Carrow flipped through the pages, old and tattered. It was a tome straight out of DnD, magical formula written in a language that just *seemed* right. It was a weird feeling, reading and understanding but not *seeing* text his eyes and brain understood. Regardless, Carrow read the mystical feelings, and as he read his heart pounded; it burned and boiled with an adrenaline and passion that he'd only ever tasted before.

For inside of these dusty pages that he'd found in his uncles attic -a relic passed down to him via will after the man sadly committed suicide during Covid- lay what just had to be an actual CYOA! Well, perhaps that was just his Gen Z talking, but CYOA was honestly the best way to explain the steps necessary to under go what was called 'Dragonification' the main ritual the Grimore taught.

Carrow grabbed the magical tome and rushed down stairs, out his uncles condo, and dashed over to his truck. Starting the old ford, he buckled himself in and started heading home. His eyes were hawk-like, staring at each and every car and pedestrian like a thief wanting his gold or a potential murderer wanting his life. Judging by car accident statistics, that might have even been somewhat true. Regardless, Carrow drove slowly, uncaring of the few extra minutes that he'd had to spend on the road in favor of safe driving.

He arrived at his apartment building, and parked in his designated lot. Getting out of the truck, Carrow grabbed the book, and with his head darting to and fro, he entered the building. It might have been mere superstition, but he avoided the elevator despite its general safety and instead opted for the stairs. His hand grasped the bannister at all times, and in four flights of stairs he arrived at his apartment building.

Opening his door, he locked the door, grabbed a chair from his kitchen and barred it shut. Next he closed the blinds, and cleared a location for him to preform the ritual.

Scanning the material from the book, Carrow started mumbling a language that made his throat burn and mind pulse as conceptual and metaphorical information was beamed into his skull and executed instinctually. Bright crimson sparks leapt from the open book placed on his apartment floor before solidifying into a stream of magical power.

Instead of seeking Carrow, the stream instead maneuvered itself over to his computer in a room connected to his kitchen. The stream started infusing his laptop with magical intent and information. His monitor -connected to his laptop via a HDMI cable- flickered on and projected a familiar display. For Carrow was correct, the Grimore was indeed a CYOA for some reason that shall not be explained!

Stopping the chanting, Carrow coughed roughly as his throat was burned and scorched raw. Stumbling over to his sink, Carrow inhaled water and blissful relief followed. Hacking some more, globs of blood splattered the sink in crimson red. Blinking at the blood, a large bloody smile spread across his face and he bolted over to his computer. Slamming his ass down in his chair, Carrow's eyes darted over choices and non-meta explanations that didn't really matter all that much.

Gist was: you dragon now, ritual activated, choose what dragon you be, choose power you want, choose world you go, choose more power, choose drawback for more power, go! Basic ass CYOA prompt. His favorite.

The only incongruity that Carrow found with this CYOA was the fact that it was a Lewd CYOA not meant for children of any kind. How untasteful and scummy!

"You dare think I, Lord Carrow, will be tempted to spend precious points and power on mere cocks and pussy! Begone deviants, begone! Your harems and mind controlled slaves will all fall before my future power!" Carrow ranted to himself as he cringed at the flagrant deviance that tainted his power trip.

Carrow ignored many of the more 'obvious' powers that most internet scum would gravitate toward. While not having much of a sexual life himself, Carrow was going for a 'Power Gamer' moment, as spending points on things that didn't expand toward his future dominance and immortality was foolish. Base instincts that his currently flawed form generated would naturally need to be crushed before he turned himself into a grand dragon.

Carrow first addressed his future form. The Dragon Dance CYOA offered him three Body Types that boasted more power, but would strip him of his humanity, and six dragon forms that had downsides and upsides. The Body Types were Humanoid, Animalistic, and Full-Blooded. Each offered its own benefits and boons, but to Carrow, the 40 base points that Full-Blooded offered was simply too much to let go. He choose to be a Full-Blooded Dragon.

The Dragon Forms were normal Traditional Dragons, Maned Dragons, Wyverns, Wryms, Feathered, and Aquatic Dragons. Carrow striked Vanilla Dragons first, as they were simply too basic to compete. Well balanced but not exciting enough!

Next was the Maned Dragons, and these were his second favorite contender, but they lacked in physical combat, much like the Feathered Dragons. Too weak for a Power Gamer.

The Wrym and Aquatic Dragon were disqualified as Carrow was someone who saw the Aquatic Dragon as limiting and the Wrym as cool, but not his style. It had no wings as well, and the memory failure was worrying.

This left the Wyverns. Massive, powerful, strong, Wyverns were the tanks, the alpha beasts of the Dragon world. While he'd be leaving behind arms in favor for wings, and the shedding would be annoying, he'd be uber powerful and supremely badass. Yes, a Wyverns life for him indeed.

Moving on to the World section, Carrow was at first confused, what does becoming a Dragon have to do with being transported to another world? Carrow got up from his chair and went to retrieve the Grimore, still resting on his floor. Picking it up he leafed through the book to find a table of contents and eventually arrived at 'Side Affects'.

"Death, Maiming, Mutation, Sacrifice of Humanity, True Death, Soul Rupture, Soul Erasure, Magical Anomaly, ah, here we are! 'Ritual may involve rupturing of local multiversal fabric of reality, causing a portal event and transportation to another World. This phenomena is fairly common and not able to be prevented, only guided. World Records exist in most realities as fiction and can be substituted as coordinates for the ritualee. The more 'magical' and 'advanced' (read: dangerous) universes offer unique powers and more energy to be siphoned into ritual'." Carrow read.

"Interesting!" Carrow stated, tucking the book under his arm and walking back to his desk. Sitting down Carrow considered various fictions that the CYOA offered.

"Shadowrun? What's that?" Carrow muttered, before skipping ahead.

"GoT would be easy, I'll think about it." Carrow hummed and started eliminating worlds. "Star Wars? Just why. No thanks, I don't even read Legends, and I can't stand being apart of a Disney owned franchise." Carrow cringed at the thought of even being in the same universe as Rei Palpetine.

"Worm, haha, No." There wasn't even any hesitation or thought.

"Skyrim? You mean Elder fucking Scrolls lore, hehehe, that's worse than Worm." Carrow's smile got strained at the thought of entering the Elder Scroll's universe. That shit? Fucking wild man.

"Godzilla, meh, not my thing." Carrow only knew Godzilla from a few clips, and only ever saw the Skull Island movie.

"Fallout could be cool, but that sounds like work and not fun." He'd have taken fallout if he was a humanoid dragon, as creating deathclaw power armor and purifying the world with a few powers in later lists would have been cool.

"D.C and Marvel, no. In universe multiverses are confusing." Carrow shook his head at the sheer mind bending nature of both Detective Comics and the shit show that the Marvel Multiverse was becoming.

"Ooo, cool, but not my thing. The nostalgia though, damn that nostalgia. And Marceline, best vampire girl, no cap." Carrow smiled at the thought of the vampire girl, such a cool character.

"Mass Effect, also no." Carrow only knew Mass Effect from Humanity, Fuck Yeah posts and various fan fiction that had similar "Fuck Yeah, Humanity" vibes.

"Invincible, never watched." It was new, and super hero flicks were never his thing.

"Overlord is a hard no, cause Ainz is an OP Death Mage and instant kill magic is OP as fuck. Read volume eleven for clarification." Volume Eleven was a meh book, but it showed the sheer power of death magic quite well.

"Lastly, home sweet home. As funny as that would be, I think I'll pass." Carrow nodded his head as he clicked on GoT. "Aight, gotta get powers that counter Ice Zombies, I guess." Carrow said as he started on the next tab. Features.

"Mmm, it's like, all lewd shit." He stated, expression dry and unamused. Letting out a puff of air in exasperation, Carrow started filling it out.

"Nope, nope, nope, and nope. Hmm, what do we have here." Carrow looked at the Scaled Up section, an option that did what it said and added five feet each purchase. "Don't mind if I do." He gave it two taps. An option over added extra horns, and Carrow decided that the art looked quite dope and added two more horns to himself as well.

"Alright, horns and size, what next?" Carrow asked himself.

The next option added another 'vital organ' to his body, and Carrow whistled at the thought of that. "Does magic come from the heart or brain? Hmm, well having two hearts would be dope and the brains would stack, but I haven't read anything about a Dragon's Brain. A Dragon's Heart on the other hand..." Carrow hummed and added it to his list.

The book on his desk popped open to a page. The page listed organs with a 'Circle Organ to be added here:' prompt. Scanning his desk for a pen, he found his dad's old rifle bolt pen and circled 'Heart' inside the book. The book closed.

Looking at the rest of the section, there were maybe one or two others that he'd want, but he needed points for the next section. Powers!

This section required care and careful thought, after all it was his powers and they were a critical protection to his long life and safety. It would be terrible if he just up and rushed the selection of his pow-. "Fireball." Carrow clicked.

"Oh, lightning breath, hell yeah! Click." Carrow smiled, before his eyes widened, "Plasma Breath! Ohohohoh, yes daddy, yes!" Scrolling down, he saw a few that he really wanted, but he had other things to get to first.

"Familiar Shape, hmm, I'll miss my human body one day, so why not." Carrow acceded to his roots as a human.

"Elephantine! Fuck yeah, I'll make sure to memorize every single gold coin in my stash." Carrow cheered.

"Be Afraid, 'cause I'm a fucking dragon." Carrow cackled.

"Burning Embers is broken, I'll never tire in a fight, can fly forever if I'm out matched, and never need to sleep. Wonder how that'll effect my plasma breath, instead of eight minutes maybe ten, an hour?" Carrow speculated.

"Mind Palace is a given. I'm not going to bounce around a soft-magic world without it." Carrow stated firmly.

"Hear Me, because fuck Spanish Class." Carrow said spitefully, "Now I'm an omniglot, hell yeah." Carrow pumped his fist. He's gonna miss that specific action.

"Oh, ohohohoh, I'm totally just going to fucking fall on King's Landing or Harrenhal or something just for shits and giggles. Heaven's Weight indeed." Carrow laughed sardonically.

"They Called It Fire, damn, that's fucking deep. Sign me up, I want to be named after a primordial aspect of nature and get an extra personalized power. Just gotta whisper my name real low." Carrow chuckled as he already felt the power trip coming.

"Endless Growth, now that's cool. How powerful will I be in a year, a century, a millennium?" Carrow speculated once more on his future.

"Wearies! Noice, no longer worrying about ennui and Immortal people shit." Carrow wiped his brow dramatically, as if having dodged a bullet.

"That image though, just fuck you man." Carrow stated with disgust, "Still a cool power, and I got four horns so more power? Places to Be indeed."

"Now, world powers, lets see. Midas Touch, gold! Fuck yeah baby, papa's gonna be fucking rich!" Carrow cackled as he saw himself bathing in gold like a certain scrooge. Carrow largely ignored the Valyrian Steel bit, but as he turned to the next page he saw something that made his greed spike.

"Valyrian Steel King Steel Armor! Now that is just OP." Carrow muttered as he looked at the King Steel dragon armor. Adding it to his selections Carrow scanned the other items, and while the Sapling of Life was pretty cool and powerful, he was already in the red and needed some points. That deficient didn't stop him from snagging The Pan of Dexterity, as he figured he'd want good food sometime in the future and not just raw meat.

"Sigh, Drawbacks." Carrow muttered as he looked at all of the lewd and not so lewd drawbacks.

"Mmm, You Are All Meat is pretty cool, kind of metal. If I get any companions I'll just tell them that they'd better feed me or get eaten." Carrow muttered, "I mean, what are they gonna do, not feed the several ton magical dragon. Fuck off."

"Dragon Sauce? I didn't even get any of the lewd perks, so how am I gonna have sex? What ever, free points, but I'm not getting that one point masturbate one. That's a trap I say, a trap and not the fun kind!" Carrow nodded as he saw the red start going away.

"Still a bit in the red, lets see here. Draconic Rage, damn that's dope. Mmm, but what to rage at. Tedium I guess. Easy 3." The book popped back open and he selected 'Tedium' as one of his triggers. "And then, Personal Failure, 'cause that sounds like a good way to motivate myself." Carrow nodded at the galaxy brain move to make himself a rage monster that gets pissed off when he doesn't win.

"I was already going to have a hoard, so why not." Carrow clicked, and was already picking up his pen by the time the book opened again. Carrow circled 'Gold'.

"Mmm, Necrosis, damn that's crazy. Emotion based death magic. That's too cool to pass up." Carrow thought of several interesting emotions, before deciding on Apathy as a poison and Fear as a cure. In Carrow's opinion these two emotions would filter out the 'bored and apathetic teenager and the apathetic ice zombie and or sociopath/psycopath'. Besides, if he killed all the apathetic people, then the world would be a brighter place. As a wise man once said, Apathy is a tragedy.

Necrosis was also his solution to his next drawback, Danger Zone. "If the ice zombies are apathetic toward life and not hate filled undead, then my aura will kill them all, and I'll be home free." Carrow smirked at his big brain moment, but did admit that this hung on the fact that the White Walkers and Wights had emotions in the first place and if they did, it was apathy.

"A rumor huh, well, free points. The Dragon doesn't concern himself with the opinions of ants after all." Carrow laughed with a shark-like smile.

"Lastly, We Know You. While this would be a problem for some of the other worlds, for Westeros? Bar for the course." Carrow pocketed another five points, and obtained an easy perfect 0.

His mouse cursor hovered over the check mark button and he clicked, another prompt opened.

"Confirm."

Another Click.

Carrow disappeared, as did the Grimore. He'd be posted as a missing person three weeks later and never turn up again.

--

Ice and snow, winds of hail and a chill that permeated all things in a winter wonder land that never saw the sun. The dark overcast clouds were barely penetrated to allow light to beam through them. The sunlight then reflected through thousands of snowflakes forming a blizzard in the Land of Always Winter, the northern most land of Planetos.

Inside of this frozen hell scape, a barren clearing made of magical ice laid claim to it's lifeless domain. An alter was this seemingly benign places only real feature. That innocence lasted until one found the dark primitive catacombs and caverns underneath. Carved using magics, these catacombs were the White Walker's or Others' resting place. These catacombs that held the apocalyptic monsters were currently empty.

Above this hallowed place of a once sacred duty, high in the upper atmosphere a portal opened. Large and cavernous, the portal was pitch black framed by a fiery outline of purple flames. From this portal a hulking figure appeared.

Dark scales the color of a noxious purple so dark they'd be black without light to refract against them. Wings roiling dark crimson, the color of oxygenated blood of the recently deceased with three dreadful pointed claws coming to a point and forming the 'hands' of the 'forearm'.

Its head held four horns, two of which were the rolled back like a goats, coming up in a sharp point at the dragon's maw of blocky saber-like teeth. The other two horns were smaller and located underneath the head, extending from its lower jaw and protecting the throat and ear holes.

Eyes, burning eyes on each face of its angular features burned a insidious yellow. The eyes themselves were protected by ridges and facial features that made the Dragon all that more protected.

Its tail was long and while prehensile, certainly not dexterous. It was a bludgeoning and balancing device more than anything. The tail wasn't capped at with anything, and its only features would be a row of spikes extending from its back capped with sharp peaks of scale and bone.

The beast fell from the sky, and intelligence flashed in its eyes. There wasn't much panic, only a flash of surprise and alertness. Instead of flapping its wings like a fool, the dragon flared its wings out in a span that had to surpass four hundred feet. The wings picked up the cold winds, and its decent slowed slightly, only for the dragon to start tilting into an uncontrollable free fall. A flash of one wing and the extension of its legs and tail allowed for more drag and balance, another flap of its wings found the dragon not simply slowing, but moving forward.

A sharpness flashed into its bestial expression, and with a large flap, the dragon flew up. Another, and the dragon flew forward. The dragon flew. A roar echoed deep into the Lands of Always Winter. White Walkers paused in their actions as they stared up into the blizzard wreathed sky, Thenns paused their work in lugging a snow bear onto a sled as they heard the echoes of a grand beast far north, and animals from snow bears, shadow cats, and rams paused in their motions. Prey animals stilled as they felt the presence of an alpha predator, and predators kneeling and begged for mercy knowing that nothing they could do would result in survival. The Thenns worked faster, ignoring the piss that ran down their legs.

Carrow The Dragon, pumped his wings as he climbed back into the upper atmosphere. His scales were covered in frost and his muscles burned in a glow of embers. Rising high, Carrow folded his wings against his sides and stomach, before flipping and diving down toward the Earth or rather Planetos. His dark scales gleamed as the rush of air stripped the frost and snow that hung inside of his scales.

His jaw tightened as he neared the earth, with a flare of his wings, instead of a nose dive Carrow was now headed for a belly flop, reaching deep within himself Carrow locked every muscle, bone, and joint inside of his body. Carrow's weight suddenly tripled, and with a thundering blow that made God's hammer look puny Carrow flattened the earth and perma frost that held it together. A massive fault line opened up from his impact and a small ravine of earth suddenly opened up to swallow any who dared near its mouth. Including a certain dragon.

Carrow quickly unlocked his body, and his forearms snapped forward to clutch the edges of the valley he'd just made. His claws cleaved into rock, ice, and earth, before his legs clawed into the side of the ravine and pushed himself over the edge. His head as a counter weight and his tail slamming the opposite side of the ravine he pulled himself out of the hole he'd just made. Despite the seemingly comedic action that paired well with the image of someone falling into an ice lake; the fact that the dragon did such an action on solid ground, and the fact that the dragon that was doing the clambering was 150 feet long made it look like some creature was clawing its way out of hell.

Now out of his hole, Carrow extended his neck toward the sky and with a roar and chest of burning fire exhaled a stream of fire 900 feet into the air. As Carrow roared fire, plasma started arcing between his scales and spikes, then in a magical display all that power coalesced into a core of electricity before mixing with his gout of flame. From simple orange fire, now a 1400 foot gout of pure plasma the temperature of the sun blasted out of his mouth. In fifteen seconds of breath Carrow snapped his mouth shut, cutting off the blast of pure destruction and heat. Around Carrow in a radius of 300 feet all snow had melted; turned to water. Directly around Carrow he was now seated in a pool of liquid glass and magma.

Lumbering out of the pool, Carrow grinned a Draconic grin as he felt and saw a coming storm. Magic pulsed out around the Lands of Always Winter, changing weather patterns and from an unknown direction came a massive storm of snow. Following that snow was a certain faction of ice zombies. Carrow let out a gout of lightning as he 'chuckled', the arc incinerating a spot of land.

"Come!" Carrow cried out in the Dragon's Tongue, a maniac battle lust welling up within his belly of star stuff. From his nose two streams of flames further destoryed his surroundings. His wings flared and Carrow braced his back legs. With a lunge, Carrow pounced into the air and flew low. A flap of wings pushed him higher and speed him up even further. A boiling brew of power and heat pooled inside of his chest, and as Carrow penetrated the cloud of winter winds and cold hail that dinged off of his scales, he let it all out. "Ionnathir. (I-on-Nath-IR)" Carrow spoke lowly, the name rumbling from his chest. As he spoke, a bolt of lightning fell from the heavens. The bolt struck Carrow's back, arcing between spike, bone, and scale, before another bolt fell, and another, soon the sky was filled with nothing but bolts of lightning falling, plasma struck Carrow, snow, mountains, and the undead hiding within the blizzard.

The bolts that struck Carrow filled his chest with power, and as electricity and lightning branched off his body, Carrow arrived at the host of undead. The arcs turned entire legions of undead into naught but ash. Carrow let loose a breath of plasma that eliminated the core of the army. So caught up in his power high, he didn't notice or even bother to look for the Night King. The Night King meanwhile rode a snow bear on the flank of the army, signature javelin of ice in hand. The storm of ice and lightning continued hammering the ranks of undead, while Carrow took in the slaughter of undead. The Night King pulled his arm back, and with a throw of supernatural strength flung the spear of ice at Carrow's neck.

At the same moment as the spear left his hand, a bolt of lightning that moved at .3 of c, and burned as hot as the sun struck the Night King. The apocalyptical figure evaporated in a mist of water and fragmented ice. The spear meanwhile flew toward Carrow, aimed at his neck. Only to hit his second set of horns as he pulled his head back as he prepared another breath attack. The deflected spear chipped his lower horn and cut through his scales, carving out a small area from his right 'ear' to his lower jowl. The attack left a small line of blood across his 'throat' or 'jaw' before flying off into the distance. Carrow blinked at the unexpected pain, darting his head to where the attack came from, only to see the corpse of a snow bear.

Still in shock at his near death, Carrow swung his head over to the battle and was left gobsmacked at the now dying and dissipating army of undead.

"Fuck, that was the Night King?" Carrow let out in disbelief. "Where was the build up, the creepy stares, like what the fuck?" Carrow's confusion was suddenly starting to be replaced by an unfathomable rage. "Shit, here I was, all jolly and happy. Arrogant beyond belief. Who would blame me, I'm a fucking dragon! But rushing off into battle a mere few minutes after becoming a dragon? Like fuck me, who do I even think I am, god?" Carrow let out a string of self-depreciating curses and rants. His self-hate originating from his Draconic Rage drawback. Carrow would go on to let out several breaths of fire, lightning, and a culminating cathartic release of plasma at a mountain face as he released his sudden rage.

Eventually calming down over the course of a few hours, Carrow was still in a rather shitty mood. He did almost die due to him not thinking the Night King would rush out the gates to try and kill him, but in a realistic standpoint it made sense. Suddenly there was a massive dragon that would be the be all end all in his war, of course he'd rush out and try claiming the Magical McGuffin that holds godlike power. Hell, he'd have succeeded if not for what Carrow assumed was one of his lightning bolts killing him and dumb luck preventing him having an ice spear in his throat.

As Carrow calmed down, he did notice he was being a bit hard on himself. The spear wouldn't have likely even killed him. Injured and wounded? Yes, but killed? Not likely, the spear only chipped his horn, and would have been a bitch to dig out, but Carrow wasn't some human that'd die from not having a throat. Well, he would, but he'd regrow it if it was some normal attack like a spear or something. Still, lesson learned.

Carrow flapped his wings, getting some build up snow off of them as he'd laid down to think and rest. He started feeling his need for a horde after he'd laid, but that could wait until he found a place for a horde. This thought and need for a horde led him to where he could set up a horde stash/home. He thought of taking the Vale and its Eyrie, but he also thought of taking the Wall and claiming the Night's Watch and Castle Black as his domain. Jon should be there right about now as Danny would have received her eggs. His time line knowledge was spotty at best sadly as the show wasn't exactly accurate with time lapsed what with teleporting ravens and armies.

Instead Carrow made another plan that incorporated both ideas. He'd go to Black Castle, spook the Watch and state that their watch was now over and the Others' were now truly dead. He'd also call an audience for Aemon to come and speak to him privately and tell the man of Jon's legacy. Then he'd fuck off toward the Eyrie and kill Lysa and her son. Claim the tower as his own and scare the ever living shit out of the lords to give him gold and dragonglass. The black glass would go well with his golden bed. If they decided to give him shit, he'd burn their castles to the ground and demand even more gold from the other lords. Dragon shit basically.

"Mmm, I wonder if Essos has belly dancers." Carrow questioned the winds and listened for their wisdom. Receiving none, Carrow stretched, and with a leap of Draconic muscle and might flew into the air. A roar followed his accent.

--

Jon shivered as the encampment started waking up. Free Folk picking up gear and supplies as they prepared to moved out of The Fist of First Men toward the wall. His mind kept repeating the last night over and over again. Oath Breaker, Traitor. It repeated again and again. What would Father think of him now? A debaucher? A Bastard bred true, all nasty things spoken by the Septa proven?

He rubbed his face with his gloved hand, trying to break the thoughts that consumed him. Warming up inside of his clothing, Jon startled as Ygritte poked him in the side.

"Ready for the climb, Jon Snow." She had her usual smile, mocking and wide, fiery hair hidden away by a thick hood, but framing her face all the same. His heart started beating wildly, before he calmed and gave a reassuring smile.

"I hope." He stated, a simple reply that thankfully satisfied the women.

"Good." She stated simply, "Come, Jarl and Styr need to wake and help with preparations." She gave him a jostle on the shoulder, an action that reminded him of Arya so much that it hurt. Blinking away the memory, Jon moved forward to search for their team members. That action halted when he looked north.

A storm, massive in size, and at the perfect distance that Jon could see just how big it really was. It encompassed the horizon, gray clouds that the more he stared, the more he realized that they were coming closer. Suddenly he both felt and heard it. A roar. Distant, leagues away. Yet, why did his throat clench? Why did his body freeze and his mouth dry? Another roar, and the gray clouds glowed white with lightning.

Jon eventually unfroze, looking around the camp only to find the Free Folk in a similar state of frozen fear. Some even had piss running down their pants, a fate he was saved from by emptying his bladder earlier.

Facts rushed to his mind quickly. The clouds roared, the clouds flashed, the clouds were coming toward them. Quickly Jon made a plan of action. His legs pumped over packed snow, coming onto his tent, opening he quickly packed food, water skins, and furs. Taking him all of two minutes, Jon ran out to find people in a fit of panic. Putting his pack on, Jon ran toward where Ygritte had ran off to, Jarl and Styr's side of the camp. He found Ygritte arguing with Jarl and Styr as the two men seemed unfazed by the roars. Ygritte looked shaken.

"We need to leave! Now!" She stated, an almost maniac expression on her face as she argued with the two men.

"It was a roar, a distant one at that. Mountains cause this all the time, likely some beast living in the Land of Always Winter. We are far and near The Wall, no need to rush." Jarl stated with Styr nodding along. "Besides, if that storm comes, we won't be climbing a wall. We'll be falling off it." Ygritte looked incensed at the two, only for Jon to put a hand on her shoulder.

"Jon!" She stated, surprised.

"We need to leave." Jon stated, a sense of serene calm coming over him. His gray eyes steely. Ygritte stared at him for a moment, before glancing at the two men, a hardness appeared in her eyes. She nodded. "Meet at the southern end of camp." She stated before running off.

Jon blinked, before quickly moving, only to stumbled and trip, pant, and then continue running as another roar and flash of lightning of distant clouds stung pants shitting fear through him. He passed men who were confused, others who were panicking and screaming at others to figure something out. There were some that had similar ideas to his and Yggrite's; gathering supplies and climbing tools.

Arriving at the southern edge, he was met with Ygritte carrying a pack of food, supplies, and climbing cord. He was surprised to see Tormund with her, the man carrying rope, iron spikes for climbing, and ice picks.

"Snow!" The giantsbane shouts, "Get your scrawny ass over here, we move now!" Jon bolted over, swapping supplies and resources with each other to achieve a more balanced load.

"We move." Tormund said.

--

Jon planted one of his picks into the thick ice, giving it a few tugs, before pulling himself up, feet struggling to find a foot hold. His other pick pulled up and slammed into ice, allowing him to bring his other leg up and find purchase.

They were almost up, just a little more and they'd be over. Jon looked up, spotting Ygritte's red hair through the snow, a few dark shapes of Tormund leading, and a glance to his right he found the sole other team of climbers. They were lacking behind a bit, slower and less coordinated. The head seemed slow at planting spikes, and the others got impatient.

Jon, Tormund, and Ygritte, a small team, but a workable one. They moved in a rhythm that was almost supernatural in its function. Plant, tie, move up, move up, move up, plant, tie, repeat. A few more impacts, a gust of wind blows hard enough to shift Jon's feet on the ice. Tormund yells 'brace', but its a bit too late.

Their team stays adhered to the wall, sadly, the same can't be said for the others. The lead comes undone, practically torn from his position and flung to the left and out. The latter direction proves to be too much for the spike, and it plugs out. The spike then hits the man beneath it in the head, causing him to loose footing, and fall as well. From there panicked screams, overweight of bodies, and another gust ends their accent.

They started with four teams.

Now there was one.

Jon pulled his pick out and started climbing. They made it for about ten rotations, before Tormund yelled something.

"The storm is going to pick up! Lightning is flashing! Don't jerk at the thunder, you'll die!" With that helpful and completely unnecessary advice yelled out, they continued.

Lightning does indeed pick up, the booms of thunder all the more louder and threatening when they happen right next to you. Still, by luck, fortune, or divine providence, they climb the wall. The sheer relief felt by the three survivors was comparable to an orgasm, resting on the cold floor of the wall, the three wall climbers recuperated. Sharing their rations between themselves, they sit on the wall and watch the storm rage.

Tormund boasts and heckles, Ygritte joins and tales tall tales, with Jon smile demurely and chuckling along. Unknown to the three Storm Climbers, they'd just climbed into the beast's maw in an attempt to escape it.

A roar.

Tormund's bombastic speech is cut in half, Ygritte's light laugh is murdered in action, and Jon simply freezes like the Snow he's named after.

A swoosh of wind and wing, cloud is parted and a dark figure obscured by the remaining vapors. A crash, claws that could render steel like butter bit into cold ice with a resounding crunch. Another flap of wings to deaccelerate, before the forearms of the wings land with two crunches of ice. A gust of wind reveals dark purple scale, a rumbling of the star fire boiling in its gut lights the darkening day and obscure mists with the might figure of a Dragon. Its yellow eyes the color of sulfur, suddenly snap. Its head cocks in a manner that is wholly inhuman. Lizard like in fact. A tongue darts out of sword like teeth, and the dragon takes a step. Its weight crushes the magically reinforce wall, and with another the dragon peers down at the three humans, frozen at its magnificence and presence.

"Ah! Mortals, how wonderful." The Dragon spoke. "I was getting lonely after the others tried killing me, they were such tasty snacks." The dragon licked its maw.

"Wha." Tormund's brain shuts down, and of all people he faints. The massive man hits ice like a sack.

Ygritte and Jon are just still, eyes wide and unbelieving. "I shall tell you this mortals, I don't tolerate apathy nor tedium. Insult me and I shall turn you into particles of ash." Big words came out of the dragons mouth. "Infuriate me, and not even that would remain." The dragons voice was deep and grizzled. Like a chain smoker and whiskey drinker who was plugged into a bass machine. "Clear?"

Jon nodded quickly after, and Ygritte followed his action, both simply too stunned for words and simply fell on ingrained response.

"It is fortuitous that I meet you two. Children of Fate." The dragon rumbled, it folded its wings, and lowered its body into a resting position on the wall, head moving to a more comfortable position. Its eye followed them even as it moved. "Fate is not always kind after all." There was a deep moment of silence as the two mortals tried comprehending the situation.

"Ask, you have questions." The Dragon stated as it looked out over the south of the wall.

Jon was the first one to respond to the demand. "Uh," Jon tried to kneel, then remembered the Free Folk, but then remembered that he was in front of a fucking talking dragon, and finally knelled. "Lord...", "Carrow." "Lord Carrow, we are unsure of what, uh, Children of Fate, entitles." Jon fell back on the pieces of lordly duties he'd managed to learn as a bastard.

"An astute observation to notice your own ignorance in a subject! Other mortals aren't as wise." The dragon spoke, its tongue darting out briefly. "The title is one of my own making, one that entitles certain individuals that the gods of this realm pay attention to. You, Jon Snow, or Aegon Targaryen are an individual that is touched by this facet of reality." Jon simply stared.

"What... did you just call me." He asked slowly.

"Your birth name." The dragon answered with a hiss.

"My, my birth name." He stumbles, Ygritte catches him.

"Born to Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, married under the Old Gods, legitimate child and heir to the Iron Throne after your Aunt and Uncle. Well, now just your Aunt after her husband killed him. Honestly, I personally like your current name. A self made man is always more interesting than the spoiled noble." Carrow spoke, it rearrange its neck, and spoke once more.

"Your uncle, or father, depends on how you see it, arrived at the Tower of Joy to rescue your aunt. A story I think you've heard a dozen times, but regardless, he finds your aunt, weak, feverish, dying. She makes him promise. Protect her child, and he does. I personally think he's raised a decent child for the times. You may think your status as a bastard is a horrible fate, but honestly, compared to a street orphan or a whores son? You could do worse, always worse." The dragon hissed, flipping on its back and grinding its spikes into melting ice. Flopping its head in a strange position it looked at Jon who'd just had his reality crushed.

"Fuck, what, just fuck." Jon rarely swears, but when he does? Well, shits gone down. Ygritte meanwhile just hugged the rapidly breaking down man.

"What about my fate?" She whispers, before paling even more as she realized she'd just given the dragon a reason to put her into a similar state as the man before her.

"Hehe, dragon things are fun." The dragon whispers, but they all hear it. "Your fate is tragic. A man who loves you, a man who betrays you, a man who morns you in his arms as the life drains from your body. Tragedies are always the most, satisfying, and entertaining stories, but they will always still suck dragon cock when they happen." The 150 meter long lizard flaps its wings, radiating heat in a general radius.

Ygritte just stares down at the man who was surely responsible for such a death.

"Such a fate has already been averted. Your friend yourself and Styr were the largest cause in his betrayal. Being cajoled into cold blooded murder doesn't exactly sit well with a man as moral as Jon, and you murdering said old old man in cold blood isn't exactly worthy behavior to court a man like Jon Snow! Grow some moral fiber, heroic types like him will be all over you." Ygritte just stared at the dragon giving her relationship advice of all things.

"Your plan to save the free folk against the White Walkers was already a doomed quest, too many variables, and eventually the Night King would have broken through. That is, until I killed the monster." Carrow's voice was dark and dangerous, yet both Jon and Ygritte snapped their heads up when Carrow claimed to have slain the Night King. Before they could question the Dragon on that fact, a certain giant woke.

"Fucking giant cocks, who the fuck kicked my ass? I'll kill ya!" The Giantsbane woke up, stretched, gawped at the dragon, pointed at it, and promptly asked Jon. "Ey, kid, you seeing this thing?" Jon broke out of his trance caused by several revelations, including his supposed murder-betrayl of Ygritte, his parentage, his titles, his bastard ship, and the fact that yes, it could have been worse. He stared at Tormund, looked over at the dragon still chilling on the ice, at Ygritte who looked like she was contemplating something deep, and then back at the red haired giant of a man.

"Yeah, I see the dragon." Jon said with a despondent nod.

"Fuck me! That's a dragon? No wonder you southern fucks kneel so much." Tormund said with wide eyes.

"Mmm, you speak truth, tiny giant.", this was followed by Tormund shouting, "Fuck, they talk!", and a "Yes, yes I do. Call me Carrow if you must."

"Ah, alright then." Tormund slowly sat down, not even bothering with his ax or picks for defense.

"So, uh, Carrow." Tormund started to talk while the two crybabies got over their feelings. "Can you breath fire?"

The dragon chuckled, a gout of flame leaving his snout from his nose. This action elected an exclamation of "Shit!" from the Giantsbane, before Carrow tilted his head back and aimed for the sky. Lightning gathered in the sky, before striking down at Carrow with the wrath of the heavens. From lightning and fire came plasma, and with a beautiful breath of molten material the color of red, purple, orange, and yellow, the sky was cleared of all weather conditions.

All three humans suddenly felt very mortal, very small, and very thankful that wasn't aimed at them.

"I wasn't lying when not even ash would be left." Carrow spoke, his breath from speech the smell of ozone and heat.

Tormund suddenly stood up, walked over to Carrow and fell on both knees and collapsed in a full on dogza pose. Carrow laughed at the action, knowing how prideful and free spirited the man and his people were.

"What ever happened to 'We Do Not Kneel'?" The dragon asked.

"We don't kneel to men, cause all men are equal or some shit, but you? You're a fucking dragon-god or something!" The Giantsbane stated with an almost zealous fervor in his voice.

Carrow laughed some more, "I am no Dragon-god, no, a mere dragon is all I am. Not like those mere drakes the Targaryen had." Jon twitched at the mention of the previous royal family, his family. "I would however, be honored to have someone as storied as yourself to espouse my image. Perhaps start a cult of some kind? Here, I'll even give you a gift. Present your axes to me." The dragon commanded.

Tormund hurried to get his axes while both Ygritte and Jon watched. Ygritte seemed to have come to a decision and was currently sat close to... very close to Jon while they sat huddled against an icy mount that formed the walk ways of the Wall.

Jon was very aware of this, very, very aware.

Tormund presented his axes to the giant lizard god, and Carrow raised his tail to touch the blades of the axes. From simple steel hatchets, now they gleamed and shimmered with the tale tale Damascus pattern of Valyrian Steel.

"That's Valyrian Steel!" Jon stated as his eyes beheld the two primitive weapons become worth millions of gold.

"Is that good, Snow?" Tormund questioned as he beheld his axes.

"Good? Is 'good' worth enough gold to purchase enough wine to drown an entire city in?" Jon stated with a hint of sass in his voice. Ygritte laughed lightly at the image, curling deeper into Jon as he'd jostled himself free from her grip.

"Now you are my apostle! I bestow upon you, Tormund Giantsbane, Tall-Talker, Horn-Blower, the title of Dragon Priest! Spread my name, the name of Carrow and his scaley hide to every corner of the world!" The dragon crowed in a manner that made all there know he was joking. Tormund smiled wide and bellowed a laugh, the dragon joined the man and a strange if comfortable silence befell them. It was soon ended by an introspective Jon.

"What -what now?" He asked, he looked at both the Dragon and Ygritte as he spoke.

"What now, the man-who-could-be-king, says." The dragon repeats. "What now is whatever you want it to be. Tormund here could cleave your heads off and present them before me as sacrifice and I'd likely just question his sanity. What now is Jon declaring himself Aegon Targaryen, leaving south and reclaiming his throne, marrying his aunt and restarting a dynasty. What now is Ygritte deciding that she likes Jon a lot more than a doomed suicide mission and decides to claim him as her spear-husband." Jon sputtered at the last one before noticing a strange glint in the red-haired girl's eyes. Tormund just laughs, slapping his thigh, wheezing about 'spear-husbands'.

"What now is me flying off to get something to eat before I eat you three, conquering Vale, extorting the lords for gold and dragon glass, while waging a one dragon war against the Lanisters for their gold. I might even rob the Iron Bank while I'm at it." The dragon's head turned toward the south. "I wasn't joking about me eating you three if I stay. Already the voices are starting to whisper that pretty boys are just the right amount of tender and grit. Regardless of my hunger, come visit me at the Eyrie if you have time." The dragon got up, and with a leap of legs and flap of wings, the Dragon cleared the wall. "Dragon awaaaay." The dragon left, a storm followed in its wake.

A few moments later.

"Should have asked God-Dragon for a lift down." Tormund muttered.