Dragons and Wolves

Sansa watched the Hound take out ten rangers of the Night’s Watch. What was supposed to be a training exercise had turned into the Hound beating them, badly.

“Ser, could you teach me that twisting stroke of your sword?” One of the men asked, shaking snow off of his dark clothes, excited they had a great swordsman working with them.

“I’m not a Ser, never was,” the Hound growled at him, “And don’t ever call me that again if you fancy having your head attached to your neck.”

Sansa winced knowing he meant every word of it.

The men of the Night’s Watch just laughed his gruffness off and continued their brawl.

The Hound quirked his good eyebrow, surprised and a little annoyed his crotchetiness wasn’t working on them.

Sansa watched him in silence, wary of his motives, Sam on one side of her and Ghost on the other.

He was dressed in the black of the Watch, for some reason unknown to her, without the shiny, metallic armor the burnt side of his face was far less noticeable.

“Hound!” Rickon ran out with his little short sword, “I want to spar too.”

Shaggydog ran behind him, the black behemoth of a direwolf nipping at his master’s heels. He barked and it rang out through the clearing loudly.

“Go away kid, you’ll just get hurt,” The Hound turned to glare at the youngest Stark.

“Rickon! Come over here!” Sansa didn’t want the big man to accidently hurt her brother.

The Hound gave her a sinister look, “Fine boy, you can stay, do you know how to hold the sword?”

Rickon turned to look at Sansa for permission

Sansa sighed and waved her hand, he was trying to one-up her. He probably wouldn’t hurt Rickon, probably. Hopefully… she sighed, who could take the Hound in a fight if something did go wrong?

They’d need one of the Queen’s dragons! Or perhaps Ghost and Shaggydog combined could take him out.

“Shaggydog!” She called to Ghost’s brother, beckoning him over so he didn’t get underfoot. He padded over wagging his tail and barking, Shaggydog sat down next to his brother. He licked his Ghost’s face, to which Ghost growled slightly in response.

They looked like night and day. And it wasn’t just the monochromatic difference. Ghost had been trained at the wall, he was a soldier like Jon, calm and poised and ready to strike. Dangerous in a clever, sinister way.

Shaggydog was half-wild, most of his life on the run with Rickon and the wildling woman Osha, He was a sheer force of power, the danger in him was his untamed personality.

But he had been missing Summer terribly, the ocher direwolf the only one who could calm Shaggydog down.

Sansa still wished Lady was alive.

The Hound’s voice drew her from her thoughts.

“Good,” The Hound nodded, almost unwilling to praise the boy, “Who taught you the sword?”

“My sister!” Rickon smiled, just as wild and loud as Shaggy Dog.

The Hound pointed to Sansa, “This one? The little bird knows how to fight?”

Sam had been getting more and more tense at her side, “Master Clegane, I-I don’t think the nickname is a-a-appropriate, Sansa Stark is a p-princess of the North and she sh-should be addressed as such.”

Sansa turned to look at Sam, surprised at the maester’s reprimand. Did Sam have a deathwish?

Everyone in the clearing grew very quiet, even Rickon stilled.

After a few endless moments of silence, the Hound bent his knee.

“Terribly sorry, milady, I beg your forgiveness,” He didn’t look a bit sorry and it just made her a thousand times more suspicious.

She swallowed hard, “It’s quite alright.”

Sam stared at her in shock.

--

They gathered on an open field next to the Red Keep, covered in flat green grass, it had once been home to many farms but since the War of Five Kings it had all but been abandoned.

‘Aegon’ stood with his back to her, Blackfyre strapped to his back, he was telling his men how he would change King’s Landing when he was king. Apparently, he had brought a small army.

Dany had called her remaining Dothraki and Unsullied, most of the men she’d brought with her to the
Seven Kingdoms were out on patrol, most were across the Narrow Sea ruling in her stead.

Other officials had gathered to, namely Martell’s of Dorne who had been her staunchest supporters, seeing as Elia Martell would’ve been her sister-in-law and the Daenerys she was named after had been wed to one as well.

Tyrell’s and Lannister’s were also present, despite having to give the throne to her they had been seemingly obedient out of fear of her dragons. Also in attendance were septons and silent sisters, as well as maesters and alchemists and their apprentices. Far back, she could see Bran Stark in his wheeled chair, his conspicuous direwolf missing.

She was starting to get nervous, despite Jorah and Jon’s assurance. When had she started thinking of him as Jon instead of Commander Snow? She shook that thought away.

Sure she had her dragons but that didn’t ensure her kingdom’s loyalty on the off chance he was a true Targaryen. And her large scaley children didn’t guarantee her safety either. She sighed and Jorah patter her back in comfort. She looked up and gave the aging man a weak smile.

“It’ll be alright,” Jorah assured.

She wasn’t sure.

‘Aegon’ approached and threw a bunch of papers at her, most of them landed in the wet grass, Greyworm caught a few, “Here are the documents you wanted me to sign.”

They had made him sign documents to ensure Drogon’s burning him was legal and it couldn’t be considered a war crime, that ‘Aegon’ was a willing participant.

Jorah growled at her side, “The blatant disrespect you are showing Queen Daenerys is really grating on my nerves.”

On hers too, she glared at the boy. Drogon leaned his giant head down and nuzzled her face, almost knocking her over. His lethal scales would cut anybody else but to her they just felt smooth, she rubbed his head, she prayed he wouldn’t fail her.

Drogon and Viserion, the white, were present, baby Rhaego on her shoulder. Rhaegal was still perched on the Red Keep, always the attentive guard.

“Are we going to do this?” ‘Aegon’ asked, if he was truly her brother Rhaegar’s youngest then he would be just a bit older than her, a year at most but he sure didn’t act like it.

“He reminds me of Joffrey,” Barristan Selmy whispered at her side, he had been a part of the King’s guard but after dealing with young King Joffrey he had joined her side and saved her life time and time again, under the guise of an old squire named Arstan. He was very old now, too old to be part of her Queen’s guard but he was still a trusted advisor.

“Yes,” Dany sighed, the crowd cleared, all moving behind her and her dragons, leaving ‘Aegon’ alone on one side of the field, his back to the sea.

Drogon’s head was still hovering over her, she reached up to scratch him under the chin, a great rumble of a purr escaped the great lizard, “Are you ready my Drogon?”

Drogon was the largest of her dragons, easily as large as the Red Keep, and he knew it. He was sweet and protective to her but he was quite arrogant and unfriendly to the rest of the human population. In a way, his personality was very similar to her late husband Drogo’s.

He lumbered forward, his black scales looked as slick as oil under the bright Southron light, moving sinuously toward her supposed nephew.

‘Aegon’ visibly tensed, his hands clenched in front of him in a soldier’s stance, his violet eyes looked a tad nervous.

“Now Drogon!” Daenerys yelled and Drogon released a great stream of thick black fire. It incinerated the grass as it flowed toward ‘Aegon’.

The massive flame hit ‘Aegon’ and continued through him out toward the sea.

The crowd stilled, utterly silent waiting for Drogon’s flames to clear.

Daenerys held her breath, Rhaego’s claws deeply embedded in her shoulder.

Drogon’s flame seemed to burn for an eternity, dark smoke twisting up toward the sky.

Eventually the smoke and flame cleared, and there stood an unscathed Aegon Targaryen with a smirk on his face.

Dany gasped.

--


“You suffer the same problem as your father,” Catelyn mocked, “Too honorable for your own good. It’ll get you killed just the same as him.”

Jon stared up at her, sitting on his haunches in the snow, the wind twisting through his white fur.
He knew it wasn’t true, he wasn’t honorable in the slightest. He wouldn’t have used Night’s Watch for his own means and used his little sister in an assassination attempt if he was as honorable as Eddard Stark.

“Though abandoning your oaths won’t help you either,” Catelyn had appeared in her dead form this time, all dried blood and gray skin, “That’s what got your brother Rob killed.”

Jon whimpered at that, how he missed Rob.

“Don’t look up at me with those sorrowful red eyes, all I can do is sit around and watch, waiting for you to die,” Catelyn sighed, “How I long for it.”

“You shouldn’t” Jon growled, his voice caught between a wolf’s howl and a human’s voice, “I keep Bran, Sansa, Arya and Rickon safe.”

Catelyn cursed, “You’re abandoning Bran! Leaving him in the Dragon’s nest! Don’t you love him?”

“I do! I believe he’s fine here for now! I believe I’ve made peace with Queen Daenerys,” Jon argued, struggling with human speech in his lupine body, his extended and heavily fanged jaw made speaking quite difficult.

Catelyn was eerily silent, glaring at him.

Jon’s dreams of Catelyn were starting to haunt him, he had been terrified of the woman as a child but hadn’t thought of her in years before his visit to King’s Landing. He wondered why he was dreaming of her now.

Jon shook his head, as if he could shake the haunting dream away.

A group of Unsullied marched Jon and his ten men out of King’s Landing, Summer marched at his side, looking around and taking in the strange city. Bran had been grateful to see Summer again but had made him go with Jon north. Bran had told him it was to keep Jon safe on the road and that
Summer would be much happier home with his brothers but Jon knew he had other reasons. It was too conspicuous to keep the great direwolf with him.

The Unsullied were the best soldiers he had ever seen, quiet and obedient. He was used to leading his pack of criminal misfits, he wondered what it would be like to lead a group of great soldiers. He turned to look at the lot he was taking with him, three robbers, one rapist (who he would have to keep a very close eye on around Sansa), two murderers and two boys that had willingly taken the black, the eldest looked about twenty and the other about fourteen.

He figured leading a real group of soldiers would probably be very boring anyways. They had almost neared the gate when a man called out to him.

“Commander Snow! Commander Snow!” He turned to see a tall man with black hair and blue eyes, covered in soot. A blacksmith perhaps? He carried what appeared to be a large sword sheather in leather and wrapped in dark gray silk.

The group stopped, the Unsullied closing in around the rapist and two murderers. Jon turned to them, “Can I have a moment?”

The Unsullied nodded silently and moved the group ten feet away.

“Do I know you?” Jon turned to look at the man.

“I am an old friend of your sisters,” The man started.
Jon’s brow furrowed,“Sansa?”

“Arya,” He leaned in close and whispered, “She is safe, left yesterday morning.”

Jon breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you for letting me know, I do appreciate it. For reasons I’m sure you’re aware of, I beg of you to keep her time in King’s Landing a secret.”

The man nodded, Jon took a closer look at him, he was probably around Jon’s age, perhaps a year or two younger, “Of course, I wanted you to take a present for your family, for the future Lord of Winterfell, Rickon Stark.”

He handed the sword to him; Jon gave him a curious look. Jon unwrapped the silk around it and nearly jumped back. It was like seeing the ghost of his father. It was the ancestral sword of House Stark, the Valyrian blade Ice, “How?!”

His father had wielded it in battle and Stark’s had used it for more than four hundred years. But it had in turn been used to execute his father.

He had thought the Lannister’s melted it down and named it Widow’s Wail and then the story went that Jaime Lannister had given it to Brienne of Tarth who named it Oathkeeper, she still carried it today.

“I know what you’re thinking but it is really Ice,” The man whispered, “The Lannister’s had you lot believing they’d melted it down but instead they had it destroyed and kept it hidden in the Red Keep, I’m a blacksmith and forge weapons for the Queen’s men, the pieces of it were given to me by Jorah Mormont at the Queen’s request to reforge it for you.”

“It is a great present,” Jon Snow stared at Ice with mixed feelings, “Thank you, uh I didn’t catch your name.”

“Gendry,” Gendry gave him a smile, there was a large smear of soot on his face.

“I’ll give my sister your greetings,” Jon nodded.

“Thank you Commander Snow.”

“Call me Jon,” Jon gave the man a grin, strapping Ice on his back next to Longclaw, he was a tad excited about giving the sword to Rickon. He wondered if he should wait until his next Name Day to do so or just give it to him the second he arrived home.

They nodded at each other and went their separate ways.

Jon left King’s Landing and led his men North with a smile on his face.