Dragons and Wolves

"W-what are you doing here? How did you get in?" Sansa whispered, nervous. Seeing her was bringing to light memories of King's Landing she had long repressed. Joffrey's abuse, the countless times he had protected her from Joffrey's wrath, the battle of the Blackwater when he had appeared in her quarters as the Alchemist's Guild ignited King's Landing in green firey hell.

"I walked in waving a Stark banner and they let me waltz on in," He smirked with the good side of his face, the handsome side, it was stark contrast to the burnt half. "As for why, well Little Bird I've quite missed your songs."

Sansa composed herself, she wasn't the useless little girl she'd once been. She was an adult now and the defacto leader of the Starks and the Watch, "I don't sing songs anymore."

"A pity," He grinned. "I guess we've both changed over the years, I no longer serve the Lannisters and you Bird, have changed greatly, mostly appearance wise."

His eyes took their time to graze over her body, languidly drifting from her toes to her eyes, drinking in every detail of her. Sansa attempted not to shudder.

"Stop calling me a bird," She grimaced. "I'm a wolf, I--"

"Lady Sansa!" Sam heaved open her old stone doors, out of breath and huffing. He stopped when he saw the Hound. "Th-The h-hound, I've heard stories about you."

"Call me Sandor," The hound turned his mismatched gaze on the meister.

The hairs rose on the back of Sansa's neck, suddenly very worried for Sam's life. Jon and Arya weren't here to protect them. Ghost was poised on his haunches, ready to strike.

"Is your leader here, tubby?"

Sam's mouth fell open, flabbergasted at the insult, "Uh Lady Sansa and I govern in his stead."

"Well then," He growled, turning back to Sansa. He dropped down on one knee, his hounds head helmet tucked under his arm. "I'd like to pledge myself to the Night's Watch."

Sansa froze, was it foolish to think he was still fixated on her and had travelled all the way to the Wall for her? She decided it was very foolish, "I accept your pledge."

----


Jon dreamt through Ghost's eyes, running through a forest. Home.

Stark white snow, silver sky.

From the aurora in the sky he could tell he was very North, definately beyond the Wall.

First it started to rain, Jon kept running, his powerful hind legs propelling him through the forest.

Then it began to snow.

Jon's thick fur kept him insulated and warm, the snow nothing more than a passing thought. He kept running darting between ancient, sky-scraping redwoods and over fallen tree trunks.

A bright light repulsed him and he was thrown back. Jon shook his lupine head, this was wrong. It struck him that he had given Ghost orders to stay by Sansa's side until he returned. Ghost would never disobey and abandon Sansa.

Jon rose onto his four legs, he had been thrown out of a circle of trees. A circle where no snow fell and barren brown soil stood out in unsettling contrast. Trees with faces carved into them.

He had almost trespassed into sanctified ground, an unholy shame upon his Northern ancestors. Jon peered into the ancient shrine and look upon the faces of the old gods. They all had dragon heads.

"Look at you, a warg like my children." Catelyn Stark snickered, materializing in a gust of wind.

"Lady Stark," Human speech was strange coming from a wolf's mouth, it came out as a combination of his voice and a wolf's bark.

Why would she appear to him? The woman who had always hated him for the sins of his father. His only mistake had been being born.

"I know what you're thinking and I'd like to apologize for the way I treated you," There was something behind her eyes, some secret she was keeping. "What Eddard claimed of your origin, the things I blamed on you, they were false."

"False? He's not my father? He didn't lay with another woman that year he was away?

She didn't answer his questions, brushing them off as if she hadn't heard them, "I still hate you though, the things you've achieved, the greatness you're destined for. Why does a bastard deserve such grandeur when my own trueborn sons lie in a grave or crippled."

Jon growled, "Sounds like you're insinuating I don't care for my brothers! I always have, I almost left the Watch to help Robb! And Bran, I've done everything for him! And what of Rickon, are you forgetting your youngest? He's going to be King of the North now."

Catelyn Stark image began to flicker, her usual neat dress flickered on her, it started to look torn and bloody. Her face too, pale and clear one second and bloody and blue the next.

Jon backed away a little.

"How dare you call them your brothers, Snow!" She hissed, there was a large wound on her neck, a bloody line from ear to ear, it began to dribble blood. She tried to lunge for him but she couldn't leave the circle of trees, pulled back into the shrine.

She cursed and pointed at the trees with dragon heads, "And what do you make of this oh wise one? The peaceful faces of the gods you once worshipped replaced by the visage of the dragon."

Jon had been wondering that himself. Did it have something to do with Queen Daenerys.

Catelyn Stark cursed again, answering his thoughts, "Of course it does! Look! If your continue this obsession on the Dragon Queen it will be the end of Northern ways."

"I will!" Jon yelled back, terrified, it was all a dream he knew but a terrifying one. Even his own subconscious didn't want him to entertain thoughts of the Dragon Queen.

"The man you called father was a more honorable man than I gave him credit for, a man who always kept his oaths. If you honor his memory at all you'll keep your oaths. You chose to be a lonesome crow and a lonesome crow you must be 'til the end of your days. You chose to die on the ice wall, not in the arms of a dragoness. Do not do what your heart tells you too."

With that Catelyn Stark flickered out of existence, blood from her neck streaming onto her dark green dress.

Jon shook awake, freezing cold. He looked down at his bare torso, his hands and feet were nearly blue and his body cold and wet.

An alchemist walked into the hospice area, Jon flagged him down.

"Did you people drug me with milk of the poppy?" He asked, hoping to explain the vivid dream.

The alchemist shook his balding head, "No you're fine, we haven't need to dose you with it for at least a week, we've been keeping you to make sure you didn't become gangrenous or somehow infected. You're free to return to the Red Keep, Commander Snow."

Jon shook the man's hand, a little off key from his dream, "Thank you."

Jon turned to get dressed and warm himself in the Southron sun.

----

Daenerys sat on her throne, her golden crown heavy on her head. Jorah had had it designed to look like her dragon's horns and it made her look fearsome. She had taken a liking to the gaudy bauble immediately.

Today, officials from the East were visiting to discuss relations with the Seven Kingdoms.

She wore her grandest attire for the occasion, things that would make the officials think the Seven Kingdoms rich. She wore a red silken gown, with black jewels and embroidery throughout it. Her waist length silver hair hung to her hips in long straight, sheets. Unwilling to put her hair up, she hoped it conveyed she was an untameable queen.

The officials, about a dozen or so men of varying ages, body types and skin colors knelt before her. A few of them were even shrouded in cloaks.

"Please rise, it is uncomfortable seeing people near before me, as if I'm better than them. We are all all people and I hope that we can form a long standing alliance and peace between our lands." Queen Daenerys called out.

"Well of course it makes you uncomfortable, false queen, sitting upon your stolen throne you Dothraki whore," One of the cloaked men called out.

Daenerys stood grimaced, her Dothrakis had nearly lept on the man but she kept them at bay, "Such fierce, scathing words must come easily when one is cowardly enough to keep their face covered. If you dare insult me, I challenge you to take off your hood and look me in the eyes and do it."

The man stepped forward, only a grin visible on his pale face. He pulled off his hood.

Silver hair and lavender eyes.

"I am Aegon the 7th! Son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, the rightful heir to the Iron throne. I call every bannermen of the Targaryen's and Martell's to my side to take my rightful throne."

A dead silence fell through the room.

Jorah who sat calmly at Daenerys side finally decided to speak, "And what proof do you have of this? Besides being fair-haired and lavender eyed? You can bleach your hair and their is magics that can be used to mask eye color."

'Aegon' unsheathed his sword, valerian steal gleamed with the sun from the stained glass windows. It's hilt was black. "This is Blackfyre, the long lost ancestral sword to house Targaryen, it is said in the hands of a Targaryen it can slice through anything."

He turned to a statue in the room and with an exaggerated sweep of Blackfyre he sliced through the statue like butter.

Jorah spoke again, "A talented swordsman can come from any family line, a royal prince or a lowly bastard. This still proves nothing."

Daenerys chose to speak out, "I have one test for you. A real one. A Targaryen can be burnt by dragon fire and remain unharmed. If you truly are the long lost son of my eldest brother than you will have no problem surving Drogon's black flames. You showed me your Blackfyre, I'll happily show you my own black fire."