Dragons and Wolves

Jon placed Bran’s twelve page letter down on his old desk and ran his hand over his face. What was he going to do?
This dragon queen was just as ferocious as her leathery pets were and about a thousand times as irritating.
In the year since she came to power he hadn’t really had a problem with her, not since she had flown to the Wall on her dragons. But he worried for Bran down in King’s Landing, when he had left his heart had leapt in his throat. He remembered his father going south, his brother Rob going south, look what had happened to those two?
A mangled sigh escaped through his clenched teeth. He remembered the day he’d met the Dragon Woman.

It was frigid that night, just like every other night. Jon looked to Sansa, her cheeks and ears were bright red. She hadn’t adjusted to the cold yet, she’s been so long in the South. It made him sad, he remembered playing in the snow all through their childhoods and here she was, a Southern girl now.
They were watching Arya train Rickon. Arya was nineteen now and still the favorite of his siblings. She had always been a little tomboy but now she was a full fledged assassin, having trained with the Faceless ones of the far East. Rickon was big for twelve, at least a full head taller than his older sister and yet she was making a fool out of him.

“Idiot! Don’t duck when I swing at you!” Arya screeched. Jon grimaced, her voice was just as high pitched and grating as before.

“Why not?!” Rickon yelled back, his voice cracked. Poor bugger was going through puberty. You couldn’t pay Jon enough money to go through it again.

“I could easily knock you on the head with my hilt or slice your useless head clean off your shoulders!” Arya snickered swinging again. Rickon jumped back this time but almost dropped his sword in the process. Jon sighed, at least he was learning.

He turned his eyes to Stannis and the sorceress on his lap. Jon may have been the Commander of the Night’s Watch and the one who had united the Wildlings but Stannis still considered himself a King. Jon had no particular interest in him, the Watch and the Wildlings alike were loyal to him but Stannis’ men and their strange religion were getting annoying, always burning things but as long as they kept bringing their shipments of food they were welcome. And yet, he couldn’t wait until Stannis himself decided to travel south again and try to once again conquer King’s Landing but with him at the wall for nearly eight years now, Jon’s hope was dwindling.

But it didn’t matter, Jon was happy. He had his siblings back, Ghost at his feet and his best friend Sam at his right. Summer was cold and winter was worse but his last name wasn’t Snow for anything, he was made for the cold.

“W-what is that?” Sansa asked, her chattering teeth jarring Jon from his thoughts. One delicate finger pointed into the dark sky.

“A star perhaps? Polaris is in that direction” Sam suggested, playing with his Meister’s chain. He looked at Sansa blushing, Jon suspected his friend had a bit of a crush on the girl. As did most of his men, his little sister was quite the beauty and he had even heard Stannis talk of arranging a marriage. But Jon would rather go to war with the man before he let somebody take his siblings away from him again.

Jon squinted up at the object in the sky, “It’s moving, it can’t be a star.”

“A shooting star then?” Same answered, still giving Sansa shy glances.

“No it’s funny shaped, not circular.” Sansa pulled her Stark white cloak closer around her.
From the white object came a burst of fire, stopping everybody in the area. Tommen dropped his sword and Arya took the chance to knock him on his ass.

“Arya!” Jon snapped. Arya shrugged and winked at him, sheathing her sword Needle, the one he had given her all those years ago.

It was a moment later when the white dragon landed with an even larger black dragon just behind it.
All of his men immediately drew their swords and for a moment he felt a swell of pride, he’d managed to turn this lot of criminals into knights of the night. But then he drew Longclaw, the sword his old commander had given him. Ghost rose from his haunches and hissed at the great lizards.

Strange clothed men wearing leathery vests and pants jumped down from the white dragon and ran to the black and pulled a women down.

It was her… The Dragon Woman. Her men dropped to their knees, thumping a fist over their chests in salute.

“Who are you woman?” Stannis yelled, always the eloquent bastard. Jon couldn’t see the logic in irritating a woman who just happened to own the only fire breathing lizards in the world.

She walked closer, “I guess word from the south hasn’t reached yet. I’m Daenerys Stormborn Queen of the Seven Kingdoms as well as the Far East.”

Jon’s eyes drank her in, she was dressed like her men, even wearing pants. Her silvery hair matched the Valyrian steel of Longclaw, she even had a baby silver dragon sitting on her shoulder.

“What do you want False Queen?” Stannis asked, his men tensed behind him. Even they thought trying to antagonize the woman was a bad idea. But Jon had to commend him for his bravado.

“I want you to bend the knee for your new queen, I even made it convenient for you and rode here overnight.” She smiled unfazed, a sarcastic smirk on her lips. A man walked up behind her, older with shaggy brown hair, a King’s Hand pin clipped to his chest, well a Queen’s Hand pin in this case Jon mused.

“I won’t bend the knee to a twelve year old, especially a Dothraki horse lord whore.” Stannis countered. The crowd could sense the unease in the air. The Queen’s soldiers, Dothraki and Unsullied Warriors alike drew their strange but sharp weapons.

The Queen’s lavender eyes were as dangerous as her dragons, “I’ll have you know Ser I am twenty five and you must bend the knee to me.”

“And why is that Targaryen? Will you burn me in my armor like your father enjoyed doing? You might just get a sword in your back just like him. I AM the rightful king, the only king of Westeros, I’ll never bend my knee to a vapid little girl.”

To everyone’s shock she started laughing, “You’ve got balls old man, but not for long. Rhaego might want a snack.”

She pet the baby silver dragon on her chest, “You call yourself a king? What are you but the boytoy of your little sorceress, sitting up here on this ice wall getting fatter and older by the second. I took King’s Landing and won, without hurting anybody. What did you do? Killed thousands and STILL lost. Don’t make me laugh, you’re not a king just a pathetic old man with a small penis complex.”

Jon heard Arya giggle under her breath, Jon sighed again, at least she was at ease. She was damn sure the only one.

“This kind of insolence will not be tolerated, you will show the rightful king his respect!” Melisandre stepped forward, shooting magical fire at the Dragon Queen.

Everyone gasped as the giant fireball engulfed the field. A second before the fireball hit the Queen’s group her black dragon dove forward knocking them all back and blocking them with his black wings, they were as big as a castle and kept them uncharred. But the fireball hit the queen and her baby dragon Rhaego head on.

The crowd gasped, even his trained warriors of the Night’s Watch. Sam’s eyes were as wide as oranges were round.

The fire cleared and the Queen looked fine, her leathery clothes were charred, revealing soft patches of pale skin but otherwise she was just as well as before, not a hair out of place.

Melisandre stopped, looking dumbfounded. “How are you alive?”

“I’m the mother of Dragons, your queen, now bend the knee.” She looked around to the crowd. Her violet eyes were steel.

Everyone in the crowd bent their knees except Stannis, Melisandre and Jon.

Her black dragon shot fire back at Melisandre, his flame was as black as the night, melting the bright white snow beneath them and the sorceress in her place. The sorceress collapsed, a scorched heap in the snow. Stannis ran over to his love.

“Drogon stop!” The queen yelled and the big dragon settled down, looking at his adopted mother. She shook her head at him and frowned but he nodded in response, his gigantic mouth stretched in a toothy smile. She raised an eyebrow at him and pointed to the white dragon. The black dragon Drogon stampeded over to the white dragon and settled next to it, looking sad. Jon wanted to laugh, she just put her dragon in time-out.

Daenerys eyes traveled to Jon and he felt like a teenage boy again under her gaze, nervous and not quite sure where to put his hands. Eventually he sheathed his sword and met her gaze. “And who are you? Why are you not kneeling?”

“I am Jon Snow, Commander of the Night’s Watch. The Night Watch’s mission is to guard the wall and keep the beasts beyond it from escaping, we are independent of any leader or monarchy, kingless—well queenless in this case. Nonetheless I will not bend my knee.”

“Jon.” Sansa whispered next to him, her voice veined in worry.

Daenerys looked to the man next to her, her Hand.

“It’s true, they have no king, when I was disgraced my father left my mother and took the black and was the commander for many years. I believe this bastard is his protégé and successor.”

“He is NOT a bastard! He is a Stark! Jon Stark, King of the Night’s Watch and the North!” Tommen yelled at the man. Arya elbowed Tommen in the stomach. “Oooof!”

“I am not a king I assure you but yes I am Jeor’s successor, you must be his son Jorah.” Jon asked and the Hand nodded.

“Your father gave me Longclaw after I saved his life, I believe it belongs to House Mormont.” Jon moved to hand the sword over. “The Starks lost our family sword Ice when King Joffrey executed our father, we still mourn him and Ice’s loss. I’d like to return Longclaw.”

Jorah stared sadly at Longclaw, “If he wanted me to have it he would have given it to me, he wanted you to have it and so do I. And even its name befits you, with that long clawed beast you have.”
Jon smiled and Ghost looked up at him with his red eyes, knowing he was being spoken of.

Daenerys looked away, losing interest and Jon finally exhaled, under that lavender gaze he was finding it hard to articulate and especially relax.

“Now what of you Stannis? All of your men have bent the knee and your underling has tried to kill me, that’s grounds for execution.” Daenerys tried to stare him down. “I don’t want to kill you, even though your family destroyed mine, I don’t want to take your life.”

“It’s what you’re going to have to do,” Stannis sneered. “I’ll never stop trying to dethrone you, kill you with my barehands for what you’ve done to Melisandre.”

“Any takers Queensguard?” Jorah asked.
Daenerys turned and look away, as a Dothraki walked forward carrying a strange sword, it looked half sword half scythe.

Stannis straightened his crown and knelt in the snow, his head held high.

“Go ahead Rakharo, he’s making it easy.” Jorah sighed.

Stannis’ own King’s Hand Davos looked to Jon with pleading eyes. Jon stared back, trying to convey that this must happen. Westeros could not have peace with a man like Stannis walking around, sanity destroyed by a powerful sorceress.

Rakharo the Dothraki took Stannis’ head.

The white dragon stepped forward this time, breathing golden flames on Stannis’ body, incinerating it.

“Your majesty, I ask that you make the same deal with the Night’s Watch that all the Kings of Westeros had before, your father did this as well.” Jon spoke up.

Daenerys turned back, “I’m listening.”

“Clear your dungeons so often and send your men up here. Give every man awaiting execution as choice, death or life on this ice wall. If they do they’ll never be able to leave alive, never take a wife, never own any land or property and they’ll be away from the cities with your citizens.”

“That sounds reasonable, I agree.” Daenerys nodded. “I guess my business is done here for now, unless anybody else wants a taste of Rakharo’s arakh.”

Jon shook his head, arakh was the name of that strange sword. He kind of wanted one, his glance left

Daenerys and went to Arya. He could see she wanted her own arakh.

“Wait!” Daenerys turned to leave but Bran stopped her. “Take me with you!”

“Bran! What madness is this?” Jon yelled.

“I want to be trained as a meister, I can be Sam’s apprentice when I get back.”

“No, you’re Lord Stark now, you can’t.” Arya yelled, stomping her tiny feet and crossing her arms.

“No I’m not,” Bran sighed reminding Jon a little too much of himself. “Remember I’m paralyzed? I can’t defend Winterfell or the North. I can’t even have children to carry on the Stark line. Give me this one small joy and make Rickon Lord Stark, you chose the black and I choose a meister’s chain. “

“If the Queen doesn’t mind? Can your dragons carry one more?” Jon asked.

“Jon! No!” Sansa begged, the south had killed and destroyed their lives, they belonged in the North, he knew how she felt, he felt the same but he couldn’t deny his baby brother’s happiness.

“Shh Sansa.” Jon gave her a silencing look.

Jorah was the one who answered, “I guess it is reasonable but I don’t think your direwolf will enjoy flying dragon back.”

Bran pet Summer’s fur, “We will meet again, I will be back home soon enough.”
Summer whimpered.

“My body will be in King’s Landing but at night in my dreams I’ll run in the snow with you Summer.” Bran pet his direwolf , soothed its cries.

Hodor carried Bran to the Queen and Jorah atop her black dragon and her men grabbed Bran and helped him on. And then they flew off back into the dark sky. The white dragon looked like a shooting star again.

Jon knocked his fist onto his desk, he had been so stupid to let Bran go. He might as well be a political hostage now. Daenerys wanted to install some of her Dothraki soldiers in the North, have them be the wardens on the North. Only a Stark would sit on the throne of Winterfell and he would be damned before he let any woman—person hold his brother hostage and try to take his other brothers castle.
Something had to be done. He told his steward to bring Arya to him. Arya came in, in full armor. His brat sister was probably five feet at most and looked completely ridiculous in her armor. But that was to her advantage, nobody knew how incredibly dangerous the petite brat was.

He showed her Bran’s letter.

Arya read it, her sharp eyes skimming it disinterest as first but she eventually began to look alarmed, “We have to do something.”

“I hate to ask you of this but can you reassume your old assassin days from back across the Narrow Sea? I know you’ve put those horrible years behind you but—“

“Who said they’re behind me?” Arya left him speechless when she ran her hand across her face, transforming into a thin middle aged man, a smirk on her/his lips, “Consider her dead Lord Snow.”