Dragons and Wolves

Daenerys rode Rhaegal for what seemed like forever, Rhaego clinging to her breast.

She was numb, Rhaqaro and Jorah sure to be dead, her dragon children being forced to obey Aegon.

They rode across the Narrow Sea, at first she thought to gather her strength and return with her full armies.

It was a long journey and Daenerys couldn’t remember the last time she ate or drank.

During the nights she slept on Rhaegal’s back, clinging to one of his large neck spikes she slept easily.

During the days, she turned over bathing in the sun.

Sometimes Rhaegal flew high in the sky, absorbing the sun he loved so much. The warmth seemed to nourish Daenerys too, enjoying the sunbathing as much as her children.

And sometimes he flew close to the gray, unmarred surface of the ocean. She liked to lean down and graze the frigid water with her fingertips.

Eventually they landed in a very unpopulated area near a stream, it took moment for Daenerys to adjust to solid ground again. She crawled over to the stream and took her fill of water, she laid in the grass for a long time. The grass was itchy but a thousand times more desirable than dragon scales, she rolled in it and sighed. She thought of Jorah and how he once told her that the Dothraki believed that the grass would one day cover everything and that’s how to world would end.

To her, it seemed like the world had already ended. She had won and then been beat. She had been so naïve to believe she’d win the Iron Throne and that would be the end of her troubles.

Both Rhaegal and Rhaego padded over to her and drank from the stream, Daenerys held Rhaego so he wouldn’t fall in.

After Rhaegal flew off to hunt in a nearby wooded area, Daenerys decided to hunt for herself, she found a fallen branch and waded into the water. She had a fond memory Barristan Selmy teaching her to hunt in a similar way. Like he had taught her, she stood perfectly still in the water for quite a while, her stick raised over her head so long she thought her arm would fall off. The water grew calm around her and fish started to swim around her. And one by one she caught five fish, until the sun started to set.

Rhaegal returned by night fall and started a bright green fire for them, Dany made a makeshift spit and started to grill the fish over the flames. Rhaego chirped hungrily at her side, excited about the idea of meat.

Daenerys was just as excited, she hadn’t been this hungry since the first few days after her wedding to Drogo and she refused to eat horse meat or drink horse milk.

She pulled the fish of the spit and gave three to Rhaego, he was growing and fast, he needed more food than her.

The other two she had nearly consumed whole, spitting the bones out and tossing them aside.

Rhaego had finished his fish before her and ate the fish bones she threw aside.

She wondered if she should continue East to find her armies.

Though she was unwilling, tears started to stream down her face and before she knew she was full on sobbing.

Both of her dragons looked confused on how to handle the crying female and she quickly tried to stop, breathing deeply.

In through the nose.
Out through the mouth.

Through breathing, Dany calmed herself and decided to try and look at her predicament logically.
Gathering her armies would be the logical thing to do, raise her armies and attack. But how well would that fair?

She tallied all of her assets on one of her hands. A couple thousand Unsullied, a couple thousand Dothraki and their horses (who refused to cross the Narrow Sea), one baby dragon and one full dragon. Four marks in her favor, if she even counted Rhaego and the Dothraki.

She did the same for Aegon. The Targaryen sword Blackfyre that apparently could cut through anything, two full-grown dragons, the advantage of being on home soil, the strength of the Red Keep, the army and bannermen of the Seven Kingdoms, plus the men he’d brought with him from the east and he also had the alchemists with their growing magics.

Dany sighed, 4 to 8. She was seriously outmatched and she didn’t even have Drogo, Jorah or Barristan to help her. Rhaego hopped into her lap and nipped at her chin, she calmed him by rubbing his scales.

Who would she turn to for help this time?

Jon...

Dany shook the thought away, Jon Snow Commander of the Night’s Watch? For one the Night’s Watch was never supposed to take sides in a war, they had to remain neutral. Two, why him? Why would he help her?

She had perceived some sort of growing friendship between them, they both had overcome countless struggles and achieved greatness in their young lives.

She had seen his lingering glances, his dark eyes taking in every inch of her, she’d have to be stupid not to notice. But the man seemed to be oblivious of his own intentions, his attraction to her probably even subconscious.

She shook all thoughts of him away and returned to the matter at hand.

Dany laid down in the grass, Rhaego on her chest in a comfortable little ball. Rhaegal curled around them. She stared up at the stars.

Did she have to reconquer the Seven Kingdoms? In all truth, she had accomplished her goal (well Viserys’ goal really), bringing the Targaryen line back to power, even if she wasn’t that Targaryen in power.

Why did she have to go back?

Vengeance?

Pride?

She was under no illusions that anyone she cared for was still alive except for Drogon and Viserion. Jorah, Rhaqaro, Barristan and Greyworm probably long dead. Her handmaidens as well.

She thought of all of her travels, she had been all over the world but had she really? She had stomped through them with war on the brain, not taking the time to really enjoy the sights of the world.

She sighed and cuddled up close to Rhaegal, tomorrow she’d start her travels around the world.

--

Jon contacted King Aegon about continuing King’s Landing’s contract with the Night’s watch, it had taken nearly two months to get a letter in response.

In utter shock, he read it in front of his entire company, “To the bastard at the wall,
Anyone who commits a crime in King’s Landing is to be executed, I believe the mercy shown to criminals in the past is why the kingdom has been in such desperate turmoil as of late.
I also believe you, though an unclaimed bastard of Eddard Stark, are the elder half-brother to Lord Rickon Stark, I demand he come to King’s Landing and pledge his fealty to me as ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. If he is not here within six months time I will take it as a declaration of war with the North and the Night’s Watch and eradicate the lot of you.
King Aegon VI .”

The dining hall in Castle Black was utterly silent.

After a few moments of shocked silence, it was the Hound who broke it, “Well I’d kill the bastard but that’s just me.”

“Sounds like a great idea to me,” Arya smiled, she attempted to give Jon a covert wink. Was she so eager to return to King’s Landing? Jon’s thoughts turned to the blacksmith for a moment.

“The Watch can’t take part in this, they must remain neutral!” Sam chimed in.

Val sat next to Sansa, her arms were crossed over her ample chest, “You crows are supposed to remain neutral unless some starts a fight with you. If the inbred sod wants war with the Night’s Watch let him have it, let them try to march up here and attempt to survive the winter. That alone will take out half his troops. Not to mention, all of your Northern bannermen, your crows and the wildlings. If you tell them about the man coming, they’d choose you over the Targaryen any day.”

No one dared to correct Val that this particular sod wasn’t inbred.

Jon nodded, Val did have a valid point, the wildlings were still loyal to him as long as he let them do whatever they wished north of the Wall, with exception of Crastor. Aegon wouldn’t be nearly as accepting of them, that was for damn sure.

“And don’t forget the Tully bannermen as well as our cousin Robert in the Vale, I had to take care of the boy for a while after his mother died, I might be able to convince him to support us,” Sansa offered.

All of the Stark children winced at the mention of Robert Aron, the petulant brat of their mother’s sister.

“Why can’t I just go down there and bend the knee?” Rickon asked. Jon felt a swell of pride in the boy, his first thoughts weren’t of war, unlike their brother Robb. He had loved Robb but he had been horribly impulsive, his compulsive war and spur-of-the-moment wedding had been the death of him.

Rickon thankfully seemed to be developing a bit more sense.

“You idiot, only bad things happen to Starks in King’s Landing, last two times a Lord Stark went down there they were killed, father was beheaded and grandpa was roasted in his armor, do you fancy taking a trip south now?” Arya yelled at Rickon.

Jon grimaced at Arya’s tone with Rickon and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, “While you do have a point Arya, you don’t have to jump down the poor lad’s throat.”

Rickon stuck his tongue out at Arya.

“Jon!” Arya yelled to Jon before she turned to ring the boy’s neck.

“Both of you sit still now!” Jon growled, really? Arya was a grown woman and Rickon well on his way to being a man. Had he really just been thinking about Rickon having some sense?

“Old man Frey is still alive; do you think they can even cross the Neck?” Sansa asked.

“As of six months ago, Walder Frey fell to his death, someone tortured him and then fed him to wild wolves,” Arya explained, a snide snicker escaping her, “Or so I hear.”

Jon had no doubt she had heard first hand—old Walder Frey’s screams, on her way back North.

“So what do we do?” The entire dining hall’s eyes turned to him.

Jon didn’t know.

--

Things weren’t going as Aegon planned.

The man had stormed into the Guildhall, a pale form of fury.

Bran could hear the ruckus he was causing from outside of his office. All of Bran’s studying had paid off, he had been granted the status of master alchemist or as they call them—a Wisdom.

The stone doors of his office slammed open and Aegon the Sixth walked through. Bran bowed his head, unable to kneel.

“Wisdom Brandon I presume?” King Aegon asked , Bran’s observant eyes studied the man, “Unless there is another crippled alchemist?”

In appearance he looked like a male version of Queen Daenerys, for a man he was rather short and slim, very lithe, the most intimidating part of him was his scary pale eyes, “Aye, your Highness, you have found the right cripple.”

Bran had intended it as a joke but the man’s face barely twitched, “I need something that will make the dragons more obedient to me.”

“Have you tried feeding them?” Bran asked, knowing full well that the king was barely taking care of the great lizards, they were still chained up in the hills of farmland just north of King’s Landing. Bran assumed he wasn’t feeding them because if he took the chains off his mouth they’d burn his men but he also might be trying to weaken their wills through starvation, “Or perhaps letting them stretch their wings.”

“Careful with that sarcasm,” The King tried to give him an intimidating look but it didn’t work on Bran,

“I asked you to make me something that will force the dragons into obedience not delight me with your failing wit.”

“Oh okay,” Bran nodded eagerly, putting on his best Hodor impression, “I’m sorry I misunderstood your Highness, I get confused sometimes, I think it’s because my legs don’t work, I’ll get started on the alchemy right away.”

Bran could see the temper flare within Aegon, the king was barely railing it in. Aegon answered him through grit teeth, “See that you do.”

The king left as quickly as he had come and Bran got started on his potion.

Unfortunately for King Aegon, his potion would not have its intended effect.

--

The thought of going to war had sent the North in a flurry of productivity, young bannermen and wildlings had come from all over to train at Castle Black.

Sansa was rather proud of how Jon was handling the situation, he was honestly a great leader.

As a child she had played with him and loved him but as she had gotten older her perception of him had been poisoned by her mother. Her mother had portrayed him as bad, the antithesis to the songs and happily-ever-afters she loved so dearly. In the songs, when a man and woman fell in love, the man wasn’t supposed to father a bastard.

But now she knew the song’s she used to love were all fake, horrible things full of drunkard’s innuendo and little girl pipe dreams.

Sansa was heavily embarrassed by the way she used to think and had immediately warmed to Jon again after Brienne had brought her home.

Tonight, they had had a great feast to celebrate the progress, some wildlings from the far North had brought some gigantic boars down for them to feast on and their Tully cousins had brought fresh greens.

Sansa had retired to her quarters early, she had spent the morning part of the day trying to wrestle Arya into a dress for the occasion to no avail and then had spent the rest of the day trying to convince Val not to steal one of the knights from the Vale. Wildlings—men or women—tended to kidnap people they had taken a fancy too. After a few glasses of sweet wine, she decided to call it a night, having lost the fight with Val, who had snuck off with the smitten knight hours before. Tomorrow she wanted to wake early anyways, to give Rickon his lessons. Years on the run had rendered the boy practically illiterate, he knew nothing of letter or numbers and Sansa had been working tirelessly to change that.

Sansa put on her night gown and crawled under the warm covers of her bed. Thanks to the sweet wine, she fell into a deep sleep with little effort.

She awoke sometime in the night, with a hand over her mouth.