300 AC
Rhaegar
At its core, running off with Lyanna was an error. He was a young man back then in his young twenties, fresh and vibrant that was only tainted by his gloomy dreams. Prior to him reaching the age of one and ten, he had vague dreams that often left him in bed screaming for his mother. A winter rose on top of a large block of ice. A baby wailing with salt and smoke in the air as the bleeding star streaks by. His younger self didn't understand dismissed it.
It didn't go away.
Rhaegar placed the dreams in the back of his head with thick walls that were hard and unyielding. He couldn't contain it. In his sleep, it leaked out of his walls and penetrated his brain.
Since then, he paid more attention. With that, he had an objective. He pushed his books away and picked up the sword and targeted his utmost best to be the warrior he saw in his dreams.
The intent to save the world from eerie blue eyes.
When he reached adulthood, he realized that he was not the man to keep the monsters at bay, but his son, the song of ice and fire. The problem was that his father was a parasite that would spread his poison across the lands. Rhaegar planned to remove his father from power and take the throne to ready the world for the war of ice. The great tourney of Harrenhall appealed to him. lords from every land seemed like a good opportunity to create a coup and overthrow his mad father.
It didn't go as planned. It was a miscalculation and he paid for it, with the death of his she-wolf. After Lyanna died, the dreams slowly went away and so did Rhaegar's belief in the prophecy.
And here he miscalculated again.
Rhaegar watched passively at the intense battle below him, and his ears ringing from the bells of the city. The black water bay was alive with the clashing of swords and the fire of the arrows as it descended on their enemies. War Ships boarded the shore with bright exotic banners that hurt Rhaegar's eyes. The white, chilly moon brightened the battlefield as death extended its dark tentacles for all.
Redwyn was right. Rhaegar thought with calmness. The war was going so well for Westeros. The royal fleet engaged with Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh for a year with the war tipping in their favor. Victory after victory gathered in folk's ears and they celebrated too early. Then the battle of the stepping stones transpired. Rhaegar was as shocked as everybody else as the aftermath of the battle of the Stepstones was clear; the royal fleet was utterly demolished.
Volantis joined the war against Westeros. Dorne tried to assist but was blown away and their lands were slowly overtaken by the men of Essos.
And the Reach is the only fleet that protects the city of kings landing, but it's too little and too late. The Lannisters sent a raven telling them of their impending arrival but were obviously dragging their feet.
Rhaegar sent his family to take refuge in the Queen's Ballroom to provide shelter from the scrimmages that were taking place. Aegon protested like the dragon of his name, but Rhaegar stood firm, not wanting his heir to perish in this battle.
Rhaegar was donned in armor. The armor was a bit worn but in good condition. It was the same armor he fought in at the battle of the trident. There was a gaping hole where the red rubies used to be and it ruined the polish image of the plate. He could have it replaced, but he wanted to honor Roberts's memory. The man only wanted to save his betrothed that ran off willingly. And Rhaegar had to credit the man for his loyalty and his courage.
"Nock!" Rhaegar yelled. His command rippled through the air and a dozen archers dipped their arrows in fire and aimed in the night sky. "Loose!"
The air whistled with a song of death as the sharp pointy ends made their mark. Hundreds fell upon the ground, but it wasn't enough. Men wearing Targaryen colors were pushed back. The enemy line was pumping with fury and they hunger for blood.
A man rushed to his side, out of breath and said, "Your grace, they are at the gates," The man breathed out, sweat sticking to his brown hair.
Rhaegar is aware of that. Down below, the gates groaned and cracked as the ram thundered against it in a rhythm.
"Your orders, your grace?" The man asked solemnly. He also knew the city was going to fall.
Rhaegar mused to himself as he watched the ram tore apart the gate and then made his thoughts clear, "Contact ser Arthur to evacuate my family from the city."
"Yes, your grace." The man bowed and turned around to carry out his orders. He was stopped short at the form in the sky. Rhaegar stared at the thing in the sky. His face was calm. But his mind was turning on itself. His lilac eyes were on the big dot in the sky that was rapidly growing larger in size.
The air seemed to still as everyone froze at the sound of a loud roar breaking through the thick skies. The water trembled and the men froze in their boots. Weapons were lowered as a dark shadow loomed above them all like an angry cloud that promised death.
Jon
Jon walked confidently through the dense trees in search, his long strides taking up much distance as he got closer. He felt a tug in his mind, and it hinted to his left. Jon looked in that general direction and mulled over on how he should approach this.
The tug sang louder, and Jon easily pushed it away. Instead of it controlling him, he controlled it on his own will. Before he was captured by the Greyjoy the powerful force had bullied him, even to the extent of possessing his body. But it happened no more. Jon practice and thought about what this tugging means. When he and Tyrion placed it together, they whooped for joy and used Jon's ability to its full capabilities that paid off to unimagined heights.
Jon could track Valyrian steel.
That's why he was here right now on this particular island to find that steel. Jon found numerous steels, daggers, swords, axes, hammers. He has it all in a collection. To Tyrion's dismay, the two never found Bright roar or his uncle. Tyrion assumed his uncle was lost in the deep seas and gave up on the notion that the Lannister ancient sword could ever be found. Jon never gave up and kept searching.
Jon crouched and listened, following the line where the tugging was pointing at and walked forward. Through the wilderness, he pushed leaves and bushes out of the way as he went to the unknown.
Jon hand crept to his back and gripped his valyrian axe with expertness and inched closer to where the trees hid in sight. Whatever Jon was feeling was there. He switched his stance and approached warily. By instinct, he opened his mind and stretched his conscious wide. The island was barren. The only thing he could sense was Tyrion's and Ghost presence on the ship and the mass of death that flew over the island. The dragon responded to his mental prodding and sent a prod with one of his own through their bond.
Jon relaxed, shook his head and smiled. He better hurry up because Cannibal was getting impatient.
Jon placed his axe on his back and walked to the green bushes. He swept them aside and grinned at the sight before him.
A large red box lay with a dirty and rusty lock holding it together. Jon huffed and slashed at the lock with his axe. There was a loud clank and the lock parted with ease. Jon knelt down on one knee and opened the container with eagerness.
Jon coughed and waved the dust from his purple eyes and peered down inside. His gloved hand grasped, not a sword, but a full set of armor.
The Targaryen gasped. This was unique, entirely different from the collection of the armor he currently owned.
Along the shoulder of the armor was a brown thick line of fur, comfy enough for Jon to press it against his pale cheek. Black sharp spikes hanged on the forearms with flame designs decorated beautifully on its scales. The armor was covered ornaments such as white skulls. To add to its imposing appearance there was an onyx colored helmet. It had two openings, for the mouth, and for the eyes where it was in slits.
Jon blinked in surprise. He never came across an armor of this quality. He looked to the armor he was wearing and snorted in disgust; it looked like a worn hand me down armor in comparison to the one he just discovered.
Jon dug his hand to the bottom of the chest to feel the cool surface of the metal. It was a coin, or he figured it as such. It was the color of gold with its shape like a tooth; a very sharp one at that. On its front was the snarling face of a dragon.
Jon heard about the upcoming attack of kingslanding. When he touched landed back in Essos, he found the information himself. In Braavos, there was no talk about its rulers wanting to join the war. They deemed it useless and doomed from the start. Tyrion and he were surprised like no other when they heard the news of Volantis supporting the war against Westeros and the destruction of the royal fleet.
Jon needed no encouragement to help the city. He left Tyrion in a whore house in Braavos and hoped on top of Cannibal and began the long flight to Kingslanding to ward off the siege.
With Jon were bags upon bags strapped to the dragons long black scales. In it was items that he had discovered from the harsh islands of Valyria. Ghost was sullen in silence as his large body was too strapped. Jon gave the direwolf a thin smile. He knew his wolf wasn't a fan of flying. But Ghost was not a fan of being apart from his master and so came along with.
The silent night was broken by the loose roar of Cannibal. Jon could feel its excitement and hunger for blood through their bond. A year in Valyria exposed the ability that Jon was not aware of.
Warging.
Jon had restless dreams that involved having another body, to a point he realized the dreams he had was with Ghost. Testing this to prove he was right, he used Ghost to prowl around one of the islands and to see himself slumped with ruby eyes.
It was…not counted for him to be able to warg into Cannibal as well; he can even call it as a coincidence. When he was flying with the dragon, a dark creature shot out of the waters. Jon didn't know what it was, but he just wanted to get away from it. Jon was hit in the head by an unknown object to awaken with razor sharp eyes and a noise that was ten times stronger than a direwolfs. He watched as his body falling to the dark waters below and plunged for it. And the next thing he knew, he has awoken in his own body once more.
Jon practiced the method of warging with Cannibal after that. The task seemed stressful as the dragon was stubborn for anyone to access his mind. With moons, the dragon gradually eased into Jon's warging and Jon was able to fully use the great beast power.
We are here. Jon thought as Cannibal let loose another roar. A dozen warships of different kinds barricaded around the black water bay. Small boats were being rowed as hundreds of hired sellswords rushed to shore. Jon spied a battering ram hammering away at the closed gates. By its state, Jon knew it wouldn't last long from the onslaught.
Jon narrowed his eyes as shouts of fear reached Cannibal's ears. He is going to make them pay for attempting to harm his family; a family that doesn't know of him but still his family regardless.
"Dracarys!" Jon shouted at the top of his lungs, mentally prodding Cannibal's line of sight to a pair of ships nearest.
A bright green flame shined against the dark sky as it rushed to meet the vessels. The two ships were instantly destroyed. The fire was so hot the water rose like a giant wave and sunken three more ships under the heavy waters.
Cannibal flew through the air swiftly and came for another course. Another ship was flamed to oblivion and Jon felt the grin forming on his lips. Power, superiority, and blood lust filled his emotions. These sensations were not his own but his dragons. Still, he can't deny that he had no association with these dark feelings.
A warship turned towards them. A scorpion was aimed and shot. Jon saw this a mile away and Cannibal twisted in a roll, evading the bolt and frying the ship to the hottest hell.
Arrows were shot up in the air with no precision. The men were panicking. Cannibal didn't bother itself by shying away from the arrows, because it all bounced off its hardened scales. The rest were simply not fast enough to hit the fast dragon, meeting only air.
From blast to blast, fire to fire, flame to flame, the ships were all gone with the wreckage on full display. Ships tried to flee, to be only burned alive on Jon's orders; they didn't deserve mercy.
Cannibal floated mid in the air and roared, the shock-wave making the waters ripple like a pebble in a pond. The dragon turned its sight to the shore to see men shaking in fear; forgetting the battering ram as they gazed at the dragon with disbelief.
Jon urged the dragon to not blaze them; only dropping him off, he waited long enough. And Cannibal had its fun now it's his turn. Jon reached his hand to one of his sacks to pick out a weapon of his choice. He was picky this time, enjoying the different kinds of styles he could pick. But there are so many. He settled for two long valyrian swords. He gave them a quick twirl and nodded.
Cannibal dropped near the shore and Jon nimbly leaped out. He absorbed the impact with his knees and rolled until he was on his feet. Instantly, the frighten sellswords surrounded him. Their poorly restrained fear shook their bodies as they held their weapons at him.
Jon could tell he was an imposing height. First, he was tall and lean with his dark valyrian armor that outshines their men's best. His ebony helmet hid his face and it was too dark to see his amethyst eyes that glared at them darkly.
"Kill him!" A man shouted. "he is only one man!" At once four men rushed towards Jon.
Jon grinned as he twirled the two valyrian swords in his hands. He lowered into a low stance and cut through the first man in his midsection. He then pivoted and kicked the second man with his armored boot. The man's head cracked and was sent to the ground. Jon front rolled and plunged one of his swords in somebody's throat as the other one slashed horizontally across another one belly; spilling guts on the floor as the man gaped in shock.
Again he swirled his swords. Jon inclined his head to the dead bodies "You should leave now!" He said this to increase their chances of abandoned this fight; he had no intention of letting a single one escape. Their death was as certain as soon as they left Essos.
His words were not acknowledged as hoards of men charged at him. Jon used the deadly advantage of his two sharp swords to engage two men at a time. With grace and with the speed, his swords were singing for flesh.
Jon parried and quickly cut down a small man and leaned his head as a shield hit empty air where he might have lost his head. Jon one-handed cut through the shield like it was nothing but butter and splattered the sellswords head.
Jon jumped slightly and bumped his knee plate to a man's chin. He used the man's distraction at the pain and cut him down. There was the blast of fire as Cannibal joined the battle on the shore. The black dragon did a couple of rounds from the air.
The world was burning.
The fierce flame blackened the ground and burned the men. Smoke swirled around Jon like it was his camouflage.
Jon was focused and used all different types of forms as he continued his slaughter. This fight was supposed to be impossible. A single man was wrecking the formation of an entire army. But Jon didn't let this enter his mind as he contained his confidence and cold ruthlessness as he thumped a man on the head with the pommel his sword.
Power filled Jon's hands as he deflected the swords from his course. A few men even impaled their own comrades as they desperately slashed their swords for a hit on him. The men were afraid and that increased the bodies that fell when it shouldn't have. Because of his foreign armor and his two deadly swords, the sellswords were not ready for the threat they never faced before.
A sword caught him in the shoulder plate; Jon hardly felt it. His armor was scaled enough that normal swords would have the toughest time piercing it. The armor was also strangely light. Jon barely felt its weightiness for it felt like he was wearing the lightest of silks. The armors skulls rattled a death tune as Jon went on a rampage.
Jon snarled and grabbed the offender by the shoulder and twisted him around where Jon used to be just as a sword slashed. The man stared in shock as instead of him striking his enemy down, he killed his own comrade. Jon pushed the dead man towards him, making the man stubble. And Jon used this time to slash his head off.
Jon turned and blocked a strike with his swords forming in an x as he pushed the blade away and sliced underneath. Both of the man's legs were separated from his body, and Jon ended the screaming with a swipe of his sword.
Twenty, thirty, forty, Jon didn't keep track of the men that died at his gloved hands. With Cannibals fire backing up Jon's offense, the sellswords seemingly large number slowly ebbed away with each hard swing of his swords.
Jon never engaged the men up front. That was suicide even with the incredible assets he had. While he parried and deflected, he carried the battle to the murky waters where he had the advantage.
From the days of evading and fighting the dark creatures of Valyria, he had the case of having unusual high stamina and nigh high speed. With this, he skittered and danced on the waters that reached his knees. His armor never once weighed him down, but his opponent's armor did. They struggled and splashed in the cold waters as their plates made it difficult to adjust to the environment. Jon moved like a shadow as the sellswords were too slow to parry his savage blows. His shifty and fast movement made his form flawless as the men were left to bleed out in the waters because their limitations hindered them.
Jon killed another dozen men before he felt his energy fade away as he became weary. His once lethal strikes drifted to the more sluggish type as fatigue caught up with him and spikes and spears slipped past his guard when it didn't before.
His helmet rattled painfully as the side of a spear connected with his head protection. A sharp punch hit his chest and the man screamed in agony as he held his broken knuckles before Jon smashed his head open with his elbow. Jon was pushed to the water with a smack and was ganged on as swords bounced off his armor. He did a leg sweep and got back to his feet.
Jon locked blades with another and pushed away and swung both of his swords with a roar. The man's sword shattered into bits as his life ended before he could marvel at such.
Cannibal glided over to him and blasted at the group of fighters that stood with Jon. The dark waters boiled with a vengeance as the men yelled in pain as their skin peeled off their bodies.
Jon took lumbering breaths as his dragon drawled a line of green fire that cut off any men that can approach him. Jon eyed the gates as it opened. Men wearing the Targaryen sigils joined the fray. They screamed and started cutting down sellswords
Pussies. Jon thought with amusement. They finally grew a pair of balls when they realized his dragon was burning the enemies to the crisp and jumped at the chance to pick up the leftovers. Greedy cunts.
Jon hung back behind the wall of flames as he let the battle rage without him. Cannibal landed heavily beside him and watched too; an arm crunching on its teeth brutally, green eyes wild with hunger.
Jon soothed the dragon through their bond. It was actually calm comparing this dragon to its past self. Jon knew the dragon used to be crazed in one of the history books he skimmed through in Winterfell. His dragon was still dangerous on a loose chain if Jon wasn't paying close attention to its emotions. At times, Jon struggled to try to rein in Cannibal from destroying everything in its wake, while other times the dragon is almost friendly.
After an hour of nonstop clashing, the swords were finally put to rest. The Targaryen army cheered. Although it was somewhat subdued as nervous eyes turned to Jon and the monstrous beast that draped the whole shore. Whispers and hand pointing, the men started asking questions.
Jon's heart stopped as his eyes landed on the figure that was in the middle of it all.
The man was his real father.
Rhaegar eyed him through the dense flames. His face was guarded and placid as he observed him with his silvery hair tied in a knot. His armor is decent but plain to Jon's own.
Jon and his father stared at one another, both captured by the other. Jon was grateful for his helmet that hid his features and his lilac eyes. He was not positive that the stinging of his eyes was from the sweat.
Rhaegar stepped around a small flame and started walking towards him. Jon promptly turned around and walked briskly to Cannibal, a choke in his throat as he hurried to his dragon before the king can reach him.
The dragon lowered its shoulder and Jon climbed aboard. It was its roar that started many as they flew to the dark skies. All the while Jon feeling a pair of sad purple eyes squarely on him.
Jon relaxed in his saddle and removed his helmet, his thick hair dancing as he shook his head. He looked behind him to Ghost. The direwolf stared disapprovingly at him. He definitely enjoyed the ride. Jon thought sarcastically. He laughed a little and rubbed Ghost behind his ears.
Jon put the swords back in their assigned sacks and grimaced, sore at the endless battle he just participated in. He tenderly removed the plates of armor and tucked it in a bag and placed a simple tunic on.
Jon shut his eyes together as a wave of sadness burned against his eyelids. And his head fell against the hard scales of his dragon.
He just came face to face with his father. His real father and he couldn't even say he was his son.
Jon growled as resentment at his uncle grew. For the first fourteen years of his life, he lived as a bastard instead of a prince. Ned stark lied to his face about his mother and because of this asshole his immediate family doesn't know who he was and it will stay that way to his death. Just so he can protect his cousin's happiness. Ned Stark better be grateful that he was not the person who doesn't care about the people who were raised alongside him. His loyalty to the Starks was that strong, not once hindered by the three years he had been gone.
Jon's face was set in a scowl. He was going to force Ned to say the words himself. It was shameful that a crazed Greyjoy told him of his parentage before his uncle could.
He was going to demand what is rightfully his, an explanation on why Ned took him from his real family.
Cannibal roared in reaction to Jon's anger as the night sky concealed the dragon's ebony frame as they silently flew through the soft and puffy clouds.
Rhaenys
She could smell the fear that dwelled in the room. The boys and girls silently cried as they heard the distinctive roar of a monster of some sort. Everyone was pale and rigid with fear. Rhaenys could even detect the distant smell of piss. Judging by the downcast look of one man it has to be him.
The four kingsguard took their stand next to the barred door with their grasp tight on their swords, wary eyes communicating with one another. Ser Loras ground his jaw as he paced by the door. The only thing out of place was the absence of Ser Barristan, who went alongside Dany to the gloomy castle of DragonStone.
Elia paled as there was another roar that shook the red keep. Her mother placed a trembling hand on Rhaenys's own while the other touched Aegon's. Rhaenys returned the affection with a thin smile. Aegon gave their mother the same small then quickly turned his intense eyes back on the sealed door, his arms fiddling with his garment.
The Queens Ballroom was filled with tension as there were drums of feat that approached from the other side. of the door. The king's guard and Aegon took out their weapons as they eyed the handle with wary looks.
There was a knock. "Open the door." Rhaenys relaxed as she recognized the soft voice of her father. The kingsguard eased their swords and Arthur unlocked the latches and swung the door open
Rhaenys jumped from her seat and launched herself into her father's armor, completely ignoring the audience. Rhaegar smiled and kissed the crown of her head. "Hello, my little dragon."
Aegon stood up. "Father! What happened?!" He said in a rush. And his words were acknowledged by the nods that were sent in his direction.
"The battle is over," Rhaegar said without preamble. "We have won."
There was a chorus of cheers and laughter. But Rhaenys was not the one to be deterred. "What was that out there?" She said quietly. She couldn't conceal the fear in her dornish accent.
Heads turned to the king. Rhaegar stared far away to the unknown. "A dragon," He said softly. "A large one."
"A dragon!?" Aegon and Elia yelled at the same time. Shouts of denial and fear were silence by the wave of the Queen's delicate hand.
Rhaegar turned back to them, his eyes holding something Rhaenys couldn't understand. "Yes, a dragon. And somebody was riding it."
Westeros
The talk of the dragon and its rider spread through the world like the beasts green flame. Many contemplated the mysterious man that controlled it. And on how he managed to ride the dragon or how he managed to adopt the fabulous alien armor that strikes fear into the hearts of many. Songs about the rider involved on his legendary skills with his valyrian steel swords and how he killed a horde of men himself.
There were also talks about the rebirth of the dragons. Instead of running to a dead end like the rider, the citadel gave a stunning conclusion about the identity of the deadly dragon.
Big enough to shadow the red keep, wild enough to eat a dozen of helpless men, with deep black scales dark as the night with gold eyes and its green pupils.
It was the dangerous Cannibal, one of the wild dragons that went missing after the dance.
Theories and ideas flew back in fort venomously. Even the citadel was clueless as to where the dragon came from after all these years out of sight.
Ravens continue to flow as the king demanded the whereabouts of the rider and its dragon. With the promise of gold, a dozen pretenders strolled to the throne room and claimed that they were the rider. The king saw through these lies and sent the ones with the false claims to freeze at the wall. With that, lies stilled but the warrior never showed up and there were no more sightings of the dark dragon.
The news exploded as Tyrion Lannister returns from his voyage from the old city of valyria with no surviving crew members from the expedition. The dwarf was met with eager questions as the lannister revealed his weapons and gold he had found in the ruins. Tyrion evaded these questions and there was even a rumor that Tywin Lannister asked his son himself to no avail. People drew connections to the weapons that the imp brought to the swords the rider used to dispatch his foes. And there started the accusations that he was in a league with the rider. Tyrion never answered and fell strangely quiet.
A few days later, Westeros became aware of the arrival of the white wolf of Essos.
Jon Snow.
Immediately there were pleas for the bastards head for the crimes he committed and the innocent blood he spilled. As expected, Eddard stark went in his defense and explained that whatever Snow did, it was in Essos, not in Westeros and the execution of Jon Snow was a violation against the law. Jon Snow backed up with his sayings that the rumors about him were untrue as people just spit at him with jealousy of his combat prowess. Lords were instantly skeptical and didn't believe him for a second. The king spoke nothing of the bastard and the issue of the 17 years old actions were put away but not ever forgotten as his reputation was that strong.
From the king, repairs to Harrenhall was almost complete and comes with it was the upcoming grand tourney once more and every land was expected to be there to show their loyalty to the king of the andels.
Nobody spoke. But the worry was in their minds. The approaching event has the intent to heal old wounds but there was a hidden danger lurking that the plan was going to backfire and tourney would reopen the scars.
Only time can tell.