Reign of Ice and Fire - Delisianna - A Song of Ice and Fire (2024)

Chapter 1: Ghost

Chapter Text

In the beginning, he was just Jon to his family... Jon Snow to be exact. Bastard of Winterfell, son of Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, and once hand to King Robert Baratheon.

Then once he arrived at this frozen hell hole made up of ice, he was given another name just to mock his bastard status.

"Lord Snow." Ser Allister would mock or just draw the words. Then soon after it was changed to"traitor's bastard!" after the events at King's Landing, where Eddard Stark lost his head, never to return to the North, or tell him of his mother. The secret of who she was, died with him.

While to the Freefolk, he was just Crow.A man never to be trusted, he had the scars around the face to prove it.

And to his men at the Wall, he was their Lord Commander. That was until some of his very men betrayed him, no longer wanting to follow his commands.

He should've known Bowen Marsh and Wick Wittlestick would betray him.

"Their sharpened daggers in the dark, waiting."

Now he could still hear their whispers as they stabbed into his flesh, his sword hand going numb, unable to grab onto Longclaw to defend himself from their relenting attacks.

"For the watch." They whispered around him in taunts, taking turns with their sharpened daggers, his hot blood coating the cold snow beneath him.

His crime? Going too far in both helping the Freefolk, and wanting to rescue his sister from the clutches of Roose Bolton, his bastard son Ramsay Snow, and their men.

What in seven hells was he even thinking back then? What possessed him to announce before every one of the chieftains of the Freefolk, where so little of the men of the Nightwatch were present, that he would march upon Winterfell, leaving his duty at Castle Black, to go free his sister?

Only to find out later, the Bolton's had pulled a murmurs farce on the North along with the help of the Lannisters.

He was a fool to believe the Boltons had Arya and married her off to the sad*stic c*nt Ramsay.

How could he have been so foolish? He knew his sister Arya would've killed herself than be forced to marry.

Instead of Arya, Ramsay Snow was married to Jeyne Poole, the former steward's daughter, and Sansa's best friend. Fooling so many in the North with their lies, along with the help of Theon Greyjoy, who didn't have the courage or decency to cry out that the girl wasn't a Stark.

Instead of Theon finally redeeming himself for what he did to his younger brothers and all those in Winterfell. The squid went along with the lie.

Jon had heard what the Bolton's, well Ramsay to be exact did to Theon.

How he'd broken the Kraken and taken away parts of the man by flaying him, slowly cutting away parts of him.

Yet Jon could feel no remorse for Theon because he betrayed Robb, his brother, who warmly welcomed the Kraken, after being ordered to be lord Eddard's ward, by the then-king Robert Baratheon.

Now the Kraken would soon be offered to Melisandre's red God if the rumors were to be believed in Stannis wanting to execute Theon for king's blood. Ghost growled at that.

Indeed Stannis must have been a fool or desperate to defeat the Bolton's to ever think a squid-like Theon Greyjoy had King's blood.

The thought itself made Jon wonder if Stannis would have executed him also out of desperation if he had taken him up on his offer to be named Stark. House Stark was the blood of the first men, and Kings of Winter.

Letting another growl out, making his stalking presence around Castle Black, watching both men, women, and children moving from out of his path, his direwolf was already big as a small horse and still growing, scaring most with his silence as he continued thinking his tongue lolling out his mouth.

Did the bitter North only produce fools? Or turn sane men into idiots?

Or was it just the members of House Stark who were fools? for putting their trust in others. Only to fall in the end!

You know nothing, Jon Snow.

He could hear her voice mock him even now. Though he did know one thing, and that he was dead.

At least his body was dead, while his consciousness lingered inside his direwolf Ghost.

His red eyes had witnessed so much since the day his body died. The infighting for control between queensmen and men of the night's watch, where it would've been easy for the Freefolk, who outnumbered them three to one to gain control.

Causing her grace uncle ser Axel, ordering the confinement of both the queen and Shireen to their chambers. Though the red witch Melisandre was free to move around the castle freely having her daily prayers with those she managed to convert.

It seemed those of the Freefolk who were skeptical of her at first, must have warmed up to her.

Especially when some called for the burning of his body, even Leathers called for his body to be burnt at once, fearing he'd turn into a wight. While the other Freefolks such as Tormund called for the deaths of those who willingly stabbed their lord, Crow.

In the end, they followed the lead of what Melisandre told them to do. Singing songs of another's soon arrival at Castle Black and to let her decide what to do with his body and the mutineers.

While his body, they laid to rest deep inside the ice cells where he had placed the dead bodies they found a few moons before.

Now those said ice cells were frozen shut and would most likely remain shut and frozen until the next spring. If anyone even survived this winter, with the dead and the cold winds of the North already bearing down on them.

His body would probably never be burned, while his remaining days would be spent in his dire wolf Ghost. A warg amongst men, women, and children, feeding on whatever scraps Satin managed to give him.

Chapter 2: Bran

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Summer's howling could be heard throughout the neverending underground cave caverns, while he stirred lost in thought. He didn't need to question what happened or why his direwolf was behaving this way, laying in his sleep chamber after Hodor brought him there to sleep a few hours ago, or better yet for him to calm down after blaming them all for not allowing him to warn Jon of the danger that was lurking in the dark, waiting for him. What was the reason for this gift if you couldn't even help those you loved?

Turning over on his makeshift cot of grey bear furs, Bran wanted Summer to shut up, he already knew another with Stark blood was dead. Though this one went by the bastard's last name Snow, instead of Stark.

Betrayed by his brothers and fellow men of the Night's Watch.

Gripping the thick Weirwood roots in the moss-covered room around him, Bran Stark could only grab a hold of them tightly, wanting to break something, anything really for the pain he felt inside, for the loss of another family member.

How many had to die before the gods had their fun? Was it because they lost their way? Or was it due to him losing Winterfell? the Stark ancestral castle?

Did they blame him for losing it?

"A Stark must always be in Winterfell." He could hear his mother echo, yet she was the one who abandoned both he and Rickon to follow Robb instead of returning home as his brother asked of her.

Bran let out a deep annoyed groan watching the cold mist that escaped his mouth evaporate before him, recalling faintly who Jon Snow was, his long solemn face, his dark grey eyes that almost looked black, and broody behavior.

Though there were times when Jon did smile when he wasn't hiding in the shadows, reminding everyone just how young he was, without the strain of his bastard status weighing down heavily on him.

Both Arya and Robb always seemed to drag that part of Jon out for all to see.Something Bran now knew his mother never liked seeing.

Apart from Arya, Jon was the only other one of his father's children who had the look of a Stark. Something Bran was sure his mother disliked being reminded of since none of her true-born sons looked Stark.

Particularly when his brother was the constant reminder of his honorable father's mistake.

Taking another woman to bed, while his wife Catelyn Tully Stark waited for his return for a year at Riverrun, pregnant and alone, listening to whatever gossips and tales that came from the south, from both servants and travelers. Needing to know if her husband was dead or alive.

Now with so many Starks dead or lost, it seemed his father's decision in going south, becoming the hand of Robert Baratheon, only brought death and destruction to their house.

There was an odd saying that Starks didn't fair well, or belonged in the south. Though his mother was the one who hummed such words.

Even Cregan Stark went south for a time, to be the hand of the king to Aegon the broken, a young boy like him, who also lost so much during the dance of dragons.

In a way, both he and Aegon the broken did share some similarities. He also was broken just not in the way Aegon was, both of them had two older sisters and a younger brother. But the biggest similarity was knowing they were kings.

With Robb and now Jon dead, Bran knew he was now the king in the North. He was a king without a castle, with many believing both he and Rickon were dead.

He could hear his mother's voice echo inside his head once more needing it to stop. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."

Yet, Winterfell was lost to their house. Belonging to the Bolton's now, after Robb died at the Twins under guest right. Betrayed by. Roose Bolton and Freys aligned themselves with Tywin Lannister for the power they've always wanted.

While Robb's so-called one-time best friend Theon Greyjoy, who Bran could no longer consider a man, also betrayed Robb, the day he came back calling himself the prince of Winterfell at the time. A title that rightly belonged to Rickon and himself.

Not some Greyjoy, who claimed his father and family treated him like a prisoner in their home. If anything, Theon Greyjoy was treated far better than his father's bastard Jon Snow.

A bastard brother his mother worried and both claimed would take everything from his father's trueborn children.

Funny how life came full center, instead of Jon taking from them, it was Theon Greyjoy, the young man Jon could not stand for his co*cky and arrogant behavior, thinking himself better than everyone else.

Nevertheless, in the end, the arrogant fool, who sold Robb out, was now broken, a shell of a man who'd soon be sacrificed and burnt by Stannis Baratheon for his fire god.

Pulling against the roots to allow himself to sit straight, his thoughts scattered feeling lost and alone. Meera was being quiet and distant, and Jojen he had not seen in days.

Now he wondered if coming this far North was even worth it. Maybe he should've taken Samwell up on his offer and gone to Castle Black, instead of being foolish, thinking the Three-Eyed Crow would give him back what he lost. His legs, so he could finally feel like the carefree young boy he was in Winterfell once more, not the cripple so many snigg*red around. Calling him less than a man, who was better off ending his life.

Maybe he should sacrifice himself right here, let his conscience slip inside Summer, the same way Jon had slipped inside Ghost when he died.

Just the thought seemed to fill Bran Stark with great joy, thinking how great it would be to find Ghost at or around Castle Black.

They could always travel to the Riverlands where Nymeria ran around freely with a pack of wolves, hunting and killing men who served house Frey and Lannister.

Yes, Bran told himself, there would be a second life fit for a king of the North, killing Frey and Lannister men along with his pack, to avenge the deaths of his family and Greywind.

"Hodor, hodor."

Glancing towards his room cavern entrance, Bran watched keenly the way Hodor scurried inside, ready to pick him up before he could object and ask him to leave.

"Bloodraven needs to speak with you," Meera said, leaving before Bran could ask her what for? Or where had she been as of late? Was she avoiding him?

"Hodor!'" The giant yelled upon his return.

"There you are finally, we have things to do." His voice sounded not nearly as faint as it normally sounded at times. Causing Bran to wonder what game Bloodraven was playing now?

"Hodor," his companion said with a smile, placing Bran carefully on the ground covered in moss and bones, Hodor left right after. Compelling Bran to crawl over bones towards the half-dead man in the tree.

"What sort of work?" Bran asked bored, not feeling like playing any of the games Bloodraven played.

"We need to get your brother's conscious out of his direwolf Ghost."

That seemed to get his attention. wondering if Bloodraven slipped inside his mind when he held the roots of the Weirwood earlier.

"No!" Bran screamed. "He will die if he can't slip into another." He would not do it, Bran told himself. Had Jon not suffered enough in this life? Could Bloodraven and the children be this cruel?

"You must before he drowns, where man becomes beast. You must warg into Ghost when I tell you to push him out."

Bran didn't get another chance to tell Bloodraven no, that he had intentions of warging into Summer, becoming a beast like his brother also. There was nothing left for him here in human form.

Instead, his eyes became milky white, taking notice he was no longer inside of the cavern. But standing in a bed of snow, next to him and Bloodraven, he saw a broken man with white hair who looked older than his real age kneeling against a Weirwood tree, cutting into his flesh and feeding his blood to the roots. Theon? Bran wanted to say yet kept numb.

"Forgive me of my sins and the many crimes of atrocity I committed against so many."

His sister Asha looked at him, her eyes were glossy knowing the end was soon unless she convinced Stannis otherwise to spare her younger brother, offer that he take the black.

"Theon," the young lord finally spoke, the trees carrying his voice like the wind, the red leaves of the Weirwood ruffling, which seemed to bring a smile to the broken man's face.

Behind him, two other men walked up, telling him it was time to go, the Kraken had prayed enough.

Sensing Bloodraven was done here, letting his conscious take them both to someplace else deep within the belly of Castle Black. Where Bran watched with mused fascination how the moon shined and danced across the coat of Ghost's white fur, coating him with her beautiful rays of moonbeam.

Provoking the beast to howl at her beauty in return, wanting to share his affection, being she was the only one he felt gave him any, whereas most others seemed to avoid him at all cost. Some even called for him to be let loose into the wilds of the true North with his kind, though that was not what he wanted.

Bran could tell what the direwolf needed from those in Castle Black, and that was for them to let him through the southern gates of the Wall, to avenge his family. Instead of having to swim the waters of East Watch, or find some other way to go south. There was only death in the North and no food.

Turning to face Bloodraven wanting to ask why were they there? Yet that would have to wait, as the older began speaking, causing Ghost's ears to perk up.

"Soon Jon," the winds echoed in swirling mists of shadow from the men busying themselves with a Freefolk woman at their side, undoubtedly to go share each other's covers.

Ghost could feel another presence within him, a faint whisper, repeating the same words.

"You must protect her, do not allow those who seek to exploit her kindness to take advantage of her. She is your duty to protect when the time comes."

"Protect who?" Ghost asked, but the voice belonging to the stranger was gone in an instant.

Bran looked upon Bloodraven strangely, wanting to get answers, before speaking. "Who is Ghost supposed to be protecting? What are you not telling me?"

Chapter 3: Daenerys

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"Wake the dragon."

The world appeared to close in all around her from the burnt spotted patch of brown grass, that Dany knelt in, next to the barely burnt horse meat both her and Drogon feasted on. Until the loud thud of horse hooves was heard closing in all around her. Where not before long, the hunting party arrived their arakhs raised.

Placing the barely charred horse meat down, not bothering to wipe her hands or mouth, what remained of her dress was already blooded and soiled. Staying still, where she counted from where she stood next to Drogon, no more than thirty hardened Dothraki screamers, watching her keenly with their dark eyes, waiting to see what she or her dragon would do. Some Dany could tell from their looks of unease, shuffling on their horses, were scared of her dragon, while the remaining Dothraki, looked ready for a fight.

Where even the sun appeared to have hidden behind the clouds above them, darkening the mid-afternoon sky, the more her violet eyes lingered on the smug smile of one of the men in front of her.

She could still remember that day just a few years back, of her fourteen-year-old self heavy with child.....

Rhaego, Dany reminded herself touching her abdomen, where no child would ever grow again, after the witch, Mirri Maz Duur cursed and tricked her. Killing her babe and turning her husband Drogo, her sun and her stars, into a shell of his former self. No longer was he a warrior, or a Khal to be feared.

No, her Drogo was nothing more than a dead man still breathing air... That was no life for a once-great khal, whose hair had never been cut.

In the end, Dany did what any wife of a khal would do in her position. Ending Drogo's life, smothering him with a pillow...

It was a mercy killing, Dany reminded herself, knowing Drogo would've done the same for her, instead of allowing her to suffer such a life.

Thinking back on all her past mistakes, Dany could only shake her head in disbelief, at how foolish and naive she was back then to trust the witch. Because of her folly, she'd lost what protection, she gained through Drogo along with her son.

Running her right hand against the heated scales of Drogon, trying to temper the blood of old Valyria coursing through her veins.

Dany knew she would not be a fool in this position of power. Understanding she would not be taken by these men on their horses, that were now encircling her.

The ones looking at her torn clothes, burnt hair, and skin, probably thought her weak, and easy to capture even with her dragon next to her.

Don't wake the dragon!

She wanted to warn them, already Dany could feel the fire within her intensify, the longer she stared into the dark pools of two men she swore she would get revenge on for what they did all those years ago to the young Lhazareen girl Eroeh. Who Dany had freed from being raped by Mago, who was now staring at her lustfully, bitting his lips watching her as a man starved.

Dany could see in those dark eyes of his, how much he wanted to mount her right before the other Dothraki men. Come she would've said, knowing she'd take great pleasure seeing Drogon eat this one.

Riding next to him stood another... "Jhaqo," Dany mumbled to herself when the man rose his hand silencing the other riders down, to speak to her.

"You belong is Vaes Dothraq with the other dosh khaleen crones, where all former Khaleesi's go when their khals die." He mocked in heavy Dothraki, while his men jeered, their arakhs raised, cheering their Khal on.

She could only laugh, wondering if the Dothraki men did not see her dragon next to her?

"I am a queen, not just a Khaleesi, the only place I will go is back to my city of Meereen," Dany yelled back from where she stood.

She would not leave with these men, how sooner would they try to kill both her and Drogon? the longer they lingered here in this spot!

Lingered, Dany thought to herself recalling her hallucination the night before, when the grass spoke to her, and the stars above whispered their secrets in her ears.

Was it a vision from Quaithe? For lingering too long in Essos? Was it just a dream? Maybe it was due to her being hungry and sick?

Or maybe she imagined it all...

No,she told herself, recalling the voice belonging to her old bear, Jorah Mormont who betrayed her and sold her secrets to the spider Varys, who gave it to the usurper Robert Baratheon who wanted her dead.

Instead of her, it was him who met his demise, killed by a boar no less... How befitting, he suffered and died slowly in anguish?

While for ser Jorah, she had sent the knight away from her sight and city, unable to trust or look at him.

She was alone, the last Targaryen and known dragonrider, no one was here with her...Not Jorah who sold her secrets, Barristan her protector, Daario who she sent away... Not even Grey Worm, her commander of her fiercest warriors.

No one was going to protect her or come to rescue her.

Right now the only one who could save her was herself!

"The dragon remembers," Dany said accusingly, I should burn them all, shethought to herself, it would be the only way to escape.

Noticing how wary it seemed the Dothraki men were growing, waiting for their khal's battle shout, a weak man they would die for.

"Want to wake the dragon?"

Climbing on top of Drogon, Dany made her choice, she wasadragon, and dragons didn't bow down to men or plant trees. She would be no slave, or good Khaleesi to go willing with them... Instead, she would be the stallion who mounts the world.

The living embodiment of the prophecy the crones of Vaes Dothraq prophesied for her son Rhaego.

Looking back at the men in front of her, she could smell their fear, their mounts already neighing and moving unsteady, already one man fell off his horse, who galloped away, leaving his rider on the brown-colored grass, as he cursed in Dothraki.

"Flee now, or I shall burn you along with your false Khal, who I shall not allow the chance in escaping my dragon's wrath," Dany yelled for each of them to hear. Already noticing some of Jhaqo's men seeming to weigh on her words.

"Flee from you?" Jhaqo spat raising his arakh for the charge, same as Mago.

Good... Dany thought, she would burn them both side by side, for Eroeh.

Wake the Dragon!

"Sōvegon," Dany yelled noticing the bows ready to loosen upon her, as Drogon banked to the left mid-air.

"Dracarys." Drogon's dark red flames poured out of him, burning men on their horses, the brave ones trying to get a shot of their arrows at her, but the size of Drogon along with the sun hiding behind the clouds made it hard to see where she was on top of him.

While Drogon's hard scales protected him from their arrows.

"Dracarys Dany yelled once more, noticing both Mago and Jhaqo trying to make their escape with some of their men, towards Vaes Dothraq.

No, she reminded herself, they would not escape her, or Drogon's flames.

"Dracarys." She yelled burning all five men where they rode, her dragon no sooner landing, feasting on his kill.

Dismounting from Drogon, Dany looked at the charred remains of the dead, noticing the half-burnt body of one.

Quickly she knelt, removing the man's boots and breeches. Both items were too big for her, but her cracked feet needed healing, and her blood-stained dress needed removing, there was no way she could return to Meereen like this, even if she landed atop the Pyramid.

Looking around for a top, Dany already knew she would find none here. The other four bodies were too badly burnt.

She needed to look for more bodies without going too far from Drogon, who had taken flight. Likely to finish what he'd started.

It took a little over a few hours, just to find a top and another bottom, more to her size, while Drogon flew above her, making sure no one was near.

Though Dany was sure, the rest must have ridden off to Vaes Dothraq, where they would warn of her coming, and what she had done here.

Laughing to herself at something her bear once said."Never meet the Dothraki in an open field...."

Unless you're atop a Dragon..... Dany mused, as her mind wandered still on those who escaped.

Realizing, while Drogon still scouted the Dothraki Grass Sea, made Dany wonder if the men who escaped, would be fighting each other somewhere in the distant future once they spread the word to others of what happened here. Or perhaps somewhere in the future, those said men would be fighting for leadership of the khalasar outside Vaes Dothraq for a new khal?

It was what Dothraki did, whenever a Khal died. Unless they joined another khalasar or be taken control of. Letting the thought go, she would linger here no longer, lest they came in the hundreds or possibly thousands after her. Their bows on the ready and arakhs sharpened, seeking either their glories or deaths.

She would need to convince Drogon to take her back to Meereen, instead of his lair, the place Dany called Drogon's Dragonstone...

Suddenly, her dragon landed next to her, with a mighty thud, as if he read her thoughts. It would be dark soon, and already she was growing tired.

Smoothing her hand against his hardened scales, Dany knew it was now or never in convincing Drogon to take her home.

"You did great today, protecting me from those men." Dany hummed, causing Drogon to purr in her ear.

"We need to go home Drogon, we can't linger here for long," Dany murmured wondering if Drogon understood her words, as she climbed on top of him, grabbing ahold of his spikes.

"Let's go home," Dany spoke with authority, as Drogon took to the evening sky, her violet eyes looking at all the fire and destruction below her, the higher Drogon climbed.

Skimming her eyes over at all the carnage left behind, not truly knowing how she should feel, about what she had just done. Both Jhaqo and Mago deserved, what she had done to them.

Though the unknown outcome of her actions, made her feel unsettled. Knowing she had single handly brought additional war to Meereen and its people with the Dothraki.

Was this how the dragonlords of old felt about their steps in conquering certain parts of Essos? Was this how the conquerors Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya feltafter they burnt their enemies on the field of battle?

Closing her eyes, pushing away thoughts of the dragonlord conquerors of old, who conquered Essos, knowing she'd never do what they did.

Never would she ever make slaves of men, women, and children.

Chapter 4: Descendants of the Great Empire

Chapter Text

Ghost

The beast kept moving further North, as he sniffed the air that smelled of death and rotten corpses while passing a small village, knowing death itself was there but a few days before.

Their rotten corpses filled the air with dread, where the sound of three wolves howling nearby in the night's sky from hunger, could be heard throughout the empty village, as Ghost kept moving further north, following the voice in his head, that sounded so much like Bran. Whereas his insides screamed for him to hunt and feed, despite knowing there was no food out here to be found, only death.

Satin would feed him whatever scraps he managed to gather, but with so many mouths to feed and words being uttered around him. Ghost knew his days were numbered at Castle Black, where so many feared his stalking presence. Arguing his kind belonged north of the wall, not south of it. Jon knew what they wanted to say, and were thinking.

Many were frightened of him, he could smell fear on each one of them.....Well except the red witch, oftentimes she’d walk over where he laid in wet snow.....Chiding him, though there was sadness in her undertone also.

”I warned your master to keep you close, warned him of those plotting against him, their daggers sharpened waiting for the time to strike in darkness. Now his body will burn along with the men who killed him, and those two Karstark men, who will be offered to R’hollar.”

“It is a pity you will not be here to witness the deaths of your master's enemies, or feast upon their warm flesh to sustain you, once you are turned out from Castle Black to roam the open North.”

Ghost let a low growl out, knowing there was no food out here to be had, and soon the same could be said for Castle Black within a moons time, with so many mouths to feed. Additional mouths he openly welcomed.

A war would surely break out between the three groups unless Stannis moved forward unto Winterfell sooner rather than later... Although there was something in the man’s blue eyes, he saw it upon Stannis's return to Castle Black, even his scent had changed...

No longer was the stag king a proud man standing tall, for doubt now weighed heavy on him, along with the sense of defeat, at not being able to take Winterfell.....

The North was no place for a southern king, even a proud stag...Heavy is the crown and its weight was pulling Stannis Baratheon down.

The snows and icy winds of the North forced him and his men to retreat to Castle Black, the mountain clansmen wanting to return to their keeps. He also abandoned Deepwood Moat for not having enough food for himself and his men.

Jon knew just from the way the man’s shoulder slumped, locking himself away inside the King's Tower, his last command, ordering his men to melt the ice that froze the ice cells, telling his men to prepare lord Snow’s body to be burnt, along with the oathbreakers who killed their lord commander.....

The beast let a small whimper out.....At least he would not be there to watch his body being burnt.

Stopping for a few heartbeats sniffing the air while Bran’s small voice kept telling him to hurry, move faster, time was of the essence, as the beast ran faster and faster trotting through the deep snow, being careful to stay clear of the scent of rotten corpses. Though it seemed the wolves he’d heard howling in the distance were hot on his trail, stalking him.

Yet they never came, something in the air suddenly changed... Death was near and it was coming closer, the wolves that were stalking further behind. He could hear no longer, yet he could taste the scent of their spilled blood in the cold air. Knowing the dead were ripping their corpses apart, forcing the beast to put even more distance between himself and the dead. Finally losing their scent, when they shifted towards the east standing still, making the beast wonder if they were trying to sniff out his scent, needing to know which way the direwolf turned.

Good, he thought, the longer they stayed in place, the more distance he’d have ahead of them.

For half a day Ghost traveled the scent of something familiar invading his snout, as the beast found himself overlooking a valley below him, where the largest Weirwood tree he’d ever seen swaying back and forth, his brother’s voice telling him to hurry.

The dead were coming towards him once again, yielding the beast to sniff the air around, it was still fresh and smelled of snow, yet he could not deny the faint smell of death, off into the distance.

Causing the direwolf to run towards a cave hidden between two huge snow colored rocks, the air smelling of wet moss and something familiar, a scent he’d not smelled in years, the more he traveled deep within the cavern dark path, lined with entangling roots above him, the faint sound of the wind.

Yet the closer he got, it sounded more like tiny voices singing a welcoming song. As he heard a howl, causing Ghost to let a small whimper out, finally seeing the other beast snapping playfully at him, as both direwolves collided into each other, rolling back and forth snapping at the other.

Until he heard Bran’s voice once more, telling him to hurry, as Ghost followed Summer deeper inside the caves cold damp caverns. Only to suddenly stop, his red eyes peering at the half-dead corpse, who sat on what looked like a throne made up of Weirwood roots wrapped around his skeletal body. Below him laid a boy no older than ten, sitting around a pile of bones, his Tully features causing Ghost to whimper in place, not being able to move.

Until Bran’s voice beckoned him closer his hand held out, causing Ghost to hurry to the young Stark heir, whom he thought dead. As he began licking his face with his wet tongue, recalling the last time he even saw Bran. His unconscious body lying still in bed his breathing even, lady Stark watching over him, never leaving his side, not to take a bath or change, her hair tangled and unkempt.

"Easy boy," Bran allowed Ghost his fun, knowing full well it was Jon’s way of showing him how much he missed him and needed to offer any sort of warm affection to a family member he thought was dead.

Clasping the direwolf with both hands steadying him, needing Ghost to follow his instructions when the time came, but first, he would need to share a secret with Jon, a secret that might rip his cousin apart, but needed to be said for the greater good, everyone had a part to play.

Jon needed to let his inner anger go, and let the man be reborn. The dragon within.

Giving Jon no warning, Bran’s eyes turned milky white, as Jon felt his spirit being ripped out of his direwolf, the whimpers of Ghost could be heard echoing throughout the caverns.

✨✨✨✨✨

The Weirwood

Faster and higher Drogon flew into the dark grey clouds, flying West before turning North, causing Dany’s body to grow cold, slipping in and out of consciousness fighting the need to close her heavy eyes, begging Drogon to stop; take her back home to Meereen, to land at least so she could get off him after hours of flight.

Yet looking below, every time there was a clearing within the clouds, all she saw were bodies of water, no landmass to be found. As Drogon kept flying faster, paying no heed to her commands, only flying higher into the clouds.

No longer could she keep her heavy lids open, succumbing to darkness, while her body fell limply between Drogon’s spikes, the heat radiating from his hardened scales, the only thing keeping her warm, along with the voice of a stranger resonating inside her thoughts.

” It's time to wake a sleeping dragon from his slumber, princess.”

Letting that thought slip away, she wondered where her dragon was.....

“Drogon?” Dany called out once more, following the sound of a stream close by. She was thirsty, and her body growing hungry, needing to feed.

Crunch.

"Who's there?"

Turning to the direction where she heard someone coming, Dany saw a young man no older than her dressed in all black, wearing a heavy black cloak, too heavy and warm for this weather, his feet heavy as he walked in the dry leaves striding towards her, stopping to look at her, no words leaving his chapped lips.

”Who are you? And where am I?” Dany found herself asking the stranger, his dark grey eyes turning away from her, seeming just as lost as she was on how he also got there.

”Do you know Quaithe? Did she summon us both here at the same time?”

Jon looked at her plainly, clearly not understanding the language she spoke in. Deciding to answer her back in the common tongue, wondering if she would understand him, while in the back of his head wishing she did, maybe she could shine a light on how they got there.

”It looks like the God’s Eye, but I don’t know how I even got here from north of the wall.” Or back inside my dead body?Jon wanted to say... The last memory he recalled was feeling his spirit being ripped out of Ghost, while Bran began warging inside that dark underground cavern, never once did he think his brother also had the gift of skin changing, or how he managed to communicate with him.

“In Westeros?” Dany replied in the common tongue, ignoring the long face young man who continued looking at her strangely like he’d never seen a woman before, or maybe it was what she was wearing? Or the fact her skin was covered in smoke and soot, parts of her silver-blond hair burnt off.

As she began pacing in one spot back and forth, recalling her command to Drogon to bring her home, never imagining Drogon would bring her to Westeros, with not even an army or her other two dragons she locked away fearful of them burning innocents.

Jon didn’t know what else to say to her or calm the worry he saw in her amethyst eyes, looking both lost and confused, which she probably was, her common tongue heavy with an eastern accent.

She was not of these lands and probably didn’t know how she got here. Maybe they were in the afterlife, though he doubted her gods were of the North since all he saw were carved Weirwood trees.

”I’m sure you both have questions.” Came a third voice, as Dany whipped her head around to look at the newcomers. One was dressed in all black like the young man she was just speaking with, his face concealed and hidden away under his hood.

At the side of him, a boy no older than ten, his blue eyes fixed on the young man she was just speaking with until he made a loud drawn outcry.

”Bran you’re standing on your own.” Jon said, looking at his brother, waiting eagerly to see him walk next.

”I am, but we’re not here for that, there is no time.” Bran looked from Jon to Daenerys. “You were both brought here to help set you both on your path for the greater good. Only together can we work to stop the Great Other, finally destroying him instead of weakening his powers, allowing him to fester for over a millennium growing stronger.”

Dany looked at the boy, wondering if he was mad, questioning what his tiny voice meant by bringing them there? Drogon brought her here, and now he was missing, probably off to rest and feed hidden away from prying eyes, she was sure would alert those who wanted her dead that she was in Westeros.

”Explain yourself?” She asked in a queenly tone, not wanting to believe she was giving life to the boy’s words.

The older man spoke right after, his voice void of any emotion, sending a cold shiver down her spine.

He frightened her.

“The first long night? I don’t understand or see what this has to do with me being here?” Dany said looking at all three strangers needing answers.

”It has everything to do with you and Aemon!” Brynden answered with sternness in his voice as if she were but a mere child. Compelling Dany to look upon the stranger wondering if he knew who she was? Or what she was capable of doing if she willed it from her dragon.

“Do you mean maestor Aemon?” Jon asked thinking of the old maester he sent away with Samwell to keep the man safe from Stannis and the red witch. If they decided to burn him alive for his king's blood.

”Aemon?”She was testing the name on her tongue, knowing it was a Targaryen name, but saw no Targaryen here but herself.

She was the last of her kind, the last scion of her once-great house, that would end when she died, her dragons she often worried for, wondering where they would go? and what they would do with her gone from this life.

Would they burn the world down? It was known dragons could live for hundreds of years and have more than one rider with dragon's blood not diluted over the years.

“We don’t have much time, we need to prepare you both for the wars to come,” Brynden said as squawks of crows suddenly appeared on the trees around them.

Jon’s voice was muffled. “I am dead, I’m of no use to any of you unless I’m in Ghost.” His dark grey eyes looked at the dragon queen who seemed stunned by his remarks, not wanting to believe any of this, or believing if this was real or just a nightmare.

Suddenly the winds started picking up, the trees tossing, the crows squawking louder, everything moving fast like a blur, forcing her to shut her eyes, deciding this was a nightmare, nothing more, and she would wake soon on top of Drogon, or inside her chambers, fast asleep on her feathered bed.

Just as it started, the winds finally died down soon after, as she opened her eyes one at a time, wishing she was awake in Meereen....instead her eyes were witnessing a face she’d not seen but in her dreams, or the time in the house of the undying, where he sat next to a woman rocking a babe in her arms, bidding her brother sing the babe a song.

Stepping closer, Dany took notice her brother was smiling with a different lady next to him, staring at each other, their eyes filled with pure love, marrying in front of a white-barked tree with red leaves, a face carved in front of it.

Looking around Dany suspected they were still somewhere inside or around the Gods Eye...as she watched the Septon bind their hands together. His voice loud rang out proudly....“Let those who come against your union be cursed to the bottom pits of the seven hells.”

She wanted to hurry over to both of them and congratulate the two.

But she knew better than to interrupt the ceremony....a beautiful vision from the past, knowing all the words the usurper and his dogs spread about her brother raping Lyanna Stark were based on a lie.

”RhaegarlovedhisLyanna.” She could hear Barristan say, recalling a conversation she had with the old knight.

Off towards the side, she saw two men standing and watching, their polished plates revealing who they were when the rays of the sunlight hit their Targaryen sigil.

”Aunt Lyanna.” Jon said baffled by it all, realization taking hold of him, knowing now that his aunt was never raped or kidnapped by the crown prince, the two looking so in love with the other.

Drove Jon’s heart to tighten in his chest, staring at the crown prince and his aunt stirred a sense of longing inside of him, a magnetic pull towards the two, it was as if something in his body yearned for them to comfort him.

Bran, shook his head, “not aunt Jon, she meant a lot more to you.” Jon looked at his brother wondering what rabbit hole Bran was going down.

Dany began tearing up at the young man’s words, her body trembling, seeing and hearing what he wasn’t seeing, or realizing right in front of him.

Of course, he wouldn’t.....

He looked so much like his mother, his long face and dark grey eyes, and dark brown hair, but there were other things she could see of Rhaegar in him. The wildness of his curls, his high cheekbones, pouty lips, even the way he stood, along with his tall lean build, came from her brother.

Her eyes fell on the weeping woman lying in a bed of her blood, the sound of a crying babe being handed off to a man faced away from her, while her brother’s wife clung to life barely.

”His name is Aemon Targaryen.....You have to protect him, if Robert finds out, he’ll kill him, you know he will....promise me, Ned.”

Dany watched the withered flowers Lyanna held, slip from her hand, as death claimed her good sister, a woman her brother loved and went to war for.

A tragic love story.

Realization dawned on Jon as his vision blurred, he could not control his tears, he needed air, he needed to be out of that room, his entire life was built off a lie, just like the one Ned Stark helped spread. When he allowed those in Westeros and the North to continue that lie about the crown prince kidnapping and raping his aunt, who was in truth his mother and father.

Jon snarled like his direwolf thinking of all the lies, needing to hit something or just Ned Stark who was currently holding him, while thoughts of being treated like a bastard engulfed his rage when he wasn’t even one.

All the moments he was looked down upon by the glare and snarls of lady Stark, and so many in the North..... How many times had he begged Ned Stark to tell him who his mother was?

Countless.

”You may not have my name, but you have my blood.” Unexpectedly Jon felt the need to hit something, his balled fists twitching still to punch Ned Stark.....

Instead, Jon repositioned his rage into the stone wall next to him, causing his hand to go through it, making him wail out from the pain in his heart, knowing the man his mother entrusted him to on her dying bed, only offered him the very least.

Winterfell was his home, just as much as it was to Ned Stark’s trueborn children.

His uncle who'd made a promise to his dying mother, allowed him to join the Night's Watch thinking that was the only life for a bastard when he could’ve easily told him the truth.....

Did Benjen also know this and still allow him to join without telling him the truth also? Jon didn’t need to think long, a memory of him drinking a little too much at Robert’s welcome feast blared through his vision of his talk with uncle Benjen that night.

”You don’t know what you’d be giving up Jon...”He recalled Benjen telling him without giving him the true meaning of his words.

Liars and concealers of truth, the bloody lot of these Starks.

Did they both think he was going to go after Robert Baratheon? Did they think he would scream it on top of his lungs to everyone out there about who he was?

Did they think I would endanger them? My family?

Looking at Daenerys, who still had tears in her eyes, caused Jon to move closer to console her, she was his family too, his aunt, who endured a lot, constantly on the run from assassins sent by Robert or the Lannisters, who could never be trusted. Robb found this out the hard way.

He might have been lied to his entire life, offered a place to live, food in his belly, an education, and a master at arms who taught both him and Robb the art of fighting.

While his aunt for the most part suffered, getting sold off at three and ten to a savage Dothraki Khal twice her age. He didn’t even want to know what hardships she faced, leaving him to put his arms around her, pulling her close to him, her tears getting louder as she clung to him.

"Blood of my blood," Dany said. ”I shall come for you on my dragon.” She continued to whisper to him, knowing she was no longer alone, another member of her family lived.

Jon could not help the tears that were falling from his eyes once more. The gods were truly evil.

Pulling himself away from her, the violet of her eyes glossed red from fresh tears, knowing what he needed to say would hurt her.

”You can’t come for me, and it isn’t safe for you to come not with Stannis Baratheon there along with his army.” He told her, closing his eyes and biting down on his lips hard.

”I can, and I will on my dragon, who could ever hurt a fire-breathing dragon? I’ll burn the stag and his army alive.” Jon could only chuckle at her naive words, imagining his small petite aunt burning Stannis and maybe even the red witch?

If only......

Opening his eyes back up, clasping her face softly with both his hands keeping her close to him, knowing his words would cause her distress. “You can’t come for me because I’m at the Wall in the North, inside of Castle Blacks ice cells. ”

”What? Why? I don’t understand, how can you be inside of an ice cell? Won’t you freeze to death Aemon?”

There was no easier way to tell her....”I’m dead Daenerys, I meant it earlier when I said I was dead.” Jon said as Dany began screaming her knees wobbled as Jon fought to keep her standing. The place where they stood changed once more around them, compelling him to hold his aunt close noticing the next vision of the past, they were getting ready to see.

“No please you can’t show her this....” Jon pled, but the vision of his body lying in snow as hot blood poured out of him. angered him, the thought of Stannis and the red witch being the ones to kill the men who murdered him by sacrificing them to their red god instead of allowing him to rip their bodies to shreds inside of Ghost, still angered him.

“Yet you lingered.”The words echoing inside her head, rendered Dany to blame herself for never thinking anything of the vision of the blue rose in the chink of ice, that filled the air with sweetness.

She was told the story of the day all the crowds died down when Rhaegar rode past his wife, to crown the she-wolf Lyanna Stark the queen of love and beauty with blue winter roses after he defeated ser Arthur, winning the tourney at Harrenhall.

”I failed you for lingering too long.” Dany whispered to her nephew, taking in her surroundings as her eyes gazed upwards looking at the great wall made of ice, no longer filling the air with sweetness, only sadness..... “I should’ve crossed the Narrow Sea. I didn’t know what to make of the visions I received in the House of the Undying. I still don’t understand any of it, or the warnings I’ve received from a shadowbinder named Quaithe.” Dany said wrapping her arms around herself, needing answers.

”None of this makes any sense, how can my nephew be dead but he’s here? Talking and interacting with me? With us?” She waved her hand around bothered.

”I’ll show you how princess.” The hooded man answered causing Dany to gawk at him calling her princess, instead of a queen as everything changed once more, the smell of moss invading her nostrils.

✨✨✨✨✨

Jon looked up his vision stilled, finding himself back inside the underground cavern, his wolf lying next to a sleeping Daenerys, provoking her to come close. The shock on her face was evident at seeing herself there sleeping next to his direwolf.

Jon half expected her to tear up once more like a southern lady. No tears left her eyes or any words were said, not even a whimper, the only thing she did was fall to her knees, looking at her sleeping body and the white wolf lying next to her.

Once again nothing was making any sense, as her eyes once more fell on the hooded man who was tuned in her direction as if he expected her awaiting question. ”Explain how I see myself breathing and asleep in a place I don’t even know or recall coming to?” Dany said, running her fingers through Ghost's soft fur, wondering why she wasn’t terrified of the huge beast lying so close to her body.

The hooded man stepped closer. “I brought you here along with Bran Stark’s help, this world needs help for what lurks outside this cavern.”

"What are you trying to say?" Glancing at both the hooded man and boy strangely. “A dragon is not a slave, help me to understand how you were able to command my dragon to bring me here? Wherever this place is.” Dany said looking around before turning once more to the hooded man. “Only those with the blood of the dragon can command a dragon and dragons only follow the command of their rider.” Not that she would speak on how difficult Drogon was being...

“And Aemon is dead.” She said softly at her nephew, giving him an apologetic glance for her bluntness.

Brynden nodded, acknowledging her concerns. ”Right now we’re in the Weirwood net, Bran along with my guidance transferred Jon’s spirit inside of here before he drowned inside his direwolf and became one with the beast. Both he and Bran are powerful wargs, powers they received from their Stark side. The Winter kings of old weren’t honorable men, they were hard men, who went to war with their direwolves. A long time ago one such king slew the Warg King, his sons, greenseers, and children of the forest. While his daughters were taken and married into House Stark.”

The Three-Eyed Raven looked at the unease on Daenerys face. "I said, the Starks of old were hardened men.” He then looked at Jon making sure he also was paying attention, the young man needed to learn how to control his warging ability better.....

“Jon’s soul went inside of Ghost when he died, as for how we managed to get your dragon here, Bran is capable of warging into not only animals but humans,” Brynden answered.

”Did he take control of my body and bring me here?” Dany exclaimed feeling invaded, her skin crawling all of a sudden as if ants were on her.

Brynden hissed removing the hood from his face, where Dany gasped at the albino silver-haired man next to her, his single red eye staring at her. “I brought your dragon here Daenerys, you might not know who I am, or may ask yourself how am I still alive after I tell you my story.”

Brynden looked at both Jon and Daenerys. “I can tell you two, that I’ve always been here, watching over you, just like how I’ve watched over every other Targaryen before I was sent to the wall for killing Aenys Blackfyre. There is no length I am not willing to go to protect the remaining descendants of my house, significantly now with my powers dwindling.”

“The last of us? What are you saying to us? Is the maestor, no longer living?” Jon asked feeling the weight hit him when Brynden confirmed it.

”Who is this maestor?” Dany asked, needing to know who this stranger was her brother never spoke about. Unless Viserys didn’t know anything about him?

“I am sure Jon will fill you in on who the old maestor was..... I need my rest, and we don’t have much time before you and your dragon need to leave for Castle Black and take Jon’s body away before it's burnt, there’s power in king's blood... The same blood we can’t allow the red priest there to offer to her red god.”

Brynden covered his hood over his head once more....“Yes, magic comes with a price, a price I’m willing to sacrifice for my house.” His words alone made him think back to all the things he did for house Targaryen, even killing his kins, for his house, only to get sent to the wall for killing Aenys Blackfyre.

”I have lived for over a hundred years, my body is slowly slipping away princess... Allow me with your help, to bring our kin back to life.”

Dany stilled her body from trembling, her thoughts jumbled unsure what to do, or say, her eyes falling on her nephew who looked just as misplaced as she was feeling.....

✨✨✨✨

Jon was stunned into silence, recalling the corpse of a man he saw sitting on the Weirwood throne, a man willing to give his last breath to blow life back into him. He wanted to say something, though the words could not leave his lips. Family members, he’d not known he had until now, were both willing to kill for him and grant him back his life.

Trying to make sense of everything, Dany could not help but ask. ”You said earlier we were needed for the greater good, what did you mean by this? How do I know this is not a trick? The last time I was fooled by a witch who killed my son, cursed my womb to bear no child, and turned my husband into a shell of a man, who couldn’t move or talk, forcing me to smother him with a pillow.” She hissed, closing her eyes and thinking of how naive of a girl, she was to believe the maegi.

”The dead are coming and with them the long night, it is up to you, Jon and Bran," and another he would've said, but kept that to himself. "To be the ones to end this once and for all.”

”The dead? Long night?” Dany asked looking around at all the serious faces around her. “Show me? I need to see this threat.”

”I shall but first I must warn you Daenerys, where I’m about to take you, I need you to not move or make a sound, stay close to me so I can bring you back safely.” Brynden said sternly, knowing the seriousness of the situation, Jon was dead, but Daenerys presence if seen would cause his careful plans to get ruined.

Dany gulped, swallowing her fear away, she could do this. “And where are you taking us?”

”Hardhome princess.” Brynden replied, causing Jon’s ears to perk up, Melisandre told him those people could not be helped. Maybe if there was still anyone there living, Dany could burn away the dead on her dragon and he could lead men there to free them.

✨✨✨✨✨

Jon was trying his best to keep Daenerys from not making any sound, seeing the dead ravished the once port city of Hardhome, keeping his mouth shut, wishing Bloodraven took them back to the cave. Even Bran looked stunned at what he was seeing before his eyes, where grey cold mist covered everything, while freefolk screamed and begged for help and salvation from their gods.

How long of a time it had taken for Bran to come to his senses, when his cousin touched the older man, bringing them away from Hardhome. Jon could not tell, what may have been a few ticking heartbeats, felt like an eternity.

“Why in seven hells didn’t you bring us back right away?” Jon spoke out, stepping closer to Bloodraven, his fists clenched, they could’ve all been seen, particularly after he revealed the Great Other can see glimpses inside the Weirwood net. “No more giving us just enough information, tell us how we can defeat the Great Other once and for all.

Brynden tumbled onto his throne, his powers were drained, trying to conceal them, thankful Bran noticed what was happening.

”Your father loved speaking of prophecies, the three heads of the dragon. But what he never realized was it would take more than three beings to end the long night once and for all, you dreamt about being armored in ice, a flaming sword in hand slewing the dead, and Daenerys dreamt she was Rhaegar, setting fire to the dead on the Trident.” He breathed in trying to catch his breath.

”What do they want? What is their master after?” Jon asked, looking towards Bran wondering if the Great Other was after his young cousin..... “Is he after Bran? Is that the reason for all the killing? Not wanting the knowledge you spoke of to be passed to Bran?”

Jon was taken aback, forgetting about Dyanna Dayne marrying into house Targaryen, while Dany thought back to her fevered dream and the ghosts she saw lining the wall, demanding she woke dragons from stone. Their hair was similar to hers, but their eyes were of different colors.

“Now if you will excuse me, I need my strength to prepare.” He nodded over to Bran, letting the boy know it was time for him to continue his lessons, the rest of his green seerer powers he would learn in due time. Whereas Meera, Hoodor, and the direwolves would leave with Coldhands guiding them away from the dead and back through the Nightfort.

Jon's days not spent with Bloodraven counseling him were spent with both Bran and Daenerys inside the Weirwood net. His aunt wanted to get to know every single detail about his life which he found unfair since she wanted to hide a lot of hers from him. The only thing they both opened up about was the loneliness they’ve felt throughout their lives. He even laughed when she told him about wanting to be a sailor when she was younger, something he couldn’t imagine, he half expected her to be like Sansa or other ladies of noble birth.

But it seemed that wasn’t her, she wasn’t that type of queen and hated being called the Dragon queen. “I only took up the mantle and title of the queen because Viserys was my king, I thought I needed to become queen, believing myself the last of our house. When in truth I don’t want to be known as a conqueror or Dragon queen. I would prefer just to be Dany.” She smiled weakly at him. “Maybe when we win the war against the dead, I can go live on an island with just my dragons.”

Jon recalled just how young she truly was, with all the world on her shoulders. Both their shoulders if he was resurrected, he didn’t want to put all his faith in believing it would work until it did.

Still, he prayed it did, his fists clenched into a ball, with thoughts of what he intended to do when he got his hands on both Roose Bolton, his bastard Ramsay Snow and all those houses who were so quick to bend the knee to the murderer who killed Robb savagely. His heart still breaking at the fact Arya was there at the Twins, yet thankful the Hound managed to get his sister out of there safely, though his little cousin was broken and now in Braavos killing under the name Mercy.

Then there was Sansa, hidden away safely in the Vale under another name, while Rickon he found out was in Skagos. They would need to get to him before Davos got to him first, delivering him to Stannis. Just so he can get a hold of the North, Jon thought to himself as he watched lady Stoneheart order the death of another Frey and felt nothing for her pain in what they did to her. Only saddened it was her who came back from the dead and not Robb.

✨✨✨✨✨
Brynden

The blood dripped from his nose making its way down towards his lips rendering him to fall back against his weirwood throne, which had been his for so many years, watching and waiting until the roots of the tree embedded themselves into his body.

It's been over a moon, and their meticulous plans were at a setback with the loss of Hoodor, who died holding the door of the Nightfort, so Meera along with the direwolves could pass. Getting help from men of the Nightswatch, who saw everything and managed to seal the door, Coldhands watching from the distance, knowing the dead could not pass.

Bran had been distraught about everything, whilst Daenerys tried comforting the young child from the loss of his friend.

Still, there was no time for any mourning, Bran needed to leave with Daenerys soon and Coldhands was still some time away, Brynden knew time was of the essence.
The Great Other now knew Daenerys was there, and with the children long gone, his powers weren’t enough to sustain his life and shield the cave from the dead.

No longer could they wait to resurrect Jon, it all needed to be done in one of the many Godswood around the North.

”You must hurry now, they are getting close, there is no more time to wait on Coldhand’s arrival, you and Bran Stark need to leave now.” Bloodraven spat, seeing the struggle in Daenerys violet eyes. “Do not worry yourself, I will be there once you land on your dragon, remember what I told you, and do not forget the vial or the sword.” He smiled weakly blood still draining from his nose.

”It was an honor to get to know you personally this past moon.” She wanted to hug him, show him how thankful she was for all his help, and the secrets he shared with her on dragons. This wasn’t goodbye, he assured her greenseers who passed on could still be sought out for knowledge. It just required Bran to be the one to allow them to speak.

”It has been an honor also, but remember this is not goodbye from me to any of you. Trust in each other and not let the darkness overpower you." Taking in a deep breath knowing there was more that needed to be said, yet time was of the essence and they needed to go. "Now use the vile and say the words I taught you.”

Dropping a few drops on her index finger, Dany began speaking a prayer in a language foreign to her tongue, marking both Bran's forehead and hers with Bloodraven’s blood, which would allow the Stark heir and herself to safely fly over the wall on top of Drogon without its magical ward keeping them from flying back south.

Tightening the jacket and breeches made out of what Dany suspected was rabbit fur. Dany said her goodbyes along with Bran, as she began her trek pulling Bran’s sled to the top of the cave entrance before the dead arrived.

”I know how sad you’re feeling right now Daenerys, but our paths are now tied to each other.” Bran held the blade up looking at the intricate design of the smoke-colored Valyrian steel sword Darksister. A gift from Brynden to the young Targaryen princess, making Jon pledge to teach her how to handle a sword and defend herself. A family member who he continuously called a princess instead of a queen.

✨✨✨✨✨

Castle Black

Melisandre held the flaming torch close to her, they'd already burnt those responsible for the deaths of their Lord Commander, tying them with the treacherous men of house Karstark, giving their bodies over to the lord of light.

Still, she could not find it in herself to say the prayer once more, to burn the young commander's dead body. It took over a moon just to dig his cold body from the ice cells. She even cleaned away his blood sensing something powerful emanating from him. Before she hurried and got the dead man ready, needing to look inside the flames once more, confused and conflicted.

Significantly after what happened at the Nightfort, where two direwolves one of which was the former lord commander's direwolf, along with a girl showed up, the dead closing after them, her companion dying, holding the dead back at the door.

The direwolves Stannis released south of the wall after she convinced him it would be harmful if the dead converted such beasts North of the wall into undead minions. Upon what lord Reed’s daughter told them, on her tale of what occurred when the dead attacked them, and her reasons for even crossing the wall at the Nightfort the first time.

Then another matter needed to be dealt with, as she twisted the torch in her hand, not wanting to burn lord Snow’s body.

Some possessed the gift of bringing the dead back to life. It also didn’t help, every time she looked into and asked her lord to show her the one who was promised to be reborn and end the long night. Nevertheless, all she would see in the flames was Snow. Whom she saw even before the lord commander died.

Was she wrong with her judgment of who Azor Ahai was? Was it possible it was never Stannis?

Turning to face that said man, his face stern, cold and unyielding, waiting for her to say the prayer so they all could leave and go back inside, where it was warm, his wife holding onto him tightly. Whereas the Wildings, men of the Night's Watch, kingsmen, and queensmen all remained, waiting on her to speak.

”Lord of light, hear our prayer and my plea, show us your will, show us the one destined to wield Lightbringer, to cast down the dead, ending the long night that is upon us. For the night is dark and full of terrors.”

Stannis walked over towards her grabbing the flame torch from her grasp. “I’m the one who was promised, are you trying to get my men to walk away? Or did you forget the dead are coming, and I need to take my throne and unite the Seven King————“

Suddenly the crackling sound of thunder could be heard coming from the east of Castle Black, causing some of the Freefolk to start moving while others screamed, cried, shoved, and shouted the dead were coming.

Causing Stannis to unsheathed his sword, the charm spell Melisandre placed on it, turned it from red to orange, his men also unsheathed their swords, looking towards the grey sky. Where a roar followed next getting louder and louder, until the great beast fell from the sky, making a circular fly over Castle Black.

Leaving both king's men and queen’s men to drop their swords, some shouting it a dragon. The Wildings fell back looking at the great black beast circling above them, some fearfully turning away, others too fascinated and amazed to divert their eyes from what they were witnessing.

Selyse reached for her husband pulling him closer, whispering sweetly. “By the blessing of Rhollor, look Stannis our lord as answered my prayers, he’s sent you a weapon to defeat your enemies.”

Struggling free his left hand from her tight hold. “Get my daughter and wife inside, he ordered one of her queensguards.”

Whilst Patchface began dancing and singing around Stannis...“The dragons have come to save us, my lord, this I know, this I know....”

Stannis growled at the foolish jester. “I will have you burnt next for your insolence.”

“Oh, oh, oh....” Patchface cried out beforerunning towards Shireen and her mother, away from Stannis and his wrath.

Melisandre was on her knees, her red robe soaking wet from the snow, she was kneeling in, shouting. “Lord of light, hear our prayer, for the night is dark and full of terror.” Some of the Wildings who converted to the religion started shouting the same words as the dragon flew down lower.

Daenerys looked down at everyone, each looking like ants until she could make them out while looking for a spot to safely land close to Jon’s body. “It’s time Bran.” She shouted for him to hear, his eyes going milky white, Rickon still had his eyes closed tied safely behind Bran. The wilding woman Osha would be leaving from Skagos on the next ship to White Harbor, with the other direwolf Shaggydog giving her word to five-year-old Rickon that she would release him once she reached White Harbor. Desiring to be as far away from the North and Westeros as humanly possible. Her reason for leaving Westeros, everyone she spoke with about the dead, looked at her like a mad wilding.

Tormund was the first to see Wun Wun’s eyes turn milk-white, realizing he was being warged into, something that shouldn’t be possible... As the giant walked over towards the Pyre grabbing the Crow’s dead body, whereas the kneelers ran out of the giant's path.

”He’s bein-“ What he wanted to say quickly got swallowed seeing the silver-haired goddess jump off the dragon, whilst other Freefolk stepped closer to see, many of the men had lust in their eyes. Tormund could hear himself thinking the same thing he was sure the rest were.

To steal her, but one look at her monstrous beast said otherwise, while he watched her dragon let his wing down, where Wun Wun placed the Crow’s body on the dragon, tying him safely with the rope she gave him.

Stannis made to move, knowing full well who the girl was, knowing another threat to his throne was right here stealing the dead body of the bastard. Though his legs would not budge, he wasn’t a fool to go and walk over towards her with that dragon near.

Stannis was never the one that was promised to save them, and right now she needed to leave.

✨✨✨✨✨

Somewhere in the North

By the time they arrived at the Godswood the darkness of night made it hard to pinpoint exactly where to land, needing to be not too far from the Weirwood tree Bran assured her was a few feet away.

Not to mention Dany not wanting to be too far from Drogon, in the situation where something occurred, knowing she had no friends out here. “Are Ghost and Summer close?” Dany whispered carefully helping to slide Bran off Drogon, wondering if the Stark heir already warged his direwolf, whereas his younger brother Rickon slid off right after. Recalling Bran telling the younger Stark, Jon was just resting, why he wasn’t awake, thankfully Rickon believed him.

”They’re coming now, we need to hurry, the dead are almost at the cave.” Bran whispered to her, causing Dany to hurry and untie her nephew wishing the direwolves got here faster, to help carry both Aemon and him on the sled, but took his word they were close by to her pull them.

She was out of breath and her lower back hurt, leaning Aemon’s body against the stump directly next to the face of the tree. Daenerys didn’t believe in any gods, but right at this moment staring at Aemon’s face, holding his cheeks with both her hands. Looking up at the clear northern sky, the moon shining its beam down on them that everything worked, as she began coating his face with Brynden’s blood saying a prayer.

Bran crawled next to her, handing her the special dagger he'd just used on himself needed for the ceremony, placing his bloody hand inside the mouth of the tree, where his eyes fell to the back of his head.

Daenerys winced, the moment the dagger cut into her flesh. Remembering Bloodraven’s words. “He will still require your blood Daenerys, you know there is power in your blood, not just from kings, but magic, long lost that helped you birth dragons from stone.”

Quickly opening Aemon’s black boiled leather top, blocking out all the stab wounds she needed to coat with her blood, trying to remain strong, humming to herself in valyrian starting with the wound that was at the side of his neck.

He lived his life a bastard, saved from the usurper’s blades, only to die at Castle Black for wanting to save the people from beyond the wall from certain death.

✨✨✨✨✨

Beyond the Wall

“There’s a saying, I’m sure you’ve heard it. How many eyes does Lord Brynden Rivers have?” Bloodraven chuckled, his powers were dwindling, while he listened to Daenerys say the last part of the prayer. “Aemon," he began before stopping himself lost in thought and memory. "Do you mind if I call you by your real name, instead of the bastard one given to you?”

Jon had never seen the man laugh before, or even read anything about him ever being truly happy, some did speak of his sister Shiera Seastar, who Aegor wanted to be his, but in the end, chose Brynden. Leaving Aegor bitter.

Though Brynden admitted that wasn’t the only reason his half-brother hated him. Reasoning Bittersteel’s anger was due to their father setting Aegor’s mother, Barba Bracken aside for his mother, Melissa Blackwood making her his favorite mistress for a time.

”You’ve already given me so much in the small time I’ve known you, you can call me what name you like and prefer.” Jon said.

“Remember what I’ve told you, know when to be ruthless and when to forgive, that was something I could never learn, it’s the reason Egg sent me to the Wall. I couldn’t forgive those from house Blackfyre." Nor Targaryen he would've admitted not wishing to speak of the things he did in his time of anger. "And now there’s one using your dead brother’s name, calling himself Aegon Targaryen, instead of Aegon Blackfyre, not that I can blame the young man. He was lied to by his real father and the spider Varys all these years, wanting to finally crown a Blackfyre. They still swear Daeron was the bastard of Aemon the Dragonknight and queen Naerys, even though it was our father that started that rumor, wanting to set Naerys aside. He considered Daemon his true son, even gifted him Blackfyre, while legitimizing all his bastards on his death bed, thinking that would help Daemon be king over Daeron.”

Brynden placed his hands on his kin's shoulder reassuring him, before clasping their hands together, it was time. “Some will call you a false dragon, declare you a bastard, and not the true born son of your parents, try to separate Daenerys and you from each other, and the path you two must take. Just remember this, the dragons know who you are, who the both of you are.”

Jon watched the man’s eyes go milk-white, a light passing from his hand into his body, as flashes of the Blackfyre rebellion overran his thoughts, as he closed his eyes, his soul once more feeling like it was being pulled.

”Go now Aemon.”

The last thing she saw before her nephew’s eyes fluttered open was his body jerking upright, while the ground shook violently. Where bright light passed from the Weirwood into Aemon’s body and hers.

His cough and gasps for air, woke her from her reverie while Bran Stark fell backward, hitting his head against the Heartstree, falling unconscious. Dany noticed Aemon's eyes had gone milk-white before she fell over him, her eyes milk-white, falling into a dreamless somber.

✨✨✨✨✨

Brynden’s eye opened, seeing all the dead just standing there, as the grey fog rolled in. The sound of ice shattering was heard throughout the cavern.

They were angry, he could tell from what he had done. Both Aemon and Daenerys would be safe, there was no more magic inside of him, nor was there any way to access the memories of what happened from the branches of this tree. What magic it had possessed, was no more.

"I suppose your kind is not pleased with what I have done?" He laughed hard, keeping his one good eye still open, he had bought the Targaryens enough time, as the great iced blade came down.

Chapter 5: What the Future may Bring

Chapter Text

Daenerys

“You can’t help them. At least not right now.” His voice kept ringing in her ears from where she stood atop the Great Pyramid’s terrace, a place, not even a few moons ago she called her home feeling shattered and lost at all that had transpired within her absence... As she gazed upon all the destruction and fire all around her, even the air itself was thick from all the smoke.

Before Dany was a slew of ships that were still burning even after so many hours had passed, most if not all belonging to the masters who were so eager to bring about slavery once more to Meereen and the other two cities she had freed, due to hearing of her disappearance. Or like so many now believed her death, since they all thought her great black dragon burnt her and later devoured her burnt flesh.

If only they knew the actual truth of what became of her. Though she was sure now it would take moons before word started spreading across all of Essos of what became of the Dragon Queen, or like so many eloquently anointed her, the Dragon whor* who seduced men with her beauty to do her bidding.

What would they say of her now? Especially after Victarion Greyjoy laid waste to their ships and men? Would it be sung by bards or spoken in whispers that she also seduced him to do her bidding?

No, she would not let that trouble her...That was a problem for another time, she would not burden herself with whatever lies the masters decided to spread, not with an army of dead men seeking to destroy all life.

How long after they swept across Westeros and killed every living being would it take before the Great Other set his sights towards the east to the lands of always summer?

Not long she suspected, doubting the warm waters and weather would withstand a being that could bring about a brutal winter, that could very well freeze the seas, such thoughts caused her to shiver as she removed herself from the terrace, walking back inside only to stop herself from moving any further.

Dany could still see the dead body of a man she married solely for politics, to help bring stability to Meereen. And now that said man was dead from Victarion's blade after Hizdahr proclaimed himself king of Meereen upon meeting the Ironborn captain, she could tell he was worried about the meeting before reaching to clasp Victarion's hand in thanking him for coming to Meereen's defense. While in the same breath claiming himself king, stating the Dragon Queen had died and he was her only heir.

He never knew how to keep his mouth shut or read a room and know when to keep quiet.

Nothing else left his lips except for a howling cry from his wound as fell over on the floor, Victarion proclaiming Meereen had no king, nor did the Dragonqueen have any husband.

Of course, she didn’t, at least not now. She may have held no love for her husband nor his family, particularly his mother. But no one deserved to be killed in such a barbaric way, especially when Victarion claimed Hidahr's body for his drowned god, not even her knight ser Barristan could talk the man into sending the body to his family for burial.

Dany was thankful her young scribe Missandei nor her handmaidens were anywhere close to these barbaric men, ser Barristein made sure both her scribe and wards were hidden safely away from these men, while her handmaidens left in search of her.

She had heard stories about these Ironborn, and how they took what they wanted from raving, raping, and pillaging. Taking women for their salt wives and disposing of them to other men for a romp.

Dragons may not plant trees, but she could never see herself aligning with such a man, who now declared her his rock wife without even knowing her character, nor did she want to know of his.

"We need to leave, there is something else I need to show you before you awake."

"Leave? But we just got here." She could feel her nerves getting the best of her. "What of Rhaegal and Viserion? Surely we can't leave them here not with Victarion having a Dragonhorn?"

Her dragons were her children surely Bran understood her dilemma? Even after seeing all the destruction, they did with her not here to soothe and calm them. "That stupid Martell prince." Dany hissed out, blaming herself for being foolish to lock her dragons away under the Pyramid, whilst never listening to any of the warnings Quaithe gave her or what could happen to dragons held in captivity, thoughts of the dance of dragons came to mind. How many dragons did her family lose in the Dragonpit when the mob came? She was a fool indeed for locking them away.

"A Dragon is not a slave," Bran told her boldly, knocking the air out of her lungs, compelling her to look away knowing she had to trust Bran and his gift of sight, no matter how much she dreaded knowing all of this was taking place in her city.

Reluctantly nodding her head for them to leave, promising herself to return right away, she would burn Victarion Greyjoy if any harm came to her people or her dragons.

The room shifted before them, as voices echoed nearby in a heated discussion. Making her wonder just where they were? Noticing all the greenery around them. Causing her to breathe deeply filling her lungs with the fresh scent that greeted her burning nostrils. Gone was the smell of smoke, replaced by the pleasant smell of fresh grass and trees, causing her to lift her head towards the grey-colored skies, letting her know rain was on the horizon.

"It's beautiful here." She whispered under her breath but soon quieted when the yelling continued in bastard Valyrian.

"Where are we and who are those men? Are they of any importance?"

"We're close by the ruins of Summerhall," Bran answered walking over to the four heavily armored men examining each of their faces.

"Summerhall, the place that brought destruction to most of my family. Why have you taken me here?" Dany asked while the men continued arguing amongst themselves.

"You know he won't expect us back until we've searched every inch of this godforsaken ruin for f*cking dragon eggs?" Said the dark-colored man who resembled the people who hailed from the Summer Islands.

"f*ck him and that Connington bastard." Another spat heatedly.

"Aegon the false dragon has sent them in pursuit of dragon eggs along these very ruins. He believes he can hatch his dragons if you won't take him for your husband and combine your claims for the iron throne. He and Jon Connington are to meet with Arianne Martell in Storm's End in a fortnight."

"That false dragon is in Westeros?" Dany huffed crossing her arms and looking at the young man next to her. "Now you tell me, Bran?"

"They won't find the eggs or where they are buried," Bran answered, his eyes looking towards the east.

Dany could feel her stomach turning in knots, at how freely this deity before her spoke so carefree like it was nothing if that false pretender found those eggs.

Once again she could hear Quaithe's warnings in the back of her mind. "They shall come day and night to see the wonder that has been born again into the world, and when they see they shall lust. For dragons are fire-made flesh, and fire is power."

Every single warning so far the shadowbinder gave her was coming true.

"The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and Griffin, the Sun's son, and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal.

"I suppose prince Doran doesn't care that his daughter is going to treat with a false dragon? Power and influence it seems are all that matter. I'm sure once word reaches him of the demise of his son I will be blamed for my dragon burning him." Dany laid her back against one of the burnt walls thinking to herself, an old memory of a once loving brother came to her, as a tear rolled down from her eye. "This was never my burden to bear, I just wanted a home. I thought I found that with my husband and his kalashar, finally a chance to get away from my abusive brother."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips."This was always my brother Viserys's dream to one day return home and rule over the people of Westeros, believing they would all welcome him with open arms, pushing him further into the void of madness going as far as to sell his thirteen-year-old sister to a man twice her age for an army he never received, Drogo made sure of that."

A fool's dream... Dany huffed out a breath, she was tired, maybe she would never be queen, maybe her path was just to bring dragons back into the world to defeat the Great Other alongside her nephew. Just maybe if she comes out of this alive, she can go off with her dragons to some distant land. Or maybe she could have Summerhall rebuilt with a red door and lemon trees growing all around her. She could see it now right in front of her.

"It seems instead of the rightful king, the people of Westeros will bow to a mummer's dragon." Recalling a vision in the House of the Undying of a cloth dragon swaying on poles amidst a cheering crowd.

Bran was looking at his hand, his skin stiff grey and cracked spreading over his body. Another vision before his eyes of the murmur's dragon arguing with his caretaker about possibly taking Arianne for his wife once they arrived at Storm's End.

"You should not burden yourself with the past, nor the mistakes you've made along the way. What doesn't defeat you, will only make you stronger, Daenerys."

✨✨✨✨✨

Jon

"Winterfell?" Jon asked while Bran only hummed never once looking at him. His young cousin seemed to be elsewhere, yet he was standing right next to him as they watched a young man who looked around four and ten walk through the gray stoned corridor towards the Great Hall, each guard he passed bowed their heads at him. There was something about him that felt vaguely familiar to Jon, his unruly dark-brown hair was like his, the young man even had the long face of a Stark, the only difference was his eyes. His eyes reminded Jon of Dany's, they were the same color of violet, suddenly his legs buckled as realization took hold of him the more he looked at the gaunt young man who seemed nervous.

Jon began to say something but was cut off by Bran. "There is no need to ask for my confirmation on who the young man is, the boy is from your seed Jon and his mother his Daenerys."

Jon could feel the heat building inside his body causing him to lean against the gray stone walls. "What? How can this be?" He asked already feeling breathless like he could not breathe just being there watching a son he never thought he'd ever have, especially not with Daenerys of all people... Was this some sick joke?

Suddenly looking back on his cousin asking him to wait before they even walked inside the great oak doors leading to the Great Hall, Jon knew he needed answers. "How is this even possible Bran? Daenerys said it herself she is barren!"

"There is power in king's blood," Bran answered nonchalantly.

Jon remained silent, still trying to wrap his head around this new revelation. He still wasn't over Ned Stark's deception for lying to him for years about being his father or allowing him to join the Night's Watch without the truth or at least warning him about the men who served there.

"Does this mean we defeated the army of the dead?"

Bran's voice was distant and eerie. "It can if we do defeat the Great Other and his army of dead men, but if we fail this future will not come to pass nor any possible paths."

"That makes no sense to me, how can this be possible if we haven't even defeated the army of the dead?"

"Because it is a vision of a possible future if we do defeat the dead." Bran began falling into step with the young man, turning his head towards his cousin. "Unless you prefer I show you a possible future of the dead defeating all of us? While ravishing their way across all of Westeros?"

Of course, he wouldn't want to see such a future, nor would he let it come to pass, yet still seeing this possible future left him with even more questions. "What is his name? And why does he look so sad?"

"He has not seen any of you in over seven years."

"Seven years?" Jon co*cked his head in disbelief, trying his best not to believe a single word Bran spoke so loosely from his lips. "Daenerys would never allow a child from her very womb to be parted away from her for so long, notably not with the way she spoke of Rhaego or being cursed by that witch."

He'd remembered their conversations about her son that never was, he was also the one to hold her up after she blamed herself for Rhaego's death when she asked to see all that happened during the time she was unconscious while her child was being ripped from her body. Something Brynden said was in the past and would only cause her great pain, yet his persistent aunt would not relent on her wish to visit that said past.

"Who said she did? You're the one who talked her into having your firstborn become my ward."

"And why would I ever do a thing like that?"

Bran waved his hand imperceptibly. "It was necessary, the North wanted to remain independent from the other six kingdoms after the fall of Roose Bolton, your son became my ward because it was necessary for uniting the North and South once more."

Looking around the great hall Jon could not help but notice the lack of any other children, already seeing both Arya and Sansa sitting on a table towards the side, where two boys sat next to them. "Are those two boys your sons? And where's Rickon?"

Letting out an exasperated drawn-out breath a not-so-distant memory flashed before his eyes....."The things we do for love."

"Those two boys are Sansa's sons, I can't have children Jon, I never will... All those dreams I had about being a member of the kingsguard are now at a loss, It seems the gods chose another path for me, I needed to become something else for the betterment of the realms of men." He wanted to tell his cousin more, yet kept his mouth closed..... Some secrets were meant to be kept secrets or discussed at another time, plans needed to be made to liberate the North from the Bolton's before dawn came.

"And what other possible paths are there?"

"That one I will not speak on." Bran could feel the warm air on his skin, the sound of children playing with Ghost in a small pond while their parents looked on proudly, behind them stood a cottage with a red door surrounded by lemon trees and their dragons flying high above. "Family," he whispered to himself, while Jon kept his mismatched eyes locked on the young man standing at the door's entrance.

"I take it our marriage was political?"

Bran hummed his conscience in more than one place before turning to face Jon.

"What started merely as a friendship quickly blossomed into something else." Jon turned to him once more with even more questions. Forcing a thin smile to cross Bran's lips. "What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms? Or the memory of a brother's smile? Now let's go there is more inside for you to see."

The Great Hall was filled with both Northern soldiers and Dany's unsullied soldiers, towards the sides, he glanced at several armored knights all wearing emblems of the three-headed dragons.

Jon was at a loss for words, not listening to anything the herald was saying, his eyes transfixed now on those sitting and standing at the side of the high table, noticing an older version of himself with mismatched eyes, next to him sat Daenerys who was heavily pregnant, clutching her hand in his, they wore no crowns yet anyone looking at them could tell they were royals.

"Can I go to our brother father?" Came a small voice, forcing Jon to look away towards the side at the three children.

"Not now Rhae, but after." Her father replied, his hand brushing against his wife's stomach where their other child was expected to arrive any day now.

"My children." Jon barely whispered, hating the fact he could not at least touch nor embrace any of them. "I have two sons and two daughters, along with the child Dany now carries." Jon marveled letting his feet take him towards his oldest.

"You never know what you'd be giving up." He could hear Uncle Benjen's voice in his ear as he began moving closer.

"What is my son's name? What are the names of my children?" Jon demanded, he did not care if this was a possible future, he would make it come to pass.

"She named your firstborn Cregan, solely because he defended the queen Rhaenyra and placed the right king on the iron throne after the dance of dragons. They call him the crown prince of Ice and Fire."

Jon touched the bridge of his nose, musing at his son's title. "Does that make me the King of Ice and Fire?"

His eyes fell once more on the two girls who looked so different from each other yet he could tell they were both twins, while his youngest had his tongue stuck out. "What are their names?"

"The silver-haired one is called Serena."

"Another northern name?" Jon asked lost, wondering why Dany gave a child who looks nothing like a northerner such a name.

"Arya chose that name for her."

"Arya," Jon murmured his head falling backward at the memory of Bran telling him she was alive, but not to go looking for her, she was no one, and she would be the one to find him when she was ready.

No longer listening to Jon as he kept speaking, they needed to leave this place, he only needed to show the things he would be fighting for if they all managed to defeat the army of the dead and the source of their magic. "Your other daughter is named Rhae after your father, grandmother, and sister, and your youngest Daeron, for your love of the young dragon.

"No Aegon or Lyanna?" Jon jested thinking of a time he wanted to name a son of his after Robb. Yet he knew Dany would never name a child of theirs after Robert Baratheon. To whom lady Catelyn named Robb after.

The room started fading before them, causing Jon to panic, wanting to see more of this possible future. "Bran what are you doing?"

"It's time Jon, we can't delay the inevitable you need to open your eyes, we have to take Winterfell from those who took it from our family with fire and blood."

Silence took hold of him the moment he opened his eyes, taking a deep breath and staring at the worried look she was giving him, causing Jon to wonder if Bran also showed her what he had shown him. Though he very much doubted it since she was not present in the vision.

"Aemon, say something, let me know you're alright and well?" Daenerys frantically whispered to him a name that was still foreign to his ears as she shook him by his shoulders, jerking him hard and begging him to say something.

Jon tried swallowing nevertheless his mouth fell dry, and his throat constricted, making it hard to speak.

"Give him snow for his throat the liquid from it will help him," Bran said, placing snow also in his mouth, his flesh was burning hot while the echoes of a girl cried into the cold Northern skies. His head turned to the left looking at the small figure sleeping next to the direwolves who were keeping him warm and safe having no idea what was about to occur.

Dany scooped up the snow next to her bringing it over to Aemon who opened his mouth swallowing bits of cold snow causing him to cough for a few seconds.

"Thank you." He murmured, before speaking once more, a plan was already formulated in his head. Winter was coming for House Bolton and every house who turned their backs on House Stark...."Dany tell me, what do you know of Harren the Black?"

✨✨✨✨✨

Interlude

She could hear the screams coming from the child begging her mother not to do this, while her dwarf companion fought against the ropes that held him tightly trying to break free of his restraints.

The girl was unclean and should've been dealt with a long time ago, but not like this. She murmured to herself as she cast her eyes towards the crazy southron queen with a torch in her hand praying to her red god to take this child as a worthy offering to defeat her husband's enemies. While most of her queensguards gathered around her chanting the same words the rest looked on in horror.

They were just as mad for doing this, she could only imagine what the man who called himself king of the Seven Kingdoms would do once news reached him that his wife sacrificed their daughter for king's blood so he'd have victory against both the Bolton's and the Dragon Queen who took the Crow's body with her on her dragon. Not even the red woman stayed long after the incident happened, leaving in the hour of the wolf, after having the Wilding who refused to hand over the Crow's sword killed.

The Baratheon king left soon after, with his men who all looked weary and exhausted, even Tormund left with many free folks to seek revenge on the Bolton's joining up with the southron king and his men. A band of misfits is what they all looked like.

"Mother please don't do this." The girl begged, causing the woman watching it all unfold to wake from her stupor in time to see the pyre lit along with the cries of a young girl.

"I curse you all." Came the shrieking voice of Patchface. "Oh, oh my sweet princess I'm coming in search of you."

Chapter 6: The Beast Within

Chapter Text

The Neck

Splash

"I hate this!" Dany shrieked for the third time, falling back into the cold murky saltwater of the Bite. Refusing to stand back up straight away, allowing the cold water to rush against her pale unwashed skin. Missing the smell of her scented oils and warm baths, while her handmaidens performed their magic, washing and braiding her hair after a long day of listening to petitioners.

She felt miserable deep within her core, a failure.

I'm not good at any of this, she wanted to scream frustration getting the best of her at not being able to catch a single fish, no matter how many she could feel nibbling away against her toes. This was nothing like the one fish she had caught in the spring-fed pool outside of Drogon's cave back in the Dothraki Grass Sea.

No, these fishes always just seemed to slip right out of her hands, even after Aemon showed her how to hold her hands under the water and wait for one to wiggle its way into her small hands, and grip onto it tightly, till he came and helped her grapple it for their meal.

So far he'd already caught them five fish which was more than enough, but he declared snow was on the horizon just from looking at the skies. Which were cloudless with the lukewarm sun bearing down on them.

Glancing at him with hooded eyes, it was hard to believe he was already up and moving around that morning, even after only resting for two days after they flew from Winterfell to the south of White Harbor. Landing somewhere between the Neck and Three Sisters, safely hidden away from prying eyes, Drogon she knew was resting in some cave south of where they were in the Vale.

"Maybe if you scream a little louder, you can forewarn someone of our whereabouts."

"What?" Dany found herself asking, realizing Aemon must have said something of great importance to her, while she was sulking her frustration away.

Jon looked around wary of their location, he was still tired and weak but knew all of them had to get proper food inside of them, looking back at Dany it was safe to say she heard nothing, too busy and lost in her thoughts.

"Lots of pirates frequent these waters Dany, try to keep your voice down," He whispered reaching over to take her hand until she slapped it away, rendering him to hold his hands up in mid-air stepping away from her.

"It seems our mighty Khaleesi can not even catch a single fish, nor does she require my help getting out of the water." He could tell she was ready to unleash what he suspected was her dragon rage on him. Causing Jon's lips to curl into a smile, still trying to wrap his head around her and her persistence in needing to help when she knew nothing about catching fish with her bare hands or catching anything for that matter. No matter her explanation she'd done this before. Just not in water this deep.

"I've never fished in water this deep before." She hissed annoyed at herself and not at him for failing at such a simple task at least he made it seem simple. Some great Khaleesi, she was one that didn't even know how to catch her own fish without falling into the cold water. If Aemon was bothered by her shortcomings he didn't show it.

She in turn was tired of this and was sure he was still weak and tired and would not crawl out of the water until he felt they had an adequate amount of fish to last them a while.

Clenching her inner jaws, screaming at herself internally, at what she was about to ask of him at that moment, unsure of his reaction. Though she was sure it would be one of pity.

"Can't you or Bran just warg into some rabbits, a boar or stag, for that matter, and send them our way? You could easily use Darksister to give them a quick death and have it last us a few days."

Bran looked on watching the two Targaryens, frustration was written all over the Targaryen princess's face, while Jon was not at his full strength yet. But was slowly getting there over the last two days, slowly regaining color on his face.

In just a few more days they would be ready in their plans to retake Winterfell from the Boltons, liberating the North and getting them prepared for the war against the dead, while the south would be handled right after.

"Why are they taking so long?"

"Jon is helping Daenerys learn how to fish so we have something other than apples or wild berries to eat," Bran answered not taking his eyes off the two.

"I much rather if she was here sitting with us instead of trying to fish with Jon," Rickon complained pulling grass out of the ground from where he sat, not minding to eat more apples if it meant being told more stories about Essos and those Dothraki horse lords she used to live with, anything was better than just sitting still not having his direwolf, though he could sense Shaggydog was getting closer by the day.

Jon muffled a laugh, gazing towards the sky the sun was out but he could just tell they would be getting snow later that night and would need to find an abandoned Holdfast before they got caught in the snow.

His eyes were then cast back down meeting those of Dany's, there was no way she was being serious about wanting them to warg into something just so they could kill it. But from the pleading look she gave he knew she was not japing, she meant every last word.

"How are you ever going learn to feed off the land if someone is going to do it for you? did no one in the Khalasar not teach you to hunt or fend for yourself?" From what he knew the Dothraki seemed just like the Free Folk never staying in one place and always at war with each other.

Dany looked down ashamed by his words, the most she'd ever done for food was if Viserys distracted someone while she grabbed a loaf of hot bread for them to share. She supposed she would've starved in the Great Grass Sea if it wasn't for Drogon burning the horses of those Dothraki horse lords.

Sure as the sun was in the sky if it wasn't for her dragons, she would probably be living out the rest of her miserable life in Vaes Dothrak with the dosh khaleen like every good Khaleesi is supposed to.

"Here I am making demands of both you and Bran like some spoiled queen or princess when all you're doing is helping me when you could still be resting and gathering back your strength."

"I've been resting for two days, I'm fine." He was lying but she didn't need to know that nor did he want her worrying herself over him. "Unless you don't mind having apples to break your fast this morning again?"

She could feel her stomach churn needing to taste flesh this morning as Aemon helped her out of the water bringing her close and whispering in her ear.

"You don't have to prove yourself, you can help out by gathering firewood and starting a fire just the way I showed you with two rocks, just make sure to stay close to Ghost there are other things out in these woods other than pirates or Crannogmen, poisonous snakes come to mind."

She found herself liking the idea of pushing him into the body of water, yet instead thought better of it and walked backward taking herself out of the water. "And here I was thinking you'd warn me for the hundredth time to stay away from quicksand and those lion lizards you claim to live in the swamps behind us." Dany co*cked her head looking back at Ghost, "maybe your direwolf will kill us a lion-lizard and drag it back here so we can feast for dinner." She joked yet he found nothing funny about it.

Before he could warn her to not go looking for any trouble, she was already out of the water, walking over towards his cousins, ruffling both boys' hair.

He'd noticed how close Rickon was to her, not that he could blame him, the boy probably missed the Wilding woman Osha and his wolf the only two things that kept him safe over the years while his family splintered to different parts of the known world, Arya in Braavos trying to proclaim herself no one, Sansa in the Vale going by another name while being a pawn, Jon had to learn from Bran who betrayed so many Starks.

Then there was Lady Stark, who like him was raised from the dead taking pleasure in killing men from house Frey. What he wouldn't give for a dragon of his own just to burn them all in their castles and holdfasts, along with everyone loyal to them.

Robb was more than a brother to him, but his best friend and didn't deserve to die that way, not the men and women who followed him south.

Jon's dark mixed match eyes were now fixed on Bran, recalling two nights ago when he showed him the events of the Red Wedding along with Dany who claimed she saw a vision of Robb in the house of the Undying except he had a wolf's head on top of his body watching her.

Letting out a long drawn-out breath willing the beast inside of him that yearned for blood away, recalling the words he screamed, "flee Robb leave this place before it's too late."

He knew his brother heard him when he looked around lost, murmuring the words "Jon?" Until everything faded, Bran cautioned him not to call Robb back from the dead.

"Why was I worth being recalled and not Robb?" His brother would've been best suited for the upcoming war against the dead.

"Only death can pay for life," Bran replied to him, his eyes landing on Rickon as he slept.

He wanted to tell him to take his life instead, until Dany touched his arm, bringing him back to reality, it wouldn't be fair to her to lose another family member, nor could she do everything by herself, there needed to be a second dragonrider with her to defeat the Great Other.

Reaching his hand below, gripping another fish as he twisted it in his hands killing it instantly before stuffing it in his bag.

He may not be able to bring his brother back, but he would let all of those who conspired against Robb and the North die a bloody death.

She could feel her mouth water, watching the yellow and red flickers from the flame roar knowing it had nothing to do with the fish Aemon was preparing but the lion-lizard he was now poking with a thick stick while it cooked over the hot rocks unsure what part of the meat she wanted to taste first.

Summer was the one who dragged it back to the abandoned shack they found, knowing this was Bran's doing.

With the powers, the young lord possessed she knew many in the living world would kill to get their hands on and needed to remain a secret.

"I'm bored."

Jon laughed at Rickon's outburst while Dany drew closer to him.

"And why is the little lordling so bored? Are you sure you're just not hungry? I know I am waiting eagerly for Aemon to finish so we can all sup."

Rickon gave her a puzzling look before turning to Jon. "Why do you call my brother Aemon when his name is Jon?"

"It's just a special name she has for me that only the four of us can know, it's our own little secret," Jon answered poking the meat once more before flipping it over.

"How about I tell you another story since you're bored?"

"Can it be one about the Dothraki again?"

Dany could see the way the boy's eyes beamed waiting for her reply. "I tell you what, why don't I tell you the story of my time growing up as a little girl in Braavos in a house with a red door and the lemon tree outside my window, would you like to hear it?"

"What makes you think it was Braavos? Lemon trees can't grow in the Bravavosi climate." Bran asked accusingly, his thoughts someplace else.

Jon could see how upset Dany became at his cousin's words shattering whatever memory of her childhood she still held close to her heart as she rose to go outside.

"Great thinking Bran," Jon said rising to go outside also. "Maybe you can tell Rickon a story since you know everything."

"I can, and I will." Bran shot back turning towards his brother, "I shall tell you about the iced dragon named Winter, who fell and melted in front of Winterfell's Heartstree leaving the puddle of water in front of it."

"Is that why our home is called Winterfell?" Rickon asked in surprise gripping his brother to tell him more.

Jon found her with her head leaning against the mud wall of the abandoned shack, watching the snowfall around them.

"I'm sorry about Bran." Jon offered, stepping closer to her.

"It's alright, he's right anyway it would be hard for any lemon tree to grow in Braavos, maybe I imagined the entire thing, dreamt it up in my mind wanting to just feel like a normal child that wasn't constantly on the run along with her brother."

He could hear the pain in her voice, no one deserved a childhood like that, he also would've probably been on the run if he turned out looking like Dany with Valyrian features. Or maybe Ned would've killed him or placed him in an orphanage. Anything would've been better than dying at the wall and learning about such a secret kept from him for so many years. Shaking away those thoughts, he wasn't here to brood or sulk away, but to offer some sort of comfort to Dany, she was family after all his aunt and if Bran's vision was true, his future wife.

"Even if it was something you dreamed up, it doesn't mean you can't make it into existence."

She turned to him a bloom creeping over her face, "Bran showed me a vision of Summer Hall the night you came back, it was of Aegon's men searching for dragon eggs."

Jon frowned wondering why Bran would show Dany that but show him something else, what kind of game was his cousin playing?

"I think if I ever decide to stay in Westeros after the wars are over, I would love to rebuild Summer Hall with a heavy red door and lemon trees everywhere, the land looked fertile enough to grow them. What do you think?"

"I think we should be discussing the fact that Aegon is looking for dragon eggs, for now, there's no telling what will happen if he finds any or brings them back." Jon stepped closer to her wanting to tell her of his plans.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask of you."

"Ask, you know you can ask me anything."

"We're never going to get anyone to listen or focus on the great war or the next long night if we don't put a stop to the wheel."

She looked at him puzzled, "what are you saying?"

"I'm telling you we need to break the wheel together, starting with the Red Keep first unless you want to rule over Westeros?"

"No, that was always Viserys's dream but I don't want to see a false Dragon sitting on the iron throne either."

"Then we break the wheel, we destroy the Red Keep," Jon replied causing Dany to breathe in deeply before he stepped back inside to go check on their meal.

Winterfell

She allowed her feet to take her where she needed to be, walking along the dark-lit corridors, reminiscent of a life she used to dream of, being the lady of Winterfell, with Brandon Stark her lord husband, lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North.

Yet that day never came, nor would it ever! She and her family, no matter their status in the North, wasn't good enough for Lord Rickard Stark's ambitions.

Chiding herself as she walked briskly, her boots heavy. Such childish dreams should've been lost and forgotten the day Brandon walked out of her life, being betrothed to someone else, someone not even of the North, or being a follower of their gods.

She had loved Brandon with all her heart once and probably deep down still did. Giving him everything any lady of noble birth, would give to her husband, from her maidenhead to her heart, and all he did was rip it out from her when news came that he was being betrothed to Catelyn Tully... Firstborn child to the warden of the Riverlands.

Yet it didn't end there, no the men of House Stark seemed settled on taking everything from her, after Ned Stark the new warden of the North rode south with her husband William Dustin never to return again, not even his bones came back to her! No, the only thing Ned came back North with was the bones of his sister and Williem's horse.

Already she'd sworn to herself, that Ned Stark's bones would never arrive in Winterfell or be buried alongside the other dead Starks.

Turning down another corner feeling a cold draft, as she wrapped her arms around herself, she needed to leave this castle for her own home. Already it felt like the Ghosts of Winterfell was closing in on them.

Lord Manderly had already left, declaring he needed to head back to White Harbor for business, leaving her stunned that Roose would've let the lord of White Harbor go, knowing he could never be trusted, the man was a known flip-flopper. But then again couldn't the same be said about her? She reminded herself, seeing the single guard at the door of Roose's solar.

"Lord Bolton doesn't wish to be disturbed, lady Dustin! I suggest you wait until the lord sends for you."

She huffed out an annoying breath, "he will want to see me!" Pushing past the single guard who tried to warn her lord Bolton wished not to be disturbed, knowing she could care less about what Roose wished for in these dire times, where she pushed the door wide open slamming it against the wall.

"Well, are you not going to send a rider out to recall your bastard, Hosteeen, and Manderly's men back to the castle? Or are you just going to stand there, staring out through that blasted window for the rest of the morning?"

Walda cleared her throat wondering if Roose would address lady Barbrey, who stormed inside his solar disturbing their silence just after they broke their fast, as if she was the lady of Winterfell, her dark eyes fixed on her husband's, nostrils flaring like she was ready for a fight.

Waiting a few minutes to gather his thoughts, the warden of the North paid no mind to lady Barbrey, his men were preparing Winterfell for a siege, trenches were being built while weapons were being sharpened. The guards were doubled along the turrets, to watch for any incoming attacks, being informed, if Ramsay wasn't at the head of the vanguard upon their return, to fire their arrows at will.

He would not surrender Winterfell to the likes of Stannis Baratheon if he defeated his bastard and the few forces he left Winterfell with. Satisfied he decided to keep the majority of his men with him at Winterfell.

The only thing giving him credence now was that of the Bolton guard he flayed in front of the courtyard but two days ago. After the man burst inside the Great Hall, where everyone sat to break their fast.

The guard's eyes were milk-white pointing towards where he sat, his voice devoid of emotion, declaring they would all die if they did not turn him over for the death of their rightful king Robb Stark, before the hour when the wolves howled in the night signaling their deaths awaited them.

He could recall their hushed whispers before the room erupted with talk of blood magic and sorcery. It seemed the rumors of Stannis keeping the company if a red witch, were all truths, along with the knowledge he used blood magic to kill his own brother Renly Baratheon.

Yet the man he trusted the least who he made sure left Winterfell was the first to speak, recalling how Lord Manderly struggled to stand at first, needing two of his knights to help him.

"We can not allow the North to fall into a southron, pretender hands who claims himself king, yet wishes to imprison his will upon us all with blood magic. I have heard stories from both sailors and captains from across Essos who speak of these red priests as demons, warning to stay from them."

The man had his uses, but he knew Manderly would be one of the first to order his guards to throw him over the barracks.

His hold over the North was fragile at best. Tywin Lannister was long dead, and the Frey's in the Riverlands were having their own issues with the brothers without banners.

He needed his bastard to not fail him in killing Stannis or bringing back the girl they claimed to be Arya Stark.

"Leave us."

Walda didn't need to be told twice, walking towards the door, closing it shut looking at the worried stare the guard gave knowing his days were numbered. If her lord husband didn't kill him today, he surely would flay the man the next.

Barbrey didn't wait for the echoes of Roose's fat wife to walk down the hall before speaking...."Well, are you going to send a rider out to retrieve your bastard and the men who left with him?"

"I tolerate you because you were good to my son Domeric, and his favorite aunt."

"I was his only aunt and you allowed your bastard to use poison and murder him, getting away with it." She yelled, "how long do you think it will take before he does the same to whatever son or daughter your new wife gives you? How long do you think it will take until he shoves a knife through your cold black heart?" Barbrey spat making her way towards Roose, he needed her for her men more than she needed him. She could easily name herself the warden of the North, why should he only be the one with ambition?

"You confuse me when you say things like sending for my bastard to return now, then tell me in the same breath that Ramsay will sooner or later stick a dagger into my cold black heart. Do you honestly believe I know none of this? Why else do you believe I sent him out there to face Stannis with so few men? Especially men from house Manderly and Frey?" His wife may have been Frey but a man like Waldor could never be trusted, or any Frey for that matter.

"I care not for your bastard but the men he left with." She answered back, it didn't matter if Roose expected them all to die and have them survive a siege while Stannis's men froze or starved from hunger, there was always the factor of who he traveled with. "Who knows what that witch Stannis travels with can do? Everyone who saw knew the guard was under a sorcerors spell, who is to say she can't cast the same spell on those men along with your bastard?"

She stepped closer to him while his pale eyes still focused on the men building trenches. "Have you forgotten the story of the witch of Harrenhall? Do I need to remind you of such a story?"

His hands twitched wanting to strangle his second wife's sister. Barbrey noticed it too as she stepped away from the man.

"Because of the love I had for Bethany, I will allow your foolish behavior and outburst to slide but only for this once, never forget this gift I've offered you at a chance to live and leave for Barrowton."

She could feel her heart race and her hands sweat from his words, how many times had she helped this man? Even after the few men she sent south with the Young wolf also died at the Twins, men Roose knew she offered no matter how few they were. Just as she was about to open the door she could feel his cold eyes bearing down on her.

"Roger will stay, I'm sure you understand my reasons."

Barbrey knew and understood his reasons, perfectly! He was keeping her and her family in line.....

✨✨✨✨✨

Dany

It wasn't hard to find him, she knew instinctively where he would be, his mismatched eyes glued northwards towards where the heart of the North stood. A place both he and his cousins once called home, until it was taken from them by Theon Greyjoy, who then, in turn, lost it to Ramsay Snow.

As she took in a deep breath, fixing her cloak, where she stood atop the abandoned holdfast, they were now shacking up inside. Winterfell was the heart of the North, Dany reminded herself as she locked eyes with her nephew who seemed deep in thought or just brooding over what his life now was.

He was still not over the anger and betrayal of Lord Stark, along with the betrayal of an uncle who disappeared North of the wall. Leaving Dany to doubt he would ever forgive them for allowing him to join the Night's Watch. When both men knew it was no place for a boy of four and ten, who wanted to make a name for himself and remove the shame of his birth from Eddard Stark's honorable name.

Not that she could ever blame him for not wanting to ever forgive them, specifically lord Stark who allowed his wife to scold him, and tell him when he left for the South that his bastard could not stay at Winterfell, recalling the vision of the past Brynden showed them.

Dany didn't know who was more miserable of the three, the warden of the North who didn't put his wife in her place for her venomous words, or the maester who came up with the solution of Aemon joining the Night's Watch, reasoning that's what the boy wanted.

Of course, that's what Aemon wanted back then, he believed himself a burden to his lord's father. He was just as lost as she was, wanting love, feeling lost in a realm that seemed to want to swallow them whole and spit them back out, broken and ruined. Always second-guessing themselves wondering if they were doing the right thing for the greater good.

She went about freeing slaves and trying to put an end to barbaric practices, while Aemon saw the greater good in getting the Freefolk south of the wall, instead of adding their numbers to the Great Other.

She may have escaped eating those poisoned locusts her now-dead husband tried to get her to eat, including the sharpened blades of the harpie, thankful for the bond both she and Drogon shared. But Aemon never escaped his.

"For the watch." Even now she could still hear their voices as they stabbed into his flesh, his body falling face down in the snow, the whisper of the name Ghost leaving his lips.

"Have you given any thought to what I asked of you last night?"

"What?" Dany mumbled, still lost in her thoughts.

He turned to face her briefly before turning back towards the North, "I said have you given any thought to what we spoke of last night?"

Of course, she did, she stayed up for most of the night curled between both Bran and Rickon, after the younger Stark asserted her nephew's body felt iced cold next to him. She supposed it had to do with him only being alive for just a few days.

Sighing to herself, looking at the snow swirling around them wondering if it would ever stop today, knowing they were somewhere between The Neck and The Three Sisters. Where Bran explained to them both, this was the only place safe in the North for them to stay hidden with a dragon, until Aemon was fully healed.

"Of course I have." She reasoned.

"And?"

"You're right, even if you and I come out of this alive, who is to say someone would not whisper in either of our ears ---."

"Dany, I would never."

She raised her hand for him to allow her to get what she needed to say off her chest, no longer did she care about some stupid chair or ruling over this land or for that factor any other land. All she has ever experienced was a dismissal, called a naive girl with stupid dreams wanting to change a system that had been breaking the backs of those the masters considered below them. "I will, our family brought the Seven Kingdoms together with fire and blood, and we shall be the two who destroy the wheel our ancestors built, no longer will there be a Targaryen puppet for others to use." She paused before continuing to speak, " so many men have killed and died to sit upon the Iron Throne. But we will be different, I never liked ruling over Meereen, nor did I want it, but I had to if it meant keeping men, women, and children out of chains."

"Keeping those people and their children out of chains was and will always be a worthy cause Dany!"

"I know," she smiled inwardly, knowing if she had to do it over again. She would!

Nodding his head knowing they were both similar, both being thrust into power at a young age. Never knowing if they were going about those changes the best way possible, only knowing that things could never remain the same. When they brought change to those indifferent, never wanting to change from their old ways in how things were done. He got killed for it, and she nearly died if it wasn't for her dragon sensing her distress and rescuing her. "We break the wheel."

"Together," Dany added in finishing the last word.

Chapter 7: The Lion of Lannister

Chapter Text

Nothing can hurt me, he wanted to yell and say, he was already a broken man without his good sword hand anyway. No matter how many nights and hours ser Ilyn Payne trained with him to get better use of his left hand, it would never be the same as his right. Feeling his eyelids grow heavy while the back of his head throbbed from where he had been hit by the wench, after watching his squire Peck go down by his side from arrows coming from out of the overgrown green trees, recalling the wench's sorrowful words, begging him for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry, I told you to come alone ser Jaime, they made me do it," she cried out before someone shouted for her to stop her yapping least she gets the rope once more. He lost consciousness soon after that, wondering if all women were liars and deceivers? His sister surely was, spreading her legs for Lancel, Kettleblack, and if Tyrion was to be believed Moon Boy also.

When he awoke the first time he could feel his head pounding and his vision blurred, causing him to close them back right away, unable to tolerate the dizzy feeling he was experiencing unsure if it was night or day, or how long he had been out for. Not even the horse he was tied faced down on smelt like his horse Honor as darkness took hold of him once more cradling him in her arms in a state of dreamless sleep.

"I need to get to Tommen, I need my son." Jaime called out waking, his throat hoarse and dry but all he heard was the sound of men singing, "farewell, my brother," while being carried by someone who smelled of dung causing his eyes to flutter open to the shifting of shadows around him.

No, he wanted to scream, where are you taking me. Yet no words left his lips after someone called out to stop pulling his hair causing him to hiss, staring into the eyes of one of his captors. "Thoros?" He drawled out before another person shined the bright flaming light of his torch over his face, causing Jaime to turn away from its bright flames.

"There is no Tommen here kingslayer, I reckon your pudgy bastard must be playing pretend king and getting fatter while the poor starve." Uttered the voice that held the torch.

Jaime could feel his anger get the best of him, "why don't you kill me now and get over it?"

"In due time kingslayer, the lady needs to judge you first, then we kill you."

"Lady Sansa?" Jaime blurted out wondering if the shy northern girl was alive and also held captive by this band of bandits, did Brienne truly find her? Was Joffrey's dog a member of these bandits? Did he also work with these murders in the planning and killing of his son? Would they do the same to sweet Tommen who only wanted to play with his cats and stamp things on paper while refusing to eat his vegetables?

"Not lady Sansa," Thoros reflected quietly, ripping a piece of cloth off his dirty blue linen shirt to tie it around Jaime's mouth to shut him up for a while until they reached his mistress. "Someone else is here needing to speak to you on your broken oath kingslayer and we mustn't keep the lady waiting, she hates that."

"I broke only one oath, and that was to the mad king and he's dead," he yelled as Thoros tied his mouth causing Jaime to briefly get a look around his surrounding, noticing the rock formation all around them. Taking note of there being no trees or cool air flowing, yet he could hear drops of water as the men continued their track downwards further into the caverns the song on their lips one he knew of two brothers saying goodbye to each other, both fighting for opposing sides. One for the Targaryens the other for his home.

Suddenly thoughts from his fevered dream about Rhaegar and his fallen brothers came to him and how they encircled him as the light from his sword went out, was this the end? Was he about to be judged by the ghostly remnants of his prince and former brothers?

"Farewell my brother," the men began singing once more even louder the further they descended into the cave, causing Jaime to think back on all his past mistakes. The only two he regretted were never getting Elia and the children out of King's Landing and never telling his children the truth about being their father. Would they care to know? or would they listen to whatever lies Cersei would say to them, while calling him a liar and a broken fool, ordering he be thrown inside one of the black cells? Or be sent to the wall with his tongue cut out from spreading any more truths about passing off their children as Robert's own?

How long he was carried before being thrown on the dirt-filled ground with his hands tied behind his back and his mouth gagged still, he did not know as he looked around on all the unfamiliar faces of both men, women, and children looking up at him like he was the scum of the earth. He supposed he was especially with the kind of reputation he had throughout the Seven Kingdoms and possibly Essos. The knight who could never be trusted and on top of it a Lannister hated and despised.

"And what do we have here? A broken lion within our midst." A man shouted walking up closer to Jaime pulling the cloth from his mouth hard, causing it to sting and leave a red mark.

"Blackfish," Jaime growled, clenching his left fist hard, while the nub on his right twitched, no longer heavy after Thoros announced his solid gold hand would go a long way feeding plenty hungry mouths that needed both food and clothing.

"Is this how you finally fight me? when I'm tied down and missing a sword and shield to defend myself with?" Jaime snarled, at him before co*cking his head looking at all the faces he could see in the dim torch lights. "His this how the people of the Riverlands fight their battles?"

None, answered him, the only sound that was heard was Blackfish clapping his hands loudly in his face.

"I never took you for a performer kingslayer," he gritted his teeth. "But then again I suppose all Lannister's are performers to lie so well, I mean your sister lied to Robert for years, claiming your bastards as his trueborn children."

She lied and performed well for me too while she f*cked men behind my back and I stayed true to her, he wanted to say, until he was pulled from his thoughts by a small chortle from those gathered, before finally laughter-filled inside the cavern, while the children pointed at him tugging on the adults dirty and torn garments.

Jaime supposed that's all they had particularly if most left in the dead of the night to escape the war of the five kings that ravished their lands while they continued fighting over the iron throne and northern independence.

What was the saying? he asked himself trying to remember the words when the lords played war with each other, their vassals were the ones who suffered and paid the price for their war?

"Much as I would love nothing more than to fight you here in front of all those gathered, another here seeks to judge you for your crimes and oathbreaking."

"I broke only one oath and that's to a dead man," Jaime spat, before noticing a hooded figure walking out of the shadows, along with five men. Was this the lady they spoke of?

Jaime took notice of her gray garments, which made her look like a Silent sister as she raised her finger pointing towards him, saying something he could not hear or make out.

"The lady asks where are her daughters you swore to return after you swore an oath to her for freeing you." The man next to her said, his voice sounding like one that hailed from the North.

Jaime found himself silently unable to speak, his face and skin grew sweaty though it was not hot, finally, he could hear the slightest sound coming from her, it was eerie and sounded like death itself.

"No," Jaime cried out, "she died at the Red Wedding." He pointed out, yet they gave him no mind.

"She did, but now she lives after receiving the kiss from Beric," Thoros answered, as the woman in question removed her hood, exposing her gray wrinkled skin, her hair white and her red eyes fixated on only him with hatred.

He looked down in shame instead of being judged by Rhaegar, he would be judged by the one they called Stoneheart, his life all but forfeit. "I tried," Jaime found himself saying, "I didn't make it in time and once I got there Joffrey was dead, and Sansa was gone before my sister or father could ever get their clutches on her and blame her for his death. As for Arya, the girl seemed to have gotten past the Goldcloaks or is dead already."

"The girl lives, she made it safely out of Kings Landing until I lost her." Someone shouted, his voice deep and stern.

"Sandor?" Jaime found himself asking as Joffrey's former dog walked out the shadow staring at him hard without blinking.

He could not think clearly all of a sudden until a vision of a young redhead popped in front of his eyes. "And what of Sansa?" Jaime found himself asking, "the wench claimed you had her and needed me to come alone."

Sandor spat on the ground, "you're a dumb c*nt to believe her that I had the Littlebird or would turn her over to any of you Lannister c*nts, notably when we got word of you lot sending a fake wolf North to the men who killed her brother and most of the Northerners who went south with him."

Both a c*nt and fool he was in truth to fall for such lies.

Jaime found himself swallowing hard, "I had nothing to do with Littlefinger or Cersei's plan on sending Jeyne Poole North to marry Bolton's bastard."

Stoneheart found her ears perked up at hearing what other things Littlefinger had also conspired in doing, his end would also come after the many lies he spoke and for turning against her Ned. But first, the Freys needed to be rooted out from the Riverlands by root and stem, and their house wiped out for all eternity.

Jaime found himself looking at lady Stark, "I broke no oaths to you, I took up no arms against House Stark or House Tully."

"No, you just took our ancestral home from us while sending my weak nephew West for your prisoner, while your aunt and Frey uncle by marriage took up residence inside Riverrun calling it their own."

"It was decreed by the king that your lands be seized and handed over to my aunt and her husband, I did the same to all the other houses that fought on your side."

"A bastard," Stoneheart hissed like a venomous snake, ready to kill him from her poisonous glare.

Jaime could feel his heart in his throat at what lady Stark said if it was so easy to capture him and know of their moves within the Riverlands, how easy would it be for them to slit his aunt's and her husband throats in their sleep? they already killed Waldor Frey's heir and his men not even a day's ride from the Twins. How easy could they also turn around and kill Tommen? His son? A son for a son. Thinking back on the history of what Blood and Cheese did during the Dance of the Dragons.

"I had nothing to do with the Red Wedding resulting in your son's death, or the men and women who fought at his side. That was my father, Bolton, and the Freys doing not mine or Tommen's."

There was a moment of silence before the Northman opened his mouth once more, "the lady asks why should she believe anything you have to say or to even allow your bastard to live?"

"Tommen is but a boy," Jaime cried out in a pained fury of anger.

"Bran," Stoneheart said, while the Northman faced down the kingslayer once more.

"You speak for us to save your bastard but how easily did you push my lady's own son, out of the tower window when he caught you and your twin sister f*cking?"

Jaime turned his face away in shame, "the things we do for love," he muttered out defeated.

"Your family stole two ancestral homes belonging to both her daughters and uncle since she no longer considers Edmure her brother." The Northman spoke once more handing a rope to the Blackfish who eagerly took it in his hands.

Jaime thought hard in this instant wondering what his father or Tyrion would do, he needed to buy time to get his son out of Kings Landing safely, Cersei and her love for the iron throne and power be damned. "Everyone always wants something, I'm sure the lady wants something of me why I'm still here talking and not dead."

"Revenge," Stoneheart muffled on repeat as she held her throat her cold red eyes growing wider.

"She wants all those who have taken from her and her family to pay, and you will be the one to help us get inside the Twins."

They have no army Jaime said to himself, knowing he'd be damned if he used Lannister men for this task, and these bandits would be fools to even remotely trust that he would not turn against them once they crossed into the Twins.

"I can see your thinking too hard kingslayer, so let me be the one to answer your question," Blackfish replied before turning back to his niece who nodded.

"We expect you to lead us inside the Twins along with the Northmen you've ordered to be sent to King's Landing."

"So what will it be? The rope or the sword?" The Blackfish spoke, twisting the rope he now held into a noose, his blue eyes looking down on him the same way Ned's grey eyes looked upon him with judgment and disgust for being an oathbreaker and kingslayer.

He wanted to ask what right did a trout have over a lion? the only ones they swore fealty to were the dragons, until both his father and Robert took care of that, to only fail in the end with both of them dead, a Targaryen girl still living with three grown dragons and an unsullied army at her command. How long would it be until she set her sights on Westeros after conquering Essos?

He was dammed if he helped them and dead either way, "I'm sorry Tommen and Myrcella, I'm sorry for never telling you both the truth." He whispered out trying to conceal his tears by shutting his eyes, knowing the sun would be setting on his house.

Interlude

She could feel the tether within him grow stronger, the more she felt his pain, his want for everything to be destroyed including the throne made of swords before her very eyes.

"Destroy it as well as the entire castle," the comely voice called out inside the dragon's thoughts needing nothing to be salvaged.

Bran looked at all the destruction inside the throne room as the dragon destroyed it in one breath, as a voice rang out to him belonging to the princess, who was worried for Jon.

"What's wrong with him?" Dany frantically asked while Rickon held tightly to his direwolf who arrived but a day ago, while Bran himself seemed to not care or be phased by Aemon's eyes turning milk-white, while he shook in her arms as she tried to comfort him and wrap his cold skin in fur to keep him warm.

"He will be fine, let him be," Bran responded his mind someplace else, watching the destruction the great dragon was doing to the Red Keep's throne room while its tail, thrashed the red walls into pieces. Those who were brave enough to watch it all looked on in both awe and frightened eyes, but still wouldn't move or flee from Aegon's Hill.

"Fine?" Dany screamed with worry clutching her nephew tightly she could not lose him. "He does not look fine or feel fine to me Bran, please help him."

"He's been like this for hours, trust me he is fine," Bran answered devoid of any emotion, too busy watching Cersei screaming holding Tommen tightly ordering a Lannister guard to have their men get a litter or wheelhouse and horses ready for them to leave the city at once before the dragon turned on them or the people gathered around, while Varys looked on at his years of scheming and plotting to seat a Blackfyre in the iron throne fall to pieces.

"Hours?" Dany asked in horror, "you've known he's been in this state and didn't wake me?" She almost wanted to walk up to the boy and shake him hard, but couldn't let go of her nephew.

"He's caught in a dragon dream since I can't call it wolf dream since he's warging into a dragon right now and destroying the Red Keep's throne room. Bran smiled widely causing Dany to gasp uttering the words Drogon to him.

He lamented next, "this is just your first time seeing Jon this way, you should consider getting used to his warging, he's a powerful warg, he just doesn't know it yet, but he will, I will teach him how to better control his power."

Dany didn't know if she should feel thrilled about her nephew's powers or be frightened.

Chapter 8: Blood of the Old Ones

Chapter Text

Jon

He could hear the faint sound of footsteps coming from across the room their movements disturbing the rubbles below his feet, causing the beast within him to growl out in frustration at being disturbed by the unwelcomed guest. Yet no warning sound was heard, nor the warm sensation of the fire within him to bathe whoever it was, as the stranger drew closer towards where he rested. Whoever it was, it seemed they were unconcerned about waking a sleeping dragon from his slumber.

"What do we have here? A warg trying to be a dragon or a dragon destroying what was taken from his family with fire and blood?" The newcomer announced heralding their arrival causing Jon to open his wary eyes, suddenly realizing he was no longer warged inside of the green dragon as his gaze turned to look at who dared to disturb his rest noticing the stranger still approaching him without fear, her identity hidden behind her mask that glowed like stars the closer she came towards him, walking over the red stone rubbles with ease, her long dark robe dragging behind her not once getting caught between any of the fallen rocks.

"Who are you?" Jon found himself asking, though he had an idea of who she was from the way Dany spoke of the shadowbinder who would visit her at times to warn her of things to come. Was she here to warn him also? Tell him the war for the North to take back Winterfell was nothing compared to the wars to come with the great other?

"You already know who I am young one, now answer my question." She hummed stepping even closer to him not caring for the sleeping green dragon that lay next to Jon.

"I don't know what I am, an abomination or perhaps a warg-" He did not get to finish before she cut him off, her voice eerie and ancient.

"You are so much more than a warg who lingered too long in the mind of his dragon." She turned to face Rhaegal before facing him once more. "Dragons are fire-made flesh you can't linger inside of them for long without the knowledge you have yet to learn, lest you drown inside becoming one with the dragon, unable to free yourself or contain the rage you feel inside. The same rage that now wants you to fly west to reign down fire and destruction when you should be uniting the kingdoms of Essos." Whereas for the kingdoms of Westeros, their time has all but run out.

"And what is wrong for wanting to take from the Lannisters what they have taken from my family? And all the other countless unnamed faces like that of my siblings and Elia Martell? Why should the Lannister be allowed to continue wreaking havoc upon Westeros, when I can put an end to their family seat and bury their goldmines under the ash of rubbles?"

"Their mines shall sooner run dry, and Starks of old also have their share of putting an end to others young one. Let this be your first lesson learned when it comes to balance, no one wants another wild wolf in Theon Stark or a power-craved dragon in Maegor Targaryen, who killed even his own kin in seeking power for himself."

Cursed be the kinslayer, Jon thought bitterly, "I am neither of those men," Jon shouted, trying to control the beast within him roaring to the surface, where he would surely burn her where she stood leaving her in ashes.

"The same blood that ran through their veins now runs through yours. Unless you consider yourself a Baelor? Who thought everything magical was dangerous, becoming a puppet of the faith, and a lapdog of the Citidel."

Jon grimaced clenching his burnt hand in and out at the thought of being compared to Daeron's younger brother, who starved to death unless you believe those who think Viserys the second had him poisoned. "Their blood may run through my veins, but I am neither of those men. I can temper my feelings for the greater good."

Her star-covered mask and body glowed in satisfaction from the answer he gave, illuminating the destroyed throne room, where Jon managed to take in all the destruction he'd reeked upon the Red Keep, satisfied with what he'd done. "You are right unlike them, the blood that flows between you and the princess is very special young dragon. She was the last of her kind born on the island citadel of Dragonstone where her ancestors performed their sorcery only later to be reborn in fire. And then there is you, born under a bleeding star, only to be reborn in ice with the power of the old ones." Quaithe circled him running her right hand across Rhaegal's snot causing the green dragon to purr in their sleep at her touch before she turned to face him once more. "Beware of those with false promises. Trust only the light and fire within, along with the lost one who has been safely hidden away from the reach of men. The glass candles are burning and magic is ripe for the taking."

Jon pondered her words, stalking her like she was his prey, wary of what she said and whatever game he and Dany were being made to play, like figurines on a board using them for what they can get to further their thirst. Magic always came with a price. Dany was fooled by a maegi, and Bloodraven had given what remained of his life essence to breathe life back into him.

He'd even seen what Melisandre was capable of doing with shadow magic for Mance. "Can the same not be said for you? Does magic not always come with a price?" Jon retorted trying to see past the masked woman to see what game she was playing herself. The same kind of game he suspected Bran was also playing. Showing him visions of a future where Dany was his wife and the children she bore him. Yet she was given a separate vision that had nothing to do with his.

"Only time will tell young one," her voice echoed as the room dimmed. "Trust not the blood drinkers, remember the eyes you saw in the dark that night beyond the wall, all will be revealed in due time."

He did not get another word in as darkness surrounded him before his eyes fluttered back open to a crying Dany staring down at him startled, her eyes red and puffed like she had not slept in days.

"Thank the gods you're awake, I thought I'd lost you once more dear nephew. You've been lying here with your eyes milky white for a day and a half.

Jon let out a strangled breath filling his lungs with air as he tried to speak, yet his throat was dry when he swallowed and his voice hoarse. "Water, I need water," Jon asked feeling the stiffness in his bones unable to believe he was warged into the green dragon that long. What only felt like a few hours to him was something more, where he could've easily drowned inside of Rhaegal if Quaithe wasn't the one there to pull him out. While Bran just, Jon stopped himself and then turned his eyes to the side where his cousin sat still his hands running across the soft furs of Summer.

What game are you playing cousin? Even now Jon could still recall the wary glances Bloodraven threw at the children of the forest who dwelled in that cave. Oftentimes giving Jon unease about why they were there beyond the wall.

"Here you go Jon," Rickon handed him the water he'd fetched causing Jon to drink greedily from it, his eyes never leaving that of Bran's wondering just what game was his cousin playing? Why wasn't he the one to pull him out of Rhaegal with Dany's help? When he easily managed to pull him from Ghost that day inside of the cave.

Suddenly he could hear faint whispered voices within his mind reminding him of the things he'd learn, causing Jon to breathe unsteadily wanting them to cease.

"There is power in king's blood."

“The gift you have been granted Aemon Targaryen will help you decipher who is for our house and who isn’t.”

"Unlike them, the blood that flows between you and the princess is special young dragon. Beware of those with false promises. Trust only the light within and the lost one who has been safely hidden away from the reach of men. The glass candles are burning and magic is ripe for the taking."

He could feel the bile rising within him wanting to spit the water he was drinking out of his mouth as recognition took hold of him at that moment, causing the water to taste bitter in his mouth. Were both he and Dany being used? Were they both just spoaks on a wheel to be used for whatever magic laid dormant inside of them?

Whatever it was Jon knew then he would play his own game, keep his aunt safe and whoever wasn't against them, but to do that, they would need to start their mission by taking back the North. Bran had already told them that Stannis was on the move and was but a few days away from Winterfell with an army made up of mostly wildings and mountain clans, the men he'd brought with him from the south too weak to push further south not used to the brutal North. They would need to meet with him and use his army in taking Winterfell without going with his original plans of burning Roose Bolton alive along with everyone else inside of Winterfell's gray castle walls with dragonfire. Though if he were being honest with himself, he would've rathered to have history repeat itself than to see Roose surrender. He would do what his Stark ancestors were never capable of doing, bringing an end to the line of the Red Kings.

"Dany, we need to speak but not now later," Jon said stretching his legs out trying to get a feel for them not wanting anyone's help in standing. He needed fresh air to think and a walk to wake his tired muscles.

She tried concentrating on the task at hand, not wanting to cut her finger with the sharp bone dagger she held firmly, which was given to her by the wilding woman Osha, who said a woman always needed a weapon whether hidden away or in plain sight to protect herself, especially one as beautiful as she was. But Dany could not help the many thoughts that swarmed within her as she steadily cut into the root vegetables while Rickon fanned the flames over the rabbits Aemon caught for their meal.

All that was missing was the red door and lemon trees. The thought made her glow with joy.

How many times had she wished or dreamed of having a simple life like this? To have the house with the red door, for family and security she never received with Viserys or Drogo for that matter. While her eyes swept around the broken-down holdfast they have been living in for close to two moon turn, till Aemon regained his strength.

It was nothing compared to her suite within the pyramid of Meereen, but it was home. Their home she corrected herself, a home she had made with Aemon and his cousins, one she would do her part in trying to hold together, even if it meant going to war to unite Westeros and possibly Essos for the wars to come against the dead. She would not lose him, she would protect him the same way he's watched over her since they met.

"Dany?"

"Hmm," Dany hummed so lost in thought not realizing Aemon was speaking to her until she felt his hand placed at the bottom of her back, causing that twinging feeling she's been trying to hide whenever he touched her to make its way above the surface. It was as if his blood was singing to her own the more her affections grew for him like a blushing maiden with her face flushed whenever he looked at her or touched her, not knowing if he felt the same way for her. Though she doubted it, all the same, recalling all the lustful looks many men gave her and the promises they would make just to have her in their bed.

He could sense Rhaegal was close, "we need to talk," Jon said motioning her with his head to follow him outside, he did not trust Bran and needed answers to questions he would ask Dany, though he was sure whatever he asked of her, his cousin would know. Yet preferred to speak to her someplace else not wanting Rickon to overhear any of what he had to say. He would shield his younger cousin from hearing such things, the boy had already been through enough, already not wanting to be parted from Dany or him for that matter. Was he the lost one who has been safely hidden away from the reach of men, Quaithe spoke of? Only time would tell Jon realized as he removed the rabbits from the fire placing them on the stones to cool for his cousin to eat.

"Where are you going, Jon?" Rickon asked motioning himself to follow behind both him and Dany not wanting to be left alone with just Bran or listen to any of his silly stories about going beyond the wall.

"Eat, we'll be back later, I'll even bring you back something special before Dany takes you up into the sky again later." Jon smiled as his cousin's blue eyes shined bright with excitement. Now go eat and share with your brother until our return."

Dany watched as Aemon came up from behind her, "what is it you wanted to tell me?"

"Not here," Jon said taking her hand in his not wanting her to fall like last time from the snow below her feet.

For how long they walked she could not tell, it seemed time had stopped while Aemon remained silent leading her further away from the broken down holdfast until they came upon a clearing where Drogon nestled next to burnt carcasses of different animals he'd been feasting upon, as she turned to face her nephew wanting to know just what happened at the Red Keep between him and Drogon. "Bran said you destroyed the throne room using dragon fire." Dany turned away from him to look back at Drogon. "I don't truly understand how warging works and why Bran allowed you to remain warged for so long inside of Drogon."

Jon closed his eyes letting a bitter laugh escape his lips, "he wasn't the one to pull me out and it wasn't Drogon I was warged into Dany," his voice trailed off looking up towards the sky where Dany's eyes followed his until she heard the roar pierce through the clouds.

"Rhaegal," Dany gasped covering her hand over her mouth, tears prickling at the back of her eyes wondering if Viserion was also high above them, yet no roar nor screech was heard other than that of Drogon who took to the skies to fly with his brother, where Dany watched them dance with each other zipping through the grey-colored skies.

"Dany," Jon said trying to get her attention as she turned to face him with a child-like glee in her amethyst eyes watching her sons play high above them. "We need to talk about what happened and I need you to tell me all that Bran did and said."

Dany repeated the words Quaithe told her to Aemon once more, "the glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun's son, and the murmur's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the undying. Beware of the perfumed seneschal."

They sat in silence for a while as Jon mauled over all that Dany told him while the dragons flew above them dancing over the northern sky alerting all those below who were fortunate to see them from afar, that dragons had returned. Yet the wondrous sight of the dragons breathing fire high above them did little to calm his wary nerves.

He could only shake his head knowing he would have to play his own game smarter this time around, never to fall prey to another dagger in the dark. "Between what you've told me that happened inside the house of the undying and that Bran did not wake you when he realized I was warged inside of your dragon, I've come to one conclusion Dany. I don't trust my own cousin," Jon breathed out deeply looking off into the distance. "I don't trust any of them, not even Quaithe, though I am thankful she pulled me out of Rhaegal before I became one with the dragon. Everything just seems as if we are being used for some game, significantly with Quaithe saying you were reborn in fire and I was reborn in ice."

Dany paused her thoughts muddled thinking of the right words to say as the cold northern winds circled them causing her to tighten her furs, "so you think I died that day I walked through Drogo's pyre and birthed the dragons?"

"Maybe, I don't know what to think Dany, it's like you said you're not immune to fire and you still have a few scars from Drogon engulfing you in his flames that day he flew you from Meereen. Perhaps you're not immune but have a high resistance to fire. Ever since I came back the cold that once bothered me, doesn't anymore." Nor do I really sleep, Jon thought warily.

"Maybe you also came back not only having a high resistance to the cold but to fire also, we should probably test it out with you placing your hand against the fire." She teased wanting to bring her nephew out of his melancholy.

"Is this your way of trying to get rid of me? by having me burn myself to prove a point?" Jon asked masking his emotions from her unsure if she would take his jest as a slight or laugh it off yet the pained expression she gave proved his jest was not taken lightly.

"It sounds like you don't trust me either," Dany asked unsure if she wanted to hear what he had to say, as his jaws clenched before he turned to face her, taking her hand into his and clasping it tightly.

"I was only jesting to get a rise out of you, I wouldn't be telling you any of my concerns if I didn't trust you Dany, we're the last of our once-great house, the last Targaryens. Our ancestors brought the Seven Kingdoms together for a reason, maybe that reason has something to do with what's beyond the wall, and maybe that's why our house survived the doom also."

"If we survive these wars to come, I'm happy to know our house will survive through your bloodline," Dany said though, she could feel something akin to sadness, knowing no child shall come from her womb.

Jon tried to soothe the sadness in her eyes and voice. "What makes you think our house won't survive through your bloodline also?"

Sadness overcame her, thinking back to the curse and the naive gullible girl she once was. "Because I can't have children, I told you the witch cursed me, and made me barren to this day."

There's power in king's blood, Jon thought back to the vision Bran showed him of his and Dany's children, still not sure if it was real or false. Yet he would tell her not of that said vision. "Never say never Dany, maybe you just have not been with the right person."

She felt her heart swell at his words, quickly looking away not wanting him to see her beet-like face. If only the gods were so kind.

"We should go and get ready to meet Stannis," Jon said helping Dany off the rock they sat on overlooking the dragons. "Remember all that I have said, and not let Stannis get to you, he can smell fear easily and might even try to marry you off to one of his men for an alliance, unless you're stolen by one of the freefolk who now follow Stannis." Jon winked not missing the way she grimaced at his words causing him to chortle before pulling her with him back to their Holdfast.

The Wolfswood

Rickon held onto her tightly laughing with joy only the way a child could as they swooped through the clouds on Drogon, Rhaegal flying next to them without a rider her nephew wanting no one to learn of secret yet lest it is used against them both. "Let them still think me a bastard Dany," she could recall him saying to her, as she gazed behind seeing Aelmon watching Rhaegal no doubt dreaming of the day he also took to the skies. Just the thought caused her to smile at him imagining the songs the bards would sing, the last two dragon riders who found each other.

"We're here," Bran yelled as another blast of cold wind pushed his hood away, his hands twitching wanting to seek comfort in his direwolf that was somewhere north of Moat Calin traveling towards Winterfell with the other two direwolves, yet there was a fourth following the scent of the other three with a pack of her own, ready to wreak havoc.

Descending from the skies, Dany noticed the lone figure dressed in red who stood out before the many onlookers who kept their distance, "Melisandre," she heard her nephew whisper causing her to look behind taking notice he'd pulled his hood back up already. Even Rickon had now done the same.

"Dārilaros Daenērys,āeksio sōna, " Melisandre said her eyes not moving away from Bran.

"There is no need for that, we can speak in the common tongue, my lady, we are here to meet with my-" Dany sucked in her breath trying to stomach the words she needed to say. "We are here to meet with my cousin."

"The king has been expecting you since I saw you in the fires along with Lord Snow, princess Daenerys."

Dany looked from the red-eyed woman back to Aemon, not missing the way she looked upon Bran with distaste, "is something wrong my lady?"

Looking away from the boy she saw in the flames, Melisandre turned to face the princess sensing the magic that oozed between her and Lord Snow, "You both have a part to play, the king awaits you in his tent."

"What was that about?" Dany whispered as Melisandre walked before them, Jon carrying Bran in his arms, Rickon following behind.

"She thinks I am a servant of the great other," Bran said, causing Jon to stop in his tracks, as Melisandre stopped before the freefolk gathered around to watch them.

"People of the North, how much proof does my lord have to show you to know there is only one true god? I foresaw the resurrection of Lord Snow in the flames and the help he would bring to help defeat the great other."

"f*ck," Jon muttered seeing many of the freefolk now gathering around them speaking in hush tones while others pointed and some went on their knees in the snow, as a flash of something red pushed their way towards him.

"Crow is that you?"

Jon smiled under his hood, thankful the red-haired man had not gone on that fool's folly to Hardhome, especially after he'd witnessed what became of most of those people. "Aye," Jon answered as Bran helped him by removing his hood, as gasps went around all those gathered.

"You're not like those dead f*ckers, right? I don't want to have to kill you a second time," Tormund bellowed in laughter until his blue eyes landed on Dany. "Did you steal this one Crow?"

"No, I didn't steal her, and we will talk later after we meet with Stannis, Tormund."

"No need, I was already going there to go over what you southern f*cks call strategy," Tormund said slapping Jon on the back before ushering those staring at lord Crow away.

Dany could feel the many stares she was getting along with Aemon, it also didn't help that his freefolk friend kept bellowing that he would have to steal her before anyone else did as they arrived at the gray makeshift tent covered in furs where two guards stood outside, their sigil a Baratheon crowned stag enclosed within a blazing heart, yet these guards did not look on her like she was the enemy, come to burn them and kill their false king. They seemed strangely welcoming.

Walking inside the tent, she could feel the heat permeating through the brazers they walked past hearing the voices of two men arguing back and forth with each only falling silent once they stepped into the clearing. "Your grace, may I present to you princess Daenerys of House Targaryen," Melisandre announced causing Jon to place Bran in the closest chair he could find, taking note of the two men locked in conversation while Stannis sat with his back turned towards the flames.

"How many times must I remind you she is no princess?"

"And you are no king," Dany quipped back to the man with his back turned to them who she figured was none other than Stannis Baratheon. "A man can not call himself a king without a kingdom to rule over even if that said kingdom was usurped by his brother." Her words seemed to get a rise from the man as he rose from his chair casting no shadow.

Stannis turned from Daenerys to Jon, "so you've aligned yourself with the dragon queen bastard? Is she the reason you didn't take up my offer in marrying the wilding princess and being warden of the North? Tell me why I shouldn't have you executed for being an oathbreaker and deserter?"

Dany sucked in a breath seeing the way her nephew scowled at the Baratheon lord as she took his twitching left hand into hers where he gripped it tightly as two newcomers walked inside the tent, one a tall woman with honeyed blond hair dressed like a wilding, the other a tall man dressed in rich Essosi styled garments.

Jon gritted his teeth trying to temper the anger boiling over inside him at Stannis' words, suddenly feeling a soft hand enclosing his, "I am no oathbreaker nor deserter, I served my time at the wall and got killed for it. As for Val," Jon said pointedly looking at her frustrated to be having this conversation once more. "She is no princess."

Val bellowed in laughter, "I never said I was Crow, the only ones who call me princess are these kneelers."

Dany looked at the woman in question who seemed to take great joy from the bickering back and forth at her expense, the one Aemon told her Stannis tried to get him to marry to forsake his Night's Watch vows and bend the knee to him, rising as Jon Stark warden of the North.

"I have aligned myself with Daenerys for the greater good, we all have seen what's lurking behind the wall, she included when she went beyond the wall seeing the carnage to those who stayed behind at Hardhome.

"Now you believe me when I told you they are lost, lord Snow?" Melisandre asked her lips curled into a smirk as she looked at him with intensity her red eyes unflinching.

Jon would not entertain her knowing the red witch would sooner speak on him not listening to her about daggers in the dark, instead, he'd focus on Stannis that's who they came here to see not Melisandre of Asshai. "And I can't be lord of Winterfell not when Ned Stark's trueborn sons remain alive," Jon said motioning towards both Bran and Rickon, "my brothers, lord Brandon Stark and Rickon Stark."

Stannis looked from the former lord commander to Davos, "how do I know you're not lying? How do I know you're not doing what the Boltons did with that Jeyne Poole girl?"

"Because he's not lying, that is Bran Stark I ventured with him beyond the wall with my brother and Hodor."

Dany turned taking notice of the three newcomers, the man was of her height and the girl shorter, behind them stood a fat lord whose eyes widened at the sight of her. "Well since we have it sorted out who is the lord of Winterfell shall we not discuss the problem that lies beyond the wall? Find a way to bring the Seven Kingdoms along with Essos together to fight for the living?" Dany said only to be cut off when Stannis opened his mouth leaving no room for discussion.

"By right of succession, I am the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms. Not you Daenerys, regardless if your family still ruled over Westeros the throne would've fallen to me as the only male with Targaryen blood."

Dany could feel Aemon's gaze on her as he caressed her hand with his thumb, not caring who thought he was being too familiar with her.

"Our family?" Dany cut him off, "It seems you and your kinslaying brother only remember we share blood when it came to the iron throne. Were we your family when your brother sent you along with assassins to murder a babe and her brother? Did your brother consider us family when he laughed over the dead bodies of Rhaenys and Aegon calling them dragonspawns? Well let me be the first to let you know the iron throne is no more it has been melted down and the Red Keep destroyed, Westeros has no king and you have no home since I am sure you've heard the Golden Company have captured the Storm Lands at the back of Jon Connighton and that murmur's dragon who calls himself my nephew."

"He also has no heir," Val said loudly before continuing, "his crazed wife burned their daughter for their red god after the Ironborn fled Castle Black with that old man, Theon."

Both Dany and Jon looked at Bran at the same time, "why didn't you tell us this Bran?" Jon asked, already wanting to step out and get air, the room was too hot.

"Because both Bran and my brother, changed ever since we got to that cave beyond the wall. Where my brother disappeared a few days later, with the children who lured him away." Meera cried out accusingly, still not over the betrayal, and never will.

"Jojen knew what would happen," the young Stark inside of him answered sadly, not wishing to think of the many mistakes that were made on his part believing he'd walk once again.

"He gave his life to the great other, and you drank from his essence." Melisandre accused the ruby around her neck glowing brightly, where Dany felt the heat radiating from off the red witch.

"I did not know what they were giving me to drink until it was too late, Leaf told me it would enhance my powers."

"What did they give you to drink Bran?" Jon asked letting go of her hand and stepping closer to his cousin, needing to know what else was he keeping safeguarded before their plans fell apart in front of Stannis if he didn't keep it together.

There was no use in hiding what happened in that cave from anyone here..... "Blood."

Chapter 9: For the Greater Good

Chapter Text

Bran/Dany/Jon

Tempers were flaring and he wanted to leave, or just yell, between the bickering, shouting and ultimatums being thrown back and forth by lord Stannis, the young boy that was Bran Stark grew more bored and annoyed by the minute just sitting, watching, and listening to a man who was willing to sacrifice so much just for power. Believing something he would never have to be his by right, even going as far as to condemn his own daughter to the flames for what he thought was for the greater good. Never realizing what he was truly giving away between each thrust and body burnt, only to lose a part of himself in return. But what could one expect from a kinslayer? His younger brother Renly was never going to be the last, nor would his daughter if he ever got his hands on any other of Robert's remaining bastards.

Bran stirred in the chair Jon seated him in willing the memory of an older brother's sobbing tears in the dark away when they spoke of going on an adventure to the Wall and surprise Jon.

Closing his eyes, only wanting to remember the smiles that lit his blue Tully eyes up whenever lord Eddard Stark watched them in the training yard proud of his offspring and his nephew, while lady Stark scowled at Jon whenever he drew close to them. The reminder that none of her trueborn sons would have the look of a Stark or the temperament of one.

If only you knew the truth of who Aemon truly was. Would it have tempered your anger for a man who never took another outside of your marriage bed? Or would you have still put my kin's life in danger for letting it slip out by mistake of who he truly was? I guess I will know the truth of that once we meet again Stoneheart.

A faint wind brushed across his face, and with it, the room shimmered in glowing stars, a woman's voice ancient like how he felt inside spoke eerily soft. "She will come but I am sure you already knew this. You have angered and stolen what they believed was theirs to take a promise unfulfilled." Quaithe said walking around the many that were gathered arguing back and forth over alliances while the Great Other grew stronger filling his ranks beyond the Wall, his army slaughtering everything living except for those who kept the faith.

Wetting his dry cracked lips amused by her haunting words as he tilted his head away from Stannis who was giving Daenerys another ultimatum which she quickly rebuffed while Jon glared at the lord not hiding his anger for him, his hand at times restlessly brushing back and forth against the dragon glass dagger he kept well hidden. Any man would've probably stabbed Stannis Baratheon by now and taken hold of his army which was mostly made up of Northmen and Wildings. But that was not Jon, his kin would rather observe the situation at hand before taking action. While Robb would've done the opposite particularly if Greywind was still alive. The image of an unmoving Stannis bleeding from his throat gave the boy inside him great joy for those willing to use blood magic for further power, only to bring destruction upon themselves.

Turning his gaze towards the red priestess who watched him with intensity, the heat from her body permeating through the animal skin tent, yet the cold from the other, only tempered her fire. "I know she will." Bran echoed unconcerned with whatever she would try. The woman held no power over him.

"The night draws near and with it her presence, the sleepers grow wary." Quaithe whispered moving past him, going towards those who would sacrifice themselves for the greater good curling her finger in the prince's hair, "you know you could just tell them both the truth? He already believes both of us liars who are playing our own game."

"It matters not what Aemon believes, I have done my part, the rest is up to them."

"Even if his distrust grows?" Quaithe quipped moving closer toward Stannis and the two men standing close to him like foot soldiers of the Great Other. The stout ugly one who looked at Daenerys lustfully, while the man who called himself the hand of the king, was pleading to the princess with his brown eyes to go along with his king's crazed order. Causing her to glare at the smuggler, a fool who openly served a man not worth serving, his missing fingers and those sacrificed to the flames from blood magic were all the proof needed to prove how the events at Storm's End during the rebellion left Stannis Baratheon unhinged.

Bran spoke causing her to step away from the three pretenders. "I would rather it grow, we have meddled enough at this time. The ink has been rewritten, the threads stretched far enough for now."

With his parting words, Bran watched the light fade, the room once more dimmed, and with it, the last light of day as the arguing continued in the background.

How anyone could deal with this man Dany had no idea, yet tried earnestly to remain calm for their plan to work by playing the demure princess even if she was already failing at her part in this murmurs farce. "You cannot order me like one of your subjects, nor will ever be your queen, you already have a wife my lord." She gritted through clenched teeth fighting away the urge to burn her distant cousin from existence, asking how was it anyone could follow such a man. Particularly the two who stood closest to him.

Many claimed her father Aerys Targaryen danced with madness before Duskendale, which made her wonder, what did the other lords of Westeros think of Stannis Baratheon? Surely if they thought him the rightful heir, many would be here present willing to fight on his side instead of following a boy who came from Jaime Lannister's seed and not the usurper Robert Baratheon.

Stannis folded his arms over his chest scoffing at her words. "A wife that is far beyond childbearing age and can bear me no living child," he barked back knowing having the Targaryen for his wife would solidify his rule over the Seven Kingdoms, what better way would there be than having the last two trueborn members of house Baratheon and Targaryen coming together in unison to bring the kingdoms together and ready for the upcoming war? If his late brother Robert had any sense and wasn't so hellbent on getting rid of all the Targaryens, they could've kept Daenerys as a political prisoner along with her brother Viserys as wards to the crown until the young prince reached majority and sent to the Wall. Instead of having so many whispering in the dark calling him a usurper, and now a man with no true heirs that came from his seed.

Dany could feel her dragon blood boiling, begging to be unleashed, the will to torch the arrogant man where he stood growing, causing her to clench her hands in and out of a fist tempering her inner dragon, least she accidentally summoned Drogon only for her dragon to turn the tent into a ball of flames. "My lord, I came here to discuss plans in taking the North back from Roose Bolton and his loyalists. If the dead get across the Wall and we don't have the North or the other six kingdoms and possibly Essos working together to thwart the enemy, there won't be anywhere for the living to hide.

All that I have done and sacrificed was for my people, Stannis reminded himself gazing over the princess who he would make into his future wife one way or the other, even if it involved Melisandre conjuring some spell to bind Daenerys to him, once he got rid of the bastard or ordered him back to the Wall not liking how familiar he was being with the Targaryen heir. Especially now that he had not one but two trueborn Stark heirs in his presence to win over even more Northmen for his cause of gaining the iron throne. "And what better way to bring the Seven Kingdoms together than under my rule with a Targaryen bride at my side?"

Jon had about enough, "she doesn't wish to marry you, my lord, I do not know how many times, or how differently Daenerys Targaryen can word her displeasure in becoming your wife or giving you heirs."

"So the bastard finally speaks? Are you also bedding." Targaryen harlot? Stannis almost finished saying only to stop himself from noticing the change in the bastard of Winterfell who did not cower by his words but held a murderous glare of defiance.

"Don't you dare, if you value your life, my lord you will not finish that sentence," Jon threatened his eye turning red at the sound of a dragon roaring dangerously close to the tent as screams could be heard outside and horses neighing in distress. "You are no king, you have no army, you are no one, and Daenerys Targaryen is not the last member of House Targaryen, you hold no power over her or who she may lay with or marry."

Stannis began shouting causing spit spittles to escape his lips, "Viserys is dead, and Rhaegar's rotted bones lie beneath the Trident, there are no other Targaryens but her," he pointed towards Dany who just smirked at his words drawing closer to stand near the bastard, feeling his anger get the best of him by just how familiar the two looked next to each other. Did they marry in secret to take my throne from me?

Dany let a pretend yawn out, "I grow weary and tired of this mummer's farce my lord and I am sure you now have questions, so let me be the one to introduce you to my nephew Aemon Targaryen," Dany smiled enjoying the look of surprise on the Baratheon before it was masked. "The son of my brother the former crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms and his lady wife Lyanna Stark. A woman your brother went to war for who did not want him in return." Dany mused to herself knowing she would pay good gold if it was actually Robert here instead of Stannis to learn this truth kept hidden away in the North.

Ser Axell drew his sword snarling at the bastard no matter what the princess had to say, the Targaryens lost the throne by right of conquest. He was followed by three Manderly guards standing in the back next to their fat lord, who remained silent, compelling Stannis to mock the former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. "You're outnumbered bast" he could not utter another word feeling the sharp edge of a blade against his throat.

"I don't believe his grace appreciates you calling him a bastard my lord, now tell your wife's uncle to yield, we don't want any blood spilling over the map we need to use," Howland warned pushing the blade of his spear into the false king's neck, recalling the many days he had to spend in the mad man's presence just to get his Meera back from his clutches, pretending to care.

Stannis could feel the edge of the spear drawing blood causing him to speak softly wanting to curse under his breath for listening to Melisandre to leave his sword in the flames of the brazier to be imbued with R'hollor's powers for his champion.

Was she now working against him? She did leave Castle Black in a hurry after the dragon flew off with Snow's body, only to return three days ago declaring the fires spoke of the resurrection of the former Lord Commander. "I am the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, and I will have your heads personally along with every traitor who stands at your side. What right does a Targaryen bastard have over a trueborn? Even if he marries the Targaryen girl? All he would be is a bastard consort to a girl who was sold and married off to a Dothraki savage horse lord, never knowing the ins and outs about Westerosi politics, what high lord or lady would follow the two of you?"

"What difference does it make, when now many many noble families and smallfolk in Westeros have grown tired under the rule of a Baratheon and Lannister," and your constant wars?" Bran finally spoke knowing they would have to deal with Dorne and their issues at another time. "You can stand by those who brought these kingdoms together, and join us for the greater good, or you can continue down the path you're on, which will only lead to death. Your priest has already forsaken you for another."

Jon drew closer to Stannis, with a heavy heart, the Lord had his issues but Jon was no kinslayer, and the Wall would be Stannis's final destination for the remainder of his life if he did not join them and bring the Stormlands into the fold. "You once gave Mance a day to join you or burn, I will only give you until the hour the wolf to make your choice." He warned, turning to Tormund right after knowing how the man felt about the Baratheon lord. "Tie and gag both he, ser Axel, and his hand up together with some of your men watching over them at all times, I don't want any of them escaping."

Turning away from Tormund speaking to no one specifically giving out another order, "and find the men of the Mountain Clan, we have a castle to recapture and need our army to start packing up and ready to move come morning, Winterfell is ripe for the taking." Or it would burn the main part to its foundation and rebuild. He kept to himself.

"Yes your grace," a tall Manderly guard said, as Meera and Tormund worked together tying all three men up and gagging them before they were dragged out.

"I didn't know you were going to do that after I gave up pretending," Dany whispered in Aemon's ear grinning next to him, wanting to hug him, not really caring for those around them, watching their embrace, then again how would Aemon respond to her doing that in front of so many? Would he be mad at her for embracing him in front of so many?

"I wasn't going to just stand by and allow him to disrespect you like that Dany, I told you before, it's you and I, and those who are willing to fight with us," Jon said mushing Dany's hair as she flushed red next to him. My future wife..... f*ck! Jon shook his head pushing the thought away.

"Your graces," Melisandre interrupted bowing her head slightly, causing Dany to groan at the woman as she spoke, "I saw the two of you fighting against the Great Other in my flames."

Jon huffed out an exhausted breath, not this again. "You also saw Stannis fighting in your flames believing him Azor Ahai," He retorted. "I don't trust you or your ulterior motives, especially with how fast you seem to be turning against Stannis."

"The flames did not lie, did I not warn you to keep your direwolf close to you? Or of the daggers in the dark my king?"

"King?" Jon huffed..... "Funny not even a few moments ago you called Stannis your king in front of us my lady. Are your loyalties so fickle you'd switch rulers in the blink of a heartbeat?"

Melisandre made to speak until Jon raised his hand silencing her. "I wasn't finished speaking my lady..... I don't trust your flames. They also showed you things that were not truthful when it came to my sister, resulting in my men sticking their daggers into me after I decided to tell all of them I would make my way to Winterfell and free my little sister." Running his hand unconsciously where the scar on his neck remained.

Melisandre took a step closer to the two Targaryen monarchs "I kept the secret of who you were from Stannis after his return to Castle Black, delaying the burning of your body knowing the princess would show up to take you with her because the Lord of Lights showed me this in the flames.

Growing annoyed already Jon stepped away from Dany moving closer to Melisandre causing the red woman to act fast, "a king should always listen to his subjects and allies before passing judgment, your grace."

Bran began laughing at her words, causing Melisandre to glare her red eyes at him, imagining the crippled boy burning in the flames, until his words caused her to seize in her musing. "Your loyalties are debatable at most Melony."

Melisandre looked at the boy knowing she would deal with him when the time came, her concern now was winning the two Targaryens on her side to defeat the Great Other and his army of the dead. "As for the flames your grace, I interpreted them wrong, blinded by what I wanted to believe. Till I saw a dragon reborn in flames fighting against the army of the dead next to two other Dragonriders."

Dany looked at the red witch with unease not wanting to believe her words, recalling the dragonhorn she saw in her vision with Bran. The thought of Viserion falling captive to the likes of the ironborn and their sorcery. "Two other Dragonriders? How can that be?" She asked turning to Bran, who only curled his lips into a lopsided smile.

"The dragon must have a third head." Bran echoed causing fear to rise in Dany's heart praying her Viserion didn't remain in Meeren after Rhaegal left. But flew off to someplace else without wreaking havoc upon any innocents. The image of the little girl's bones being presented to her when she held court that day came to the forefront of her thoughts.

She needed more answers, yet could not get another word out as three men along with two women, walked inside the tent, two of whom looked at her nephew with shocked expressions. Causing Aemon to speak right away to calm down the two men.

"I am sure you all have questions, but that will have to wait until another time, we have a war to prepare for," Jon said running his right hand across his face. They had enough things to cover and he did not feel like explaining to anyone how he was alive once more especially not to the two men of the mountain clan who were just as superstitious as freefolk. While Alys Karstark he would need to introduce to Dany.

He barely needed sleep after returning to the world of the living, nor did the cold bother him as it used to, yet the events from earlier seemed to have drained him as people stepped out of the tent ready to give their men orders, except for Val who remained not ready to leave. "Can I help you, my lady?" Jon asked wanting to get this over with so he could pick Bran up and take him to the tents, where the northern army was located where his cousins would be safe along with Dany.

"Could we speak in private Crow?" Val asked looking over at Daenerys who was watching the two interact with each other.

Howland stepped forward, "I can take your cousins and the princess to the tents, your grace."

Jon went to say no until Dany spoke right after, "I am tired from lack of sleep, and we leave early tomorrow for Winterfell." She said softly, it had been a long day, between what Aemon had said. And the arguing between them and lord Baratheon.

Jon took a seat, meeting Val's blue eyes that were filled with mischief, "will you not sit my lady, and tell me what it is that you needed to say to me in private? Is this about Gilly's son?" Was the boy here? Jon wondered recalling the thought he had at one time considered raising the boy in Winterfell.

"The boy is safe with Tormund's family," She paused before continuing to recall the way the Crow watched over the dragon lady. "Did you steal the dragon princess, you both seemed very familiar with each other."

"Is this what you wanted to speak to me privately about Val?" Jon rose from his seat, needing to get back to his family. "No, I did not steal her and I need to go and get some sleep for tomorrow's march or did you forget we were leaving?"

Val reached for his hand causing Jon to step away sensing cold emanating from her, "my lady, I think you should find your own covers." He said leaving her there, not seeing the look of hatred in her eyes.

"Your grace a word?" Turning to the side Jon almost wanted to be asked to be left alone so he could find where his family was taken until he realized who was waiting on him standing next to two guards.

"Lord Manderly," Jon answered casually stopping in his tracks. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I wanted to know if come tomorrow after we make camp once more I could speak to you in private seeing how tired you already appear from dealing with a man like Stannis Baratheon."

Jon smiled a tired smile, "only if you can show me what tent my family was given my lord?"

"At once your grace right this way." Lord Manderly said as the two spoke casually to each other, with Jon noticing how one of the guards would not take his green eyes off of him their entire walk. He would need to keep an eye on that one, recalling how that same guard kept his eyes on Bran, Dany, and Rickon.

"We should've mentioned something to your cousin, I don't like all this secrecy," Howland said leaning Bran against an Ironbark tree. "I already broke one promise to myself at never taking Aemon away from Winterfell and bringing him to Greywater, when he was a boy, after seeing what was taking place in Winterfell under Ned's watch after he promised Lyanna he would take care of her child and watch over him like he was his own."

The hour was late and he did not feel like listening to the crannogman complaint about past mistakes. "You have lingered long enough my lord, she will be here soon," Bran remarked not needing the woman to see Howland here next to him.

Howland drew a deep breath in understanding, moving towards his daughter's side at once. "Come, Meera, to the trees," he said taking his daughter's hand in his, hearing the crunching sound of leaves off in the distance.

The boy known as Bran stilled his breathing slowed, running his right hand lazily across the roots of the Ironbark tree saying a prayer in a whisper as the winds around him blew ruffling his auburn hair as the woman drew closer holding a dagger in hand.

"A deal was made, and you have taken what was not yours to take."

The Three-Eyed Crow wished he had a weirwood arrow and bow at that moment feeling his hands twitching at an old memory. "My kin was never going to be used as a weapon of the Great Other, nor was he ever going to fall for your failed charms, especially now after what he sensed."

"Not with you still here," She sneered, moving closer towards him and humming a chant, the Three-Eyed Crow laughed off as the sound of crows squawking in the background coming closer could be heard, as vines rose from the ground holding the woman in place.

"You nor your kind have any authority here long as the wall stands." Bran's eyes turned milk-white as the vines encircled the woman in place covering her mouth and pulling her on the snow-covered ground as crows began feasting upon her pale flesh killing her where she lay. "Burn her now, and take the boy back, before he comes through." The Three-Eyed Crow spoke with authority watching knowing there were no lengths he was willing to go to rewrite the wrongs. Smiling when the burning arrows of the Crannogmen burned what remained of the woman.

Jon bid the lord goodnight before stepping inside the tent, stopping before entering, hearing Dany's voice sharing another story about the Dothraki horse lords to Rickon since the boy seemed to love the stories of nomads regardless of how brutal these said men were in real life.

Moving the flaps away as he entered, seeing Rickon with his head rested in Dany's lap sleeping as she gently stroked his hair in her hand causing Jon to wonder if she had realized yet that Rickon was already out cold.

"He's asleep," Jon whispered looking around the tent not noticing Bran. " Where's my cousin who loves keeping secrets?" He whispered taking Rickon from her hold.

"Bran left with lord Howland and Meera saying they had much to speak on."

Jon hummed at her words placing Rickon on one of the four cots covering him in bear fur. "I guess lord Reed wants to know everything Meera wasn't able to fill him in about Jojen and what really happened to him beyond the Wall in that cavern. I still want Bran to explain to me what became of the children." And the blood-drinking he left out.

He stopped speaking coming to lay next to her on her cot pulling the covers of the fur over them. "I almost wanted to stab Stannis in his black heart for speaking to you in such a manner, it made me think of my little sister Arya, imagining him demanding her to do what she didn't want to, then again she would've most likely been the one to stab him in his neck for even asking anything of her."

Dany sighed at his words tired, wondering how so many put up with a man like Stannis. "I know you did, just like I almost wanted to summon Drogon to burn him inside the tent."

Jon gazed into her amethyst eyes, pushing a strand of hair away from her face. "And here I thought we moved on from you wanting to test out that idea if I can survive dragon flame?" He teased causing Dany to roll her eyes.

"And be named a kinslayer? No, I plan to keep you around." Dany yawned slapping his arm lightly closing her eyes, enjoying his scent as sleep took her.

"That warms my heart," Jon said yawning right after her, turning to notice her eyes closed, causing him to close his until the room glowed in stars with Quaithe standing over him.

"Come we need to speak young dragon."

Jon rose gently avoiding waking Dany, asking himself if he was ever going to get any sleep tonight especially for the march tomorrow. "What is it that you want? And how are you able to come and go as you please?"

"Glass candles your grace," Quaithe replied looking back at the sleeping princess speaking softly. "I know you do not trust me, and I don't blame you for your mistrust."

"Then why are you here?" Jon yelled not liking the way the shadowbinder kept her eyes on Dany.

"To leave you with a warning, your powers are already awakening, while she fights to awaken hers. You need to help her remember who she is, the dragons know," Quaithe said, leaving before Jon could ask her what she meant.

Chapter 10: The Fallen

Chapter Text

"There would be no sleep tonight he realized, even with the lid of his eyes heavy, and his legs feeling like pudding beneath squished snow, as the cold northern wind shifted around him like a dance in the mist, causing his breath to frost walking through the camp towards where he knew Stannis and his men were being held and watched over by Mountain and Crannongmen.

Quaithe's haunting words would not let him rest, "your powers are already awakening, while she fights to awaken hers."

What powers? Jon wondered out loud. He didn't feel any different, no dark clouds were hanging over his head? Well apart from...... No, he would not go down that trail of thought..... Maybe there was an urge to rid the realm of those who did wrong to him and his family before the real war began against the dead.

But who could blame him for wanting to see both the Twins and Winterfell burn by dragon flames?

Roose Bolton and those loyal to him were who he wanted to suffer the most out of everyone else. What right did any of them have to live when they supped and drank with a man who killed his king?

Their king..... Jon finished the thought remembering Robb and the day they said goodbye to each other, never knowing when they would once more see each other again.

For Jon, maybe it would've been when Robb became Lord of Winterfell, or maybe when Catelyn died, the thought made him sad that Robb died a gruesome death, and miserable knowing his mother was brought back, while Robb's head was removed from his body just to be replaced with the head of Greywind to be paraded around in front of Bolton and Frey men.

If things were different maybe it would be the two of them that died there at the Twins instead of dying in separate places. The memory of him riding out of Castle Black that night to go fight at Robb's side if he would have him caused Jon to hiss out loudly, knowing full well the ramifications of what would happen if he were caught after pledging his life to the Night's Watch.

God's they were both so young, summer boys playing at being leaders only to fail, thinking they were doing the right thing, only to piss off those who followed them, never expecting their men to do wrong by them. Who would have ever known leaving Winterfell would be the last time, I ever saw so many of my family again? Ever saw Robb again? Certainly not us, we were brothers all but in name. He never got the chance to mourn for Robb and now Jon supposed he would once they took Winterfell back.

His dead ancestors were probably rolling over in their crypts at what became of their ancestral home, and would probably be crossed at the Targaryen with Stark blood who remained filled with thoughts of burning Winterfell with all those inside like what Aegon did to Harrenhall.

"Your grace," Melisandre spoke softly standing in front of the young king holding the valyrian steel blade clutched firmly in her hands.

"What is it you want?" Jon asked bitterly, he had no time for her games nor did he even want her remaining in his camp.

"I come bearing a gift that was lost to you back at Castle Black and also to offer my services to both you and the princess," she replied her red eyes glowing from the light of the braziers that were placed in different locations around the camp as she slightly bowed her head before unsheathing the valyrian steel blade. "For the wars to come."

Jon moved closer towards her, seeing the smile on her red lips of her and the glimmer on the red ruby around her neck, looking pleased as if she was offered the chance to stand next to him, or be at his side. "I know what kind of help you give, and I want no part of it," he spoke bitterly through gritted teeth taking his sword from the red witch, needing to leave, the heat radiating from her body made him think of the seven hells those who followed the new gods spoke so fondly of. Causing him to wonder if the woman was the gatekeeper of that said place, she did enjoy burning people for her lord of light.

Her lips pursed into a scowl like someone who had just swallowed a lemon, this was not what she expected, her charms were not working on the young prince, she needed to approach this situation differently, he would need her help against the Great Other she would make him see one way or the other. "You are the lord's chosen, the one who was promised to save us during the coming long night along with the princess, I saw it in my flames," she offered, touching his arm lightly feeling the way he tensed against her warm touch, yet it would not discourage her from what she needed to say. "There is power within you your grace, power that can cast shadows to defeat your enemies, all you need to do is ask."

Jon removed her hand off him knowing what sort of shadows Melisandre spoke of. "You ought to take the ashes from your eyes, my lady, neither Daenerys nor I will ever require your council or fall prey to your tricks like Stannis Baratheon and the countless others who have. If you know what is best, you would leave from my sight and ride North to Castle Black, or mayhaps even head south. Maybe the Lannister queen and her son will welcome your council since they have nowhere to go or any kingdoms to rule over." Jon spat letting his feet take him to his destination, not wishing to stand and listen to any of her poisonous words that seemed to suck so many men and women in, both Selyse and Stannis were proof enough for believing in Melisandre and anything she promised would be theirs.

He did not get but a few feet away from Melisandre until someone else called out for him needing his attention. "Jon," he could hear the faint voice call out to him, causing him once more to stop in his tracks, wishing he had just settled for laying next to Dany under her covers instead of going for a walk to see Stannis and give him an ultimatum to stay out of his and his families way.

Would there be no peace or escape on this night? Turning his head around being met by Bran who was being carried on a sled by lord Reed and his daughter Meera who made a small bow of her head towards him as she and her father said in unison, 'your grace,' until lord Howland spoke first, unable to keep the smile off his lips or the twinkle out of his green moss-colored eyes looking at the only thing that remained of the shewolf. "You look so much like her," he choked out pushing away the memory of the room that smelled of blood and blue winter roses. "It's hard to even after so many years to believe she's gone from this world, never to smile that wolfish grin of hers that could melt hearts. And now I fear once the truth spreads across the North and to the southern kingdoms that many will drag her good name, never knowing the kind of person your mother was, or her stubborn willingness to protect others, even me." Howland finished staring off into the dark seeing a vision of himself, and the shewolf who defended his honor in more ways than one.

Jon did not have to wonder what the man spoke of so fondly; he had seen the vision of his mother going up against three knights, twice her size defeating them in the joust, never to claim her prize, or let it be known by others who was the knight of the Laughing Tree. "I saw in a vision what she did for you, it was foolish especially if it was the mad king's men that had found her." He would forever call his grandfather the mad king, cause that was what he was to Jon, the man who caused the rebellion single handily, though his uncle Brandon and grandfather Rickard were foolish to enter a mad dragon's lair. Then there were his parents and what they had done by running away together. Yet despite their faults, Jon could never blame them for not doing their duty. Love was the death of duty!

"But I am glad she did, now I see why lord Stark kept telling Arya she reminded him so much of my mother." Jon smiled to himself licking off the fresh snow flurry that landed on his top lip knowing his mother wasn't some poor captured maiden, or damsel in distress so many made her out to be, nor was his father some rapist who took advantage of his mother. If anything he would make sure all of Westeros and Essos learned this truth that was hidden away.

Bran interrupted his cousin's thoughts, causing Jon to sigh out in frustration at having the memory of his parents disturbed. "He will never listen to you, but I am sure you already know how fickle-minded a man like Stannis Baratheon can be once he believes something, regardless if it is out of his reach with the truth of who you are spreading throughout the camp and soon the rest of the North and South."

"I know he won't when he still considers himself the one true king of Westeros and those who oppose him, traitors," Jon replied thinking back to the letter Lyanna Mormont had sent to Stannis back at Castle Black and how upset the man became.

"Then why waste your time to see a man like him, your grace?" Howland asked tight-lipped seeing the red witch standing there watching them like she was getting ready to cast some spell on all four of them.

"Because we can't keep him as a prisoner, and I know he will never work with those he considers traitors of the crown who all deserve to die. Another reason why we can't take him with us to Winterfell, there's just no telling what chaos he will cause."

"Chaos is a ladder, the only place for Stannis is at the Wall, the mummer's dragon and the Griffin rule over the Stormlands," Bran interjected once more knowing the sins of the father would sooner catch up to him from all the kinslaying he as done just for power that was always out of his grasp. "There is something else you must know before meeting with Stannis." He would keep the part out about the leeches that were thrown into the flame with Robb's name on Stannis's lips away from Jon there was no telling what his cousin would do with such information.

"Get those two up," Jon directed to the four mountain men, while the boy who accompanied him inside the tent looked frightened yet tried to remain strong. "I will not suffer kinslayers who are willing to sacrifice their own family and others just for power. You are just the man Donal Noye spoke of when he described you. Pure iron, black and hard and strong, but brittle, the way iron gets. Now I know what he meant by, he'll break before he bends." Jon stopped mid-sentence remembering the young princess. "I pray you break the moment you enter the gates of Castle Black and her memory haunts you for the remainder of your days." Jon spat, his hands brushing back and forth along the pommel of his valyrian steel sword. Would the gods curse him and call him kinslayer if he pierced Stannis's, black heart? Or would they call it just for putting a rabid dog out of his misery?

"He wouldn't," Davos raised his head sending a small prayer to the mother, looking from Stannis to the one who was once referred to as the bastard boy of Winterfell wondering if the red witch had spoken of the things both her and Stannis have done, he would play the fool to get his answers. "Who will haunt Stannis?" He asked, fearing what the former lord commander would say, begging it was not Stannis but his wife who ordered the princess's death.

Jon turned to the smuggler, Bran had mentioned the man had his faults for sticking by Stannis even after all he had witnessed, believing the man his god, who gave him everything he had. Jon would break that thought cycle beginning now. "I take it your king nor ser Axel didn't mention it was both Stannis and his wife who decided to have Shireen burnt?" Jon said as one of the mountain clan men picked up Stannis pulling him to his feet roughly. Unlike most in the south, the people of the North particularly mountain clansmen cursed kinslayers, another reason why it was these seven he would have escorted the two men to Castle Black.

Davos shook his head violently not wanting to believe the words coming out of lord Snow's mouth....."No, no, he wouldn't do that, your mistaken his grace king Stannis loved his daughter more than anyone, he would never harm her." He retorted feeling a tear prickle at the back of his eyes while his heartbeat wildly against his chest waiting for Stannis to deny the claims laid against him.

Jon could see the fear gripping the man, while his son wiped away the tears that were now falling from his eyes, causing Jon to realize that Devin and the princess must have been friends, despite so many who didn't believe lowborns should interact with highborn children. "I was told you witnessed the many things Stannis did for power, would you like me to name those of who he had a hand in killing with blood magic? Or the name of his young nephew you had to free, just so the red witch wouldn't sacrifice him to supposedly wake dragons from stone?"

"Just because I said the names doesn't mean I killed them, and that bastard is no nephew of mine," Stannis spat on the ground only to wince in pain when he felt the chains being tightened around his arms.

"His name is Edric Storm, your grace," Davos shouted from behind as his son ran over towards him, after having his hands released from their chains causing Davos to look over his son making sure he was well and hadn't been harmed while he was chained here next to Stannis and ser Axel.

"The boy is no nephew of mine and would've given me what I wanted if you had not released him. I should've had you burnt for your insolence that night. Because of you, Melisandre wasn't able to wake dragons from stone. This war would've turned around if I had my dragon."

"There was never going to be any dragon, the woman is a liar and a witch, forgive me, your grace. Even after all you did, she still told you there would be others who would rise and call themselves a king." Davos paused, trying to clear his head recalling the day news came of his wife burning Shireen. Was this the reason why Stannis didn't send anyone to bring her south to face judgment? Was this the reason why he welcomed the dragon queen? Did he honestly believe if he sacrificed Shireen it would lead the dragon queen to come over on their side and marry his king? By the seven why had he never listened to Salladhor Saan? Even after they parted ways near the Sisters?

How much misery and heartache could he have spared if he had just left Stannis's side? He knew it was his king and the red witch who had killed Renly with a shadow demon. Yet he still followed, only to lose his sons on the Blackwater by wildfire. A battle Stannis would've probably won if he wasn't a cursed man.

Davos sent another small prayer to the mother begging that neither he nor his wife or the rest of his children would be cursed for following a kinslayer any longer.

"And what do you plan to do with me bastard?" Stannis asked eager to begin his plans in getting rid of the former lord commander, waking Davos from his worried thoughts.

"I do not care what happens to you, or ser Axel once you are escorted back to Castle Black, just know neither you nor your red witch is welcomed on this side of the North, cross the wall into our territory and you will be killed on spot along with those who follow you. If you choose to take the black that is up to you and ser Axel, or mayhaps leave for Essos along with your wife and whatever remains of her queensguard since the false dragon along with Jon Connington now rules over the Stormlands." Jon made to leave only to stop in place.

"Do not think this is the end bastard," Stannis threatened through gritted teeth feeling the weight of his chains around him.

Jon wetted his lips, the sound of his dragon roaring outside at Stannis's threat, "you have no army, my lord, I fear neither you nor your red witch, cursed his the kinslayer," he replied walking out of the tent as both Stannis and ser Axel were dragged out a minute after.

"Should we not follow the king father?" Davos drew his son closer towards him, they would need to make haste for home. While the former lord commander should watch his back, after making an enemy out of Stannis and the red witch, already knowing what the two were capable of doing.

Chapter 11: Winter comes with Fire and Blood Part 1

Chapter Text

Wolfswood

The night's air remained chilled even with the fire roaring so close to him, as he stared into the clear inky night's sky, trying to not allow the fear of the unknown to take root inside of his heart, twisting her tendrils around his body, where he would find it hard to breathe and get air into his lungs or worst, unable to hold a sword.

He was almost a man now at five and ten and had already seen more deaths than any young man his age should be allowed to see. Regardless of being told that day to always keep his head up and weapon near when they set off for the south to fight for their former king Robb Stark who sought revenge against House Lannister and the bastard boy-king Joffery Baratheon, if lord Stannis's letters were to be believed.

Well former king, since word already spread he was poisoned and killed at his own wedding. While his grandfather Tywin Lannister died soon right after from a crossbow in the privy if the rumors were to be believed by the same demon monkey who'd killed the young Lannister king at the purple wedding.

Letting out a shallowed breath watching the puffs of mists expand out before him trying to get comfortable under his furs, while his uncle stoked the flames as memories of betrayal found their way into his thoughts.

From the events at the Red Wedding, where both Bolton men and Frey men turned their cloaks against men they had fought with, drank, and ate alongside, while dare he say, might have even shared a whor* with.

Oathbreakers, kingslayers, men without honor, they were now called by other northern houses in whispers, who were too afraid to say it in open. Fearful of what lord Bolton or worst, his sad*stic bastard would do to them and their families. Knowing the bastard took great pleasure in the games he played on both men and women who were already dead regardless of them still breathing air into their lungs.

Letting out an anguished groan ruffling against his furs, all the while trying to get comfortable, not wanting to remember everything that led him where he was now like it was just yesterday, from his mother crying explaining that he was still a greenboy of summer, who didn't even know how to use a sword.

While his uncle argued back that boys as young as twelve have gone off to war before regardless of them being the only child. Which both brought fear and excitement to him back then, never thinking he'd ever go south, or see anything below the Neck. Expecting to live his life on the small patch of land his now-dead father was given by lord Bolton after his return from fighting on the Trident against the Targaryen forces.

"I don't like this uncle," the younger one whispered unable to keep warm from the biting cold that swirled around them in mists. "We should head back instead of continuing on this track, make our final stand at Winterfell."

There was something different and erie about these dark woods tonight causing him to imagine it whispering at him, though the younger Bolton soldier would not mention what was giving him unrest as his blue eyes looked over on the trees around them feeling a shiver go down his spine.

Knowing if whatever was out there lurking, didn't get him first, surely lord Bolton's bastard would skin him alive for all to see just in case others had any preconceptions of turning back or fleeing like women.

"You mean besides the cold winds rising from the north boy?" The older answered low under his breath not wishing for wondering ears to hear them whispering aloud, lest they be branded as traitors since tensions were already high in both encampments.

"Aye, and the fact the majority of Stannis's army is now made up of nothing but mountain clansmen and wilding savages who know what it means to fight in the bitter cold, unlike the southron f*ckers we were led to believe we would be fighting." The younger replied angrily knowing with the little men lord Bolton sent out with the bastard that day along with the Frey men who by far were fairing badly unused to the bitter cold.

"Look around us uncle, we are supposed to be fighting against Stannis and all those who decided to side with that southron lord who calls himself king. Yet the soldiers of both houses Manderly and Umber sleep not near us but away from us. The only ones that huddle together with us and share our fires and meals are those of house Frey."

"That's cause the bastard doesn't trust these soldiers from houses Manderly and Umber, and as for the Freys." The older began scratching at his beard pondering the answer to his nephew's question. "The Frey's make up the majority of the few men we left Winterfell with. Best to keep them close, instead of having them turn on us like they did the young wolf."

"Not unless the other north men don't turn on us first, killing us in our sleep or cups, before the Freys even get a chance to draw any of their weapons. Look around uncle, these southron men grow sicker daily, dwindling our numbers."

Throwing more dry wood into the fire before continuing his hushed conversation with his nephew." Or maybe the Freys turn against us before the north men if they realize Stannis has the upper hand once we clash in the open field, where men's loyalties are fickle at best in the game of survival just to fight another day." His uncle replied staring into the face of his sister's only child, promising her he'd return the boy once all this war was over and done in the south.

Pity, no one knew lord Bolton would turn cloak on the young wolf, killing him, while so many men and women he'd drunk with died near him, while both he and his nephew watched from a distance.

The men and women of the North could say whatever they wanted about them now in secret, yet he and the boy knew the truth. They were no oathbreakers or kingslayers.

"Even I thought after what happened in the south, and lord Bolton becoming the new warden of the North we would be allowed to return home back to our families. This is no life for a pig farmer like myself or a boy with summer still between the ears." Gathering his thoughts before continuing, "instead here we are freezing our asses waiting to see who'll kill us first if the cold winter doesn't get us before then."

Turning serious to gaze into the eyes of the boy, seeing the fear in them. "If anything should happen-"

"I know what to do, you worry too much," the younger complained already knowing what his uncle would have to say since he always repeated the same words. Even upon their return back North where the Ironborn had control over Moat Calin for a time, until trickery was used against them to get them out with promises of allowing them to return to their sh*t infested islands, only in the end for them to die in the North.

Where even now he could still hear the faint sounds and screaming those poor souls made after they were fed to the bastard's bitches. Causing his heart to thud like a war drum knowing if the bastard lived and found out he had fled. He was just as good as dead along with his mother and perhaps even his uncle's family.

"Listen to me boy and listen to me well, you're all your mother has in this world, and she won't survive this winter alone." Pausing to catch his breath feeling the cold sting of winter breathing down his back. "You will run and hide if you can't get to a horse straight away. And remember what else I said about that."

"That I should not move from my hiding spot no matter what until at least a few days." He replied smiling at his uncle patting the sides of his huge cloak where he kept hard bread and cheese. Knowing in the rush of things no one ever really thinks clearly when panicking.

"Good," he replied slapping the back of his nephew's head and smiling at him warmly, only to feel the boy grow tense, as even he reeled his head around hearing the sounds of wolves howling. "Get some rest we have a long march tomorrow, it's probably nothing. " He tried to assure the boy, but even he didn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth tightening his cloak even tighter trying to keep the fire going. Winter was coming for all of them, he knew that much.

He could piss himself right now knowing he'd failed. No matter how he tried to go over the events of last night, it still came back to the fact that he'd failed his uncle, unable to get away or see anything in front of him clearly. Not knowing if his uncle was even still alive with so many covered in soot and blood.

While the dead, the whispers said were being piled up to be burned, instead of their bodies or bones being sent back to their homes. Not that he could ever blame the victors, anything was better than being left out here for the crows and animals to feast upon. Or worst, old memories of being ordered by their superiors to throw northern soldiers' bodies into the river near the Twins.

Hearing the whimpering sound of the old man that was tied next to him, praying to his gods for forgiveness, caused the memories of last night to wash over him like taking a dip in the chilled waters near his home.

Recalling the cold mist that blanketed over them first, while wolves howled in the darkness of night, still hearing the cries of men being brought down by steel, never getting a chance to hear his uncle yell at him to not be a fool and to just run.

Yet run where? There was just nowhere to go or anything to see in front of him clearly, the most he could do was hide behind one of the many trees, praying to the old gods both he and his uncle would be spared.

Wishing he'd listen to his mother to stay instead of going south with his uncle. Now he felt as though he was cursed by the old gods regardless of not participating in the deaths of so many northern soldiers and their king at the Red Wedding.

Would he now forever be labeled an oathbreaker and kingslayer if he was ever allowed to return home, near Weeping Woods, where his mother still awaited his safe return? Or would he be allowed to take the black?

There was no way he'd ever see his mother again, but at least he knew she would not waste away if she learned he died. Though right now, he didn't know what his fate would be, same as everyone else that was chained up while North men watched over them with disgust. Even the Manderly and Umber men who he always knew would do to them what, his lord Bolton did to all those north men at The Twins.

Suddenly catching his breath from where he was placed to sit in wet snow, his hands tied behind his back daring not to look upon the two dragons from the corner of his eyes, who roared down flames last night causing no one to escape.

Those who weren't butchered early and given a fast clean death, either by the sword, dragons, or wolves, now awaited the unknown. Resulting in the boy in him growing fearful of what would befall him, once the one so many wildings and clansmen looked upon, waiting for him to finally speak his orders as if he were their king, ready to judge and sentence the prisoners of war.

And why wouldn't he? The young man looked just the way he imagined Stark kings of old. Who had ice in their blood and fought with direwolves at their sides. At least that was how his mother described them to him in her stories when he was still a boy.

Yet this Stark not only brought winter from the mists that encircled him, making it hard for anyone to truly pinpoint him for a clear shot.

The only thing you could see if you were able to stare long enough or hear, was the red flames of his sword swishing in the air, causing many to either flee or try to attempt getting close to him. Yet died where they stood in fire and blood.

Some of the men's voices echoed in whispers, calling the young man, the bringer of death.

Leaving him unsure what to believe, since many claimed ice brought death and fire gave life. Though what would be said for the young man before him, who brought both ice and fire, along with the one who slid off the largest dragon with ease. Looking so much like who he imagined Rhaenys or mayhaps even Visenya to resemble. Both a warrior queen of fire and an ethereal beauty mixed in one, standing next to who he supposed many were now calling the new king of winter.

The Dreadfort

What may have taken a distant Stark relative of his two years in starving the red king at the time out of his castle once their food supplies ran out, due to its high thick walls, along with how strong the fortress still remained after so many years.

Took both his and Dany's dragons no time in securing all the provisions that could last an army three years. Half of which had been sent north back to the Wall knowing they barely had anything in their food stores. The deal he'd made with the tall thin representative of the iron bank, Tycho Nestoris for food for castle Black he knew would take moons to arrive in Westeros from Essos.

Frustrated not knowing, for the most part, why the banker had not left the North and returned back to Braavos on one of his ships that were still anchored at East Watch by the sea. Causing Jon to grow wary of that said thin gaunt man, and how he watched Dany at times when he thought no one was paying any attention to him.

Yet for now, Jon would not concern himself on the banker, knowing Dany was being well protected by Crannogmen of the Neck along with his Stark family. While both the wolves and dragons were never anywhere far. He still held no trust in any of the North men who claimed they had planned to turn cloak back on the Bolton's once they engaged Stannis's army, slaughtering both Bolton and Frey soldiers who they were sure would never suspect anything.

Shaking those thoughts away of mistrust knowing his cousin would be the one to keep a close eye on all of them, as he walked down another flight of steps, where the air was stifling and musty, yet still, the cold remained. As Jon began flexing his burnt hand, the closer he reached his next turn with Ghost at his heels the further down the cold long narrowed hallway both man and beast trudged along, going past house Bolton's torture chambers where blood still marred their walls, heading towards the last set of stone steps that would lead him further underground where his prisoner was being held.

Knowing the man's days were numbered, once the former steward of Winterfell's daughter arrived from Castle Black, knowing this kill belonged to Jeyne Poole, after all, she had been through from King's Landing up until now.

The poor girl had seen and had suffered a lot from the sad*stic bastard, and it was only right for Ramsay's wife to be the one to deal the deathly blow after sentencing him to death along with her peers.

Entering inside the cell room that smelled of piss and sh*t, resting his hands on the cold rusted rails, glaring down on the Bolton bastard who never saw what was coming, after trying to flee in the dead of the night on his horse, never expecting dragon flames to block his escape, spooking the poor horse throwing the sad*stic bastard in cold wet snow.

Then there were the men who quickly pointed out within the chained prisoners who he was. Not that he needed their help, since he already knew who the Bolton bastard was.

"It's nice to see you're finally awake bastard," Jon seethed recalling the pink letter that resulted in his death, believing he'd truly married and raped his little sister Arya.

Causing him to lose all sense of thought until he heard the squawk of a bird, seeing the raven near him, knowing it was Bran, who he was sure was keeping tabs on him.

Perhaps worried he'd lose control of himself and kill the bastard here now after Bran suggested the last remaining members of house Bolton should die like traitors of old with their throats slit and their blood drained into the roots of the Weirwood.

Though Jon suspected his cousin wanted these men killed at the Weirwood for another reason. There were many in the North who believed some members of house Bolton were skinchangers, who could upon death move into the bodies of others. There were always some truths to old myth stories told by wetnurses.

Barely hearing the man's painful groans bringing him from his thoughts as Jon gazed into the pale eyes of the bastard. "I know you have much to say and can't say it due to your venomous tongue being removed. I can't have you spooking your poor wife once she gets here, being that she's the lady of the Dreadfort and will have to pass your sentence since your dear father calls himself the warden of the North and Lord of my family's castle Winterfell. A castle I have regrets in not being able to burn to the ground just to smoke your rat-faced father out of."

Hearing the raven squawk at him, caused Jon to glare at it, shaking his head in annoyance at the warged bird, and at being followed and watched over. "Though as much as I may want to burn your father alive for his crimes of kingslaying and oathbreaking."

Letting his words wash over the chained prisoner in front of him, gripping the cold rails tighter fighting away the urge to do to him what his father did to Robb, as memories of being shown what happened at the Red Wedding to his brother, begging him to flee, almost caused Jon to just put an end to the Boltons now, along with all those traitors eating and drinking away in Winterfell without care.

"Much as I may want to burn everything inside of Winterfell, you, your father, and his loyalists have brought taint to. I doubt my young cousins would appreciate me setting their ancestrial home ablaze, just to take years in rebuilding with winter coming."

Seeing the look of contempt in the bastard's eyes knowing he was too weak to even attempt escaping his chains, gave Jon great satisfaction. Knowing whatever plans he and his father had for the North would never come to pass, where he ran his burnt hand lazily in Ghost's fur leaving the bastard with his parting words. "Winter is coming with fire and blood bastard, and I shall take pleasure in doing to your family what yours tried to do to my mother's when you all but attempted in bringing an end to house Stark. And believe me, I shalt not make the same mistakes as my kins of old made when they allowed your kind to live instead of wiping out your line."

Chapter 12: Jaime II

Chapter Text

The air still smelt of burnt flesh and smoke, from where he stood trying not to think too much. Knowing thinking was what always brought him trouble, steadily watching bodies being tossed into the river, under the morning sky that remained dark, the winds howling, and lightning flashed bringing some semblance of light against his skin. Where Jaime swore blood remained, no matter where fat droplets of rainfall poured down on him, soaking his skin clothes.

Not wanting to think of what was before his eyes, for carnage and bloodshed were all the same. From fleeting memories of childhood, and all the in-between he'd witnessed during his last life and into this new one, from once it started.

Where he'd seen men who disobeyed his father, be put to the sword and not even their families spared to take up their blades once they came of age, seeking revenge against the lion Tywin Lannister.

Their houses were no sooner wiped out from the tales the smallfolk of Casterly Rock whispered and no sooner, bards piped during the many elaborate feasts hosted at the Rock.

Where well dressed fair maidens with flowers in their hair, who tried to catch his eyes, during his time being the heir of house Lannister. Before he decided to listen to his sister. Swearing his life and vows to the kingsguard of Aerys Targaryen.

Danced and laughed alongside his sister, to the song the Rains of Castamere. Where both Houses Reyne and Tarbeck came to know what it meant to go against their new liege lord.

No longer were they dealing with the likes of his weak-minded grandfather, Lord Tytos who gave into the sheep's every demand. But instead, the lion who would make them and everyone else in Westeros, rue the day they went against Tywin Lannister.

The young wolf made that mistake, for even trusting a Frey, or for that matter a Bolton.

"What about the others?" the wind hollowed, echoing the names of those he'd fail, knowing he should've gotten them out of the Red Keep, instead of sitting upon the iron throne with his former king bleeding out below his feet. Waiting to see who would come and claim the throne of the dragonlords.

"Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon." Jaimie sniffled at the memory of those three, never expecting his father to order their deaths. The children and their mother were innocent of the mad king's crimes.

But alas the proud lion remembered what Aerys had done when he brought forth Cersei's hand for Rhaegar, and how the king had called his father a servant. Refusing the marriage proposal between the two great houses.

His father had aimed too high, to be amongst the dragons, and in the end, the lion had to settle with the stag of the fields. A whor* and a drunk, unworthy of a lioness's love.

Yet still, no matter, additional power was what his father sought, to bring fear into the hearts of men. For what was power and legacy without fear?

"Seven hells," no wonder his father's dead body stunk where he lay in the Sept of Baelor. He was rotten to the core in life, so why wouldn't his body stink to the pits of the hells, where the followers of the seven, spoke fondly of? Where the disobedient and unbelievers went.

Jaime hissed silently like a snake in the bush, having thoughts of his father.

Tywin Lannister was dead, and he was?

Seven hells what was he now? A corpse walking? Being amongst the living?

What had it been? Where had the days or moons gone?

Jaime shuddered at the recollection, where the smallfolk within the caverns jeered and shouted, while the noose hung tightly around his neck. As life slowly slipped away in memory of his failures, and a void of nothingness.

Bringing his single hand up towards where the blackened bruised scar remained. Knowing he didn't want to bring thought to what lady Stoneheart called for, his death included, for failing her and breaking his oath, when it came to her daughters and her family's ancestrial home.

Where fealty was sworn for the life of his son after he was brought back from the dead. Was this what he would be remembered for? A cowardly lion, who instead of using the sword he'd coated men of house Frey's blood in, to not pierce his already none beating heart?

Then again would anyone believe such tales song by the smallfolk of the Riverlands, of what became of Tywin Lannister's golden son? Or would the remaining members of his house call these tales lies, made up by the people of the Riverlands?

He would sooner not want to know, he'd much rather his family, including Cersei believed he died. Knowing his sister would sooner hold faith to that, than ever believing he helped freed the North men who were supposed to be sent to Casterly Rock along with the then lord of the Riverlands.

Since lady Stoneheart had all but usurped her younger brother Edmure, calling him a weak man who only thought of his co*ck and that child, who was no kin to her.

Proclaiming the Riverrun and the Riverlands now belonged to her daughters from this day. For no child of Frey blood would ever inherit, or for that matter, a bastard king who sat upon the iron throne could ever decree these lands be given to the likes of his dead aunt's husband.

Who from what he'd heard was hung high above the torrents of Riverrun for all to see, by those who were supposed to be serving the castle. No sooner throwing his aunt in a cell, to live out her remaining days. A prison cell that stunk of sh*t and piss, Jaimie knew all too well from his days of being the young wolf, Robb Stark's prisoner.

Jaime could only imagine what the ghost of his father was now thinking and probably wished that he'd do. Everything his father ever did was for family and legacy.

Would Tywin Lannister judge and sneer at him now, for him not avenging the death of his aunt's Frey husband?

Parts of him doubted his father would even care, the Frey his aunt was made to marry was weak, and Tywin Lannister despised weak, spineless men more than anything else. Knowing how quickly such men would sell you to the highest bidder.

"You sold your family too," the wind howled in a taunting manner, where drops of rain, ran down his bald head.

To most, he now looked unrecognizable, which he supposed was for the best, knowing the golden hair his sister said reminded him of the sun was no longer. Nor were the color of his eyes, she said reminded her of the rarest green emerald gems. Now his eyes were the color of the crimson of his house color.

He supposed it was befitting that the gold of his hair now gave way to the crimson of his eyes. The only reminder of his house.

"Hurry up and get these bodies in the murky waters for the wolves and crows to feast upon!" A man called out, his northern bur thick with hate, who it was Jaime didn't want to know.

Ever since the rain came to start hours ago rendering lady Stoneheart's celebration at the Twins to come to an alt, at watching this castle be burnt. Where she carried the now dead lord Frey's head everywhere with her.

Calling it her prize, where she would drink from his skull along with the blood of her enemies.

Leaving him to dare not think, about what fate awaited Petyr Baelish once they made their way to the Vale. The brotherhood without banners, having already men embedded in the guards who stood at the Bloodygate.

If it was anything like what occurred here at the Twins, where not a single Frey was spared after the draw bridge of the castle came down. Where men who pretended to be household guards and servants, slew men in their sleeps, and their cups.

They said poison was a woman's weapon along with what was between her legs to kill a man. His sister would surely know about that since that was what she used when it came to Robert, by having Lancel give him strong wine that day on the boar hunt. While using what was between her legs in getting both Kettleblack and Lancel, to do her bidding.

He dared not think of Moon boy, knowing it was ridiculous to think Cersei would ever lay with the court jester. Realizing Tyrion possibly said that out of spite, for what he admitted to him about his first wife.

But for all his sister's faults, what could be said for what he did, when he pushed Bran Stark out of the window of that tower? Or the time he was willing to go ahead with what Cersei had asked of him, to kill Arya Stark for what she'd done to Joffrey, after laying with her, near a drunk Robert Baratheon. Too far gone to realize Jaime was f*cking his queen, while he was out cold from being drunk!

Was all he was doing now for the love of his son? Not knowing how deep within the Red Keep the brotherhood was embedded.

Or was it the matter of knowing he'd sold himself to keep Tommen safe from the grey wrinkled hands of lady Stoneheart?

It was all the above, he knew to be his truth. Tommen would be safe, for his only concern now was for Myrcella, knowing he would need to get her away from the vipers. Before they took their revenge on her.

Chapter 13: Daenerys II

Chapter Text

Frigid winds howled outside making Dany swallow the lump in her throat, as the icy cold air coming from outside seeped within her bones, causing the flaps of the tent to move back and forth eerily making her shiver even more next to the scared girl laying across from her in the cot.

As tear-drenched words were spoken in hush tones of assurance. "It is just the wind Jeyne," she said over and over again, running a hand through her brown mousy hair, having hardly ever left the young lady's side due to the night terrors, she would suffer through from the little sleep she got.

She was like a baby not ready to crawl or stand on her own, Dany regarded, moving her free hand to the side of Jeyne's face, whipping away newly fresh tears after she'd woken up screaming again from another fright-filled sleep, trembling and blinking hard, looking lost for a time until she'd realized she was safe and not locked away inside a cold damped room, with a monster for a husband.

Resting a hand on her shoulder, Dany said calmly... "You need your rest, you're safe and no longer tied to that monster, it's done and over, he is gone, you need to try getting back to sleep."

"Promise me?" Jeyne began, only to cough out sobs once again.

Having patience Dany wiped yet another sob that escaped Jeyne's red-rimmed brown eyes, already knowing what words she was trying to utter out of her mouth. Hearing her breath catch in slurs.

"Promise me you won't leave me behind? Promise you shall take me to Essos with you and not leave me behind as everyone else, who has deserted me, your grace?"

"I gave you my word," Dany answered softly back, pulling Jeyne tightly against her, whispering words of assurance in her ear. There was nothing in Westeros for her. Not a home, nor house Bolton's ancestrial house seat. Since Jeyne said evil was there, and she wanted nothing to do with the Dreadfort.

"Burn it to its foundation, along with the last of the Bolton line in dragon fire. There is nothing left for me here in the North or the rest of Westeros. All that I had and was innocent to me has been taken away. From my family to my virtue, all taken by either the Lannisters or the Boltons."

She was right Dany thought grimly, knowing what semblance of belonging had been torn away from Jeyne's life. From her father being murdered.... to being ripped away from Sansa Stark back in King's Landing, and sent to live inside a brothel. Being made to do things Dany did not want to think of, only to be sent here to the North and made to marry that bastard, who took out his sick pleasure on her.

"Now go back to sleep, I shall be right here with you once you awake."

There would be no war council today or tomorrow, Dany wasn't even really sure if they would be marching anytime soon. But prayed they would. She could do with a hot bath, and the word was Winterfell had an underground water cavern of hot pools that kept the castle warm through their harshest winters.

Humming at the thought of relaxing in a hot bath, she hardly heard Jeyne speaking. "I'm sorry but I had not heard what you said?"

"I said that I shall and get some rest," Jeyne repeated taking in a deep breath, bowering herself deeper under the fur blankets, closing her eyes no sooner right after as her breathing slowed, falling back to sleep.

For how long Dany had remained there hearing the soft snores coming from Jeyne, Dany did not know, as she crossed her arms under her head after a time knowing how much the younger of the two needed the sleep.

While she needed, what Dany could only think of would be a distraction to deal with those who choose to stand by Roose Bolton, as Dany eyes rolled towards the ceiling of the tent, closing her eyes briefly thinking back to just a few days before.

"Aemon?" She could recall herself saying from where she sat. "This is too much to have Jeyne relive through." Dany's eyes glistened, her breath hastened, heart quickening, hearing the nightmare the frail young lady before her eyes was speaking in trembling tears and croaking out words of her time being married to Ramsay, and the torture she had to endure every waking moment around the Bolton bastard. Where she was raped, beaten, tied to a bed in chains, and tortured.

Rendering Daenerys to touch the arm of Aemon again tugging him harder this time. Needing this to trial against the one Ramsay Snow to stop, or come to an alt, the pain in Jeyne's eyes and voice having to relive what she had to suffer from Roose Bolton's by-blow was just too much.

Even looking around the dark hall at the other women who were in attendance, Dany could see fear in their eyes, where Alys Karstark began wiping tears from her cheeks.

Five days had passed since the bastard's execution and his body burned from Rhaegal's flames, along with those vicious hounds of his. And not a day has gone by without Dany wishing she could bring the man back to life just to see him be burned back over again.

Was this the glee her father found when he had those he thought of as enemies burned by wildfire? Was she now slowly turning into him?

Pushing those thoughts away, shifted the covers on her side close to her neck, letting the crackling of the logs burning on the brazier lul, her to sleep. She was nothing like her mad father, she took no sick pleasure in watching innocents burn, only to enter inside a lover's chamber to take the rest of her pent-up anger out on, as the man who had sired her had done to her mother.

Slowly waking up feeling cold once again, bringing the covers over her head and turning to her left, feeling for Jeyne on the other side of the cot, only to take notice that side was cold and Jeyne not there. As Dany brought the covers off of her sitting up. "Jeyne?" She called out worried.

"She's not here," a voice rang out on the other side of the tent as Dany rubbed her eyes trying to get them into focus knowing the voice, but wanting to make sure it was the right person's name she was about to utter. "Alysanne took her outside to stretch her legs and get some air." The woman ended gruffing the words... "Your grace," at the end.

"Thank you my la-," Dany replied, stopping herself before time from saying my lady, not after the shebear told her best to not address her as a lady.

Yawning pulling the covers over her head wondering if the brazier needed more logs, and why her body had grown so cold. "I suppose I should get up and take a walk also."

"His grace brought you elk stew a short time ago. It should still be warm if you're hungry."

She was hungry and was saddened she'd missed Aemon when he came with the food, being most of her time was now spent with Jeyne and the fact that many in the camp found and made their words known that it was improper for her to be sharing a tent with three males. Despite the fact she'd been sharing an abandoned shack with the two Stark boys and Aemon while he healed.

If she gave thought to the situation at hand, the only one she saw now was Rickon, and by the looks of it, the young boy was probably already bundled up and sent off to bed already.

Placing her feet down on the fur-covered ground taking a seat across from Maege, placing the wooden spoon inside the bowl, and taking a mouthful of meat and the unknown vegetables into her mouth. Not caring that the food was lukewarm and no longer hot.

"The weather seems to be lighting up," Marge Mormont said from where she sat on a stool by the fire, sharpening her axes with a whetstone.

Stopping just as she was about to take another spoonful into her mouth. "What?" Was she hearing the woman correctly?

"It would do us all good to get the army saddled, ready, and marched tonight for the war to come."

Looking through the closed flaps of the tent, Dany could tell it was late into the night. " Was the woman mad or just eager to get her axes wet with the blood of Bolton men? "I know I haven't been to any war councils in a while due to my time with Jeyne, but did Aemon say that it was time for us to leave?"

"No," the shebear grumbled. "his grace, said we should wait and see if the last of the storm has passed before we continue."

"His grace is right we should wait-"

"Forgive me for saying this princess, but we should not linger here any longer. The two of you are dragon riders, you both can take the castle right now if you wanted with none inside of Winterfell to stop you."

"We can, but we would still need the army to help with those who surrender. Aemon and I can't do it all on our own without an army at our back."

"Exactly why we should pack up and march, before our men get lazy." Maege huffed out in frustration.

Placing her spoon down back inside of her bowl with the food still on it, "I know you are eager to see Roose Bolton for what happened to your daughter and all those innocents who died at the Red Wedding."

"What do you know of it?" Maege bit out throwing her axe to the ground standing up in all her glory, beating her fists into the palm of her left hand. "My firstborn died serving our king Robb Stark under guests right by North men and that snake bastard Waldor Frey."

"Do not think for a moment that I dont know what pain is or what it feels like to have your child taken from you. I went through that from a witch I believed I could trust, who killed my husband and child."

"At least you got your revenge your grace when you burned her alive. There was no body for me to bury inside of my family crypt, or burn. My daughter's body was thrown into the river for wolves to eat along with other Northmen and women. So dont tell me vengeance when I have not gotten what is due to me." Maege argued beating a curled fist into her armored chest, "I have had to wait years to get what is due to me, and now with what I am owed so close to where I can reach it-"

Hearing Maege's words catch in her throat caused Dany to almost get up from where she was sitting to offer the older woman comfort. But that was a fool's folly. Maege wouldn't accept nor want it. "And you shall have it, I give you my word."

"I dont want any words now, we need to start the march, I need my axes coated in that bastard's blood."

"You along with every other bannermen here, including that of my nephew's young cousins and Jeyne who suffered and lost much in the war of the five kings."

"Yet instead of letting us kill the rest of those men serving Roose Bolton's bastard. We instead had them chained and sent to man The Wall. What right did they have to live when they gave none to men and women they fought alongside a chance to live? Why instead of taking orders didn't they turn their blades on the ones ordering for them to commit oathbreaking and kinslaying against their own Northmen?"

Men only follow what they are ordered to do, Dany would've said. But who was she to speak such words to a grieving mother who now has her chance to kill the man who helped orchestrate the Red Wedding? From what little she'd learned from Bran, Lady Stoneheart had already gotten her revenge on House Frey, with her sights now set out on Petyr Baelish in the Vale, wanting to rescue her eldest daughter, the only child she believes still alive to her.

"I need air," Maege huffed out of breath, "I need to clear my head."

Watching the woman leave Dany knew in her heart Maege was leaving to seek out Aemon and demand the march toward Winterfell continue now. No doubt that was her reason for being inside of her tent, while her daughter Alysanne took Jeyne out for a walk. She needed to get her alone to order the march, regardless of it not being her choice on when to march. She was a Targaryen and many still eyed her warily, despite Aemon also being Targaryen, though she supposed their reason was that her nephew resembled a Stark and fought as viciously as the Starks of old from tales they grew up on. The only thing missing was Aemon riding a direwolf into battle instead of a green dragon named after his father.