Thanks for all the love for this guys. Enjoy the chapter!
Jon
What is power?
That was the million dragon question. Many people searched the answer for centuries. Some squandered their lives away. But Jon knew. It is total control and domination over your helpless prey, and that power was standing right in front of him. Euron tried to control it but where was he now?
The great beast is big, humongous. The size of this monster has to be in the two hundred feet range. It cast a shadow on the frozen forms below. The scale of its size caused Jon to have a small migraine.
"Snow!" Tyrion yelled fearfully."Get away from it!"
Jon body was disabled of movement. The dragon's eyes pinned him to the spot. Its dark green eyeballs were the shade of the purest wildfire and the pupil is the color of the purest gold. It struck a painful chord in Jon's brain; it was frightening identical to the fires that still burned on the broken ships. The ebony dragon was long-serpent like a body. Its neck was long and so was its tail. The tail was spiked. It's two short but muscular legs stood upright. Two dark wings were obviously its forelimbs; they were sinewy but powerful. The dragon was scaled from head to tail, and with horns on its head and along its face that would skewer painfully. The horns were a dirty white, slightly blackened.
Regaining his senses, Jon lowered his gaze, knowing damn well a beast of its size would take a staring contest as a threat. And Jon does not want to be marked as a threat by a dragon. It will be the death of him.
Jon slowly took a step back, then a second one, then a third. The beast slit its eyes and growled. It crawled to him until they were the same distance a few moments ago to Jon's angst.
"…Holy…" Jon muttered. He gulped and took another step back. The dragon growled again, louder this time. It huffed, small smoke escaping its nostrils, and closed the distance again.
"Tyrion…help me," Jon whispered. He kept his eyes to the darkened grass, all the while feeling the strong gaze of the dragon.
Tyrion was frozen by the mere presence of a creature that was considered perished. "What do you want me to do?" Tyrion retorted in a low voice.
"Do anything. You're smart," Jon hissed back. Absolutely anything can help right now. This was that dire.
"This is a fucking dragon. You think we can do something?" Tyrion's reply was dripping with incredulity. "Just…stay calm."
Jon anger flared up. A freaking dragon is up-close to his bloody face and he thinks they should do nothing? The dragon will get bored and destroy them with a burst of flame. It wouldn't kill Jon, but he was worried about his companions who can't survive the fire.
Jon calmed down. This is the first time a dragon was spotted in over a hundred years. Causation is needed, and I don't blame him.
Time flew by with Jon and Tyrion falling intense silence, not wanting an aggressive dragon on their asses. A few feet away, Ghost is softly growling and Jon prayed to the old gods he won't do something foolish.
"Why is it staring at me, please quench my curiosity," Jon finally spoke. If it wasn't for the dreadful training by the golden company, he would no doubt be stammering and sputtering on his own words in fear.
Jon heard a rustle and agreed to himself that it was the dwarf shrugging his shoulders. Jon never felt so exposed and was is not the concern of his nudeness. The dragon's eyes continued to watch him; Jon could feel it. He felt a shudder up his spine. is it interested in me? He held that assumption rather than the opposite, that the dragon is not so secretly daydreaming about devouring him whole.
The dragon inched closer and Jon stiffened and trembled uncontrollably. Its black nozzle inched closer and closer until Jon could feel the heat radiating from it as it breathed. Jon turned his head to the side to not meet its dangerous-burning gaze. To his astonishment, it began sniffing him.
The dragon implied his interest as he prodded Jon with his large nozzle. Jon got the uncomfortable urge to scratch the itches that sprang at the touches of the dragon.
A loud growl interrupted Jon's pondering. Ghost rushed to his side and barked into the dragon's face like the gallant knight he is.
The dragon growled loudly and drew back before the huge direwolf could get a bite at him. Shit, Ghost! Jon thought with dread. He had to save his direwolf from being a fried direwolf.
The dragon took a step back. The ground shook a bit as its powerful legs made work. It narrowed its eyes at Ghost and slowly opened its mouth. Jon saw through the razor-sharp teeth and saw a green light illumining at the dark depths of its throat.
Without thinking, and with impulsiveness, Jon lurched forward and pressed a rough-pale hand on the dragon's warm ebony snout. A staggering spark hit Jon's hand and trailed to every part of Jon's body.
"Jo-"The words Tyrion was about to say we're stuck in nowhere. Green-black eyes stared in wonder at the incredible display between man and beast.
Jon gasped as unknown sensations were bashing into him like a sword would do to a worn-battered shield. The assault left him breathless. The dragon closed its mouth, green-gold eyes watching him keenly.
Black and red ash swirled in the air around them, causing Jon to squint his eyes but otherwise kept his hand on the dragon's burning snout. Lilac eyes locking with the dragons.
At that moment, Jon knew his life is going to change. He doesn't know if it's for the better or worse but definitely going to change and it has him apprehensive.
"Jon, I think it's a good time for you to explain," Tyrion said tersely, stubby fingers doing a pattern on his other elbow.
Aegon
The council room was in an uproar. The lords in this room angrily traded barbs over the news that was just received. To others, Rhaegar is placid, showing no emotions with this matter. But Aegon is not just another; he is his son. He could detect the slight curve of Rhaegar's lips or the tightness of his defined cheekbones and the way his eyes darkened. His father was not pleased.
Jon shook his head while giving Varys a glare. "No, they dare declare war on us?! We have to show that we are not to be played with this affront."
Redwyn cut in. "We must show patience. The reach is gathering more ships right now as we speak."
"That's going to show we are weak and too afraid to act. The rest of Essos will notice and join them. Then we facing more of a challenge!" Jon sharply retorted.
"You rather us being unprepared?" Redwyn countered.
"That's not the point. We should destroy their fleet before they take the seas! They expect us to wait. They are in the advantage and they know it," Jon replied, his face scowling.
"We are not ready. We don't have the ships yet to match them," Redwyn said.
Jon quickly stood from his seat and smashed his finger on the table. "Their ships are nothing to ours, and this is the royal fleet we are discussing."
"I know this. In case you forgot, Connington, I supervise these ships, not you," Redwyn told them.
Jon face turned to an ugly shade of red and before he could reply, Rhaegar spoke, "This is not a small thing to let swell," He said softly. Aegon had a feeling which side he would comply.
Redwyn slanted his eyes to the king."Your grace, this is not wise," He said with a tad bit of frustration.
Rhaegar eyes drifted his eyes to Redwyn and stared him down. Redwyn frowned and dropped his eyes to the polished table, his hands gripping his armrest with tension.
Rhaegar turned his gaze away. "Tyrosh, Lys and Myr do not have the men, and we do. The best course of action is to squash this war before it can mature and save hundreds of lives in the process. I will not let this war be a copy from the previous one," He said with a determined face.
The chorus of agreements was met with his words. Redwyn set his jaw as Jon stared at him with a brief look of triumph. The master of ships avoided his gaze and leaned in his seat. Varys frowned, his long sleeves intertwining to hide his arms. Baelish wore the same damnable smirk on his mid-aged face.
Aegon inwardly grimaced. His father is wise, far more than he, but Aegon has an inkling that his father's recent decision will be horrendous. And the only thing Aegon could do is nod his head with everybody else.
Rhaenys
Rhaenys upright in her stool as her mother braided her hair. Elia hummed a cheery tune as she twisted and knit her hair. She looked in the mirror and smiled at her.
"You're glad," Elia stated knowingly, no scorn in her voice.
Rhaenys couldn't help to feel glad and a bit of shame as well. The impending war is going to cost lives, but it provided a selfish relief to the dragon princess. Her father had wanted her to be betrothed with a lord of high status, but Rhaenys is stubborn.
She met many suitors, tall, short, handsome, ugly, kind. Rhaenys shot them down all the same. They never met her standard. She wanted a man, not a softie. Rhaenys wanted a partner who can stand up for her, please her, and a challenger who can meet her fire. The suitors didn't fit the expectation, and so with disgust, she sent them all away. The dragon in her not liking any one of them. If this war is somehow longer than predicted, she can afford more time to stall her father's demand for a husband.
I am selfish.
She was selfish. A war is going to break out and she was here feeling happy for her on ends. So yes, she is selfish.
But aren't we all?
Rhaenys nodded her head in confirmation, knowing it was useless to lie to her mother who raised her for her lifetime.
Elia shook her head and sighed. "When are you going to settle down, Rhae?"
Rhaenys glared at her mother's reflection in annoyance. "Perhaps I don't need to." Her parent's insistence to marry granted on her normally calm demeanor.
"Yes, you do," Elia said immediately. "Every woman needs a man in her life. It goes for men as well."
"That is not true mother," Rhaenys said with conviction. "Look at grandmother. She is doing fine by herself."
Elia chuckled as she looped a single hair in a knot."That's not going to last for long."
Elia smiled at the frown on her daughter's face. "Don't you see the way she and Oswell look at each other?"
"Mother, Ser Oswell is in the king's guard," Rhaenys said in slight confusion. To her, it can't come to be.
"Your father can dismiss him if Oswell wished," Elia calmly replied. "It is not impossible, Rhae."
"Well, if so I am happy for them," Rhaeyns said tightly. A kingsguard and a queen dowager managed to find something for each other. Why can't she?
"Oh, Rhae," Elia said gently. She stopped braiding her hair and placed a loving hand on her shoulder. "I promise, the right person is out there for you. Rhae, you have to be patient."
"How long can I wait for that man before father ships me away?" Rhaenys responded bitterly. She grounded her teeth.
"I will talk to him," Elia said determinedly. "I assure you that no forced marriage is going to happen for as long as I am breathing."
Rhaenys smiled in the mirror; a mother like hers always lifts up her spirits. "Thank you, mother."
"You're welcome dear," Elia replied warmly and returned to braiding her hair with confident hands.
Domeric
Domeric was not happy, far from it. But he placed a bright smile for all can see. The gates opened and the horses heaved and shouts rang true. Domeric spied the proud banner of house Stark and sight did not put his uneasiness away, it only pronounced it.
The folk of the Dreadfort stood at ready in rows. Dresses that sparked the eye, dark tunics that pleased the eye. They were all waiting to hail the warden of the north.
Domeric received a raven only a fortnight ago. It was from Eddard Stark. He had predicted the raven but it still rattled his nerves. The warden became aware of the death of Roose and shortly informed him of his arrival to observe the matter himself.
Domeric shouldn't be worried in the slightest. Within days after killing his father, he formed a lie, to erase the possibility of him founded guilty while also getting rid of his bastard brother. It was truly marvelous. It was too bad he couldn't share this anytime soon lest he wants his head taken off by Eddard's crude Valyrian sword named ice.
He can even see the large sword on the warden's saddle. It didn't show the length of course, but a wandering eye could spot it's over the average sized hilt.
From the corner of his eye, he can see the three Stark children. One of them, most likely the eldest with broad shoulders, stared at him.
Domeric inwardly grinned at the wary look on the man's face.
Eddard's face was the perfect example of stone as he strode in front of Domeric. The new lord of the Dreadfort made sure his smile stretched across his face as he wanted. "Winterfell is yours, my lord," He said as he bowed in respect.
Let the game began.
…
"I am sorry for your lost, my lord," Eddard said solemnly.
Domeric didn't need to know the history between house Stark and Bolton to know he was not sorry at all. It was only a custom to say these things. He wouldn't put it passed the warden for him to feel happy that his most strained bannerman is laid to rest.
He played along, "Thank you, milord. These are some…unpleasant times around the Dreadfort lately," Domeric said softly, with a façade of someone who was grieving tremendously. It served him well in the past and that won't change now.
Domeric had led the warden into his solar to discuss what had happened. And Domeric took it himself to sit exactly where he killed his father.
"I see," Eddard said with a steely look.
"I am glad you came," Domeric said grimly."The folks were getting quite restless to put the murderer on death. They don't feel safe with him still alive."
Eddard slightly nodded. "I understand your concerns." Then his eyes grew chilly. "Who has done the deed?"
…
The courtyard was silent apart from the ear-piercing screams that haunted the air. It was mid-day and the sun was just on the brink of a set. It was almost dark with a bluish tint on the horizon. Light snow fell, and Ramsay snow is going to fall too.
Domeric tugged his thick furs and looked to his right. "It's alright, my lady." He said gently.
Sansa appeared to not hear him as her eyes were fixed on the execution that was about to take place. Her tall frame shook for a fleeting moment.
Domeric couldn't help the small smile that hung on his lips. Her reaction amused him to no end. She was a lady through and through. A cry from the other Stark to his left caught his attention.
"Stop being such a baby," Arya hissed annoyingly.
"I am not," Sansa countered angrily, glaring at her young sister.
"Yes too!" Arya retorted loudly. "Father forced you to come!"
Domeric almost laughed. Being in the middle of a sibling fight was not expected but was not unwelcomed. It was a change of pace of the dull silence of the Dreadfort.
"Stop this, argue later," Robb snapped from behind them. The two sisters glared at the other then fell into reluctant silence.
Domeric nodded at Robb's apologetic look and returned his attention onward. Two men wearing the stark sigil on their chest plate carried the screaming Ramsay. Eddard watched stonily beside the cutting block with his large Valyrian sword in his grasp.
"I didn't do it!" Ramsay yelled in futile. His plump lips were chapped and curled as he screamed into the air. "Fuck all of you!"
Domeric knew Ramsay didn't do anything; it was part of his scheme. He debated what to do with his brother and then he came up big. He canceled his hunting trip and instead placed Ramsay in a cell, blaming Rooses death on his hands.
Ramsay was roughly placed on his knees while his head dangled from the block. "I didn't do this, you'll piece of shits!" He said, face turning red from anger and fear.
Ramsay's horrid eyes turned on Domeric. "It was him! He killed Roose Bolton, not me!" He frantically inclined his head to the new lord.
Several questioning eyes wheeled on Domeric, but he was ready. "Don't believe the filth that comes out of his mouth, my lords," He said calmly, his words echoing in the courtyard. "He killed my father because he was threatened to be sent to the wall. The bastard stabbed him right in the heart."
The lords and ladies gasped and Ramsay was floored. "Wh-ah-what?!" He sputtered in confusion.
Domeric gave him a look of disdain."I and my father knew about your doings. You and your brand of cunts had hunted down folks with hounds." It was part of the truth. The bastard can't deny that.
Faces grew cold and they gazed at Ramsay with accusation in their hot gazes. For the past moons, there were reports that folks were disappearing and now they knew why.
Spit and sputtering came out of Ramsay's mouth and that nailed his fate. Eddard gloves tightened with tension. "Any last words?" He asked quietly.
His answer came in a bunch, "Don't trust that bitch! I didn't do it I swear!" Ramsay closed his eyes and tears tracked his gaunt cheeks.
"Very well." Eddard lowered his head and whispered a prayer. With that done he brought his sword up and it cleaved through Ramsay's head.
Sansa whimpered and unknowingly thrust her head into Domeric's shoulder. In a good mood, he rubbed her back soothingly with his pale blue eyes on his headless brother's body.
Jon
He was more suitable to march into battle and slice through enemies with ease or be on the run from the golden company for being a traitor. It was glorifying for Jon; the rush of adrenaline while he used his superior combat to bring people to his knees, and the fear that can't be hidden in their eyes. They called him the white wolf.
Staring down a dragon is not one of them.
He did it anyway and somehow finding success.
What he is doing right now is bat-shit crazy. This past two years has been bat-shit crazy. He ran away from home, went to the golden company for a couple of years, running from his enormous bounty, sailing to Valyria, and finding a fucking dragon.
Don't forget, I found out I am Targaryen. It was that what Jon is pondering on. He had nothing to say to sway Tyrion. I should tell him the truth. Jon thought. Lying was not his strongest asset, which he got from his fath-uncle. He doesn't think Tyrion will say anything with a couple of dangerous hints here and there.
They were currently in a dark cave of some-short. Jon, with Tyrion and Ghost, had to flee from the cruel and vicious storm that took them by surprise. Sharp rocks and boulders lay around the ground. Scratch marks were on the walls. Also, large, rusty chains were spotted. Were…the dragons chained here? Jon thought silently. The cave was big enough to even house a grown dragon and still have space for three other people.
The dragon rested by the entrance of the cave, eyeing him. Jon felt a shudder. For the past couple of hours, the dragon has been watching him, not letting up for a minute. And Jon had an inkling that the dragon rested by the entrance for a purpose to not let him go.
"I am still waiting," Tyrion said, persistent. The dwarf propped himself against a rock-bigger-than he-and glanced at him. Ghost curled at Jon's side and yawned silently.
"You know, I can make you wait longer," Jon responded, stretching his sore limps.
Tyrion slanted his eyes, not wanting to see Jon's nudity. "You need to find something to wear."
Jon snorted. "Now, where can I find those magical clothes? If you hadn't noticed," Jon sat up and exaggerates the movements of his arms, "There isn't any."
"There are some clothes on Euron's ship."
"That," Jon said, pointing to the dragon, "Destroyed every single one of them."
Tyrion shook his head and grinned a little. "It destroyed every single one except for the one I was on."
Jon nodded, absently rubbing his bald head. Tyrion watched him. Suddenly, he sprang to his feet and marched over to him.
"Tyrion! What the hell!?" Jon pushed Tyrion's hands from his head and crawled back from the dwarf. Ghost still didn't move, eyes peeled on the stray of hair in Tyrion's grasp.
"Oh…my," Tyrion exclaimed. He held a single dark string of Jon's hair. "When I first saw you, I thought the Greyjoy chopped your hair off." Tyrion rolled the hair over, revealing a burned spot. "But I was wrong."
Tyrion looked up from the hair to stare him down. "You were burned," He said quietly. "You have no hair or clothes because you were burned."
Jon stared agape at the little man, surprised at his detective skills. Seconds passed and Jon's face turned stoic, wondering what the dwarf will say next because his future words may seal his fate.
Tyrion frowned. "You're a Targaryen," He stated as he dropped the string of hair.
Jon retained his placid face, sparing no words. Tyrion narrowed his eyes. "You're a Targaryen that no one knew lived." The dwarf whistled. "Your Lyanna's child."
Jon's face was emotionless.
"Ned stark said that she died with the child." Tyrion rubbed his face, intense eyes observing him. "He lied and took you to Winterfell without the king knowing you're alive. That is treason."
Tyrion waited for Jon to say something, but he didn't utter a word. "I can't imagine how the king will react to you," Tyrion said.
"The king will not know about this, ever," Jon said, voice low.
Tyrion blinked two times in confusion. "Jon, the king has the right to know about this."
"I don't care. Keep your mouth shut," Jon growled, glaring. The Starks lives are going to be at stake. He has to protect them.
Tyrion shook his head in pity. "Sorry, I can't do that. The king and I are good friends. I won't betray him by keeping this to myself."
"I am sorry also."
Tyrion frowned. "What do yo-"
With a quickness that took the dwarf by surprise, Jon got to his feet and grabbed Tyrion by the throat, pushing his small body against the wall. Tyrion struggled against Jon's strong arms, face turning purple.
"Jon…" Tyrion tried to gasp through Jon's death grip.
"The king must not know about me," Jon snarled. He didn't want to kill Tyrion. He became a friend to him, but the Starks safety comes first.
Tyrion gasped, nodding in yes.
Jon shook him harder.
"Yes!" Tyrion said louder, somehow finding strength in his lungs to yell out.
"Good," Jon said simply. He removed his hands, letting Tyrion slide down the wall to his bottom. "I don't want to kill you, but I will do what I must if it comes down to it."
"Duly noted," Tyrion rasped out, rubbing his red throat.
…
Jon knew the storm had stopped, it had for a while now. Still, the dragon did not move, nor stopping its stare at him. Jon's stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten for hours. Tyrion told him that there suppose to be food in Euron's ship, but the dragon stood in the way. Jon and Tyrion hadn't the courage to move past the ebony dragon or move from their spot. This cowering sent Jon into a silent rage. fuck this, I am hungry.
Ghost and Tyrion's heads snapped up when Jon stood abruptly. Jon nodded to them and walked determinedly towards the dragon.
"Jon, what are you doing!?" Tyrion called out anxiously. The dwarf got to his feet but stood where he was.
Jon ignored his call and stood in front of the large dragon, head-held-high, I am tired of being a bitch. He glared at the dragon, "Move!" He said sternly. He didn't know what went through his mind to say that. Perhaps it's the lack of food, the stress of him protecting his family, or perhaps he just wants to go home.
Growling, the dragon snaked its tail around to wrap Jon in a bundle. Ghost barked and snapped, running to where they are.
Jon was brought to the air and on into the dragons back. The beast turned around and lumbered out the cave. Oh shit. Jon pressed his face against the dragon's scales, ignoring the sharp pain it brings. He suddenly…felt lightness…no heaviness to register.
Jon opened his eyes and raised his head.
His eyes widened.
He was flying.
After a long drought, a dragon rider hit the skies once more.
I know this was sort of short, but i just wanted to put this out there. Let me know of your thoughts!