Chapter 7: A Dragon Alone
Jon Snow
The chill of the far northern air ripped through the group as they continued on the kings road. They had just passed through Moles Town, and were less than half a league from Castle Black.
They had been on the road for another week and a half, making good time on their trek north. One benefit of having the adults with him now was that food was a lot more readily available. Jon didn't realize it at the time, but the food he had was almost completely gone when he was found.
Yet another reason to be thankful that his father found him.
Feeling the wriggling bag on his side shift and chirp, Jon opened it a bit and cringed apologetically towards the little dragon. She stared up at him with clear sadness shown on her face, her wings bent strangely in the bag and her neck craned upward as she stared up at him pleadingly. It is rather clear that she wasn't able to find a comfortable position within the bag, but there wasn't much he could do about it.
His father made him keep her in the bag when not at camp. Frostfyre clearly hated this arrangement, and Jon honestly agreed with the dragon. Who was going to see her out here anyway? They were past Mole's Town now, the only thing north of where they were being Castle Black and the Wall.
Sadly for his thoughts, three Night's Watchmen crossed their path on the road going south the instant the thought crossed his mind. They were smiling, but their faces were dark and their conversation vulgar. The men unnerved the boy, and he urged his horse onward to catch up to his father.
Trotting alongside the lord of Winterfell, Jon idly listened as he talked with Jory. "I know I am asking a lot from you, but…"
"Don't worry, my lord. I understand." The man said, glancing toward Jon as he said it. "Family is family."
Eddard turned his head to look at Jon too. "Thank you Jory. I won't forget this." He said, smiling over to Jon.
Jon smiled back, happy to be acknowledged like this for the first time in his life. Out of all the terrible that has come from this whole situation, that was the one thing he wouldn't exchange for the world. His uncle who raised him as his own was finally able to show him the love that was always there, if only for a little bit. Jon wasn't stupid enough to believe that once he made it back home that everything would remain like this, but for once in his life he wasn't jealous of Robb.
For once he felt like he belonged.
Jon snorted at the thought. His one desire for his entire life was to be a true born Stark, to be shown the same love by his father as his siblings. Here he was now, a trueborn of a different name. It was all so ironic.
The horses continued their trot, cresting a hill… and there it was.
The Wall.
The structure was absolutely massive. Made from ice and rock, the seven-hundred foot tall monstrosity of a thing stretched out as far east and west as his eyes could see. Clouds bent over the top, falling down like a waterfall of white onto the realm below. Beyond this place was the wintery landscape of myths, fairy tales, Night's Watchmen, and wildlings.
It was also where his favorite uncl-
Wait… Jon thought, looking at his father. He's also my uncle… So who's my favorite?
While the thirteen-year-old struggled with his childish internal thoughts, the adults of the group spurred their horses onward.
"Jon!" His father called, jarring him out of his mind.
"Yes, Lord Stark?" He replied, returning to his reflexive courtesy.
"Can you keep Frostfyre under control enough to keep her hidden in Castle Black?" Was his response, causing Jon to glance back down to the bag.
Just like always, she knew what he wanted the moment he thought of it. Sadly for him, this meant that the closed leather flap suddenly had smoke billowing out of it and an angry squawking dragon within.
"Well," the hunter, Martin, spoke up. "I suppose that answers that."
"Hold on." Jon spoke up, opening the flap. Reaching in, he felt the little dragon nipping at his hand in annoyance, but not hard enough to draw blood. Picking her up from under both of her wings, he held the little wriggling dragon out in front of him. Waiting for her attention, she eventually stopped her thrashing and stared at him with her head tilted.
"I'm sorry Frostfyre, but right now we can't let anyone see you. If you are found out, someone will try to take you from me or hurt you." He started, and her slit eyes turned to him, and he saw that strange intelligence that he knew she had. Her head dipped, and she tried to wriggle her way closer to him, but he kept her at arm's length. "You are small, but someday you will grow so big that no one can hurt you anymore." The little dragon seemed unconvinced, staring at him and then the bag as if in complete disapproval. It was then that Jon had an idea and decided to sweeten the deal. "Play nice, and I'll let you burn the bag when we are settled and you can breathe fire."
If he had any doubt that she understood him, he didn't now as the dragon's eyes flicked to the bag and back to him. Placing her back inside, he watched as folded herself in a way to try and make the confinement comfortable.
Jon could tell by the way her neck was angled that she failed.
Shaking the feeling of empathetic sadness off, he nodded. "She'll behave."
His father nodded, before turning back to the road. Rodrik and Jory followed soon after and it wasn't long before they were on their way to Castle Black. Martin, however, stayed behind the rest of the group and rode his horse next to Jon's.
"So," the man began. "How'd you do that? Control the dragon I mean."
Jon glanced to his left and studied the man, a bit thrown off by the hunter's bluntness. This was the first time that the gruff dressed man decided to talk to Jon, and the boy studied him a bit closer than he had before. He was gruff, his beard growing out in what seemed like patches. The man had laugh lines surrounding his eyes, but Jon had never seen him smile in the time he's known him. His eyes and hair were a dark brown, his fur clothes clearly designed for function over fashion.
"Her." Jon responded, a bit protective of the little dragon. "And I don't know. She just… listens when I talk? Sometimes even before then." He said, trailing off.
The man grunted, shifting a bit in his saddle. "It makes sense though, don't it? You being the son of the last dragon and all."
And wasn't that a thought. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he had a claim to the Iron Throne, but thoughts like that were simply too large for him to deal with. Jon decided to remain quiet at that, only placing a hand on the bag held to his side.
The two rode in silence for a while, the only sound being the hooves against the dirt road and the wind whipping against their faces.
"You know," Martin said, speaking up again after a while. "I guess that all this makes you the last dragon now, eh?" His tone now was still a bit playful.
"Not quite." Lord Eddard called from ahead of them.
His eyebrows creasing, Martin spurred his horse forward. "M'lord?"
"Jon still has family at Castle Black," his father said, not even turning around. "On both sides."
"My lord?" Rodrik said, asking the question that was on all of their minds. "There's a Targaryen at the Wall?"
"Aye. Maester Aemon Targaryen. Benjen assures me the old man is still alive and his mind is still sharp…" The lord trailed off, glancing back to Jon. "It's part of the reason I thought the Night's Watch was a fitting place for you before."
Before Jon could react to the fact that the Targaryen they were going to meet had the same name as him, Martin spoke up. "Not so much now m'lord?" He said, his question being met with hostile stares from the two Cassel bannermen.
"No… Not so much anymore. Robert would kill him either way now." Eddard said quietly.
Jon, being the most shocked by this, glanced towards the Wall. Castle Black's elevator could be seen now, and he knew it wouldn't be long before they arrived. With everything that was happening, he never thought he would be able to get some answers. He thought maester Luwin would be the easiest source of information when he returned home, but now there is a maester that was a Targaryen he could meet.
Excitement bubbled up in the boy, and he urged his horse forward with a bit more enthusiasm than he did earlier. He knew Uncle Benjen was here, but now there was someone on his, on the other side of his family that he could meet. A maester at that! He could get an answer for the dreams, for the dragon, for everything!
"Jon!" His father called out, and Jon blinked before turning around. The small group was now behind him, and his father's face had a smile that betrayed his amusement. "I know you are excited, but we need to be careful. No one can know why you are here."
Blushing, the boy looked down. "Sorry."
"So we are or aren't telling the Targaryen maester about the dragon?" Martin spoke up, still trailing behind.
"You talk too much." Jory said, once again glaring at the hunter.
"I like to know exactly what I'm getting into!" the man snapped back, pointing toward the younger of the Cassel bannermen. "Especially since lord Stark has said that King Robert would want him dead if he knew. Since I'm now a part of this treason, that includes me too now!"
"Watch your tone!" Ser Rodrik said, hand on his sword.
"We are telling him." Eddard's voice cut through the tension, his commanding voice soothing the nerves of the men. "I have no doubt that Jon will need his help, and he is one of the few people I know who won't betray him under any circumstances."
All three of the grown men turned to Martin, who seemed to get the hint. "Alright, enough with that." The man said, exasperation clear in his voice. "I'm not going to betray our little dragonlord here, so just stop."
"Perhaps if you explained your motivations as to why you agreed to this… treason as you so aptly put it, we might not be watching you so closely." Ser Rodrik said, an eyebrow raised.
The man stared the men down even as the horses continued below them, before his shoulders slumped. "I'm a hunter by trade, but that doesn't exactly pay well. Lord Stark here said that if I kept my mouth shut and helped Jon here, he would reward me." He said, glancing toward the Warden of the North. "I got two little girls and a wife back home in White Harbor. I have a feeling that if I see this through, then they will never want for anything ever again. Am I right?"
Lord Stark responded with a single nod, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
"Then there you have it. A few years helping out here at the edge of the world, and my family never has to worry about food ever again. Win win." Martin said, as if the discussion was over.
"You're not asking for more than that?" Jory asked, seemingly more curious than hostile about the man's motivations now.
"Get too cocky, and I'll end up dead." He said, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "I might be a commoner to you high-and-mighty lords, but I'm not stupid. I stumbled in front of a beast far bigger than myself here, and I'm just hoping to get under it without getting squashed."
Jon was a bit intrigued at the man's response, but before he could think on it, the wind picked up. The cold northern air ripped the warmth right out of Jon as he tried to slink into his furs as much as he could. The five of them all urged their horses onward, and it wasn't long before they were finally at the gates to Castle Black.
"Halt!" A new voice shouted out, and they all stopped their horses. "State your business!" A man shouted from atop the gate.
"I am Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell." His father's voice shouted, causing a few voices to begin to shout from the other side. "I'm here to speak to Lord Commander Mormont."
A few moments of shouted orders, and the gate swung open granting them entry. There was a middle-aged man on the other side, his face wearing what looked to be a perpetual frown as he stared daggers into the lord of Winterfell.
"Welcome, lord Stark." He sneered, clearly not appreciating their arrival. "What brings you so far north?"
Eddard, not bothering to take the bait, urged his horse forward. "I've heard disturbing rumors about the wildlings recently, and I'm here to-"
"Brother!" A familiar voice called out, drawing everyone's attention. Immediately, Jon saw uncle Benjen making his way over to them with his arms open and a smile on his face. "What are you doing here?"
"Benjen! It's been too long." He said with a fond smile on his face, his father and uncle embraced before beginning to talk amongst themselves.
While the two men spoke, Jon looked around the courtyard. His childhood wonder at the ancient and honorable order clashed immediately with reality as he looked around.
The castle could best be described as neglected and decrepit. Towers were falling apart, stairways were a mix of stone and wooden repairs, and the men of the keep were gruff to say the least. Several skinny and dirty looking boys were swinging their swords at each other with reckless abandon, not even caring about their footing as they practically threw themselves at each other.
"This way, m'lords." A watchman said, drawing their attention. There was a young boy, not much older than Jon, that was ushering them forward. He seemed kind enough, and Jon turned to his father who nodded.
"Watch your pockets! He loves stealing!" Benjen shouted over his shoulder, drawing a hateful glare from the boy. Immediately, Jon's hand found Frostfyre's bag and kept a close eye on the boy as he led them on.
The boy in black led them into one of the towers, before giving them two rooms to themselves. "If there's anything you need m'lords, feel free t' ask… Though we probably don't have whatever it is." He said, leaving Jory, Martin and Jon in the room.
Jon sat down on the bed in the room they gave him, his nerves running a mile a minute. It seemed that everything he knew about this place before was immediately contradicted by reality. This wasn't the honorable place where he could fit in now, replaced by the dirty and broken down place he saw in front of him.
If this is the maintained castle, how bad are the abandoned ones? The boy thought, rethinking his idea now. Sadly for him, he had come too far to back down now.
Thankfully, there was a silver lining to this trip: Maester Aemon. The man they came to see had the same as him, and Jon couldn't help but wonder what the man was like. His father said he was old, but other than that, the boy knew nothing about him. That didn't stop the boy from becoming excited at the idea of answers.
He just needed to wait for a bit longer.
—
The sound of snoring could be heard, causing Jon to glance over to Martin. The man leaned back on his chair, propped up against a stone wall asleep. Jon thought it looked uncomfortable, but they had been in the room for a few hours now and Jon didn't blame the man. Jory staring out of a window as he watched the recruits train.
Jon, for his part, was petting Frostfyre from within her bag. He set it down and laid it on its side on the ground so she could properly lay down within the confinement, and for the moment she was content.
Though, that's probably because she's getting constant attention right now. He thought, hearing the soft chirps emanating from the bag.
A knock came from the door, and Jon yanked his hand out of the bag quickly. An indignant squawk came from Frostfyre before he shushed her. A quick, "Who's there?" from Jory had Benjen answering from the other side.
"It's us."
Opening the door, four people entered the room. The first was the dark-haired familiar form of his father, but the next was one that he didn't recognize. A large imposing man with gray hair stepped in, a sword with a bear pommel strapped to his waist. The man was studying him, but it wasn't long before two more forms stepped in.
An absolutely ancient looking man with metal chains clanking around his neck came next, his arm wrapped around Benjen's arm. The man was clearly blind, his cloudy white eyes staring off into nothingness. His white hair was almost nonexistent, and his robes were black. He was carrying a book, and he had a wide smile on his face.
This… is him?
Jon knew that his father said the maester was old, but this was not at all what he was expecting.
"Jon?" His father's voice called, gesturing to the larger of the two newcomers. "This is Lord Commander Jeor Mormont… and this," he then held out a hand toward the blind old man, "is your three-times great granduncle."
The old man stepped forward, his motions being guided by Benjen as he made his way to a chair. Standing in front of it, he straightened himself to be as tall as his old bones would allow. "Your uncles tell me you have had quite the interesting story, young man. They also say that you were hurt on the road north." The old man started, still staring off into nothingness. "Are your wounds troubling you?"
Jon thought that the old maester's voice was strangely soothing, like Luwin's. Clearing his throat, Jon responded with a quick, "No… Just a bit bruised is all."
The moment Jon spoke up, the old man turned toward him, probably realizing where he was from the sound of his voice. "Good, that's good. Come here, if you will."
Jon, a bit put off by the request, glanced at his father who only offered a small nod. Standing up, Jon slowly made his way to the old man. Standing there a bit awkwardly, he waited for something to happen, but then the elder Targaryen held out a hand and gripped Jon's shoulder with surprising strength. His lips quivered and his cloudy eyes began to water even as he pulled Jon in for a hug.
Jon sat there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do. Looking back to uncle Benjen for help, the dark haired man simply shrugged and smiled.
Pulling away, Jon saw that the man's face was lit up in a bright smile that showed his yellow teeth. "You have no idea the light and hope you have brought to these old bones. A dragon alone is a horrible, terrible thing." He began, still smiling upward despite Jon's smaller stature. "I would very much like to get to know the family member I never knew existed, if you would allow me to." He asked eagerly, reaching behind him to find his seat.
Jon had another family here, even if he was ancient. The instant familial love that this man had for Jon was obvious, and Jon found himself smiling at the feeling of being wanted. "Of course I will." The boy said, helping the man to his chair.
"So, how old are you? Jon, was it? Are you well?" Aemon's voice gave away that the man was genuinely curious to learn anything he could about him.
"Thirteen, and, um…" Jon sat and thought for a moment about which name he wanted to give. His parents named him the same thing as the old man in front of him.
Hearing a soft chirp, Jon glanced behind him. Seeing the flap of his bag open by itself, a small blue and white snout poked itself out. Locking eyes with the little dragon, Jon knew that Jon Snow was never meant to be a dragon rider, never meant for greatness.
But my parents didn't name me Jon, and I'm not a Snow…
Ignoring the gasps from Benjen and the large man as Frostfyre made her way out of the bag and towards the two Targaryens, Jon turned back to the old Maester.
"I grew up as Jon Snow, but my parents named me… Aemon… I'm sorry I took your name." He admitted as he sat down next to the elder.
The man let out a joyful and strong laugh, showing the strength he had despite his age. "Don't you worry young man, I take no offense. In fact, I'm glad!" He said, handing the large book that the old man had in his possession to Jon. "A gift, if you will take it."
Jon took the heavy tone from the old man, reading the title as he saw it. "'The Lives of Four Kings'… Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good…" he trailed off, looking back up to the old man in confusion.
The old maester just continued his laughter, "Good to know Benjen retrieved the correct book. He has always been notoriously bad at following directions when it comes to scholarly subjects."
Eddard snorted at that, earning a half-hearted punch from the black-clad Stark.
Maester Aemon simply continued his smile, somehow conveying his sincerity despite his inability to see. "It is said that it is a book every king should read."
Jon looked back to the cover of the book in abject horror. "I'm not a king! I'm barely a Stark!"
"Bullshit." Benjen said, "You are my sister's son. You are just as much a wolf as you are a dragon." Eddard agreed, nodding quietly from where he was.
The older Targaryen placed his hand on Jon's shoulder, somehow knowing exactly where it was despite his blindness. "Fate is a fickle thing, young man. You might find that sometimes leadership and responsibility will be thrust upon you against your will. The lessons that can be learned from the successes and failures of our family past can be used as life lessons for us all to live by, not just as wisdom on the throne of kings."
Jon stared down at the book, finding a small horned head peeking up over the cover and sniffing it curiously. Thinking on his great granduncle's words, he found that he knew exactly what he was talking about. "Yeah, I know." Setting the book aside, he reached down and lifted Frostfyre up off the ground. Setting her in his lap, the little dragon chirped and craned her neck toward the elder.
The old man squinted, as if trying to understand what the noises were before Jon spoke up. "This is Frostfyre. She hatched for me half a moon ago."
Frostfyre chirped, sniffing the robes of the man sitting next to him. She was more calm around the man, but her lips were still curling upward to show her fangs. Jon decided to err on the side of caution, warning the old man of her more aggressive tendencies. "Watch your fingers, she usually doesn't like anyone who isn't me."
Aemon laughed again, the creases and old wrinkles on his face seemingly lessening with each bout of mirth and happiness. "No, I would assume not! There are a great many tomes on the subject of the dragons, and they all come to the same conclusion that they only responded post to those they were bound to."
Jon, realizing that this was his chance for some answers, sat up. "Did those tomes have anything about the rider dreaming they were the dragon? About the dragon knowing what you want before you even say it?"
"Jon?" His father's voice called out cautiously, but Jon's eyes were on the maester in front of him.
His face scrunched up, deep in thought before he spoke. "No… I don't believe there is anything like that listed in those old studies."
Jon slumped, and the little dragon reacted, pressing her face into his chest as if trying to drive away his sadness. Reaching up, he began to pet her as he always did.
"However," the old man continued, turning in the direction of where Eddard spoke up. "There are quite a few ancient myths of first men that dreamt of animals and controlled them with their minds. They were called wargs, and-"
"Alright, enough of the myths and legends." the Lord Commander said, gaining everyone's attention. "We need to focus on the here and now. Shall we continue our discussion?"
"Aye, we should." Eddard said, nodding. "It is clear that the Watch is in a worse state than I expected, even with Benjen's warnings." Looking at Jon, he continued. "In exchange for Jon finding shelter within one of the abandoned castles along the Wall, I will send more supplies and start a recruiting drive for the Watch. Some of these supplies will branch off and go to whatever castle he is staying in to feed clothe and house him."
The large man shifted where he was standing. "You know that by oath I can't take part in the wars of the south-"
"-and what war is happening now? The realm is at peace, and no one will even know he's here." Benjen interrupted. "We need those men and supplies, Lord Commander. The wildlings are acting strange again, and we cannot be caught off guard."
"I know!" The large man shouted, before slumping into a chair of his own. "But we made a vow, Benjen. We will take no part in the goings on down south. Should King Robert learn of this, then we will have more problems than just wildlings."
"Lord Stark." Aemon spoke up. "You are willing to send the supplies up to Castle Black with your own men are you not?"
"Yes." Eddard said, confusion in his voice.
"Well there you have it then!" The ancient Targaryen's voice was jovial again. "The least decrepit castle on the Wall is Deep Lake, two castles to the west of here near enough to the Nightfort. Add a two day's ride for your men, and the Night's Watch will have no part in your plan to hide the boy."
"I don't think Robert Baratheon will feel the same way."
"Your objections to this were based on the oath you took, not on the opinions of a man far away."
"Your judgment is skewed because of this boy, your family."
"I won't deny that, and I have a feeling if I did, you rightfully wouldn't believe me anyway." The old maester said, leaning forward. "But you must admit, with all the troubling signs we have seen recently, it might be best to have a dragon and fresh young men guarding the wall rather than untrained boys and rapists. This is not just a selfish choice on my part."
"He cannot take the vows." Benjen said, his hands balled into fists.
"No," The maester continued, turning to Jon, "but should the realm be under threat from something you could stop, would you?"
Jon thought the question ridiculous. "Of course." Frostfyre seemed to agree, perking up on his chest and letting out a soft chirp.
The Lord Commander stewed for a moment before turning back to lord Stark with a somber look on his face. "I cannot defend him should someone come."
Eddard nodded. "I know."
A loud crash interrupted the moment as the loud sound of wood meeting wood resounded through the room. Everyone turned startled towards the wriggling heap that Martin had become. It was clear that the legs of his chair broke, and the formerly asleep hunter ended up sprawled out onto the ground.
Everyone watched for a few moments as the man tried to regain his dignity, standing up and dusting himself off. "I'm fine, I'm fine." He said, yawning despite his situation.
The man eventually realized that they weren't alone in the room anymore, as the lord Commander, Warden of the North, First Ranger of the Night's Watch, and a baby dragon all stared at him quietly.
The awkward situation pressed on for a moment before he decided to break the silence with a nonchalant. "So, what's the plan?"
-Author's Note-
I tried to give off the "meeting an old family member you barely know" vibe I got from when I was young, and I hope I did the awkward but sincere love towards the next generation right. I remember when my grandfather did something similar, and I always thought Aemon was the best grandfather that the nights watch ever had.
Now, something to note here, and I do this in every story I make an OC in. When I make an OC, I fully flesh out his or her character from start to finish in canon as to explain why they weren't in the original story. I like to try and make my OCs feel like additions to the story rather than just "oh I need this person for plot." This is my 'Dungeon Master' personality showing through, as I do the same every time I GM for D&D.
Martin is no different. I have his personality, 'canon' story, and background all laid out on a sheet of paper. He's his own person, and he has his own motivations.
That all said, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and review if ya enjoyed it. :)
Edit 1: Fixed some grammar issues