Chapter 8: The Young Dragon
Jon Snow
The room he was in was annoyingly dark. It didn't have to be, but since no one left any candles inside, the only source of light in the room was the window overlooking the training yard and the fireplace. Jory, whom Jon was now realizing was by quickly becoming his sworn shield, and wasn't that a thought, was watching the fighting outside while picking his nails with a knife. Maester Aemon was sitting quietly in his chair, no light needed for the blind man as he seemingly sat there waiting for something to happen, leaving the fireplace with his only real source of light.
This led Jon to the awkward situation of lying belly down on the floor just to see the pages. He didn't mind too much though, as now he was able to read the history of his family… his father's family. Not to mention Frostfyre seemed to love the arrangement, curled up on the small of his back. It was a bit uncomfortable, but Jon didn't mind.
The first king that was covered by the book was Daeron the Young Dragon, which was part of the reason Jon was so excited to read it in the first place. Daeron the First was a young warrior king. He wore the circlet of Aegon the Conqueror on his head and wore elegant armor. He considered the continued independence of Dorne after the conquest to be an insult, and invaded the land at the young age of fourteen.
Jon smiled, knowing this tale. A boy conqueror, renowned warrior, and destined for greatness! Jon always idolized the Young Dragon, and he was ready to read about him in a bit more detail. He held that smile until he read on and his joy slowly fell.
Jon blinked, turning a page back even as a fire popped and sizzled in front of him. Squinting as he re-read the pages again, he realized he didn't misunderstand the words. It took him a second, but understanding eventually reached him.
What he just read stunned him into quiet contemplation. Jon had always thought that the Young Dragon was the best Targaryen King, the one to look up to. The boy used to idolize the warrior king who was only one year older than Jon was now when he went to war with Dorne. Now though, he read that the boy king lost over ten-thousand men in the attempt, and over five times that trying to keep the country from rebelling in the years to come before dodging assassinations and eventually dying with his sword in hand surrounded by over a dozen enemies.
Sixty-thousand men dead…
The young man tried to imagine sixty thousand people, and he just couldn't. The number was just so vast. Eventually, he remembered that there were people here who would know what war looked like. People he could ask.
Looking around, he first spotted Jory still sitting at the window.
"Ser Jory?"
The man laughed, leaning back in his chair as he turned to Jon. "I'm not a knight, Jon. Just call me Jory."
Nodding, Jon continued with his thought. "You fought in the Greyjoy rebellion, didn't you?"
The man's face turned serious before he nodded. "I did."
"What does sixty thousand men look like?" Jon asked, morbid curiosity showing through.
The man's brows furrowed, and the shadows of the fire made his face look oddly sunken in. "Jon?"
The boy glanced back down to the book and turned a page. "It says Daeron the Young Dragon lost sixty-thousand men taking and trying to maintain control of Dorne… but I can't even imagine what that many people even look like."
Jory set his knife to the side and sat forward, his face having deep shadows from the lighting of the window. "And I hope you never will. That many men all in the same encampment means war Jon, and war is… terrible." The man said, though his hard face softened as a thought hit him. "You aren't old enough to worry about these things. You are still just a boy."
Childish indignation filled Jon at that, but before he could defend his honor, the ancient maester spoke up. "What lessons are there to learn from Daeron's failures?" He asked, his tone mirroring maester Luwin's when he was performing his lessons.
Jon scrunched his eyebrows and studied the pages for a moment as he tried to come up with an answer. After a few moments of looking at the pages, he realized his opinion of the young dragon changed drastically.
His mind supplied him with the strange image of Robb with white hair and purple eyes rushing into battle among sand dunes, only to be caught unawares as the Dornish people swarm over the desert.
Jon looked up to the blind man. "Don't bite off more than you can chew?"
The man smiled once again, "Good answer, and certainly one that can be learned from Daeron's war. What else?"
Jon glanced back down to the book, skimming over the historical references, he once again re-read the line about the losses. "Don't underestimate your opponent?"
"You are a military minded young man I see. That is a good lesson to be sure, but one I think is overshadowed by another." The maester said, his eyes lighting up as he leaned forward in his chair. "Do not ignore the motivations and thoughts of those around you."
Jon looked back down to the book, confused as to how that lesson could be learned from what was in front of him. After voicing the question, Aemon responded with another smile.
"Not all lessons are told directly to you, young man. Some you must learn from the context of that which is told. Daeron the first was another military mind. He learned from the failures of Aegon before him, changed his strategy, and ultimately achieved victory in his initial goal. Yet, his inability to turn his mind from the military battle to the political one caused countless skirmishes and further unrest as the people of Dorne rebelled against him."
Jon glanced back down to the book, deep in thought. He didn't even think about lessons that didn't involve the battles of the young king.
There was a knock on the door, interrupting the boy's thoughts. Jory stood up, his hand on the pommel of his sword. "Who is it?"
"It's me." Eddard's voice came from the other side. "Ready yourselves for the ride. We leave within the hour."
Jon blinked in surprise, confused as to why they would be leaving so soon after arriving. They just got here, why would they be leaving so soon? Feeling Frostfyre stirring on his back, he was instantly reminded as to why they couldn't stay for too long. Sighing, he disturbed the little dragon as he rolled over so as not to throw the dragon off of him again.
Turning to the side, he watched as the little dragon stretched herself out like a cat with her tail curling up like a scorpion. Scratching her head, he smiled as she pressed her head into his hand.
Dusting himself off, Jon went to go get his coat and packs. Readying himself for the journey, Jon looked down to the bag he would need to keep Frostfyre in again. Sighing, he set the book aside and grabbed the bag. Turning around, he readied himself to have an upset dragon only to see a surprising sight.
Frostfyre had made her way over to the ancient maester, sniffing at his leg. The blind man seemed confused for a moment, as if he didn't understand what the feeling of the little puffs of air on his leg meant. Reaching down slowly, he found the little dragon's snout and let out a soft, "Oh! Hello there."
The old maester's face was full of wonder as he gently rubbed the little dragon's head. Jon was sure he felt a pang of indignation come from the dragon as the blind maester felt her horns instead of 'seeing' her. He laughed as the little dragon flicked her forked tongue on his wrist, before continuing his petting.
Jon, knowing that it would most likely be a little while before he would see the maester again, made his way closer and stood in front of the man. As if he could see him, the ancient man seemingly made eye contact with Jon as he stood there. "So, it looks like this is goodbye for now."
Jon nodded, then felt like a fool when he realized what he did. "Yes, it looks like it."
The man abandoned the dragon to her displeased squeaks, and crossed the distance between himself and Jon in a step. Feeling for where he was, Jon helped in steadying the man before he found himself in another hug. They stood there for a moment, Jon returning the embrace before the maester broke it.
The man stared directly into Jon's eyes now, his face far more serious than the boy had ever seen it. "You are young. Too young for the trials life will now throw your way, but if there is anything I would impart onto you, it would be to become as wise as you can. Wisdom was what Daeron lacked, and it led to his own downfall."
Jon blinked, surprised at the man's sincerity. "Wisdom?"
The man winked, his kind smile returning. "Yes. A smart and wise bastard can find their happiness in the world if they have the patience for it."
Jon thought of that, glancing over to the book he left aside. "And what of a smart and wise king?" He said thinking of the next kings he would read of.
The grip on his shoulder tightened, and his serious face returned. "That, my dear boy, leads to greatness."
Jon opened his mouth, knowing that the maester misunderstood his thoughts, but closed it just a moment later. He knew that there would be no point in saying more.
Another set of knocks came. "Are you all ready yet?" Martin's voice came through the door this time. "We need to leave soon, before people start asking questions."
"Just a moment!" Jon said, knowing he would need to corral the dragon back into the bag, turned around and tried to find the dragon with the bag in hand. He found her sniffing the book he set down, but Jon immediately noticed something wrong.
Frostfyre once again somehow sensed his thoughts.
Her spines tensing and her wings were slowly puffing themselves outward, the little dragon turned one eye to him from over her shoulder. Every muscle was tense and her slit pupils covered the entirety of her eye, the normally metallic silver showing only pure darkness.
"Please don't." Jon said as he took a step forward, almost sensing what was about to happen. Sadly for him, Frostfyre took it as a challenge. One more step, and she was off.
Jon gave chase, and the only thought that went through his mind as he chased her down was, Is she getting bigger already?
Eddard Stark
Deep Lake was a ruin.
Remembering the reports that he received on the castle made him seriously consider sending a few builders north to help fix the glaringly poor condition of the castle or even reconsider this whole debacle altogether. Sadly, he knew he couldn't do that. Builders might see the dragon, and only disaster followed from that route.
The only parts of the castle still standing, according to the Watch's last reports, were the walls surrounding the keep, the main hall, a statue, the bare foundations of the many buildings and the armory. Anything wooden had long ago rotted away from the slow decay of time, leaving open holes in every building. Windows were shattered, stone towers were crumbling, and warmth would be hard to come by until those problems were solved.
Eddard looked over to see Benjen making some last minute plans with maester Aemon about how the supplies sent north would be delivered. He took solace in the fact that family wouldn't be too far away should something go wrong.
The short term would have them consolidating all available resources that they could carry to try and have a workable shelter. The long term… Well, the long term had him exiling his beloved nephew to the edge of the world for his own safety until further notice. Sure, it was the right thing to do, but it still hurt. It also hurt that he didn't know when he would see the boy again.
Sighing, the lord of Winterfell didn't want to think about that.
There were many tragedies in the Quiet Wolf's past. Ever since the death of his father, brother, and sister, he has tried his best to maintain as much peace in his life as he could. Sadly for him, it looks like this was yet another tragedy to add to the pile. He was keeping his promises, but in the process was ripping out a part of him he wished dearly he could hold on to.
The only thing he had left of his sister, her son. The rightful heir to the throne.
Robert was a good king for the north. Taxes remained steady, the war fought since the rebellion was a just one, and southern politics remained in the south. The northern lords have remained content overall, and their loyalty to him remained unquestioned. Yet even with all of that, Eddard knew that he would one day need to hold blood ties over choice.
Would the lords of the north still follow me if they knew the truth? Would they follow Jon if he decided to press his claim?
His thoughts were interrupted as the gates to Castle Black opened, allowing them all to leave. Shouts and clashes of training swords rang through the courtyard as if this morning was no different than any other. Just yet another day at the Wall for those who weren't in the know.
The lord of Winterfell sat there atop his horse, looking out over the king's road going south. This was it, where he would entrust his nephew's safety to four men and a baby dragon.
Eddard turned and watched as Jon tried his best to hide the dragon in the bag, his hand not leaving the leather satchel on his side once even as the little dragon wriggled slightly within. Frowning, the lord of Winterfell glanced around to see if anyone else noticed, but thankfully all eyes were on him.
The Warden of the North is far more impressive than his bastard son I suppose. That was the entire point of the lie after all.
He knew that reports of his visit here would go south, and he could only pray that no one came to the correct conclusion. He would need to watch the king's road going north closely for some time now, watching for anyone out of the ordinary going to the Watch.
"Now I know where he gets his brooding." He heard Benjen say next to him. Eddard turned to see his brother, his stoic face not reacting even slightly.
"I worry about him." Eddard said, not bothering to acknowledge his brother's teasing tone. "Watch out for him, will you?"
Benjen smiled distantly, "Of course. You don't even need to ask."
The two sat there atop their horses silently, the last remaining members of the Stark family of their generation. It still felt strange seeing Benjen without Lyanna or Brandon, but they were gone. Eddard would do his best to make sure the next generation did not need to suffer that pain.
Urging his horse onward, they quietly rode along for about an hour before they came to a crossing in the road, one which the Night's Watch used to travel from castle to castle. This was where they would split off, and where they would need to say their goodbyes.
Eddard and Ser Rodrik urged their horses to the southern road, but Eddard stopped and turned to Jon as he passed the boy. Sitting atop his mount, he studied his sister's son one last time. He was struck by just how young Jon looked at that moment as he sat atop his horse with a too-large book in his hands and a small dragon wriggling from inside of her bag. His uncertainty showed clear on his face, but this was the only choice now, the only option left.
"Father…" Eddard heard, his heart wrenching at the sound every time he heard it. Despite what he had done to him, Jon still wanted him as his father and he has called him that more times on the road north than he ever had in Winterfell.
"Yes, Jon?"
The boy looked down to the massive book in his arms, conflict clear in his face. "I…" the boy started, seemingly unsure of what he wanted to say. Frostfyre then poked her head out from inside of her confinement, clearly unwilling to stay in the bag for even a minute longer. Flying around over their heads, the two watched the little dragon go for a few moments before the boy continued with his thought.
"I'll come home soon. I promise." He said with a smile on his face, and once more Eddard thought of the past for a moment before he steeled himself and sat a bit straighter in his saddle. Eddard's hard face turned sad for a moment before he nodded. He needed to remain strong, and he didn't quite trust his voice right now, especially considering the life he had given the boy up until now.
The two sat silently for a long while before Benjen waved the group onward. As his nephew and brother turned east and started along their own road, Eddard heaved a heavy sigh. Urging his horse onward, he glanced over to Ser Rodrik. The northern knight nodded his head stoically once before announcing, "Shall we be on our way my lord?"
Nodding, Eddard spurred his horse southward, happy that for once someone else had the burden of a promise.
Jon Snow
Jon stepped over the rotting remains of what once could have been considered a gate. The rotten wood crunched underfoot as he made his way over it, making Jon pull a bit harder on his step to remove his foot from the wood. Looking around, he could see that the place was better off than the last one they had stayed at, but still, it was clear this place had seen far better days.
Sighing, he felt more resigned than anything at this point. He couldn't go home, he couldn't see his family, he couldn't do anything but live here in exile.
Sighing, he reached down and opened the bag at his side. It took only a second but out came Frostfyre, screeching the high pitched squeal of joy she made when freed from her confines. Flying in circles, the happiness the little dragon was practically radiating bled over into Jon's mind. Somehow, despite the situation, he found himself smiling.
For the first time, he had a place he could call his own. He didn't have to hide Frostfyre here. He didn't have to suffer the glares of Lady Stark, or the septa, or anyone else. This was his place, and he would make the most of it.
"A castle fit for a king, eh?" Martin said sarcastically, even as he led the horses towards what could generously be considered a stable. "Don't worry, it doesn't look too bad. That building over there even has a roof!"
Jory made his thoughts known as he glanced around. "We can make it work."
Yelling over his shoulders, Martin called back with, "I've made tents work for moons at a time before, this is practically paradise."
"Aye," Benjen agreed. "Compared to a winter north of the wall, I have to agree. With the supplies my brother promised, you should be able to make this place livable quickly enough."
Jory snorted before turning his attention to Jon. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Jory smiled down and nodded. Smiling up, Jon returned the nod.
Frostfyre flew in front of him before screeching in a way she hadn't before. Looking up, Jon saw even in the darkening skies above the barest sighting of sparks flying from her mouth. Feeling even more joy emanating from the dragon at the sight, the little dragon flew in a few more circles before something caught her eye and she began to once again chase some poor raven around before disappearing quickly over the stone walls of the castle.
"Wait, where is it going?" Martin called out, seemingly done tying up the horses.
Jon, for the first time, decided to try and press on the connection he felt with his dragon. Closing his eyes, he tried to… feel for lack of a better term. Flashes of the bird fleeing for its life came before him, causing him to smile. "Don't worry, she will be back."
"I found the shelter that maester Aemon spoke of!" Benjen said, ushering them over.
Jon made his way over to the building, and found that the door's fate was much the same as the gates. Once he took a look inside though, he knew it would be hard work to get this place even remotely livable.
Feeling a nudge on his shoulder, Benjen caught his attention. "I know it doesn't look like much, but in time it will be."
Jon nodded, then watched as Benjen bent down to pick up the remains of the door. Jon, wanting to lend a helping hand, found a place for his book before bending down to help lift the door.
It would take hard work, but no one would find Frostfyre here, and that was all that mattered.
Frostfyre
Chasing the black bird in front of her, the little dragon found herself frustrated by just how evasive the prey was. Weaving between trees, through bushes, and over streams, the little creature was fast.
But not fast enough.
Opening her maw, Frostfyre felt satisfaction as she closed in on the bird. This was her sky, her forest, her domain now. Her rider laid claim to the place nearby, and she would suffer no intruders!
She was momentarily distracted as her rider focused on her, but she ignored it for the moment. There was prey to chase!
Closing her mouth, she growled as only emptiness met her teeth. Quickly trying to find the creature again, she found it climbing into the skies. Mistake, as the little black bird was clearly slower than her.
Quickly giving chase once again, the little dragon realized that the creature was trying to make its way over the ice-wall. Got on its heels, it just barely made it over before her, but it was futile, as she was… clearly… faster.
The little dragon stopped and stared out over the landscape over the ice-wall. Fear, pure and deep in her bones, slammed into her as she stared out over the blackened landscape beyond the structure. She could not see anything, but the feeling of pure unadulterated unnatural horror filled her from the darkness, causing her to immediately stop her flight.
The land felt cold. Cold and dead and cursed.
Landing atop the Wall, she watched as the white-eyed-black-bird continued its flight to the cursed forest below, but the little dragon was now unwilling to follow. She stared at the creature for a moment, sad that she failed her first hunt, but unwilling to do anything about it at the moment. Turning back, she made her way back to her rider.
She would not go there, not without fire.
-Author's Note-
The soundtrack for when Frostfyre noticed him is the intro sequence of Duel of the Fates. Re-read that with it playing and it is what I was thinking would be the soundtrack to when I was writing it.
Alright so, that took a little longer than I thought it would to get the introduction started, but here we are!
Sorry for the delay, but Final Shape released for Destiny 2, and I got immensely distracted. I thought for a moment that it might make me want to write Ouroboros more, but it turns out it just made me wanna play the game more. Who knew?
Now, something I want to say about this story. I will be trying my hardest to make sure Jon is in almost every chapter, as it is very clearly a Jon centric fic. That said, there will most likely be chapters where I focus on other characters just to give you all a sense of the butterfly effect that our lovable lizard is creating. Those chapters will be few and far between, with one coming next, but if nothing is said about a character, then you can likely assume nothing has changed with them from canon.
This will be shown clearly in the next chapter, which will show what a butterfly does when it makes a giant red comet.
I don't want to get into the habit of just rehashing canon scenes over and over until I get to the part I want to change or rewrite like some other stories do. That is all.
As always, read and review, and if you like it, consider giving me a follow and a favorite.