? POV

The sun had set and darkness had descended as the moon could only cast a pale glow over the snowy landscape. He moved forward on all fours with purpose, his sense attuned to the slightest sound or movement in the stillness of the night. Red eyes scanned his surroundings in search of prey lest he go hungry for the next few days. Slowly, he trotted towards the spring to sate his thirst, each step calculated to avoid making a sound. The rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs force him to stop, his muscles tensed in anticipation and ready to pounce at a moment's notice.

The scent is a delight, his prey is near and unassuming. He relies on his sense of smell to guide him as he stalks closer to a fresh kill. Edging closer until he is within striking distance and then without hesitation he pounces on to his prey. Sharp teeth clamp down on the neck as the elk lets out a shriek of pain and tries to shake him off in panic, but all of its efforts are futile as blood pours out in droves. He clamps down harder and tears off as much flesh as he can, the elk slowly succumbs to its wounds, the earlier shrieks are now replaced with the throes of death.

It is a kill that will last him for a couple of days as he indulges in the fresh meat until his hunger is gone. He begins the arduous task of dragging the carcass with him back to his den, hidden deep within the cave on the rocky outcrop. He was the lone wolf since birth, his pack howled for him every night sensing that he was nearby, but they had found their companions and he would not begrudge them for such a thing. He would remain in the wild until his own companion returned and only then would he show himself. Arriving at his den, he dragged the carcass to where the other bones were left to rot and curled into a ball to conserve heat. The sun was slowly beginning to rise and it was time to rest… for now.

Jon POV

"Get up lieutenant" came that annoying voice accompanied with a kick to his side.

Jon felt himself jerk awake as the taste of blood was once more in his mouth. He let out a groan and opened his eyes, everything was blurry and he felt a pounding headache begin to develop. As much as he loved alcohol, he really needed to stop indulging in the poisonous liquid every other night. The sweet release it gave him was easily outweighed by the shitty feeling the following morning. Jon sat up in bed, his head in his hands as he slowly got himself accustomed to the world of the living.

"It seems you enjoyed last night a little too much lieutenant."

"Fuck off Azar" he growled in annoyance, but his right-hand man just laughed.

"What time is it?"

"It's almost midday."

"Fuck…"

"Fuck indeed, the captain is waiting for you with the other lieutenants in the command tent. He sent me to wake you and Jon… he is not exactly pleased that you're making him wait."

"Let him know that I'll be there in a few moments."

"Yes lieutenant" he replied before leaving his tent.

Jon groaned once more in annoyance as he left the comfort of his bed and stretched his muscles, feeling his bones crack. Letting out a sigh of pleasure, Jon grabbed the pitcher of water and poured himself a glass of water, hoping to quench his thirst and rid the taste of blood from his mouth. The wolf dreams had started just a little under a year ago after that fateful clash with the Dothraki and each dream would become more vivid as time passed.

Jon shook his head as he had no time to contemplate the strange dreams and quickly found some fresh clothes and made his way out of his tent. He passed by the men of the company who nodded their heads to him out of respect and some avoided his line of sight out of fear, which never failed to amuse him. Three years he had spent with the black company and he had managed to garner a reputation of a man who was equally skilled with a blade as he was ruthless. He wondered what his family would think of the man he had grown to become.

Jon could still remember the day he had arrived at Myr intending to seek out either the golden company or the company of the rose, but those plans were put on hold when the city was on the verge of attack by a small khalasar, who wished to bloody their young. Myr had enlisted the black company in advance to defend the city from being pillaged by the savage horse lords having learned that Khal Moro did not care for tribute and was determined to sack the city.

Jon had no intention of staying in the city but was left with no choice when the city was in full lockdown and people were barred from leaving through the eastern gates. He had watched as the company arrived, some eight thousand men clad with breastplates, all pitch black and their banner being two swords crisscrossed on a field of black. They were professional in everything as they set up defensive positions atop the walls and patiently awaited the Dothraki to arrive.

Khal Moro and his horde arrived a couple of days later, their arrival marked with a stampede of hooves. Jon had expressed his wish to participate in the defence of the city but was laughed at and dismissed by a few of the men, stating that he was a child who wasn't fit to clean their boots. He was ready to clobber the man's head when the captain himself arrived, not at all impressed that his men were busy arguing with a green boy rather than overseeing preparations for the battle to come.

The man was tall and well built, his skin was tanned from no doubt the years of dwelling in Essos. A scar adorned his face, starting from his right temple and going down the side of his cheek to his chin. Despite the scar, he was quite handsome with dark hair and vibrant green eyes, strangely a similar shade to one of the emeralds he remembered his father gifted to Lady Stark on one of her name days.

"What the fuck are you idiots doing eh, that Dothraki cunt is only a day away and you're here prattling around with a fuckin kid."

"Captain the pretty boy here wants to fight and won't fuck off when we told him to" he replied making Jon bristle, whether it was at being called pretty or a boy he did not know.

"Is that true kid? You want to fight do ya?"

"Aye."

"Well too bad kid, the Dothraki would rape your fuckin corpse. Go and hide in the city with the women and leave my men to do their job."

He let out a scowl and was ready to argue further but the captain ignored him, walking away and shouting further instructions to the rest of his men. Frustrated, Jon made his way to find some lodging in the city lest he have to sleep in the street like some beggar. As he walked deeper into the city, he took note of the sprawling villas built of white stone and how they were all built in the center of the city as though they were shrines for the smallfolk to admire or envy.

Nearly every man and woman he passed on the streets were collared, with different brands to showcase what type of slave they were and who were their owners. He watched as some magisters whipped their slaves with impunity and they took the punishment without even flinching. He had to restrain himself when he watched a boy, slightly younger than himself hit with a whip across the face for not coming to his master's side quick enough when called. His hand went to the pommel of his sword as he wished to cut the fat man down, but he knew that the unsullied protecting the magisters would end his life the moment he drew steel.

As disgusted as he was at knowing how the unsullied were trained, he had to commend the efficiency at which they worked. They were professional to the core, with not an ounce of emotion to be seen on their face regardless of the atrocity their masters ordered them to commit. Jon had finally found a small tavern tucked away near the corner of the main square and managed to barter a simple room for himself at the cost of a couple of copper coins. The owner of the tavern tried to get him to overpay, thinking him to be some naïve foreigner not able to understand the bastard valyrian he spoke.

He reached out for the pouch he had in his hand and wanted to choose the coins for payment, but as soon as Jon replied that he would cut off his hands if he reached any further in the same language, the Myrish man flinched. Recoiling away in fear, he began to profusely apologise and gave him a better rate for the room. He handed over the payment and was shown to his accommodation for the next few days. It was a simple room, a small cot tucked away at the far end of the room and a small basin for washing in the corner. Throwing his bag of belongings to one side, he flopped onto the cot and cringed when he felt it almost buckle under his weight.

He stared at the ceiling and cursed at the fact he was powerless to help any of those poor souls. The moment he could leave this foul city, he would without a second's hesitation. He understood that slavery had been around for millennia as much as he did not like it, he had to accept it, but how could anyone be so cruel as to beat children for no reason and take some kind of twisted pleasure from it. Jon felt sick as the image of the boy's skin breaking open and blood pouring from the wound was embedded in his head, it was an image he would never forget.

Time wore on and Jon fell asleep, losing the battle with his consciousness. He was not given a dreamless night, he dreamt of a demon with icy blue eyes surrounded by a winter storm. The demon walked towards him but hesitated when Jon raised his sword in defiance, everything but the hilt was coated in flames. He could feel the heat flicker against his skin, a soothing sensation that fought against the biting cold. However, as soon as he clashed with the demon he was transported back to the same cave as always. He felt pure terror as he walked closer to the entrance, each step was shaky and without confidence but before he could enter the cave those same wild orbs of green would appear before he was bathed in flames.

The final part of his dream was one he had only begun to recently experience as two dragons, one of black and one of red appeared. Both were flying side by side as they let out twin roars shaking the land beneath them. However, he was taken aback when the black dragon lunged at the red dragon out of nowhere and ripped out his throat before flying in the opposite direction, towards the west with the same armada as before. The red dragon was dead before it hit the ground with a thunderous crack, its body was broken and mangled yet the most gruesome sight was the missing chunk of flesh from his neck, allowing its innards to be seen.

Watching the red dragon crash so unceremoniously sent a pang through his heart, he felt as though he had been the one who had fallen out of the sky after being betrayed. Jon was confused as to why he was dreaming of dragons, it made no sense for him to do so given that he was a Stark bastard. Unless his mother was a Targaryen, the only Targaryen woman at the time was the king's own mother and she was on Dragonstone during the rebellion. Ned Stark must have lain with some unknown Targaryen bastard, a dragon seed of some kind, mayhaps that was why he dreamed of dragons and it would explain his father's shame. The man must have lain with a woman who shared the blood of the family he hated most and had taken so much from him.

"Nice of you to finally arrive lieutenant, had a nice little nap did ya?" asked the captain, bringing Jon back to reality and he realised he had arrived at the control tent.

"We've been waiting for quite some time now pretty boy" groused out one of the other lieutenants.

"I apologise for making you all wait, it was not my intention to sleep in for so long."

"Whatever lad, just sit your arse down so we can get on with the meeting."

"Yes captain and Rezzak, call me pretty boy again and I'll cut out your fuckin tongue, you little shit stain" he growled out.

"What the fuck did you say to me?" he shouted whilst unsheathing his sword.

"You heard me you little bitch" Jon replied whilst his hands instinctively reached for a dagger.

"Enough both of you, Jon sit the fuck down and you Rezzak put away your damn sword, I won't have blood spilled because you're both petty little girls" thundered the captain.

He saw his fellow lieutenants with amused smiles on their faces, enjoying another one of the two's spats which was a regular occurrence since they had never seen eye to eye on anything. The former bastard of Winterfell nodded at his superiors order and took a seat, whilst Rezzak reluctantly sheathed his steel, but settled for glaring at him. If looks could kill, Jon would have been dead thrice over.

"Finally, I can fuckin begin and I swear to God if any of you cunts interrupt me now I'll fuckin cave in your ugly heads."

The meeting began in earnest as the usual stuff was discussed from the contracts they had completed to the number of recruits and the gold that would be set aside to suitably arm and armour each man. He had to fight to keep his concentration as all of this administrative work was quite boring and he did not have the patience for it. All he wanted to do was accept the next contract so he could happily swing his sword.

"Now for our next contract, Myr and Tyrosh have declared war on each other once more."

"What else is new" Jon murmured to himself.

"Myr wishes to offer us a contract, but they are playing coy as to the details, preferring us to meet in person to discuss it."

"I assume we'll have to go to Myr to meet them?" asked Rezzak.

"For once, the cunts will be coming here, they should arrive in a couple of days. So that means I want you on your best behaviour. Is that understood?"

"Aye," they all replied.

"Good, you're all dismissed, except for you Jon… you stay behind."

Jon waited behind as the rest of his fellow sellswords stood to leave, with some patting him on the back and of course, that dick Rezzak had a smug smile on his face directed at him as he walked away. There were many people he disliked in this world for various reasons and that Ghiscari cunt was at the top of the list.

"Must you always bait him?"

"Bait who cap?"

"Don't play dumb with me lad."

"Can you blame me, Jason, you don't even like him."

"Aye I don't, but I tolerate him all the same."

"I don't fuckin know how you can, he's the slimiest git I've ever met."

"I agree with you there, but he's a good soldier nonetheless. Anyway, I didn't ask you to stay behind to talk about him."

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked and the man let out a sigh.

"There's a war brewing Jon, a big one."

"Aye Myr and Tyrosh at each other's throats, but that's quite normal, I wouldn't exactly call their squabbles a war."

"Not that… there have been rumours floating about for a while now, the golden company has been rejecting every contract offered to them in the last year."

"Aye, I heard of that but did put much stock in them because it made no sense as to why they would do such a thing?"

"Some of our spies have managed to find out that ponce Strickland had a secret meeting with some magister a while back and they've come to an arrangement of some sort. It's why they left the disputed lands and made their way further east but fuck knows where."

"Do you know what arrangement it is?"

"No and that's the problem, all they know is that the golden company was offered more gold for this one contract than any contract ever."

"How much?"

"Roughly somewhere around two million dragons by Westerosi currency."

"Two million… what fucking contract would cost that much?"

"Something big and that isn't taking into account that apparently they've been offered other rewards should they succeed."

"Do you know which magister it was that offered the contract?"

"Some cheesemonger but they didn't know which, but he is being backed by a group of benefactors."

"There can only be one contract that is worth so much to the golden company. Returning to Westeros."

"Aye, tis what I thought too, but why would a cheesemonger go to war with the Iron throne and spend so much coin specifically on the golden company?"

"I would have said a Blackfyre is at the heart of it, but they're all dead, wiped out in the last rebellion."

"Whatever it is, I have a feeling we are going to be drawn into the conflict one way or another and we need to be ready for it. Once we have done this contract for Myr, we return swiftly back and increase training, I won't have us underprepared."

"Aye, captain."

"When the Myrmen arrive, you will be sitting in on the meeting with me."

"Come on Jason, do I really need to be there?"

"Yes, it is a command and please for the love of God refrain from insulting them to their faces at the very least."

"Fine, I'll try my best."

"Good, you can fuck off now."

Jon gave a mocking bow and left the command tent, wondering if his dream of the black dragon going west was simply that, a dream, or was it much more. He needed to speak to Quaithe soon, she would know more about his dreams and the meaning behind them.

Authors Note

I hope you guys enjoy the chapter. This one isnt the most glamorous but is essential to the building of the plot as the story progresses. I will be updating more regularly from next week so thank you guys for your patience over the last few months.

If you wish to read ahead, go to my pa tr eon: dragonkingsh