The feel of a soft, warm body wrapped around him woke Jon from his slumber. At first, he didn't open his eyes; he didn't need to, for he recognised the feel and the scent of her, Sansa. He sighed in contentment, trying to ignore the hardness in his cock and concentrate on enjoying the serenity.

"Jon, are you awake?" Sansa whispered.

Jon opened his eyes and looked down at her. She was awake, but he could tell she had only just woke herself, for her eyes were full of sleep.

"Aye, I am," he smiled.

Sansa threw her leg around his waist and pressed herself up against him. Fuck serenity, this was far better. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips upon hers. The kiss was lazy and gentle, for they were still rousing from sleep. Their bodies desperate for one another, but their heads had not woken up.

Jon rolled on top of her, their hips grinding together to gain some friction, the kiss becoming hungrier. A heavy dip on the side of the bed stopped them. They both turned their heads.

Facing them was a pair of red eyes, looking on at them inquisitively. Blizzard's chin was on the mattress, staring. The look on his face turned from questioning to imploring. All desire Jon had felt moments ago fled him. Jon rested his forehead against Sansa.

"Seven fucking hells," Jon swore. "Do you think this is what it is like being a parent?" he asked.

"I think so," Sansa giggled, placing her hand over her mouth, while her face flushed red, most likely from embarrassment.

"I'm glad you find this funny," Jon complained, pushing himself up from Sansa and rolled off her. The dragon lifted his head, and Sansa tickled his chin, which he seemed to like.

"He's a hatchling, and likely hungry," Sansa said, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. "Aren't you?" she asked, as the dragon's eyes widened with expectance. "We need to get you some more meat," she pulled her dressing gown over her shoulders and turned to Jon. "I'll keep him occupied, you get him a leg of mutton."

Sansa picked up his breeches and tunic, and threw them over to him. "Yes, your grace," he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, as he pulled his breeches up and laced them, before yanking the tunic over his head.

"I think you should fetch something for Ghost and Lady. They've been guarding him all night."

Jon nodded. "I'll see what I can find," he kissed the top of her head, before leaving their room and heading for the kitchen.

Once he reached the kitchens, he saw the cooks getting ready for breakfast. The dark skies were turning grey, as night turned to the first signs of dawn. The cook slapped her hands together to remove the excess flour from the bread she was preparing, when she noticed Jon.

She curtseyed and bowed her head. "Your grace," she said, a trace of nervousness could be heard in her voice. "How can I help you?"

"Umm, well, er, Ghost and Lady are both hungry. They haven't hunted since yesterday morn, and won't leave Queen Sansa, not since the incident with Ramsay," he lied.

"What would his grace like for the direwolves?" she asked.

"Three legs of mutton," Jon replied.

The cook frowned for a moment, as if he had forgotten how to count. Why ask for three legs for only two direwolves. However, it wasn't her place to question his demands. She was there to attend his needs.

"Cooked or raw, your grace?"

"Raw will be fine," Jon replied, giving her an appreciative smile.

She nodded her head. "I'll just get them from the chiller," she said, leaving him for a moment to retrieve them. Moments later, she reappeared from the chiller with three legs of mutton, which she was struggling to carry.

Jon rushed over to her to help her. "Let me take them," he offered.

"Thank you, your grace," the cook said, her already ruddy face was flushed from the weight of the legs, which Jon had to admit were heavy enough. "These the three biggest ones I could find, your grace."

"Thank you, my Lady," Jon bowed his head, and the woman blushed. "Ghost and Lady will be most happy. I shall leave you be." The cook curtseyed once more than Jon left with the three legs of mutton.

Sansa was dressed in a grey woollen gown, by the time Jon had returned to his chambers. He handed each creature a leg of mutton, which Ghost and Lady took from him. Blizzard looked confused for a moment until he watched Ghost and Lady eat theirs. He followed their lead and tore into the raw meat and ate, while Jon and Sansa watched.

"It's a good job he doesn't like it cooked," Sansa whispered to Jon.

However, it appeared she spoke too soon, as Blizzard spat out the raw meat and stared at it. Jon and Sansa glanced at each other in fear, expecting the dragon to breathe fire. But it was unfounded, as Blizzard didn't seem to know what to do with it. He looked at them, confused.

"Why hasn't he breathed fire onto it, if he wants it cooked?" Sansa asked.

"Don't give him ideas, well not while he's in here."

Jon knew Blizzard needed help and realised the dragon wasn't old enough to breathe fire. Dany had told him all about hers when they were mere hatchlings. Despite his size, it appeared Blizzard was no more developed than her 'children'.

He realised what he needed to do. Jon stood, picked up the leg of mutton and carried it over to the fire, and threw it into the flames, hoping it would cook enough for the baby dragon to eat.

"He can't breathe fire yet. Although it will only be a matter of time," Jon told her as he returned to sit beside her on the bed.

Sansa took his hand in hers. "What are we going to do with him?"

Jon hadn't come up with a plan of where to house the dragon. He had assumed it would be small, like Dany described her dragons to be, and believed it would be able to stay in their room for a while. However, that was not an option, for Blizzard was far too big for that. The only place that made sense, was the Godswood.

"He might be a dragon, but he has the magic of the old gods," Jon said. "The Godswood might be an option. But we'll need to see how he behaves around the rest of the family first."

"Father will be awake now," Sansa said. "I should get him, or Robb."

Jon walked over to the dressing table and ran his hands through his hair, pulling it into a ponytail. He wrapped the leather tie around it, keeping it in check. "Go see if Lord Stark is available," Jon said. "If not, ask for Robb," he added, agreeing with her assessment. "We're going to need to get Blizzard to the Godswood. I think it is where he wants to go."

Jon glanced over to the dragon who was too busy staring at the leg of mutton in the fire to care about what else was going on. The smell of cooking meat had reached Jon's nostrils, and his stomach growled. Blizzard turned his head and gave Jon an inquisitive look. Curious, he walked over to Jon and sniffed his stomach, as if trying to determine where the sound was coming from. Jon patted him on the head as if he were a dog, and laughed.

Sansa frowned in confusion. "What is he doing?"

"He heard my stomach rumble," Jon replied, eliciting laughter from Sansa.

To Jon's surprise, the dragon enjoyed being petted and stroked, as if he were a direwolf. Blizzard placed his head on Jon's chest, as if waiting for more petting.

"Are we certain Blizzard is the same species and Daenerys' dragons?" Sansa asked. "He's more like Ghost and Lady."

"Let us hope he is as friendly as they are with the rest of the family," Jon agreed.

Sansa stood and walked to the door. "I'll go find father and Robb. I think we should let mother see after them. She might be frightened. If Blizzard is friendly towards them, then he should be alright with mother."

She left the room with a swoosh of her skirts. Leaving Jon with only Blizzard, Ghost and Lady for company. He watched on as Blizzard waddled over to the two direwolves, who had finished their mutton legs, and were gnawing on the bones, while he stared into the flames, waiting for his own meal to be cooked enough for his liking. Jon noted, like a typical newborn, the dragon was unsteady on his feet. He couldn't breathe fire and Jon doubted the dragon could fly yet.

Jon realised, the dragon would depend on him and Sansa as much as a young pup. Questions filled his mind. How long would it be before Blizzard could fly? When would he be able to breathe fire? How much food would he need? However, the biggest question Jon had, was how large would he grow?

Daenerys' dragons were only just over a year older than Blizzard, and he was probably five times their hatching size. Was Blizzard already bigger than Drogon?

A squeak interrupted his thoughts, for Blizzard was watching the mutton leg and becoming eager to feast upon it. Jon knew it meant the meat was cooked enough. He made his way over to the fire to retrieve it for the dragon, but Blizzard was faster. He shoved his snout into the fire and pulled out the leg.

"NO!" Jon cried out, not wanting the dragon to put the burning leg on the floor. But it was too late. However, with luck, Blizzard hadn't put it on the rug, and ate it before anything set on fire. With half a dozen chomps, the dragon had swallowed the meat, and was licking up the fat from the stone floor.

"That was naughty!" Jon scolded the dragon, his voice disapproving.

Blizzard turned his head and gave what could only be described as a sheepish look. He shuffled over to Jon and put his head on Jon's shoulder. A knock at the door made Jon jump, as all four of them in the room turned towards the entrance. The door opened and Sansa put her head around it.

"Father and Robb are here," she said, opening the door wider to allow her father and brother to enter.

Jon felt the weight of the dragons head lift off his shoulder as he bowed his head. "Lord Stark, Lord Robb," he said.

Robb and Ned bowed, making Jon feel uncomfortable. "Your grace," Ned replied.

"Your grace," Robb said, as they both rose.

"This is Blizzard," Jon pointed to where he thought the dragon was, but it was just thin air. Jon frowned in confusion and Sansa laughed.

"He's hiding behind you," she giggled.

Jon could tell Ned and Robb were nervous, but he hadn't expected Blizzard to be scared. Although he shouldn't have been surprised. The dragon was a hatchling, and to him, Robb and Ned were far more dangerous. Blizzard could hardly walk, let alone fly or breathe fire. He was vulnerable right now and looking to Jon for protection.

"You're alright," Jon tried to reassure the dragon, although he wasn't sure whether it understood the common tongue.

The voice directing the instructions he'd heard in his head while the dragon was getting ready to hatch, had disappeared. Instead, there was a bond between them, not dissimilar to the one he had with Ghost. He had felt something similar with Rhaegal, albeit not as strong as the one with Blizzard.

Lady got up and sniffed at Robb, who stroked her. Blizzard peaked out from behind Jon, to assess the newcomers. Ghost sat next to Lord Stark, which appeared to give the dragon the confidence in accepting Ned and Robb. He shuffled to stand next to Jon.

Robb frowned. "He's a bit… shy for a dragon, isn't he?"

Jon stroked the warm dragon scales down the side of Blizzard's neck, which were still soft, compared to what they would be as he matured.

"He's a vulnerable hatchling. He can't feed himself, he can't fly, he can't breathe fire, he can't even walk. His scales are no protection as they are soft. I am his protection, for now," Jon said.

"He can bite," Ned countered.

"It is the only defence he has," Jon turned to examine Blizzard's teeth, which were tiny compared to Ghost's. "I admit, he has a powerful bite. He devoured a mutton leg bone. Although he needs his food cooked."

Robb edged closer, but Sansa got to Blizzard first and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. The dragon purred, enjoying the attention. While stroking the dragon with one hand, she held the other out to Robb.

"He won't hurt you," she turned to Blizzard. "Will you? You are a good boy, aren't you?" Blizzard shook his body and preened, stretching out his neck for Robb to stroke.

Robb held his hand out and touched the dragon scales. His eyes widened at how Blizzard felt. "He's soft and warm," he said.

"His scales will harden as they grow," Jon said. "Don't be fooled by the sweet creature in front of you. In a few years, he will be terrifying. Enjoy him while you can."

Ned approached. "He won't hurt us when he becomes… fearsome, will he?"

Jon shook his head. "I won't let that happen. He will protect his family, which includes the Starks, and the North if need be. I don't want him to burn anything except the army of the dead. Although I doubt I will get away with not having to use him before that," he sighed.

Jon never intended to burn enemies, but that didn't mean Blizzard wouldn't be able to show off his fire-breathing skills.

"How will you ride him?" Robb asked.

If his cousin had asked a moon ago, he would have said by holding onto the scales. However, after his visit to Dragonstone, he had found some books which had escaped the wrath of the Baratheons. One of them contained images of a saddle of sorts. The dragon-riding Targaryens of old liked their comfort and probably had more control with it.

"I found some books on Dragonstone. They have the designs for dragon saddles."

"Like for horses?" Sansa asked, unaware of the discoveries Jon had made on his travels, for they hadn't had time to discuss such matters.

Jon nodded. "A similar concept, but adjusted for safety, comfort and speed of flying a dragon. Especially into battle."

"Did you find anything else?" Ned asked.

"Aye, a lot of things, but for now, we'll just concentrate on Blizzard," he said as the dragon nudged his stomach, wanting Jon to fuss him some more.

"I'll go find mother," Sansa said as she slipped from the room, allowing Jon to give her father and Robb a bit more information.

Ned watched Sansa leave and turned to Jon. "What else?"

"Money and jewels from Littlefinger. Books and clothes from Dragonstone."

"Did you see the painted table?" Robb asked excitedly.

Jon nodded. The painted table was famous across the Seven Kingdoms. It is a large table, of around fifty feet long, and roughly twenty-five feet wide, carved from a block of wood and painted in the form of a detailed map of Westeros. The carving of the wood was so intricate, that if one put candles underneath, it would light up the rivers, mountains, and settlements.

"I would have brought it with me if I could," Jon sighed. The table was magnificent, and he hadn't really had time to truly appreciate it during his previous trip to Dragonstone.

"We shouldn't steal his money," Ned shook his head, which made Jon angry.

"That man caused the downfall of this family. The things what happened to Sansa because of him are enough for me to confiscate his riches. His wealth is stolen from the crown. When I am King, it will repay the crown's debts, which had created from his theft. We have the evidence," Jon raised his voice.

"I suppose, if you put it that way…" Ned nodded.

Jon slammed his fist on the table next to him. "We need all the help we can get to fight for survival. I am prepared to forfeit my honour and pride, if it means saving the realm," Jon struggled to contain his anger. The honourable Ned Stark needed to look at the bigger picture. "We will need to be crafty and devious. If not, everyone in the Seven Kingdoms will die. Do you understand?"

Blizzard ducked under the table, confused by the turn of events.

"Aye," Ned nodded. "But don't say a word in front of Cat. He was her childhood friend. And even though she knows of what he did, it will be hard for her to understand."

"Then I should warn you now: Arya is on her way to Braavos to clear out all the funds from Littlefinger's accounts with the Iron Bank. She is considering looking into hiring the Golden Company to assist with our endeavour."

"The Golden Company?" Robb asked. "Why?"

"If we hire them, then no one else can," Jon replied. "Daenerys will have her own loyalists, which we can do nothing to stop. But Arya knows Braavos well, I will let her deal with everything there."

A knock at the door and Sansa's head poking around it, diffused the situation. Jon knew this was the first of many arguments relating to the funding of their campaign. Jon would do things which Ned didn't like. He knew how his enemies operated, and those he didn't know, Sansa or Arya would be able to fill him in.

Sansa and Cat entered the room, which was becoming stifling considering how many were in there. Five humans, two direwolves and a dragon. Cat curtseyed.

"Your grace," she said.

"Lady Stark," Jon said. Sansa frowned, she must have sensed the tension in the room.

"Where is the dragon?" Cat asked.

"Under the table," Jon replied.

Sansa bent and looked at the dragon who was cowering, afraid of the shouting. She frowned. "Why is he under the table?"

"He got scared," Jon replied.

Robb burst out laughing. "I can't believe you ended up with a timid dragon."

"Come here Blizzard," Sansa beckoned the dragon to her.

Blizzard poked his head out from under the table and stumbled his way over to her and pressed his head up to her belly. She stroked him. The dragon gave Cat an imploring look.

"He wants you to pet him," Jon said. "He won't hurt you. He can barely walk, let alone fly or breathe fire."

Cat glanced at Sansa, as if confirming Jon's word. "He's friendly," she smiled.

Lady Stark held her hand out and ran her hand down his soft, warm scales. Her face turning from fear to awe. "He's only a baby," she said, her mothering instinct kicking in. she glanced around the room. "What does he eat?"

"He's had a leg of cooked mutton," Jon replied. "He doesn't like raw meat."

"What about his…" Cat's face burned red. "His bodily functions?"

Jon and Sansa looked at one another. Jon knew what Lady Stark meant. Did dragons shit and piss?

"I don't know," Jon replied. "Daenerys' dragons were older and self-sufficient. I never asked her about those questions."

"Well, it is something we must consider," Cat said. "Where do you plan on keeping him?"

"He wants to stay in the Godswood," Jon replied.

"How do you know?" Ned asked.

"We're bonded. He can't tell me most things, but he has a connection to the old gods. He needs to be near the heart tree. It will help him thrive." Jon replied.

"Won't he burn the Godswood down?" Robb asked.

Jon shook his head. "It is only for the first couple of weeks until he finds his feet and learns how to fly. Then we can find him somewhere else. A cave or we build a temporary dragonpit."

"When do you think he will be strong enough to fly?" Ned asked.

Jon shook his head. "I don't know. He's already larger than he should be. I don't know how quickly he will grow. What I know, is his strength will increase faster if he spends his first few weeks there."

"Nobody else goes there," Robb said.

"We can take it in turns to look after him," Sansa offered. "I'm sure Sam will want to help. He was the one who worked out how to create a hot box to carry him from Queenscrown."

"I'll post guards on every entrance to the Godswood. Only the ones we trust will be able to leave and enter," said Ned.

"I'll make a list of trustworthy people," Sansa offered.

"We'll need to work out a feeding routine," Cat said.

"What about Maester Luwin?" Robb asked.

"I trust him with my life," Ned agreed.

Jon wasn't so sure. He trusted Maester Luwin with his own life, but he wasn't sure about whether Maesters were safe around dragons. Of course, his ancestors had been surrounded by Maesters and dragons, and the dragons had survived. He had no option but to trust the old man.

"I hope we can trust him," Jon said.

Robb frowned. "I just have one question. Blizzard can hardly walk. There are at least a hundred steps between this room and the courtyard. How do you plan to take him outside?"