his endless agonising of how to approach the King beyond the Wall fading with that tidbit. I don't like improvising like that, but…
I am the shield that guards the realms of men. He reminded himself, his will becoming ironclad as soon as the words entered his mind.
AN: A lot of thanks to Ottomatic for betaing this chapter.
Don't really have much more to say besides I'm praying that I'm far more productive to avoid having a month and a half schedule, which is just way too long... But anyways, hope you enjoy the story!