A/N: Had a bit of a sick day today; ergo, I spent it all in bed.

Sorry this isn't up to my usual quality. T_T

Yes, this is a fragment. After the disaster of Season Eight it a miracle I'm even willing to dip a toe back into this franchise...

Been awhile, hasn't it? Well, here goes nothing. Lets see what happens.

I'm not even sure anyone remembers this story...sigh...

*braces for hate*

Still, you can thank House of the Dragon for this. That fantastic trailer is the only-and I do mean ONLY!-reason I'm attempting to get back into GOT as things stand. Far as I'm concerned, season eight didn't happen. Nope, nope, nope! That ending burned me and my team so badly that not only did a good of them quit, but it put us off writing as a whole.

I spent a year trying to get the gang back together as it were, to no avail.

So yeah, writing this by myself now, while working two jobs, no days off, with 4-8 hours to write a day, if I'm LUCKY.

But I can promise you this; this story won't end the way Game of Thrones did. No, nay, never!

Sorry once again for vanishing. And now we're leaping ahead. Prepare!

As ever, I own no quotes references or themes. Not a wit or one!

"But is it really a dream..?"

~?

Dreaming of Dragons (Fragment)

There was a baby dragon sitting on my chest.

I blinked once, certain I was imagining things. Twice. Thrice now.

When the image didn't dissipate I blinked again and shook my head fiercely.

Sleep-gummed eyes denied me, unable to comprehend the little bundle of scales currently curled up atop the thin linen blanket I was using. It didn't budge. If anything it seemed to take my moving as a personal affront to its honor and nestled itself deeper into my shirt. Small, fragile, barely larger than a clenched fist, it was nevertheless perched quite comfortably atop me. Stranger still, its scales were a wild, bloody red, almost like flame itself. No, not flame.

The little beast was blood red.

Which begged the initial question, really.

WHY WAS THERE A BABY DRAGON SITTING ON MY CHEST?!

A trembling finger -my finger!- reached out and prodded the little lizard once. Its scales were strangely warm to the touch. It snorted at the intrusion, but didn't stir from its slumber. My mind fizzled and died with a low whine, even as a hysteric laugh built in the back of my throat. Viserys didn't get a dragon. He never got a dragon. Never, ever. Nevermind the fact that the eggs should have hatched at all! It just wasn't possible!

I turned my head just so, and winced when I found a corpse only yards away from my feet.

"Well. I certainly don't remember doing that...

It took all I had not to thrash upright.

Right, calm down. There was probably a perfectly rational explanation for this. I vaguely recalled drinking last night; celebrating a feast or something-no. No, now I remembered. I'd been wild with fear; because last night? Last night was the night Viserys -whose skin I currently wore!- should have died. He should've gotten his "crown for a king" and died a terrible molten death. I'd still feared that, even I'd gone out of my way to avoid. So I had a drink at Jorah's behest. Then another. Followed by another...and...

Three tents down, I heard Daenerys call my name. "Brother? Are you awake?"

"No! I mean, yes! Blast it!"

In my confusion I made the mistake of sitting up. The very moment I did? Sharp claws sank into my wrist. Very sharp claws! My gaze snapped down as hissed out an angry breath. Baleful slitted eyes glared up at me as the hatchling hung from my limb. Seemed my guest was awake. It wasn't biting me, but it did have a very firm grip on my wrist at the moment.

In a fit of pique I reached down and tried to extricate it -him? Her?- from my arm.

It took exception to that the only way a newborn dragon could.

The little bastard bit me!

Say what you would about the hatchling's claws but its teeth were altogether sharper. My hand snapped back trying to cradle my now bloodied finger; unfortunately that only irritated the little devil further still. Claws like razors bit through the sleeve of my tunic, turning a simple snarl into an outraged gasp.

I hissed out a breath. "Why me?!"

A faint hissing sound pervaded the tent.

For a moment, I could've sworn the little helion laughed.

The tent flap tore open and the girl who would one day be the Mother of Dragons rushed in.

She took one look at me, or rather the little terror in my arms, and baked.

"Oh, my." her hands flew to her face. "Is that what I think it is...?"

My head crashed back down against the pillow.

"Kill me now...!"

A/N: And there we go. Just a fragment, just a snippet as I get back into the swing of things.

So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...Review...Would You Kindly?

And enjoy the previews.

(Previews!)

The flame beckoned. I couldn't say what had drawn my attention to the burning brazier, only that something had.

And like an idiot, I'd placed the egg within.

Against my better judgement, I stabbed a hand into the fire. I jerked it backward just as quickly, expecting pain. None came. I looked back. Considered my unharmed hand. This was absurd. Wasn't it? I shouldn't be fire proof. That was Dany's thing. Not mine.

"Well, shit." I muttered to myself, frowning at my untouched palm. "That's new."

My hand strayed back in.

A soft gasp at the tent's entrance had me hiding my hand, to no avail.

Daenerys stared back at me with wide eyes. "You too?"

R&R~!