authorsnote: just the first of many, you shall see

do enjoy, do let me know watcha think

also I am so inspired by hotd now, expect updates to all my dragon stories ... and perhaps a new one

and on that note I'll plug my reworked story: a dynasty of fire and blood, all about the targaryen restoration, its on my page!

songrecs: the greatest - billie eilish

"I have to go"

Jon never thought he'd be running from his men in battle, away from the vanguard, away from the men frantically amassing into formed lines, rigid stances, following the unsullied and dorthraki, locking into formations, spears ready, swords out, shields held high.

He always stood at the front, he always stood with his men, but as he had ran, placed a kiss to Sansa's clasped hands and sprinted from the tent, he'd known where he could help more.

On dragonback.

He had only paused, hands squeezing Sansa, who looked terrified but didn't try to stop him, she knew him better than that, knew that King or no, he would never hide behind Castle Walls, or his men laying down their life for him, he would be with them, in the battle, risking himself just as much as they were.

He did not deserve to have them fight for him otherwise.

And he knew Sansa agreed, these were their people, the people they must protect, he would not dishonor them by not standing with them.

"You must hide" He hurried out, allowed Sansa to stop him for a moment, push gloves onto his hands, for she knew he wouldn't be hurrying to the front lines, not now, not when he could be move valuable elsewhere.

"Hide where?" Sansa asked, he could hear the tremble in her voice, but was proud her hands did not shake as she affixed greaves to his arms, any protection available, even in their limited time, her fingers were quicker than his, and to his pride, steady.

"Go to the Queens tent" Jon urged, he could see Sansa hesitate, "Her Hand, her advisors are there, they will have a plan to evacuate if needed, make sure you are with them" Another pause, "Sansa"

"Alright" She said, as she finished helping him as much as she could, he ignored a cloak, no time for armor, the dragon, Rhaegal would be his weapon. Though he was thankful Longclaw remained at his hip.

"Promise me" He urged, "Promise me you'll get to the tent"

"I promise" Sansa said, "Lady Brienne is outside, she will escort me" Jon nodded, and then, all he could do was pull her into his embrace, feel her cling to him, hate himself for having to let go, but knew he must.

"Come back to me" Was all she had time to whisper, a brush of her lips against his cheek, and then she was stepping back, nodding, he noticed a tremble in her hands then.

"I will" He swore, and then they were out of time.

And so, he ran from his tent, not to the battle, but away, against every instinct he had, his feet flying, his arms pumping, and within a minute, maybe two he was skidding into the paddock where the dragons, one his now, and his alone, lay.

He glanced behind him for a moment, and could see the Dragon Queen, running too, though he didn't wait for her, he managed a smile, that she was not one to hide behind her advisors, to use the excuse of being the Queen to hide away.

He both appreciated that, found it endearing, and knew it would be cause for misery for her enemies.

Was he one of them?

He ran, ran to Rhaegal, it was dark, but he didn't even need to look to know he furthest from the center of the paddock, he still had a kinship with his siblings, but they knew, they knew he had a different rider now, they knew him to be different.

Jon always had been, and bore it how he could, he hoped Rhaegal was happy to do the same.

Rhaegal was not just his Mothers child anymore, he was bonded to a new rider, and Jon wasn't sure how he knew, but he did know that all three dragons understood it too.

He reached him quickly, the gate swinging open behind him, the Queen followed.

Jon didn't have to look back to know she was watching him, perhaps checking his first ride hadn't been some trick, some mummers farce, a bluff.

Jon didn't have time to convince her, or even to be afraid, doubt himself in approaching his beast, he didn't hesitate, and neither did Rhaegal, bowing a wing, which Jon vaulted up quickly, and onto his companions back he was.

Rhaegal was like Ghost now, a little more a stranger, a little different in the way he felt, but they were bonded, and Jon would cherish that.

He didn't hesitate.

There was no saddle, the Queen did not have one on Drogon either, this was not the years of old, the Targaryens at the height of their power, Jon only had Rhaegal, a few words in High Valyrian in his mind that had surely not been there before, and his bravery.

And more importantly, what, who he was fighting for.

These men were here to kill them, to strike them down, and that meant Sansa too.

He would not let them.

Jon hated to bring war to the lands, hated that there was still petty infighting and squabbles when they had a real enemy to face, an enemy to the North that should be their focus. This was not how any man should die, a pointless war when real enemies lay so far away in the snow, and yet, Jon knew they would anyway.

And what was he to do? He thought of Sansa, imagined if any Lannister captured her what would happen, and with grim determination, he knew, he'd burn every soldier alive, before he allowed that to happen.

There was some fire in his blood after all.

"Jon" He turned his head, as the Queen, his kin, Daenerys, on Drogons back, turned to him.

There differences seemed paltry now, especially as each sat on dragonback, kin.

He was reminded for a moment of the Dance of Dragons, the war between dragons and kin, it had destroyed the Targaryen family.

Could he let that happen again?

And yet he wasn't just a Targaryen, he would always be a Stark first.

"Its started" Jon said, turning his eye back to the battle, he could see flames flickering in the dark.

He could hear screams already, could hear the men preparing for battle, there would be no avoiding this fight, there would be no diplomacy, these men were at their door to kill them, they would not heed words, Jon knew there was no point in asking to meet, he knew where this would end up.

Men didn't attack in the night when they wanted peace.

Jon was no fool, he knew wars were won with swords, as well as ink, he just wished it were the latter.

'We all enjoy what we're good at'

He did not, and yet he remained the best at it.

"Are you ready?" Daenerys asked him atop Drogon, he was the biggest of the three, and yet Jon knew, hoped, but thought he knew that the Queen would never turn her children on one another. That was half of what his plan was hoping on.

'There is no war as bloody as between dragons'

He remembered reading that, in the histories as a child, when he would cry 'Daemon the Rogue Prince' when running into battle, had part of him known even then?

It didn't matter, but he knew now that any war with Daenerys would be bloodier than any he'd seen.

But for now, they stood united, for now.

"We should wait a moment" Jon said, as much as he hated to do so, to leave his men for just a moment, but he knew it was best, he knew the best strategy at their hands, even if it hurt to execute. Again it felt wrong not to be on the frontlines, but his pride, or even his desire didn't matter, not when he knew he could do best here.

"Wait?" Dany asked, and he could have smiled, she reminded him of Arya in that moment, hot headed, a temper, and yet Jon nodded, dark though he spoke.

"They don't know there are dragons here" He said, he couldn't imagine their scouts would have reported on the dragons, hiding three fields over, especially when he couldn't imagine any army on the land facing dragons. "Let them think they aren't, and then we strike, it will lure out the rest of the army, and we won't have to do this twice"

"You're good at this" She said, and he nodded, more to himself than her.

"Aye" He said, "Even if I don't enjoy it"

He could have sworn he heard her smile.

Silence fell then.

And then came the sound of charging, of screams, and Jon took a breath, waited a beat, and with the curl of his tongue, and still not knowing fully how he knew, but he did, as he spoke.

"Soves"

And he heard the Queen repeat after him, and they flew.

Into the night, into the battle.

Fighting on dragonback was different, different, but easy, surprisingly so.

It came near as naturally to him as walking.

Fire and blood.

There would be no denying it now, and yet he found as Rhaegal flew them forward, Drogon ahead, Viserion at their heels, he didn't want to. He didn't to deny the heritage that one he hadn't known but now burned in his veins as fiercely as it could, it was in his blood.

With Rhaegal, it was different from Ghost, but no less, different not less, he could feel it already, like something had been stitched onto him, this bond with Rhaegal, the bond he could feel beating in him, close to his heart, perhaps inside of it, aligned with this dragon beneath him.

Rhaegal, his dragon, their bond.

There would be no getting rid of it, Jon knew only upon one of them dying would this wither. Jon would never ride another, Rhaegal would be his until he died, their bond aligning as closely as those of kin.

And so, dragon and rider, charged into battle.

"Dracarys!" It was Daenerys who called first, as they could see the battle, thousands of men; Lannister men, or perhaps mercenaries by the look of them, gold armour, but then silver too, no sigils, but the Lannister flag, either way, they were the enemy, and Jon, much as he preferred to avoid bloodshed, would not hesitate in battle.

Especially as he saw their trick had worked, the armies poured in, believing no dragons lay wait for them, believing this was a fair fight. , and Jon swooped Rhaegal low and down, nudging him, the slightest touches to guide him, and then.

He didn't pause, or hesitate, or even consider, he just knew, and spoke.

"Dracarys"

And then he too was a Targaryen.

And it was anything but fair.

Men in cloth and steel stood no chance against fire. Daenerys and Jon fought like they had been flying together since infancy, or perhaps it was Drogon and Rhaegal in kin, as they swooped beside one another, Viserion dropping back a touch, as the two dragons with riders weaved in and out of one another, bursts of fire putting paid to the Lannister army, bit by bit.

It was devastating.

They tried to fight back first, men lined up with arrows, and yet as Jon tilted Rhaegal upward, protecting his own neck, they glanced off Rhaegals fierce scales as though throwing rocks at castle walls. He could see Daenerys do the same, letting them glance off of Drogon before she set the archers alight.

They were near indestructible.

First the men didn't know what was happening, panicked, raised their swords, after all, no man living had seen dragons in battle, how did you stop them? But then, they realised, you couldn't, and so they ran, their own men backed off quickly, knowing their swords were as useless as twigs in a battle dictated by dragons.

And Jon understood then, more than he ever could have with books, how Aegon the Conqueror had conquered 6 Kingdoms with only 1600 men.

There was no stopping them, the dragons raining fire onto their enemies. They were too quick to be caught out, too swift to be noticed in the dark, Drogon was invisible, Rhaegal near enough, even Viserion only had to turn and become shadow, only illuminated as they sprayed fire at line after line of men. Otherwise they were quick through the skies, quick and destroying.

They did not stop even as they turned and ran.

3000 men to Jons estimate, perhaps 100 managed to make for the trees, though the dragons burned those two, thick, scorching paths, making cinder of trees that had stood since before he was born.

Smoke filled the air quickly, choking those not burned alive, and those who had escaped to the forest might now suffocate instead. It rose into the air, marking the spot of the battle, grey choking the star filled air, a warning to any watching; this was what it was to tangle with dragons.

This was how a dynasty was built.

And Jon knew it was done, knew what he had done, what he had become, as one by one the screams beneath them died, and only ash remained.

He had become the blood of the dragon, and it had felt right.

And as fire lay waste to the Riverlands, as fields burned, trees felled, embers and sparks spluttered over the roads. As the flames threatened to lick as high as Castles, and the cry of dragons could be heard a world away, they were not the biggest threat.

Not, as away from the fire, in the fields of snow, plunging mountains, frozen lakes, and the wall of ice, the only thing holding them back (for now), the true enemy lay.

The enemy all had forgotten about for too long.

They spoke in their tongues, as the flames so far away threatened their plans, and yet it would not stop them, little would.

Especially him.

A distorted crown of ice, a sword in hand that would shatter almost all, they marched, and marched, hundreds of thousands strong, each felled, joining their numbers, but of them there were few, but enough.

Enough.

As they marched, and searched, the flames for now could be ignored, as they searched not for a dragon of their own, but a horn that would level the playing field.

Searched, and found.

it won't always be this easy, but for now it is

when writing this I asked myself: how would men react to dragonfire? well, none have seen it, so how would they?

we shall see some more of those reactions ... up close, next chapter

and more (also we will revisit winterfell soon promise)

speak soon