The King Who May Yet Be - A Jon Snow SI

[Firewillreign]

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths and a clear mind were paramount.

...It wasn't working!

My eyes snapped open as frustration and tinges of hysteria ignited within me once more. I resisted the urge to scream my confusion and outrage, but it was a close thing indeed. I got off of my seat, pacing wildly under Barristan's watchful eye. I ignored his protests.

My Kingsguard had already applied a poultice of his own making to my burns, mashed together from herb he'd bought from the innkeeper. Turns out that serving a pyromaniac for a king instilled the need to learn how to prepare for a variety of burn wounds, who knew?

Regardless, we had bigger concerns than me agitating my burns. Namely, the fact that I had burns to begin with. The very thought had me near frothing at the mouth with confused and disbelieving rage.

Deep breaths.

I wasn't an idiot. Hot water and an open flame were two very different beasts, I was well aware, but I had managed to dove into hot springs of such heat they had scalded Arthur after an instant's worth of contact. Dear gods, just standing in their presence had Arthur near fainting, and yet somehow I, a child, was absolutely fine.

No. That had been magic, pure and simple, and my memories of what Daenerys would have one day achieved coupled with my own experience had all but assured me that I could not burn. Period.

Yet here we were.

Here we fucking were!

Dimly, through the haze of unyielding rage that currently clouded my senses, I could recognize just why I felt like this. The supposed resistance to flame wasn't just an advantage or a tool that I could leverage for my benefit.

It had been proof.

Proof that be it magic or the gods or even fucking fate for all I cared, I had some greater power on my side helping me. The Kingsguard were invaluable and an assurance, but this had been a strength of my very own, a power that had given me the confidence I didn't know I needed.

Not until it had been snatched away from me while I was none the wiser.

A few moments later, we were outside, the pale light of the full moon shining down upon us and the darkness of the secluded clearing we'd found for ourselves illuminated by the makeshift fire Jaime had set. Above it lay a copper pan Jaime had traded for a few coins, filling the brim with streaming water.

"Jon-" Arthur's voice was a measured thing, calm permeating his words, by I had no patience for it

"Don't!" I snapped angrily "Don't say another word!"

I turned to Jaime "That's good enough"

He nodded, a guarded expression on his face.

I was well aware that I wasn't exactly making a good case for my sanity here, but at this point, I was well and truly fed the hell up.

So, being the epitome of good thinking that I was, I stomped forward and, without a single word, jammed a finger into the steaming pot.

SHIT!

I leapt back swearing like a sailor, because that burned like all hell.

It was gone

"Jon" I wasn't quite sure which of the three had spoken then, but I wasn't listening regardless. Without another word I turned and stomped back to the inn, furiously rubbing the tears out of my eyes

What the hell was I supposed to do now?

...

I spent the next few days in a haze of angry lethargy, trying to deal with the disappointment of my broken plans and the hopelessness they seemed to produce. I didn't read the journals. I didn't Badger Arthur with questions. I just seemed to drift listlessly.

But I couldn't stay that way. Too much was riding on my shoulders for me to just throw in the towel at my first major setback.

I came back to myself days later when I was startled from my sleep and opened my eyes on a bright new day. For all that my straw bed was surprisingly comfortable, true rest was denied to me by my ever-present dreams, and I had a strong feeling that the state of affairs would not be quick to change. Rolling onto on my back, I sighed, before reaching for the journal I kept by my bed.

Then a thought had me pausing. There was no point in adding a new entry. The contents of my dreams had remained the same for the past several nights, and the last had been no different.

Shifting scales, ash and smoke, and a three-headed dragon set in black stone.

Over and over again the dreams had come, yet still, I remained no closer to deciphering or obtaining any useful meaning from them

With a tired sound, I stood and let the thin blankets pool at my feet.

Baristan was already awake, eyes sharp and aware of all that he was sitting in the floor whilst leaning on the wall directly opposite me. Kingsguard surveillance at its finest.

I nodded "Good morrow, Barristan"

He smiled at me and inclined his head slightly "My thanks, Jon. A fine morrow to you in turn"

"Where are Arthur and Jaime?"

"Gone for a spar, I'd wager"

I blinked.

Arthur and Jaimie were very good. Hells, they were legendary, and a spar between them would draw attention, even in such a sparsely populated village. oven who exactly ruled this island, attention of any kind was bad news, and they knew that which meant they'd probably be far outside of the village for their spar.

If that's even what it was. A child's body I may possess, but certainly not a child's mind.

That was to say, I was not oblivious to what was right in front of me. The tension between all three of my Kingsguard was so thick you could cut it with a knife, and it would fit in well with what I knew of Arthur for this to be an attempt on his part to bridge the gap between them.

Good, I suppose, and very proactive. I had my amends to make

"I'd like to apologize" I spoke slowly, but surely. Surprise flashed across the old knight's visage as I carried on "I was frustrated and angry and I let that dictate my behavior over the past days. It was unbecoming of me."

"You were, and it was" The old knight inspected me for a moment, before gracing me with an approving smile "Yet you have acknowledged it and made amends, and that speaks most well of you."

I flushed slightly. I hadn't had the time to think on it before, but Barristan 'the bold' Selmy was a member of my Kingsguard. He was one of the handful of people in the Known World who exemplified the best and most honorable of traits, even if he had his flaws.

Didn't we all, in the end?

Regardless, he was a man worthy of admiration for the depth of his skill and the strength of his character, and praise from him was meaningful.

"Now come" he stood then and beckoned for me "Dress yourself. I have heard good things of our innkeepers gruel. We shall break our fast and take our leave, for it is a beautiful day out. Good for thinking, certainly"

The meaningful look he shot me was unmistakable, and I withheld another sigh

Back to work, then.

...​

The gruel was a fine thing, and though I was no great judge, I thought it quite filling, with a pleasant texture and taste.

We set off at a comfortable pace, leaving the village bounds and traveling across the island. For all that Dragonstone was a harsh island, grass and small varieties of plant life claimed a good chunk of its flat plains, giving the island color and feeling it would have otherwise lacked. After a brief search, we found a fine site, just near a low cliff that overlooked the sea, providing a beautiful view.

Then we began

"What do you intend to do now?" Barristan's voice had lost all former traces of levity, as had his expression. In their place their remains dinky sharp alertness and impeccable focus, to an almost intimidating degree

"I do not know" The words were damning, but pretty lies were useless at this juncture "I had... perhaps not a plan, but a direction I wanted to head in"

Daenerys was an inspiration in many ways, after all

"But that's gone now" I finished grimly, bitter disappointment dripping from every word "Truly, I do not know where to begin again"

And wasn't that a problem? Unless I achieved what I set out to do when I decided we'd come here, I could kiss any plans of sitting on the iron throne and surviving the long night to come goodbye.

I couldn't back out now, I couldn't even rely on the original sequence of events I knew off to occur, for my actions in forming my growing Kingsgaurd had undoubtedly caused long-term changes I could t hope to predict.

Hells, Jaime's presence alone caused an ocean's worth of change, considering his actions with his sister and the effects that had on the realm.

I shook my head. Not the time for that. Though I'd have to deal with that pot of wildfire eventually, I had too much on my plate at the moment.

"Tell me about your dreams" Barristan spoke finally

I furrowed my brows "Arthur already-

"He's already informed me of them and the insight they give you into past and future alike." Barristan nodded "And as fantastic as the tales sound-"

Heh. 'Fantastic' was a diplomatic way of saying absolutely insane.

"-I do not doubt the truth of them" He finished firmly "But hearing them from the source once more may provide new insight."

I could hardly argue with that, so I recited the contents of my dreams once more, and the old knight looked thoughtful for a moment

"I do not understand" He finally admitted tiredly "I can not find meaning in them"

"Neither can I" I frowned in frustration "Though I think that the three-headed dragon set in black stone is supposed to represent the castle of Dragonstone itself"

It made the most sense. The sigil of house Taragaryan on black stone, the same material their ancestral keep was made of? It seemed obvious, yet it still made me distinctly uneasy.

"Perhaps" The old knight acquiesced "Yet what do you seek in Dragonstone? It is not my place to deny your wishes, but we cannot march into the castle without knowing what to search for, if there is anything to search for at all. For all that it is your ancestral keep and your birthright by blood, it is held by a Baratheon, the brother to the Crowned Stag himself, and Lord Stannis would have us all in chains and dragged to King's Landing should he even suspect who we may be."

That was the biggest wrench in the plan, wasn't it? Without a lead to go on, marching into Dragonstone was a death sentence.

Until we had something more to go on we were stuck

Damn it all.

...​

When we finally returned to the inn at sundown, having taken the time to explore and exchange stories of old experiences to pass the time, it was to see Arthur with an alarmingly swollen eye and stiff movements, while Jaime looked entirely unrepentant and furious for all that he was covered in bruises and his nose looked near-broken

"Gods be good" Barristan spoke as the both of us stared incredulously "What've you done to yourselves?"

Predictably, neither answered

...​

The next few days passed much the same, only I alternated between spending time with all three of my knights. Off the plan was on hold, then I could at least improve my relationships with the men who'd sworn their lives to me for the worth of old regrets and older oaths still.

Barristan was a font of stories, of his knightly experiences and small-time adventures, though what few stories of Rhaegar I managed to squirrel from the man were bittersweet and left us both feeling miserable.

Arthur and I's relationship hardly needed work. He wasn't simply a knight to me. He practically raised me alongside Ned Stark and the parts of Winterfell's household that tolerated me.

There were no fitting words for our bond.

That was why it was easy to see how much the relationship with his other sworn brother was affecting him, weighing him down.

Jaime simultaneously spoke the most and the least. Endless tales of the Red Keep's court under Robert Baratheon, jests and beady jokes I expected he thought would fly clean over my head, yet hardly ever a word about his family, aside from his brother.

And never a word of his sister.

As I said. A problem for another day.

We fell into a routine. We conversed, we bonded, and the three even began teaching me what they knew of navigating the court of a King, ever so slowly.

Things fell into a pattern, and we mentally hunkered down for a long haul.

That's when the dreams changed.

...​

Working on bigger chapters you guys.

So this chapter was just laying the groundwork for what's to come. Loved reading about your theories of what comes next. Go wild you guys! XD

As always leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it please be courteous.

 

[Firewillreign]

Silence permeated the darkened hallway, dimly lit by torches in the shape of snarling dragons, a dark and ominous atmosphere that set me on edge, yet I struggled to understand why.

My footsteps, firm and steady, seemed to thunder within the confines of the passage I walked, the sound echoing off the black, smooth walls, engraved with patterns and shapes of myth and legend, stories given physical form.

I was in Dragonstone, I realized, yet that shouldn't be possible. I tried to think, but my thoughts were murky, and concepts seemed to slip from my fingers like fine sand.

I continued to walk, and the shadows surrounding me seemed to writhe.

No, not seemed, they did

Shifting and twisting in impossible ways, they elongated, and as I whirled around to stare in growing fear, the writhing mass seemed to lunge violently, snuffing out the lanterns I'd walked past, one after the other until at last the hall was plunged into true blackness and I lost all senses of sight.

But not my hearing.

Whispers, dim at first began to rise, a multitude of different voices, thrill and cracking rose into a horrifying crescendo, barely recognizable words overlapping with such intensity and fervor as to be agonizing

"Azor Ahai"

I screamed along with them, the sound piercing and joining, and then it was over, and only one singular voice spoke

"See what lurks in the darkness, little prince"

Silence returned then, but this was different. This was not natural.

Pale moonlight seemed to slice through the darkness, though a great wall of shadows remained pooled ahead of me. As I stared into them, a light, almost delicate chiming noise came, followed by another, and another. A cold wind howled as, before my petrified form, two blue eyes ignited, a terrible white shadow emerging from the unholy darkness.

Pale, reflective armor, the color of light frost wrapped elegantly around an otherworldly form, tall and gaunt with flesh as pale as milk, hair like fresh snow framing a face of unnatural beauty, and eyes that shone like stars on a clear night.

Clutched in its hand, was a sword of clear crystal, alight with a pale blue glow. It raised it ever so slightly as its eyes focused, boring into me.

Then the world seemed to let out the breath it had been holding

The Other began to stride towards me, moving with inhuman grace, and my mind seemed to be clear enough for fear to ignite in my veins, fully and truly.

I turned around and ran, the creature of cold and death pursuing me with steps that rang in my ears for all that they seemed impossibly faint.

Horror clawed at my heart, a sharp kind of pain and lightness one could only associate with mortal terror as the footsteps drew closer, and ice and hoarfrost outraced me. I screamed as I lost my folding and went sliding across the now frozen floor, desperately Rolling to my back and scrambling away as the scourge of the living drew closer, numbing coldness spreading across my flesh with every step it took. It raised its crystal blade, moonlight reflecting off its edge, ready to deliver unto me a fate far worse than death.

The voice spoke again "Behold what rages in flame and shadow"

Heat exploded behind me, and the Other reared back with a scream like scraping glass.

I turned and desperately strained to see through the storm of blistering flames behind me, lighting the world in an infernal red glow. So mighty was the heat that being in its presence was agony in its own right.

And then, the former surged as a figure clambered out of them, a humanoid shaped of swirling flame, a challenging roar more akin to crackling flames reverberating as it leaned forwards, a blade of pure white fire raised to meet its foe's own.

Where it stopped, the ice cracked and melted, and the black stone beneath it went red hot and melted. I scrambled back and in terror as the once calm other cried its own challenge, and the two impossibilities clashed.

The world shifted, the black walls of Dragonstone were replaced with a starry night sky, and the land was familiar.

The Godswood of Winterfell played host to a battle of legend, as the Other and its burning foe warned. Where the Other stepped plants blackened and froze, forever dead. Where the burning warrior stepped, plant life ignited and screamed as though they were living men and burned, forever ash.

I beheld the growing wasteland, the death of all life, an observer powerless to interfere in a conflict beyond my understanding.

Suddenly, between one breath and the next, chains of black shadow erupted from the earth, binding the two entities and holding them in place.

The world shifted a final time, and this time I saw her.

Sat atop a throne of carved stone, a woman sat dressed in a cloak of purest black, more akin to living shadow than cloth. Not an inch of skin is visible. Her face lay hidden behind a mask of purest redwood, and her eyes were pits of blackness

"Forces beyond comprehension lay posed to bring an end to the world of man, be it in ice or fire, for they understand nothing else," she asked as she stood, and descended the steps, approaching me. I simply stared, wide-eyed "I cannot allow that to pass, though if you continue to hesitate, none will have a choice any longer."

She lunged then, talon-like hands digging into my shoulders

"Sit atop your throne, little dragon prince. Claim your destiny" she leaned forward "Else the Song will remain unsung, and none will be left to hear anything else"

Just as an impossible understanding and instinct dawned on me, her form melted into shadows that lunged for me and downed me in blackness eternal.

...​

I awoke screaming, my three Kingsguard standing over me. The torching clenched in Barristan's hand banished the darkness of the night, but it brought with it no comfort, not for me.

Not after what I'd just seen

I was drenched in sweat, my heart sickeningly hammering in my chest, and the light from the lantern shining down on me nearly had me screaming in insensate horror and fear

Oh gods oh gods oh gods.

I tried to stand, and the world tilted. My head pounded, and my limbs felt disproportionate and heavy. Paling, eyes burry and body trembling, I stumbled back against the farthest wall

"Jon-" Arthur reached for me and I flinched back shaking violently. He stepped back as if burned

A moment of silence may between us, and a small part of me wondered what horror I must look at the moment.

Only a moment, though. I had none more to spare

"I know" I rasped, realization alight in my mind "I know what I must do"

They stiffened, eyes wide

"The throne" I rasped out of breath as the world began to shift and tilt "I need to sit on the throne"

They exchanged glances. Jaime coughed "That is the goal, though the iron throne remains out of-"

"No!" I yelled. Nausea twisted my gut and I dry heaved, snarling as I waved off their concern. There was no time for it "The other. The other within the castle"

They looked at me with eyes wide with concern and disbelief

"I need to sit on the Dragon Throne"

Then my legs buckled, and I fell forward into oblivion

...​

As I said. We've been playing in easy mode. Not any longer.

Also, this fic has a lot of book elements because there's just so much plot potential there.

Let's go!!!!XD

As always, leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it, please be courteous

 

[Firewillreign]

The dawn had come quickly, he thought, but perhaps that had only been his imagination.

Barristan had struggled to find rest, Jon's(Gaemon) proclamation and its implication banishing the tense peace that had fallen over them after so much time and bringing with it a great frenzy that had him on edge even now, as the light of a new day cut through the dark and the little King stirred from his restless sleep.

"At last" Jaime intoned, leaning forwards as the boy woke and blinked sleep from his eyes. He rose then, on unsteady feet, mumbling a tired greeting as he caught notice of a using before pausing mid-motion as the sounds of waves crashing caught his attention.

He blinked in confusion

"Why are we outside?"

"You had a fever after you awoke" Barristan explained gently "You still do, a little"

After his nightmare had stirred him from sleep, and so the Kingsguard had moved him into the cool night air on a cliff overlooking the shifting sea and away from prying eyes, where they stood guard for hours. In truth, he could hardly believe the boy had stirred so quickly. He had been burning to the touch.

Though perhaps, given all the tales Arthur had spun for them, he should have been less surprised.

"Awoke?" He started at them oddly "When did-"

And then his eyes widened, and Barristan had no doubt he remembered everything as he sat back down heavily.

"Oh" he opened his mouth, then closed it, before finally breathing heavily "I-

Barristan winced "Perhaps it's best to wait. Alaric has gone down to the village to fetch us something with which to break our fast, and he will surely wish to hear this."

"Is he getting wine as well, perhaps?" Jaime muttered "For I suspect we'll be needing it"

He shot him a look, one that was promptly ignored.

...​

Arthur returned soon, with a bag of apples, a loaf of bread, and a small roll of salt beef he'd bought in the cheap, considering how expensive meats of any kind tended to be on Dragonstone.

They ate quietly, and though the food was fine and filling, Barristan found he had no great appetite. There were far more pressing concerns at hand.

They packed the food away, ensured that no one could overhear, and began

"I need to sit on the Dragon throne" Jon looked nervous, but his tone was firm. "I need to."

"Why?" Jaime sounded frustrated, and a feeling he understood "What purpose does it serve?"

"I don't know"

Jaime twitched "Your grace, the Kingsguard are sworn to aid and protect the king"

Jon nodded, confused

"Yet you not only want us to march into what is, at the moment, Stannis Baratheon's castle" He emphasized the name "But you want to sit in his high seat, in the middle of his great hall, all while somehow not being thrown into the cells to await execution because you saw all this in a dream?"

For a moment, there was silence. Then,

"That about sums it up, yes"

"Your grace, respectfully, are you mad?"

Arthur and Barristan both turned glares on Jaime, but Jon just chuckled weakly

"Well, I am a Targaryan"

...​

So began their preparations.

They could not simply match into the castle, but a brief inquiry had given them the opening they needed. Every tenth day of every moon, Stannis Baratheon descended from Dragonstone and into the village to settle disputes and answer petitions personally.

For all that he was a hard man and a harder lord still, unlike his brother, both of them at that, he was dutiful.

The gods were kind, for it was that sense of duty that gave them an opportunity. With Stannis Baratheon gone from the castle, court would not be held and the throne room of Dragonstone would be abandoned.

The day before they set out for the castle, Barristan and Arthur were packing their arms and armor, for they could not make the journey with them and they certainly had no intention of leaving them unguarded.

Barristan knew of thieves who had killed for far less.

"Jaime" Arthur spoke suddenly, startling him

"What about him?"

"What are to do, Barristan?"

Ah. The old knight sighed as he dropped the cloak he'd been folding.

In truth, he did not know. Jaime was a wound in his own right.

The Kingslayer. Oathbreaker, the man without honor. He'd thought him a mockery of the paths of knighthood for so long, snubbed and despised him for so many years, only for the truth to out.

Damn Aerys to all the seven hells.

"We failed him" Barristan spoke slowly, guilt and old rage warring within him "We did what we thought right, but we did not prepare him nor protect him, and the failure falls on us."

"As it always seems to, eh?" Arthur sighed

"More on me than you, old friend" Barristan chuckled with no humor "You in the least did not spend years scorning him."

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but he cut him off

"Years, Arthur, years I spent with him, in the same keep, in the same gods be damned tower even, and not once did I think to ask. Not once, while a child, a boy of five namedays did what I didn't less than a day after meeting him"

Silence fell between them then.

"We have to make it right" Arthur spoke, voice heavy

"How? The last time you two spoke you damned near killed one another, and he won't even deign to look me in the eye" Barristan had never felt older "How, Arthur?"

To that, his sworn brother had no answer

...​

When they came upon Jaime and Jon next, despite all the grimness of their undertaking, he found his lips twitching into a smile. Jaime was practicing his sword, blade whirling gracefully whilst Jon watched in rapt attention, an achingly familiar look of interest on his face.

Boys would be boys it seemed, dreams and dragon blood aside.

Of course, Jaime caught sight of them then, and his blade disappeared into its scabbard between one breath and the next, the move so fluid Jon blinked.

"That was magnificent" he beamed

Jaime afforded him a half-smile before turning and striding away, much to all their disappointment.

Jon's eyes tracked his movement before the child muttered to himself "I'm going to have to do something about that, aren't I?"

"We all will" Barristan agreed, and Jon startled. He hadn't meant to be overheard.

His face lost all traces of levity as he saw their attire, and Arthurs's pack, containing the chests Barristan had only ever seen once. Hells, the chests themselves were Valyrian steel, they'd have nearly every soul on the island hunting them should they even be glimpsed, and that was without considering their damning contents "We're ready, then?"

Barristan only nodded

A night of rest left, and then the most dangerous leg of their journey since their escape from King's Landing would begin.

Gods help them all

...

So I didn't expect to write this early, but I needed the reprieve from.... Everything basically

Just a brief interlude to show the state of the team and general reactions.

Things get tense the next chapter, and tenser still the next.

Escalation is the name of the game

As always, leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it please be courteous

 

[Firewillreign]

"Broad daylight?" I asked incredulously, meeting eyes with my three protectors "You all agree that my plan is unsafe and you want to carry it out in broad daylight?"

They exchanged glances for a moment before Arthur addressed me, face adorned with a look of familiar wry amusement "We've thought it out, Jon. We aren't just good for our blades; I hope you know"

"Ignoring that I've never claimed otherwise, what could justify this?"

"Guards, your grace" Jaime answered "Guards"

What?

"What do you?-"

"The guards rotate more heavily during the night hours" Arthur explained "Most of the castle servants will be in their beds, but Guards? You'll find dozens, perhaps more in the dark than during the day, and avoiding them spotting three grown men and a child of all things entering the great hall would be near impossible, let alone convincing them that were not up to no good."

The point, but I wasn't convinced. Barristan beat me to the punch "The dark provides great cover for assassins and foul play of many sorts, your grace, and the guards will be well and wary. Daylight will provide us the best opportunity to make our move."

"But what if it was just me and one of you? Surely one servant and a child would attract less attention?" They made good points, true, but this plan was about as risky as It got, and carrying it out in broad daylight?

I'd rather walk up to Tywin Lannister and deck him in the face... Well, when I was King anyway... If I made it that far.

Shit

They surprised me then, by laughing. That wasn't even the most startling bit, Arthur and Barristan were thick as thieves, but Jaime as well?

The Lannister knight actually wiped a tear from his eye "Your grace, practically be damned, do you honestly believe that you're going anywhere within Dragonstone's walls without all three of us as your shadows?"

I stared, dumbfounded

Well. Now I just felt stupid.

...​

I spent the night before our departure in our room, golden egg hugged tight to my form, an instinct I could not yet explain.

The warmth only I could feel brought with it a rare comfort and strength

Soon

...​

The next day, our morning meal was a tense thing, so much so that I hardly tasted the food, however fine it was.

When a commotion sounded outside, we knew. Stannis Baratheon's retinue had been sighted.

"It's time" Barristan announced, voice quiet but reverberating with strength. There were no other words needed.

We made our way up the path to Dragonstone proper, careful to avoid the Baratheon Lord's retinue entirely. Baristas and Jaime's faces were a dead giveaway, and even Arthur, to an extent. We moved quickly, the black stone road making simple what otherwise would have been a most difficult ascent. I stuck to Arthur's side, hand in hand, with the other two followed closely behind.

Approaching the castle proper, the gates of the fortress of the Dragons loomed over us, smooth black stone that was as beautiful as it was imposing. On either side of them, carved dragon monoliths stood proudly, features twisted into fearsome snarls, gorgeous and terrifying in equal measure.

They did not open for us, of course. Perhaps one day, but for now we tracked and followed the walls for a great distance, until we came across a respectably manned but far more humble set of gates, one that had a small but present stream of people trailing in, either by their lonesome, in groups or dragging carta and other loads of goods.

The commoner's gate, in essence, though it had no such name. We mingled with the crowd, drifting closer to the gates.

Then my heart leaped to my mouth as a guardsman in Baratheon livery stepped in our path. He was a big man, with burly arms and course muscles, a mop of black hair crowning his head, though it was faintly streaked with silver, and his face was covered in a litany of bruises. His features weren't to the island, from what I had learned. A Storm Lander if there ever was one.

"State your business" He snarled at Jaime

"He's my son, good man. We-" Barristan stepped towards him, but nearly got shoved back by a sharp movement and my blood pressure skyrocketed

"I asked him, not you, you old fuck!" The man snarled, and Arthur tensed. The guard turned to Jaime again, stepping closer, and even underneath the hood I could see my knight's cold anger "Well then? Not so big now, are we?"

Shit, what the hell was this guy's problem? He'd signaled Jaime out of the whole crowd, why? -

Wait.

Baratheon guardsman covered in bruises. Jaime.

Oh, fuck me, this was the idiot who'd nearly set me on fire and gotten his ass kicked by Jaime for his troubles, wasn't he?

Oh shit.

"We are visiting family in the keep" Jaime ground out, a friendly smile betrayed by the stiffness of his posture

"Family? There's more of you cunts?" The man laughed meanly before shoving Jaime again "Well off you go then, you can see them another day"

"Plenty. We're a plentiful lot" Jaime's smile was cold "and I'd much prefer to see them now, actually"

Oh, for fuck's sake Jaime, not the time to play the prick!

The guardsman agreed as he seemed to swell, hand reaching for the pommel of his blade. Jaime reached for his own, hidden in the confined of his cloak.

Then Barristan smacked Jaime upside the head so hard he nearly face-planted.

The hell?

The guard stared, stunned as Jaime shot a betrayed look at a furious Barristan "Apologize to the man, boy"

...

Oooooh, I get it.

I grinned.

Public humiliation to appease assholes. Some things never change

Jaime looked incredulous "I-"

"Now!" The old knight thundered

Jaime turned and stiffly bowed to the half-stupefied, half-smug man "I apologize for my conduct."

"Forgive him, ser" Barristan bowed himself, and spoke in a far softer tone "Green boys like him grow a few years and they think they're Aegon the Conqueror come again."

"I'm no ser" The man grunted, but he looked pleased nonetheless "Visting family, you said?"

"You have the right of it" Barristan nodded "My daughter, you see, is due to-"

"Yes, yes" his eyes focused on me, and I lowered my head "The boy yours too? He doesn't look it."

"Grandnephew" Barristan replied easily "Boy's father sired him during the rebellion. You know how it is."

The jackass snorted and finally waved us on, though not before shooting Jaime one last glare. Thank the gods my king's guard had the sense to keep his head down "Move along now and keep an eye on this cunt."

Then we were through, and I breathed.

Jaime glared at Barristan "Was that necessary?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not" The old knight actually smiled "Though I will not say I did not enjoy it, just a bit"

Despite everything, I snorted at the look on Jaime's face, as did Arthur

Hells, even Jaime's lips twitched

Now came the hard part.

...​

I'd once heard it said that if you wanted to get in and move about somewhere you shouldn't be the best way to go about doing that was to pretend you belonged there.

Or in simpler terms, either bullshit your way to victory or until you die. End quote.

...Godsdamnit we're all going to die, aren't we?

Shrugging off that uncomfortable thought, I quickened my pace, following behind Jaime. We'd entered the castle safely, and the only discomfort we'd faced as of yet was my own. The walls were familiar, for I'd walked them before.

A dream of Ice and fire, and a woman with a red mask and eyes of shadow-

Right, no, that's going right back into the box of shit I had to unpack much, much later.

The moment we'd found an empty alcove, I'd stood guard for just a moment while the three shed their cloaks, revealing forms dressed in boiled leather and plate armor. Their leathers were black all over, but sufficient to pass for Baratheon men at a brief glance. Helms were pulled out of their respective packs to complete the ensemble and prevent anyone, servant, guard, or otherwise from recognizing any of the knights. The Kingsguard may wear white cloaks, but steel was steel, and the spare armor Barristan and Jaime had stolen would do well enough in our ruse.

We turned right around and marched on, cloaks and loose packs left right there. We wouldn't be needing them and the chances of anyone stumbling in them were as slim as they could get.

True to Barristan's expectations, rather than the wall of guards I'd mentally been preparing for, the castle seemed almost empty. Servants bustled about, dressed in Baratheon colors, and guards with whom I carefully avoided eye contact passed us through the hallways, but far less than I'd imagined Dragonstone was massive, ridiculously so in fact, yet its architecture meant that sieging it effectively was difficult and taking it when it was fully manned was practically an impossibility.

I shook my head.

Focus.

I kept a wary eye on anyone we crossed paths with, though I didn't know why. Even if, as unlikely as my rational mind considered it to be, we were discovered, there would hardly be any stealth involved or even necessary in our capture. The entirety of the damn keep would be on us like hounds on a cut of meat before we even realized it.

For all my Kingsguard's skill, not even they could face a veritable army.

I breathed. The payoff of this plan would make or break every plan I had thereafter. I'd thought it out in detail, and it would work.

It had to

Somehow, against all circumstances, repeating that mantra in my head had made me lose focus. When Arthur's hand gripped my shoulder, I startled violently and met his deadly serious stare head-on

He didn't need to tell me anything. I turned, staring at the massive, unguarded doors before me, lovingly engraved with illustrations of dragons massive dragons. writhing and twisting gracefully across the seas and skies.

We had arrived.

Barristan and Jaime, for all their differences, moved as though one. Each braced themselves and pushed, and the great doors moved heavily but smoothly, a mark of their craftsmanship.

My first impression of the throne room of Dragonstone was the same as that of the castle. Massive and imposing, a reminder of the might of those who ruled it. Or once did, in any case.

To the far sides of the chamber, massive obsidian pillars rose to meet the ceiling, engraved and patterned with even more illustrations of dragons, among other mythological beasts and shapes I was hard-pressed to recognize out of hand. The ceiling, as black as the rest of the room, matched the almost shockingly blank walls, and symmetrical windows, barred with bars of black stone let sunlight and the smell of ash, brome stone, and the salty sea breeze carried in by the winds.

Near the end of the room, an elevated dias lay, its positioning all the more striking due to the relative starkness of the room, and the only window of glass and stone lay behind it, bathing the structure that sat atop it in light.

The Dragon throne was a beautiful, primal thing. An uneven triangular shape of solid stone, with jagged stone, ends protruding from it, all untouched save for the seat carved into it, filed down and created to be a throne fit for kings.

The seat of the heirs to the Iron Throne, and before it, the seat of the Dragonlords of House Targaryen.

"Your seat" Arthur's voice was quiet, hardly a whisper, but it may as well have been a thunderclap "Or so it could have been. Your heir's one day, gods willing"

My heart hammered as I moved forward, dimly aware of Barristan and Jaime closing the doors behind us and standing guard.

With slow, even steps, I crossed the room, the sound of my own feet all I could hear aside from my heartbeat.

Finally, I stood before the throne and stopped, a sharp weariness and disbelief preventing me from taking another step

What was I doing? How and why did it even come to this?

"Jon" I turned to stare at Arthur, his face firm. I had very little doubt he couldn't guess what I was feeling. He knew me better than anyone else I could name "You have come this far, and this is no place to falter"

That bolstered me, and for a second, I remembered Ned Stark's words once again. The thought brought a smile to my face and a pinch of courage to go along with it.

Somehow, I doubted this was what my dear uncle meant when he told me to walk my path, but it's too late for anyone to do anything about it now.

Heart set, and before I could lose my nerve, I whirled around and all but jumped onto the throne, eyes closed tightly as my hands awkwardly grabbed onto stone armrests.

A moment, then another, and another and-

...​

Arthur called for me, but I didn't pay him any attention. How could I, when this warmth, familiar yet so different seemed to call to me

What are you saying?

I did not move, but I reached for the warmth, and gods help me, it reached back.

A spark became an inferno, and searing agony tore through my form, as somewhere-

A dragon roared

...​

Wow, am I getting myself hyped? So looking forward to posting the next few chapters.

As always, leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it, please be courteous

 

[Firewillreign]

A dragon roared

A strange sense of calm washed over me as I beheld the scene as if my emotions had been dunked in water.

The creature was a titanic thing, larger even than the Black Dread as I'd once seen him, with scales of brilliant red and yellow membranes, as well as eyes the color of hot coals with black pupils

It spread its massive wings as it plummeted through the clouds, flaps akin to distant thunder slowed its momentum to land on the beach below it.

Sand sprayed as it landed heavily, and it roared once more as if to announce itself before spreading a single wing to allow its rider and his companions to dismount.

A man and two children walked along the utterly massive wing before hopping off, moving stiffly in a manner that indicated a long, arduous journey. The man dropped to a knee, pulling off a leather glove and pressing his open hand into the sand, whilst the children stuck close to him.

Their features were beautiful, strong yet delicate-looking facial structures that differed greatly from what I'd seen before, yet carried a hint of familiarity, with the strangest coloring. Silver hair and eyes that were different shades of purple, of all things.

"Is this to be our home, Father?" The eldest child was a boy, and he spoke high valerian with an accent I'd never heard before

The younger, a girl who looked not a day past her tenth name day merely smiled and drifted closer

The man nodded, tugging both of his children, for they could hardly be anything else, closer to his form.

"Yes, my son"

He stood to his full height then and gazed at the towering volcano before him. In the distance, a fleet of ships approached and four smaller dragons flew overhead

"The days of the freehold will soon come to an end, but the Targaryans will not end with it. This is an old outpost, all but abandoned alongside our efforts to expand into the sunset lands, but it shall be forsaken no longer. We shall fashion it into a fortress with dragon flame and blood, a home fit for the last descendants of Great Valyria, man and dragon alike. This is my oath to you"

My vision seemed to collapse into colors then, an ocean of indescribable sights and shapes, before reforming once more.

The Targaryen man stood in the bowels of a ship, chests upon chests of valuables and more that I could neither recognize nor understand stretching out before him.

"Summon the Pyromancers" he called out, to whom I could not guess "I will not have my family's legacy threatened. All of it is to be sealed away"

Another shift

The same Targaryan Dragonlord stood on a cliff overlooking the sea, his mount backing him, a group of hooded men standing before him.

Behind them stood massive containers, cages In truth of black stone, sealed with locks of Valyrian Steel. They were twice as large and wide as the man among the hooded figures was. They sat still and ominous, the stone so dark it seemed to drink the light.

"The preparations are complete. We are ready to begin, Lord Freeholder" Their leader rasped, the sound of many voices overlapping, eerie and unsettling, as he hefted a massive horn, inlaid with engraved bands of Valyrian steel "So long as the horn remains undamaged, they will serve in perpetuity"

The lord only nodded and reached for it, all while his mount growled furiously, coal-like eyes never leaving the cages.

Another shift, and this time I soared above the cloud alongside the red dragon. Below, massive molds of dark and heavy liquid lay.

"Dracarys, Morghul!"

Blood-red flames descended.

Another shift and the Targaryen Dragon stood before the newly crafted Dragon throne, placed in the yet incomplete throne room, still open to the starry sky.

Overhead, the massive Morghul flew, playfully pursued by two others, black and white.

He paid them no mind. With nary a word, he pulled a dagger from his belt and cut along his bare forearm, blood sizzling where it met the throne.

A final shift, and this time the great hall was complete in all its glory. The girl, I realized, now a woman grown sat on the throne, eyes closed.

For a moment, all was still

Then her eyes snapped open and focused.

On me.

My sense of self seemed to snap back into place from the depths it had sunk to as what should have been a memory or a figment of my imagination at worst reached for me and grabbed my forearm, dragging me closer.

Her hand was hot, almost uncomfortably so.

Strangely, I felt no fear as purple eyes bored into my own

"The Song Of Ice and Fire" She smiled "Or perhaps not quite yet"

"Who are you?" Of all the questions, that seemed to be the only one that came to me.

"You are not the first to see me. There was another, though his flame has doused long ago, but he did not understand me" She ignored me, reaching forward to brush the hair out of my face. A flash of grief crossed her face as she sighed and closed her eyes "Hardly any of them ever did, and now only a few stray embers remain. Yet for all that your sight is so clear, you are not ready to delve so deep. Not for some time yet"

"But you are here, and you have brought his treasure with you. I will tell you what I told him, and by the fourteen may you succeed where he could not, little dragon"

When she next opened them, her eyes blazed with otherworldly violet light

"Dragons from stone in the Dragons home.
Secrets buried within black stone.
Shifting Scales, Stirring Beasts.
Beware what dwells within the flames.
Fire and blood shall show the way."​

Her hand became unbearably hot, before the heat abruptly vanished, leaving only cool flesh behind. I remained frozen as she murmured "A parting gift, and one that you cannot afford to waste. You do not have long"

The world ignited, her form seemingly melting, and panic overtook me as I reached for her desperately "I don't understand! What does any of this even mean? Who are you?!"

The distance between us seemed to grow in a gap in chasm, an unsurpassable void. She smiled at my futile efforts, though not unkindly

"They once called me the Dreamer" She tipped her head, a final farewell "And now you must trust in your dreams as I once did in mine own"

Flames filled my vision, yet strangely-

I did not burn

...​

I startled, a weary, bone-deep exhaustion filling me. Arthur, eyes wide recoiled, though his hands still gripped my shoulders tightly

"We need to go, now"

The urgency was unlike anything I'd ever heard, and the confusion and the fear I should have felt as I experienced... whatever that was hit me all at once.

"Has the retinue returned?" I didn't resist as he hurriedly pulled me to my feet, nor as he outright lifted me in his arms and bolted across the length of the room to meet an equally Harrie Jaime and Barristan.

"I do not know, though it would not surprise me" Jaime had heard my question and decided to offer an answer "That gods-damned beastly sound was certainly loud enough for the entirety of the fucking island to hear it!"

What?-

The color fled from my face, and I was already peaky to begin with.

"The roar?"

"Roar? As in a dragon's roar?" Jaime stared at me in disbelief, face pale and features drawn "First magic dreams, now fucking dragons?"

"This is not the time!" Barristan looked close to smacking Jaime upside the head, again.

The Lannister knight decided not to tempt fate any more than we had already done so and helped Barristan ram open the doors. We didn't even bother shutting them behind us as we turned left and bolted.

My mind swam with ideas, images, and half-formed thoughts full of fear and frustration that clogged it up all the more.

Why couldn't anything be easy? Or failing that, at least make some damn sense?!

Then we rounded the corner and came face to face with a swarm of Baratheon men.

"Oh, fuck me" Jaime whispered in utter dread

...​

Yeah, sorry Elijon/Gaemon. You want a hax advantage, I'm making you work for it.

XD

Before someone tells me there's no such thing as pyromancers in the world of ASOIAF, I'm pretty sure they're mentioned in the books and they're definitely mentioned in House Of The Dragon.

As always, leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it, please be courteous.

 

[Firewillreign]

Arthur, Barristan, and Jaime could have killed the lot of them.

It was a cold realization, but six nameless men at arms against what were possibly three of the greatest swordsmen Westeros had ever produced?

It would have been a one-sided slaughter, even with me being deadweight in their midst.

Thank all the gods we were saved from that horror show by way of the most ridiculous and completely bullshit ploy I'd ever seen, via Jaime of all people.

"What the fuck?-" The man in the lead stepped to us roughly, sword drawn but was cut off.

Helm angled to make him near unrecognizable, he pointed back in the direction of the throne room, and called out in a garbled, seemingly out-of-breath voice "It came from there!"

No freaking way. That couldn't possibly-

Perhaps under different circumstances, such a ridiculous gamble wouldn't have panned out. But my three protectors were dressed to pass as Baratheon men in any case, and my being a child had, for a moment at least, all but dismissed us as suspects of foul play. The Baratheon men, already on edge and not truly in their right minds swarmed past us, running for the throne room like men possessed.

The moment they'd all turned the corner, we were moving like the hounds of hell were after us.

Well, they were moving.

Throughout our escape from the fortress, Arthur only allowed my admittedly unsteady feet to touch the ground only long enough for him to hastily don his cloak before he snatched me up again.

What an odd sight we must have made, three cloaked figures and a child ghosting through the hallways, but those that saw us, be they servants or guards were few and far between, and the unholy sound that had echoed around the castle in the wake of me sitting the throne had given them more to other matters to worry about besides.

We only slowed once we emerged from the all but abandoned commoners' gate( the sunlight and cool air bringing with them a sweet relief.

Still, we did not truly stop until we had trekked down the black stone path and made our way off of it, well past the village bounds and close to where Barristan and Arthur had buried our packs. Only then was I set down, and I lay on my back, staring at the open sky and trying to calm my frayed nerves. So did the others.

We stayed that way, for a little while, a strange sense of peace having fallen over all of us

"'It came from there?'" Barristan rose to a sitting position and asked incredulously.

"Did you have a better idea?" Jaime spat, not bothering to sit up, breath wild and a sheen of sweat covering him.

The old man did not and fell silent. That would have been the end of it, but then-

Arthur coughed

It was such a small thing, but then he coughed again. And again and again.

Slowly, as one, we turned to stare at the most stoic and solemn man of our company and beheld his red face, fist pressed to his mouth as his shoulders shook violently.

The moment he raised his eyes to meet us, it was all over. The legendary knight of house Dayne howled in demented laughter, tears streaming down his face as he heaved, as though the sounds were being forcibly expelled from him.

It was too much. I fell back and cackled hysterically, actually catching sight of Barristan bracing himself on Jaime as they too lost themselves to wild laughter. It was a testament to the situation that Jaime didn't push him off.

Once we started, we couldn't stop. Gods, but I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed like this l. So much stress, so much uncertainty, and it all came to a head with this latest debacle, and our escape had been ridiculous in the extreme.

Finally, we regained a measure of sense, though Arthur's chuckles and Barristan and Jaime's awkward stances threatened to send me back into hysterics.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I sighed "That was worth everything that's happened"

"No, your grace, it was not. We escaped death by a few words" Jaime breathed, but the words had no bite and his lips kept twitching "Targaryans never make anything simple"

Fair

" I doubt that we ever will"

"But was it a worthwhile endeavor, your grace?" Barristan's question killed the last of the humor, and three pairs of eyes focused on me with great intensity "Did you uncover that which you seek?"

"You must trust in your dreams as I once did in mine own"

For once, I met those looks with a hint of confidence. The dream had left me confused, but something about those words coupled with the visions of just experienced had given me a clue

"Oh, but I think, in a way, I just might have" I grinned, eyes gleaming as they leaned forward in anticipation "Dig out our belongings, please. I need those journals."

...​

Night fell.

We descended into the village to rest and eat what we could, but while I had eventually dozed off it had been a struggle in its own right. Excitement burned in my vines, and when I awoke it was to discover that sleep had not tempered it.

Arthur kept an ear to the ground. Hours ago, a runner had been sent to fetch Lord Stannis back to Dragonstone, and the castle was now sealed.

Rumors had spread like wildfire, for while the sound had not extended past the castle word of it had spread by way of spooked servants, and the tales of angered gods, cursed demons, and all manner of unholy and nonsensical things were on every mouth.

Heh. The truth was likely even madder than some of the rumors.

Regardless, when darkness had come and the village rested, we emerged from our inn and reconvened in our usual haunt, overlooking the now calm sea.

I grinned. History exposition time.

"When I first had my dreams" I spoke confidently, aware of them sitting around me in a circle "I followed them and we wound up with these"

I tapped the two Valyrian steel chests, then I shook the journal in my hand just a little.

"This little beauty confused me, to begin with" Their eyes followed the journal curiously "I thought that Jacarys Velaryon had left me the key to accomplishing the impossible, but that became less and less likely the more I flipped through it"

"He was rambling" Arthur confirms, tone heavy "The farther you go, the more random and disjointed his words become, interspaced with sketches of men and dragons I do not recognize from any history lessons."

"I do now" I grinned at the look he shot me, and I recounted the visions I'd seen on the throne.

"She spoke?" Jaime was disbelieving "A dream spoke to you?"

"A dream? No" I grinned again because damn did holding the cards for once feel great "A Dreamer, yes"

Barristan, always quick on the uptake, blinked "The lady Daenys? From the stories?"

I nodded "Daughter of Lord Freeholder Aenar Targaryen and the girl who saw the Doom befalling Valyria and in doing so saved my house from extinction."

I flipped through the journal "I thought this began with Jacarys Velaryon, but it didn't. It all started with her, and him"

I pointed at a familiar sketch of a man backed by a dragon overlooking the sea "Aenar Targaryen, the last true Targaryen Freeholder and the one who commissioned and overlooked the construction of Dragonstone"

"Fascinating as this all is" Jaime drawled "What exactly does it mean for our goals?"

I glared at him for the interruption. He relented finally, and I went on

"When I spoke to Daenys, she referenced Jacaerys Velaryon and spoke of his 'treasure'" I tipped my head towards the chests "I won't claim to truly understand what was going through his mind when he stored them in Winterfell aside from a desire to keep them from his enemies, but Daenys implied that she had spoken to him as well, somehow, and that he misunderstood her. This brings us to his words"

Arthur spoke up again "Dragons from stone on Dragonstone. Fire and Blood shall show the way"

"He got it wrong" I nodded "Or misheard or misinterpreted it is more likely. The words are Dragons from stone in the Dragons home."

Barristan stared in confusion "Your grace, Dragonstone is the home of the dragons?"

"I don't think the verse means Targaryans, Ser Barristan, though that is likely where Jacaerys made the mistake. He thought Dragons home meant Dragonstone." I nodded "My vision showed me Aenar himself, and in his own words, he intended to build a fortress to hide the treasures of his house, sealed and protected from those who'd seek to take it for their own, but also a home, one for man and dragon alike. That distinction is everything."

"A home for dragons?" Jaime blinked "As in the Dragon pit? We're not going to go back to King's Landing, are we?!-"

"No!" I waved my hands at him, a habit I'd taken from Robb. The thought brought with it a pang of longing that I forcibly pushed down "The Pit was commissioned well over a century later"

"The castle is large, I grant you that" Arthur conceded with a nod "But not large enough to comfortably house man and dragon alike. What other home on the island could fit drag-"

He stopped, blinked, and stared down at me

"Your first dream. Ash and smoke a three-headed dragon set in black stone. No"

I shrugged helplessly, and I could not blame him when he lost all color, nor when he cursed violently in horrified realization. It was a miracle on its own that my anticipation was blanketing my own fear.

"What?" Jaime stared between us, head shifting right to left. Barristan mimicked him "Gods be good, what is it now!?"

My dreams had whispered the idea to me, and Daenys's visions had all but confirmed it, though before them I'd done my best to suppress it.

Nothing to be done about it, I supposed

"Aenar needed to hide his treasures and house his dragons in a fortress like no other, where no mere petty thief could take that which was his and his family's" I explained. Jacarys had taken a page from his book, I realized calmly, though his attempt was almost tame in comparison "And it worked. A little two well, I'd wager, for I doubt any of his descendants past perhaps the conqueror ever got to them. I didn't understand at first, but the ash and smoke I dreamed of didn't refer to the island or the castle"

Barristan and Jaime had stood up in concern, attention alternating between the livid Arthur and myself, but as though sensing my coming answer, they both turned to me.

I smiled and turned. They followed my gaze, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw both stiffen in genuine horror

"Fuck!" Jaime snarled, and despite everything, I snorted

That did sum it up nicely, I thought, as I looked up at the looming and aptly named Dragon Mount.

...​

Okay, be honest. Who saw it coming? Because I feel I did a good job with the suspense aspect

XD

Things are coming to a head!

As always, leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it please be courteous.

 

[Firewillreign]

"No" Jamie spoke in the voice of a man who was utterly and entirely done

"Jaime-"

"No, your grace!" his voice snapped like thunder "We have taken risk after risk on this journey, one that I condoned despite my doubts, and thank the gods they were worthwhile, but this? Respectfully, your grace, this is too much. No. A thousand times no!"

The last words were almost a shout, and they struck me heavily. I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration as I sighed explosively. I looked to Arthur and Barristan for support but the former had his back turned to me and the latter's expression made it clear that I would have none from him.

This was bad. Not because I couldn't make the journey, for I would, come hells or high water. No, it was bad because the Kingsguard were clearly at the end of their tether, even Arthur.

So much uncertainty, doubt, desperation, and even fear had been piled on them from past wounds, woes, and in no small part, even from me.

Their interpersonal issues certainly hadn't helped any.

Guilt, sharp, and strong gnawed at me. Perhaps it was premature, but I'd always been attached to Arthur even before I knew who he was and now the other two were both important to me. The last few weeks, coupled with the knowledge that they were my only protectors in a world so full of dangers had all but guaranteed it.

Even Jaime, and considering what I knew about him and the depths he could sink to under the right circumstances, it was stunning.

Yet I couldn't stop now. I doubt that he would be best pleased to hear it, but the Lannister knight's words had the opposite effect to what he intended. They smothered the sparks of fear and uncertainty that yet plagued me, at least for now, for regardless of them I could not stop. There had already been too much effort, and too much paid by us and others beyond us for me to falter now.

I made a vow, and gods be damned, I intended to keep it.

"I know you speak from a place of concern, and I thank you for it" I straightened, taking in the stiffness of his posture and the stubborn set to his jaw "But I did not come all this way-, no, we did not come all this way only for me to turn back now"

"Your grace, you are a child!" Jaime hissed "An admittedly wondrous child, but a child nonetheless, and you are asking us to allow you to descend into a fucking volcano!"

"No." I met his eyes "I am asking you to trust me, as I trust in you, one more time"

He stared at me in stunned disbelief, as did Barristan and even Arthur. I did not look away.

Time passed.

He snorted, once, twice, before tipping his head back sharply and laughing. Not one of us interrupted him, despite the hysterical note to his chuckles.

"Very well." He breathed, at last, a defeated but firm tone to his voice "Very fucking well. But I must ask, your grace, how you intend to descend into the bowels of Dragon Mount without being burned to ash."

To that, I simply smiled and, for a moment, closed my eyes in as a recent memory surged into the forefront of my mind.

Her hand became unbearably hot, before the heat abruptly vanished, leaving only cool flesh behind. I remained frozen as she murmured "A parting gift, and one that you cannot afford to waste. You do not have long"

It did not take much to guess what exactly Daneys had done to me, and the realization, brought in by a brief test I conducted without informing the three had brought a great elation with it. Now my plans went from ludicrous and impossible to extremely difficult.

It spoke volumes of what my life had become and I was genuinely pleased with that difference.

Snorting, I opened my eyes and strode forward and past my three protectors eight out another word. They did not speak until I raised my own lantern and turned to them, holding it by the base as my other hand grabbed and wrenched the metal top off with a single, sharp movement.

"Jon-?"

I smiled. Then I jammed my hand straight into the lantern, fist closed directly over the candle's flame.

A moment,

All three lunged for me, Jaime in particular cursing wildly as they reached for me. I'd already pulled my hand out, thankfully, as the lantern was wrenched from my grip, a panicked Arthur examining my hands rapidly before slowing as disbelief at the state of my hand colored his features. The others soon followed, and they beheld my skin.

My unburnt skin

"Now then" I smiled like the cat that caught the canary "Are there any more arguments over my chosen course of action?"

Predictably, there were none.

...​

The next day passed as slow as molasses.

The anticipation I felt upon my realization had proved contagious. Food was tasteless, the journals were unreadable, conversation was stilted, all of it overshadowed by my preparing for my greatest, and, If I was not careful, final Journey.

At Arthur's insistence, I ate more than I'd expected, though.

"Best not tempt fate" He'd cautioned, eyes distant and tone weary "A full belly will give you strength"

Hours before the sunset, I sat next to Barristan, trying to calm my frayed nerves as I watched Jaime and Arthur spar.

They were magnificent, skilled in every sense of the word.

Swords flashed, clashing time and time again as the two all but danced circles around one another, their feet moving the song of steel.

"Who's better?" I asked Barristan, quite desperate to build a conversation and distract myself from my coming undertaking. Time was not kind, and the longer the sun took to set, the more fear and uncertainty seemed to manifest within me.

God be good, I was about to venture into an active volcano. My hands clenched into fists.

"In terms of skill?" the old man responded, and I turned to him, burying my feelings as I quirked an eyebrow "Hard to say. Jaime is excellent, but age has given Arthur more experience. If you want to know who'd defeat the other where this a fight, then Arthur wins with some difficulty"

"Only some? Truly?"

I did not doubt Arthur's prowess, only a harebrained fool would, but Jaime was supposedly a monster with a blade in hand. From the story I'd once read, he'd managed to duel Brianne of Tarth to a standstill while his wrists were chained, all following months of being Robb's captive. That alone implied skill in the league of legends.

"Oh, yes" Barristan chuckled kindly "Jaime is skilled, quick, and graceful, but Arthur is his better in strength, and with his own skill would trump him. Jaime would win under the right circumstances, but I doubt that it would be an easy endeavor or even one without cost.

"Well. Thank the gods that we'll never find out" I breathed a sigh, and Barristsn hummed in approval.

We sat in companionable silence, though I spied him glancing towards Jaime consideringly whenever he and Arthur broke apart for any significant length of time. Right, that was still a thing.

Add that to the list of things I needed to look into when all was said and done. Perhaps it was premature to assume I'd have a chance, but optimism was the soul of a good life.

That was doubly true in Westeros.

"You're worried," Barristan remarked, eyes boring into me

"I-" I sighed "Yes. So much hinged on my success, yet I can't help but wonder-"

Whether I interpreted the dreams incorrectly. Whether I made a mistake. Weather-

"Whether you might fail" Barristen finished knowingly

"So many people depend on me, Ser Barristan, knowingly and unknowingly" I murmured, face down as doubt and despair seemed to make themselves known "I can't fail them. I can't-"

"A man who fights for himself may lose strength. But a man who fights for others, for a worthy cause, shall never lose it, for he has theirs if nothing else."

I blinked at him, and blurted out the first thought that popped into my mind "I am not a man yet"

Barristan actually laughed.

"No" he agreed, nodding as he stood and readied himself for his own bout against Arthur "But you have our strength all the same"

With a final smile, he left me to my whirling thoughts

...​

My fear was a heavy, painful thing as we scaled the side of the dragon mount, further than we'd ever strayed before. Baristas and Jaime remained behind me.

As we approached the caldera of the Dragon Mount, the smell of smoke and ash became almost unbearable, and my breathing became unsteady. Every step I took felt heavy, and my emotions clogged up my thoughts.

My heart nearly stopped when Arthur st, indicating that we had arrived. Looking down, I saw a massive, jagged opening, so big that Balerion could spread his wings and descend into it comfortably. Smoke and ash sprayed out in thick columns, but they could not effectively disguise the baleful red glow of magma lines, visible even from a distance.

I gulped

"It is time" Arthur's voice was grave, and his fists were clenched so hard his knuckles went white, but he remained steady as he unslung the leather satchel on his shoulder and handed it to me. A brief glance revealed all five of my dragon eggs sitting safely without it.

I could not feel the heat as my protectors certainly could, I could see the trails of sweat even now, but where they remained firm I shook. My eyes were blurry and I rubbed at them furiously

Damn it, this was necessary, I knew that, so why the hell did I feel like this?

Hands grabbed into my shoulders, and I raised my head to behold Arthur's kneeling form.

Even though he was sweating and red-faced, he remained as strong and unyielding as ever.

"I'm scared"

The whispered admission made me feel weak, but my oldest protector only smiled

"I'd think you a fool if you weren't. But you started this, and you will see this through, for you are brave, Jon. You always have been, that I've always known" He smiled, a sheen to his eyes "Go. Meet your destiny, and know within your heart that we shall await you for however long you may need."

His grip tightened "This, I swear to you, my King"

"As do we all" Barristan stepped into my view, and though he didn't say anything, Jaime's sharp nod was as loud as any lion's roar.

I didn't resist as I was pulled into a hug, merely wrapped my hands around him further and hung on.

I would not let it end here. Strength I thought gone surged back as I readied myself.

I would succeed.

When I stepped back. Arthur and the others had only looks of strength and conviction to give me.

I smiled, for I needed nothing else.

Satchel around my shoulder and held tight to my form, I took one last glance before spinning around and descending down the unstable path, into the heart of the Dragon Mount.

...
​

Deep beneath the earth, something stirred

...​

Woohoo.

We're in the endgame now.

As always, leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it, please be courteous.

 

[Firewillreign]

The biggest difficulties with descending into an active volcano were surprising, all things considered, though perhaps they shouldn't have been.

It wasn't sight, because for all that the thick smoke and ash lingered heavily, and the baleful red glow of pooling magma that I avoided with the greatest caution provided enough light to prevent me from going entirely blind.

Though the combined effect was genuinely unsettling.

It wasn't the heat either, Daenys's gift, for all that I still understood so little of its nature and how it functioned had ensured that. That did not, however, calm my pace. The dreamer had all but implied that the gift, as wonderful as it was, had a time limit and given all that was at stake it was not one that I could afford to waste.

That said, the real challenges were movement and navigation. The farther I descended into the magma-lit caverns, the steeper and less stable the volcanic rock beneath my feat became. Twice now the ground had nearly crumbled and sent me tumbling forwards, only my caution and alertness preventing a possible catastrophe.

Unburnt a candle's flame may have left me, But I had no desire to see whether that ability extended to molten rock.

Targaryen I may be, but I still had some measure of sense left to my name.

Though I'd tried to keep a sense of it, I'd quickly lost track of time, the smoke and the smell of ash, coupled with the seemingly never-ending caverns I'd tracked before had pushed me towards abandoning the effort.

More than once I'd met a dead end, and once I'd even looped back following a series of tunnels that had left me confused and disorientated.

That was not all I felt, though

My fear had, perhaps vanished was not the right word, but instead had been pushed back, the support and conviction of my three protectors having proven invaluable. My wariness, however, had not abated in the least and perhaps that was for the better.

This was no place to be overconfident.

Abruptly, I came across a tunnel, wide enough that two of me could have walked it shoulder to shoulder with room to spare.

I blinked.

The existence of the tunnel was not an oddity in itself, for when I'd first begun making my descent I'd spied massive, cavernous caves and open-ended tunnels of titanic size, and I had very little doubt that they were not once the lairs of the dragons of old.

But the farther down I went, they had become fewer and farther between until they'd all but vanished, leaving far smaller structures in their wake, likely natural at that.

I'd assumed that the dragons simply did not burrow deeper, yet here we were. The tunnel stood out, not jagged and crumbling, but strong and smooth and more shapely than any I'd seen yet at this depth, as though something had bored clean through it.

Pushing down the unease that had cropped up within me and the sense that I had forgotten something, I tightened my grip on my satchel and went on, ducking my head to avoid the roof of the tunnel, one foot after as I focused on the sound of stone crunching and -

I froze, head raising high and ears straining.

A moment passed, then another and another, and I heard nothing. I frowned heavily, breathing in. I could have sworn I'd heard something. I wasn't sure what exactly I was expecting, but I waited for another moment before resuming my path.

I grimaced at the sight of several streams of molten volcanic pouring out of subterranean vents and shifting before me and turned to carefully navigate a narrow path of elevated stone, satchel pressed firmly to my form.

Dropping any of the eggs now would be a nightmare.

I carried on slowly, wary of my surroundings.

That did not prevent the feeling that I had forgotten something important, and it weighed heavily on my mind

...​

I didn't know how.

Maybe it was a lucky guess.

Maybe it was instinct or some strange effect imprinted on me from my time on the Dragon Throne, but I felt it the moment I began to get closer to my goal, whatever that may be.

The volcanic rock beneath me smoothed out into a familiar path of purest black stone, perfectly balanced and untouched despite the no doubt beastly heat it was directly exposed to this far down the bowels of the Dragonmount.

My excitement reached a crescendo as the tunnel tapered off, and I all but leaped to the opening.

I immediately took a step back, mouth open wide at the sight before me

Gods above

I was in a cavernous spherical chamber, a structure so large it dwarfed even the Black Dread's lair back in King's Landing. Overhead, supported by fourteen titanic pillars surrounding the chamber was a dome of black stone, a mural in the likeness of the walls of Dragonstone castle, depicting illustrations of Dragons and beasts I could not hope to recognize, a thousand and one tales immortalized in stone.

Before me, a massive circular platform lay, smooth and interrupted black stone surrounded by a literal river of magma that circled the entirety of the chamber floor, the pillars holding the dome sunk into it yet showing no signs of deformation or any structural damage at all.

Directly ahead of me was a most majestic sight.

A massive stone dragon's head lay, the distance between us far yet the sheer size of it so large I could see it clearly, horns long and sharp, scale pattern engraved with the utmost detail, and titanic jaws spread wide, large enough for a gods be damned mammoth to walk through comfortably.

I knew what it was.

The entrance to Aenar Targaryan's hidden vault. The resting place of the forgotten treasures of House Targaryan, and, by the time I was done, the sight of the rebirth of their greatness.

Glee filled me, a primal sort of joy that was so wild it made me feel light-headed, all driven by the realization that I was so close to accomplishing what I had set out to do, so close to achieving the impossible

So, so close to gaining a legitimate chance

Perhaps that's why I was not focused as I took a step forward, expecting the same kind of sloping path I'd been traveling down for hours at this point and being unaware of the carved steps beneath me.

My foot tripped and I tumbled forward, face slamming into the stone floor brutally, but that was quickly overshadowed by the horror I felt as not one but two eggs slipped free of the open satchel and rolled across the open floor.

Desperately, I scrambled forward to grab the first, the pink, but the second, my egg, continued rolling, moving forward and at imminent risk of being lost to the river of molten rock.

"No no no no no!" I snarled as I reached for it, but I needn't have bothered. Perhaps it was a bit of luck, or divine pity, or anything else, but the egg slowed, rolling right and left once, twice, and thrice before stilling at last.

The relief was so heavy I laughed.

That's when my luck ran out.

I froze as the river of molten rock bubbled and burst, flinging lava in every direction as a scaled and monstrous figure emerged, form quickly rising from the surface.

A titanic head dropped heavily, the impact sending the egg rolling farther away, but for once I could not pay attention to it, frozen in mortal terror as I was.

All the pieces had fallen into place.

Cages of black stone.

A horn to bind creatures in perpetuity. But not the Dragons

A vault meant to be protected, but buried so deep no dragon could ever survive long enough to be of any use.

Shifting scales, Stirring Beasts

Beware what dwells within the flames.

Scales a sickly orange, covered in molten rock, the Valyrian Firewyrm screeched as it pulled more of its massive bulk out of the river and onto the back stone platform, the noise a hellish cacophony of ferocity and savagery, and angled its head to face me

...​

Yowza. It felt great to write this.

For those who expected dragons, good thoughts, but I made it clear Jon's connected to the golden egg and if he got a centuries-old dragon right now the conquest would start immediately cause boy or not, why bother waiting? The element of surprise would be long friggin gone anyway.

Shoutout to Epi. For guessing it. Didn't want to like your comment and give the game away!

XD

As always leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it please be courteous.

 

[Firewillreign]

It was a new experience.

Never, not once in the cumulative twenty-three years of my existence had I ever experienced such existential terror. My heart hurt, an aching agony, so sharp and so painful that I imagined I could feel every beat. My legs felt weak, and my body felt impossibly faint and weightless, as though I could float away at any moment.

The Firewyrm screeched, a lower yet no less savage noise, the sound of a deadly predator roused from its slumber.

Long and sinuous, the beast shifted as more of its bulk emerged onto the platform, scales the color of rotten oranges, dull and interspaced with ugly black patches. Its head bore a startling resemblance to the dragons I'd seen, but narrower and longer, with two sharp horns extending horizontally from the end of it, deep black and curling ever so slightly.

An unknowable length of its body still submerged, the beast moved forward, carried on short, disproportionate legs, thick and heavy, tipped with black claws.

Mouth opening, revealing rows of serrated, glistening black teeth it hissed, a layered sound no mere serpent could ever hope to match, head angled directly towards me.

I couldn't move. It was a paralysis brought in by fear and indecision.

I faced death, yet I had come too far to turn back now.

No no no no no

I couldn't rightly explain my thoughts. I'd already determined that, best decision or not, I could not flee, not after everything.

Yet I still found myself carefully keeping my eyes locked with the best before me, ready to move.

I took a single step back

It was only the agonizing terror that stopped me from screaming as the wyrm closed half the distance between us in one incomprehensible strike, jaws snapping at empty air and droplets of molten rock being flung dangerously close to my person from the sheer momentum.

Then it got worse

A sharp hissing sounded, though it did not come from the wyrm. Body shaking violently, and desperately ensuring I did not move, I turned to the tunnel that I had emerged from

The second firewyrm was a ghastly thing, possessing similar facial structures but an uglier coloring, scales like mudd shot through with black.

This was what I had heard, I thought with a detached sense of realization. I must have just missed it, or been close to it.

I didn't know whether it was following me already or if the other beast's call had summoned it here.

It did not matter.

I was dead either way. The thought was a numb one, but that did not take away from its veracity.

So close, yet so far away

I almost cried.

The distance between us closed, and jaws that could swallow me while in a single bite approached, bringing with them a putrid stench that nearly made me gag.

I looked up as the monster raised itself, looming over me, and focused on the ceiling above.

I closed my eyes as it roared

...​

A moment passed, another, and another after that.

I tensed but did not open my eyes, the sound of the wyrm lowering itself with a dull thud was all I could hear. I almost moved when I felt heat, and I could no longer resist the desire to open my eyes when I heard the sound of movement beside me.

I opened my two eyes to stare at a single gargantuan one

The second firewyrm's eye had no pupil, no lens. It was an unsettling pale, milky orb.

I blinked in shock as the beast slid past me entirely and traveled across the platform, drawing a snarl of what was no doubt a warning from the other.

It didn't kill me me. I was right in front of it. Why didn't it?-

Pale, milky orb.

The wyrms were blind.

A small spec of hope began to take root, and I grabbed it with both hands.

As quietly as I could, I exhaled.

Think

They couldn't see. But they could still somehow track me. How?

Sound? No, can't be. They were creatures that dwelled within the earth and swam through rivers of molten rock. I doubted sound transferred through any of that effectively.

Sight was impossible and the sound was out, so where did that leave me?

Wait. The first had only emerged once I'd dropped the eggs. After that, the only time it had moved to attack was when... When I stepped back.

Shit.

They felt movement, didn't they? Like spiders felt vibrations through their webs.

I glanced towards the two beasts, and then further beyond, to where my egg lay utterly still and out of their notice, before finally directing my gaze to the Aenar's vault.

I turned back to where the two firewyrms were snarling and snapping at one another, each taking the measure of the other.

They didn't cooperate, I realized. Two predators that didn't tolerate the other's presence past a certain limit.

I gulped. I had... calling it a plan would be polite. It was a desperate, mad gamble, and one that could very much end in my fiery death, but...

What choice did I have?

With slow, deliberate movements, I raised a foot. The wyrms stilled and moved no further.

Using my now free limb, I placed it against the other and with a sharp movement pulled my other foot free of my boot.

At that, both snapped in my direction, snarls filling the chamber, and I forced myself not to panic.

Carefully, regaining my balance, I raised the shoe up high.

Five-year-old strength, don't fail me now.

With every bit of power I could muster, I hurled the shoe right in between the two firewyrms.

The effect was instant.

The two monsters both lunged at the same time, colliding with the other in a brutal move that knocked them both back, dazed, only for the orange to snarl in fury and dive for the other, jaws spread wide and clamping on its skull.

And me?

I was already running as fast as I could, not daring to glance back for even a moment as I scooped the egg into my hands and bolted for the stone dragon's maw.

...​

Shit, this was a tense scene. Yeesh

This is the link to wiki on firywyrms. The picture is how you should imagine them to look, with a few differences in color obviously,

https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Firewyrm

Stay tuned. We're super close!

 

[Firewillreign]

I didn't stop running.

Not even when I retrieved my egg, scooping it up in one smooth motion that I suspect would've left me feeling satisfied had the circumstances been any different.

I could hear the wyrms raging behind me, the two enraged predators locked in a monstrous dance of savagery and brutality, the sound of unnatural hissing, snapping, and titanic bodies colliding reaching a crescendo, but I did not dare see it for myself.

With their apparent hypersensitivity to movement, the moment one of them broke away from their contest of domination to take stock of me, I was dead.

And I did not come all this way to become some discount fire-breathing monstrosity's meal.

I had better things to do

Directly ahead, the open jaws of the stone dragon awaited, a gap wide enough for a man to cross halfway across the lower row of teeth. An entrance.

Thank all the gods.

The moment I lept into the dragon's maw, I felt the atmosphere change.

The smell of ash and brimstone vanished, replaced with cool, clean air. My skin tingled, as though something had just brushed past me.

Bewildered, but still very much aware of my situation, I kept traveling down what quickly appeared to be yet another tunnel, though my discomfort rose rapidly as I realized there was no source of light.

I was walking into pitch blackness, and willingly at that.

What else could I do?

There was no returning back where I'd come from, and so I soldiered on, my pace a careful but quick jog as I made my best effort to traverse the seemingly endless dark, ears kept pealed for the dreaded sound of the firewyrms giving chase, or anything at all for that matter.

But there was none. The tunnel was silent, unnaturally so, to the point where I couldn't hear my own footfalls.

Abruptly, golden light shone through, revealing that the tunnel was at an end. I felt my heart stutter at the sight before me.

Gold.

A great hall, thrice as big as Winterfell's own, with walls and a ceiling of purest gold, as radiant as sunlight, if not outright more so.

Pillars of the beautiful metal help up the roof, though I could only just see the ends of them, for the simple reason that they were surrounded, all but buried in treasure my mind could scarcely comprehend.

I stepped forward, gold coins tinkling beneath my feet as I moved forward, entranced by what I saw.

Mountains of golden treasure, coins of every sort, beautiful sculptures with detail I had never thought possible, beautiful ceremonial blades encrusted with precious gemstones of every enchanting color, harps and loots, and a hundred glorious creations besides.

A treasure fit for kings, yet no king I knew of had ever possessed such opulent, magnificent wealth.

Not until me.

I laughed, loudly and freely, glee and satisfaction bubbling within my chest.

"This is a worthy reward" I called out, my voice echoing of the gorgeous walls. Lifting a golden goblet, plain but for the dragon engraved onto it's surface, I laughed again.

So much effort, but I'd been rewarded in kind for my patience. With this treasure, I could accomplish anything. I could accomplish everything.

And I would

I'd buy armies and bury the seven kingdoms under my forces. I'd pay the debts that muscle-headed drunken fool sitting on my throne had accumulated. I'd rule over the kingdoms and one day send the White Walkers back to whichever hell spawned them, such was now my power.

Then what?

I frowned. Rule, I supposed. Yes, yes!

I would rule over the Kingdoms. I'd bring prosperity to the lands. There would be challenges, of course, logistics and political, dealing with Lords-

I frowned more heavily.

Lords. Entitled, conniving arrogant fools, always lying and scheming to take what was not theirs to take.

They'd seek my throne. They'd seek my power. They'd seek my gold.

I snarled, hate and rage pooling within me.

They will not take what's mine! I'll kill anyone who tries. I'll kill them all I must!

I stared at the gold. Mine. Mine and mine alone, not some ungrateful sniveling worm's.

I beheld my wealth and reached down, tightly gripping handfuls of golden coins, before unclenching my hands and watching the shower of gold raining back down with clinking impacts.

The Great Houses. The lesser houses. Landed knights and common folk alike. None would have it.

None!

I could almost imagine them, offering empty platitudes and honeyed lies while they plotted to take what's mine by right.

No one could be trusted.

Not even those close to me.

Ned Stark wouldn't lift a finger to help me claim my birthright, but he'd love to reap the rewards, wouldn't he?

Even the Kingsguard were potential traitors. Barristan was a turn cloak twice over. How could such a man be trusted to defend me? To defend my treasure?

Jaime killed one king, what's to stop him from killing another? Lannisters were poison, after all.

Even Arthur would...

Even he... Would...

No. He would not

He would never.

I clutched my head.

What was this?

What the fuck was I thinking?

Wealth didn't solve my problems. No amount of gold would win me an army I could rely on, not truly. The debts Robert Baratheon accumulated would have to be investigated before I even considered dealing with them and...

What the hells would gold be due to white walkers?

The vast treasure before me flickered

This... This was a trick, I realized in horror, awareness and sense returning to my mind as I rose to my feet.

I was no monster. I wouldn't kill people indiscriminately. Not for wealth of all things.

The Kingsgaurd we're my protectors. They risked everything for me. Barristan was a good man, ever loyal. Jaime fought his demons but he tried, and Arthur...

Arthur was and always will be my greatest, most cherished protector

Though with this treasure I could accomplish-

I shook my head. I did not know what was happening, but that was not my way of thinking. That was not me.

Suddenly, I felt enraged for a vastly different reason altogether

My mind was my own. My beliefs were my own, my goals were my own, and the values that made me who I was were my own.

And gods damn it, the only one that would change that would be me.

Fury bubbling up, I breathed in deeply and screamed.

"Enough!"

I stared in shock as the wealth vanished. Between one moment and the other, riches unimaginable disappeared, leaving an empty chamber of black stone, devoid of any color.

What the fuck had just happened?

I struggled to think, retrieving my satchel from where it lay at my feet, far too many thoughts racing through my head for me to process clearly. Instead, I just stared ahead warily.

In front of me, a single, massive door lay, unsurprisingly crafted from plain dragon stone.

The only path forward

Anticipation and restlessness fueling me, I buried my unsettled and disturbed thoughts as I bolted, feet hardly touching the ground as I all but flew towards it.

I raised both hands and pushed but to no avail. The dull stone didn't even budge, and there were no handholds to pull on.

What now?

My frustration and fear were reaching a boiling point, I realized as I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth.

Too much was happening, and I understood too little, all but blind to it all

Mythical beasts and secret magic and-

I blinked

"Secrets buried within Black stone"

"Fire and blood shall show the way"

Magic. Blood.

I grit my teeth. One day, I vowed, I would actually understand the fantastical insanity my life had become.

One day, but not today

Grimacing, and feeling incredibly foolish, I raised the the tip of my thumb to my mouth.

Oh gods, this was going to be a nightmare.

Then again, what part of any of this wasn't?

I bit down, hard, the sharp pain immediately having me pull my thumb back, skin not even broken.

I glared, blinking the pained tears out of my eyes.

Once more, and again.

The fourth time, I put every bit of will I could muster and bit down savagely.

I hissed as the iron tang of blood hit my tongue, the relatively small wound proving agonizing, blood running in consistent streams across my lower palm and wrist.

Fuck! Fuck fyrewyrms, fuck magic, and fuck this!

Pain gave way to rage, I clenched my fist, spreading blood over the rest of my palm, before slamming it fully against the black stone.

Orange light exploded from the stone, illuminating a single word of High Valyrian.

I recognized it immediately.

How could I not?

"Targaryen"​

Then the door swung back on its hinges.

...​

Back within the great stone chamber, an injured and defeated foe slinked back beneath waves of molten rock, brown scales torn and dripping black, steaming blood.

The victor angled its head sharply towards a passageway rarely travelled but never forgotten

It would not so easily be denied its prey.

...​

The end draws near, mwahahaha.

Also, magic is cool but kind of a bitch

True story XD

Stay tuned!

 

[Firewillreign]

I could hear the waves crashing gently, and smell the refreshing salt ocean air. Though my eyes were closed, the gentle sunlight-

Sunlight?

I blinked my eyes open, and sure enough, rather than a dome of black stone, the sun shone overhead, surrounded by the blue sky with so few clouds. I sat up groggily, and it took but a moment to recognize where I was.

I opened my eyes slowly, and sure enough, the sun shone gently overhead, the blue sky dotted with clouds and beautiful to look at.

A far cry from the dome of black stone I had been expecting

I sat up groggily, and recognition flared immediately. This was the cliff where was hatched our plans and buried the chests. How did I get here?

I struggled to remember.

I'd pressed a bloody palm to the back stone door, the valyrian word for my family name had appeared, the door swung back on its hinges, and...

And...

Nothing. A wave of inexplicable orange light and I'm here

This was...magic, wasn't it? There wasn't a chance in hell I could have navigated my way out of the Dragon Mount without getting killed, by flames or teeth.

Gods I needed to come up with a way to deal with that.

For a moment, I just drifted into my thoughts, all alone.

Then I wasn't

I was bathed in shadow as a titanic, familiar red shape flew overhead, wing beats akin to thunderclaps.

Morghul, the last freeholder's mount circled the clouds once, twice, before descending to the ground, swings beating and yellow membranes flashing a final time as he made his descent, back to the dragon mount and front facing me.

He unleashed a roar fit to shake the world, and despite the deadly terror such a creature could inspire, I could not help but stare in wonder.

So large as to be near incomprehensible, with scales like blood, yellow wing membranes, and coal-like eyes.

Gods, but he was magnificent.

As beautiful as they were deadly, the dragons once were

And they will be again.

Though the distance between us was great, the mighty beast focused on me, and I in turn did the same. Then I blinked as he extended a wing in a very familiar movement

Surely not?-

A figure descended its length, movements full of grace and dignity. Stepping off without slowing his pace, he moved towards me fluidly, pace quick and steady.

As he approached, I took note of him despite being certain of his identity. His clothes were black and interspaced with red, and he had a sword with a dragon head pommel tied to his belt.

Even centuries dead, Aenar Targaryen cut a most imposing figure.

I waited until he'd stood, at last, only a few paces between us, before bowing at the waist neatly.

"Lord Freeholder" I addressed him "Ancestor"

"Ancestor, indeed" Aenar looked down at me as I raised my head, eyes cold and face like stone "Much to my eternal shame"

..... Oh, not this bullshit again

"I thought you of all people would be pleased to see one of your descendants close to reclaiming their birthright" I kept my voice level as I met his eyes head-on.

I would not cower before him

"Birthright? Birthright?" He scoffed, the sound cold and hard "You, a mongrel sired by an undisciplined fool and a savage whore claim the treasures of House Targaryan as your own? The last remnants of the great freehold? You?"

His voice was a cruel thing, full of derision and scorn. Faced with it, I merely smiled and looked the man dead in the eye

"Yes, I do"

Aenar raised a hand, then, and suddenly Morghul was moving, a massive wall of red scales and teeth charging like a locomotive.

The Dragonlord stepped out of the way, allowing a massive snout to stop inches away from my form before jaws opened and unleashed a beastly roar so terrifying it was a weapon in its own right.

Flames flickered in the back of the red dragon's throat, the threat unspoken but clear.

It would only take a word

"You are of my blood, however impure" Aenar's town was dark and heavy, a vicious thing "So I will offer you mercy I would bestow upon no other. Flee, little half-breed. Begone, and never darken these halls again. You are unfit, unworthy to even stand within them."

I couldn't rightly explain it. So many different conflicting emotions l, but I could never understand which one came over me at the time. So much had happened, so much danger, and in the end...

I was tired

I looked the dragon lord right in the eye "Go fuck yourself"

His face twitched, an expression of disbelief and steadily growing outrage marring his features

"What?"

"Go fuck yourself" I smiled amiably, and I savored the look of steadily growing outrage on his face. I did not, however, savor the steadily growing fury evident in Morghul's movements, but needs must.

"You dare?-"

"I do. I've done too much, come too far to let some figment turn me away" I cut him off, back straight and head held high "And you are a figment. Aenar Targaryen died centuries ago. So you? Whoever or whatever you are, you do not command me. I am not leaving, not now!"

"Then you will die"

Morghul snarled with flames flashing in his throat as he moved forward, and despite myself, I flinched and went stumbling back, the red dragon's massive south herding me closer to the edge of the cliff and the drop to the sea below.

Only, I realized, there was no cliff any longer.

The sky had become an impenetrable veil of black smoke and ash. The ground beneath me shifted into volcanic rock, and behind me, the open caldera of the dragon mount sloped, whilst an ocean of writhing molten rock blazed within, waiting to consume anything that fell into its depths.

"I offer you one last chance" The Last freeholder looked akin to a demon, shrouded in ash and smoke, purple eyes gleaming and reflecting the color of flames "Flee, and do not ever return"

I closed my eyes as I breathed, mustering myself for the insanity I was about to commit.

When next I opened them, I stood straight. I did not tremble, no matter how much I may have wished to.

"I met another one of your descendants, two years ago" I spoke with a clear voice despite everything. "He told me the same thing. Guess being an arrogant, entitled relic runs in the family"

Aenar said nothing, but Morghul growled in warning. I paid neither any attention, lowering my head as I thought.

"I caved then, and I spent years regretting it. I will not do so again. The entirety of the world of man is at risk, and I will not live knowing that I ran away from my duty to help."

"You have no such duty. You have no duty at all."

The voice was flat, emotionless.

"Not one that was given to me, no. But I chose it for myself, understand? I'm going to stand my ground and fight, come what may because I choose to. Because that's the kind of person I am"

I met his eyes once again.

"Because that's the kind of Targaryen I am. And if that's not good enough for you, then fuck you. So kill me, or let me pass. But decide quickly. Time is precious, and I've wasted enough of it as it is."

He looked at me oddly then, purple eyes assessing "Are you not afraid?"

"Only a fool doesn't feel fear when faced with the end of the world" I responded dryly and gestured to Morghul. "Or a dragon. But I'd be a bigger fool still to let it rule me."

And I meant every word. I wasn't going to stop feeling fear. In this world, that emotion could be someone's bread and butter, and often was at that. But I was done letting it control me. I stood unflinchingly, faced by a dragon that could make all traces of me disappear in an instant.

Shock promptly spread through me as, for the first time since we'd begun speaking, the last freeholder smiled.

"Wise words" he spoke then, a wistful expression on his face "You are a worthy descendant, Gaemon. Blood is meaningless without the will that gives it strength. "

Wait

"Does that mean?-"

"The treasures of house Targaryen are yours to do with as you see fit. May you be as glorious as your namesake"

The pressure that I could not understand built up, Morghul roared, and the world shattered into orange light

...​

I awoke sharply, standing on my own two feet. Behind me, the door I'd just stepped through lay wide open.

What? Why would he?-

Was that a test? I laughed, triumph and success banishing my unease. A test like that? Corny and cliche as all hell, but I'd take it over the alternative. Still gleeful, I looked around.

Ahead, a domed chamber lay, though this one was different. Fourteen great doors were built into the walls, one after the other in the shape of a circle, carved and illustrated with symbols of dragons and Valyrian lettering. Between each set of doors, a corridor led off into the darkness.

Only this time, no beast was waiting to ambush me.

No strange and unknowable magic trying to ensnare my mind or test my will.

I'd done it. Finally, at long last, I stood in the true vault of House Targaryen.

And true to form, that's when it all went to shit.

A flash of silver to my side had me tensing, whirling around to face-

What?

"Daenys?"

"Shut the door! Shu-"

A bone-chilling shriek echoed, sending me stumbling forward. I stared, horrified, as Daenys's terrified form flickered

"Find the horn"

And then she was gone.

I turned to stare, and the blood rushed from my face as I caught sight of orange scales.

It shouldn't be able to get in. The doorway was too narrow, barely enough for its snout to-

An odd noise echoed, one that I recognized from my vision of Morghul, and I was moving well out of range even as an ocean of orange, twisted flames blasted through the doorway, a cone of heat so mighty I could feel it even as I ran as far off to the side as I could, back pressing against the wall.

They cut off, and I stared in fear as the 'impenetrable" dragon stone began to glow red hot

Outside, the Firewyrm collided with the wall.

It began to crack.

...​

Rubbing the wetness out of his eyes and wincing heavily, Jaime struggled to rise, knees weak. The sword fell from his grip.

Barristan did the same, the man breathing heavily, his injuries pronounced, and looking at the Lannister knight as though he was beholding the end of the world.

"Jaime" Arthur's head was down, tone laced with pity of all fucking things and Jaime could no longer muster the rage to face it.

"It's true" He spat bitterly "Every fucking word"

The words sapped the last of his strength, and he fell silent.

What more could be said?

The three knights stood, each undecided, before Barristan stepped forward, a glint to his eyes and face set in determination.

He never had the chance to speak

"Knights of the Kingsguard" An ethereal, inhuman voice spoke, rife with power, and the three greatest swordsmen of Westeros spun to face it.

Jaime stumbled back, Barristan's jaw went slack and Arthur's blade nearly slipped from his fingers.

A woman stood there, dressed in a simple white robe, feet bare against the rough ground, Her silver hair, contrasted with her purple eyes, inhuman beauty evident.

The tale of their king was still fresh in their minds, and they all recognized her.

Daenys the Dreamer, form faint but present and alight with an unnatural glow regarded them gravely

"You are needed"

...​

One chapter remaining.

Let's get wild XD

As Always leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it, please be courteous.

 

[Firewillreign]

I slammed into the third set of great doors and nearly face-planted as the doors once again moved back easily, granting me entry.



A small part of me wondered how that was even possible, given that a five-year-old's strength flat out shouldn't have been able to accomplish anything of the sort.



The rest of me, on the other hand, was high on fear-induced adrenaline, the realization that I was likely about to get eaten doing wonders for my prioritization skills.



The room was large, as had proved the norm, but perhaps not to the extent that I would have expected. Stacked vertically up from the ground, stacks of chests of a peculiar red wood lay, rows upon rows lining the room.



Find the horn



Aware of the hammering, beastly noises that shook the great chamber behind me, I bolted for the first row, hands reaching out and pushing against the first stack violently. The chests crashed to the ground thunderously, the foremost of them shaking open and spilling sacks onto the floor, some that in turn spread their contents to the stone before them.



Rubies. Gemstones. Precious treasures that, given that they didn't seem to be ensnaring and entrapping my mind would have been glee-inducing, but at the moment only contributed to my rising frustration.



Fuck, this was the third hall. The first was a hair shy from being a museum, full of tapestries, sculptures, and carvings amongst all manner of objects I didn't understand and had no time to. The second was different, shelves upon shelves lined with books, tomes and scrolls, of what, I could only guess.



Both were fascinating, and both were soon to be irrelevant If I wasn't alive to explore them



Desperation driving my movements, I tipped over a few more stacks, heart hammering and falling as they revealed much the same.



Endless treasure and no gods be damned horn.



I turned to leave the hall before an idea occurred to me.



Quickly, I whirled around and grabbed a bag of heavy gemstones before bolting once more.



Outside, I was met with a vision clean out of my worst nightmares. The great stone wall glowed red hot, massive cracks spreading throughout the rapidly destabilizing structure.



Outside, the firewyrm had ceased its collisions with it and resumed its attempt to bathe it in flames, massive spurts of heat erupting through the open doorway.



I cursed violently. I didn't have much time.

...​

Jaime had thought his strength sapped. The fight with Barristan, the truths he had laid bare the aching agony-



Well. He thought he was done for the night,



Apparently fucking not.



"Firewyrms?" Arthur's tone was strong for all that it dripped panic and terror.



Jaime couldn't blame him. He's only heard tales of the damn things from Tyrion when he'd found mention of them in a few odd scrolls, and even then those were a few offhanded comments on beasts fit for the seven hells.



He had better things to do.



Had.



Spirits, wraiths and beasts of legends come to life. What next, grumpkins and snarks?



Jaime blinked.



Oh, gods he hoped not.



What the fuck had this life of his become?



The Lady Daenys, a woman who had died hundreds of years ago, inclined her head, features drawn. Her form shone with a dimming but everpresent light, an aura that marked her as something other.



"One has been injured and is no longer a concern." The dreamer spoke urgently, voice distinctly weaker than it had been but a moment ago. "The other is a savage thing, but it too has suffered injuries. It hunts by movement, and you must tread slowly, carefully, if you wish to survive it. Its senses are dulled by its pain, but get close enough and neither gods nor men will save you from its teeth."



Fuck



"My Lady," Barristan's voice was much the same, features bone white and disbelieving. Beneath the storm of frenzied thoughts his mind had become, Jaime wondered if that was because he was speaking to a dead woman, or because of what the dead woman spoke of in turn.



Likely a bit of both



"Firewyrm or Dragon, we would rush to our King's defense without hesitation." Barristan's voice rang with conviction, but it was marred with heavy desperation and choking fear when he continued "But we can not. The Dragon Mount's heat will burn us to ashes long before we ever get close."



Fuck.



This couldn't end now.



Jaime was no stranger to suffering and disappointment, Aerys had ensured that. The Mad King's specter had loomed over his life for far too long. But Jon, or Gaemon or whatever it is he decided to go with was more than just a new contender to the throne, He was a chance to make things right, a chance to prove fulfill a promise...



Here was a chance to do one meaningful thing in this miserable life of his.



And if he lost that? Well.



There were worse fates than death, it would seem.



"Dragonstone is more than just an island, Ser Barristan. My father made quite sure of that. It is a wellspring, a place of old magic and power that has slumbered for centuries. Not nearly endless, perhaps, but no less mighty for it." She raised a hand, and pale silver light radiated from her open palm. Jaime had never seen anything more beautiful, nor more terrifying "A small amount of that power flows through me. And I shall bequeath it on to you, in the same way that I have bequeathed it onto your king. But you are no valyrians, no dragonlords. The spell shall be a temporary thing, nothing more, and should you linger past its limits, you will burn."



Arthur and Barristan did not hesitate, did not even take a moment to think despite the utterly nonsensical nature of what they'd all just heard. The moment that words were spoken their stances were ready, determination and will burning so brightly within them that a blind man could see it.



Jaime, though?



Fear was an old friend, and for a moment, Jaime greeted it.



What insanity was this? What madness could possess him to go through with this? A sane man would run, would flee down this Dragonmount and far, far away from this ludicrous danger he had found himself bound to.



The memory surged to the front of his mind unexpectedly



'You, Ser Jaime, are a hero"



And a hero would not run.



Gods damn his life and gods damn Targaryens. The fuckers never made anything easy.



"Then let's begin, my lady" He grinned weakly as she (it?) turned to regard him with sharp purple eyes "We have a king to save."



Purple eyes held his for a moment more.



Then the Dreamer smiled, and extended her hand further in his direction.



Silver light filled his vision

...​

I panted desperately as I made my way out of the fifth chamber. Like the fourth, it held only strange examples of stone tools and artwork, in every shape.



Why exactly they would store something so useless in what was the most ridiculously guarded vault I'd ever even heard of, I had no idea, but I was starting to think that dragon lords and simple were two entirely opposing concepts.



Then I caught sight of something that had me freezing solid.



Nestled between the fifth and sixth chambers, a hallway led off into the darkness.



That in itself was not odd. There were many of them I could see quite clearly.



No, it was the high valyrian words engraved on top of the tunnel arch



Sikagon drōma



Could it be?



I took a step forward, and that was about as far as I got before the inevitable occurred.



The dragon stone wall was built with magic and craftsmanship of the highest quality, perhaps, but even it could not stand strong in the face of such a dedicated and sustained assault.



The wall exploded inwards, bits of red hot stone flinging past me at such speed they slammed directly into the walls behind me. Stone dripped and a cloud of dark dust rose up, and I watched, horror-struck, as a familiar orange form emerged from within it.



Scales torn and weeping black blood, form rendered all the more horrifying from the damage it had sustained but still very much aware, the firwyrm snarled.

...​

Barristan gritted his teeth as he leaped over a pit of molten rock, landing lightly on his feet and continuing his blinding pace. Ahead of him, Arthur was a blur, and just behind him, Jaime did the same.



"You shall know where to go"



The dreamer's parting words were as impossible as her very appearance, but gods help him, Barristan understood.



His blood sang, and he navigated what should have been deadly tunnels of rock and flame as if she were born for it, flames and heat having no effect on him as he was inexorably drawn somewhere, a pull that was strange and terrifying in equal measure.



As he ran, mind ablaze, he thought of Jon.



Rhaegar's son.



He could admit to himself, that was why he had abandoned the Baratheon dynasty. His oaths were a pillar of who he was, but the failure he had paid Rhaegar's friendship and trust with had been a noose around his neck for years. Presented with the chance to slip it, to redeem himself in the eyes of gods and men, how could he not?



But then he met the boy.



A few weeks were not enough time to understand the mettle of a man, or boy in this case. Certainly not a king. But it was enough to grasp to see, to learn of their nature just enough to gain an inkling of what they could be.



Smart, intelligent beyond his years. Ambitious, but tempered with patience. Kind, and not dismissive of those beneath him.



Qualities that he shared with his sire and ones that filled his old soul with a hope he'd thought dead with the King Who Never Was.



With patience, dedication and the right preparations, the realm would at last be blessed with a king fit to sit the Iron Throne, and just at the right time, if Arthur's more...fantastical tales were to be believed.



Given everything he had just seen and experienced, he had no reason not to.



And wasn't that a terrifying notion?



Yes. Barristan may have sworn himself to Rhaegar's son, but now, if need be, he would give himself for Gaemon Targaryen.



Mind steeled, he firmed himself and pressed forward.



They arrived then, emerging from a tunnel and into a chamber of such awe-inspiring magnificence it was fit for legends and myths of times long gone by.



He did not admire it for long. None of them did, as they stilled, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings.



The river of magma remained still as they took a hesitant step across the stone platform atop it, and only then did Barristan notice the sharp splashes of black, and even spread across the black stone floor it stood out sharply, contrast clear.



Blood, he realized grimly, the blood of beasts whose existence he once doubted.



Arthur caught sight of it at the same, body stiffening as he turned to face them.



There were no words needed before they all charged into the stone Dragon's maw.



Whatever their differences, whatever their struggles, they had no consequences here.



They would save their chosen king, or die trying

…​

It was different, I realized with something akin to satisfaction.



Aside from looking like it had been through seven different kinds of hell, it no longer moved with the same terror-inducing fluidity and grace I had come to briefly associate with it. It snarled, jaws snapping at the air, but its movements were slow and ponderous, and I could see brutal tears across its lower body.



It couldn't move anywhere near as fast as It had, but I doubted it still wasn't fast enough to outpace and devour me if I made so much as one wrong move.



For a moment, I stayed still. Then slowly, I raised my left hand and reached for the heavy bag of gemstones in my right.



Time to see just how valuable those injuries were to my cause.



Pocketing a sizable red stone, I pulled my hand back to gather strength. Sharply, I sent it flying forward, as far to my right as I could.



It clacked onto the stone floor with a sound that was almost deafening in the relative silence, and the firewyrm snarled.



But it did not move.



I watched with glee as it shifted, long sinuous neck turning to my right. But then it moved, left to right, as though in confusion.



It felt that movement, but it couldn't pinpoint it, and that meant my chances of survival had just jumped.



That was, of course, when it rounded backward, turning away from my stunned form entirely and unleashing a wail of crackling noise.



For a moment, I feared that the second firewyrm had returned, as though the universe had cruelly decided to pile on in response to my perhaps ill-advised optimism.



But no, it was something even worse.



"Jon!"



Arthur's voice did more to turn my blood to ice than anything the wyrm had done as of yet.

…​

The tunnel led out into a great chamber, though a massive wall lay destroyed and crumbling before them, large stonework and debris a ruin around them.



The monster rounded on them the moment they emerged, and they all froze, Daenys's warning sharp in their minds.



But he did not cower.



Many a fool would rave on and on about their fearlessness in battle, their endless courage and bravery matched by none.



Arthur always kept an eye on those men. It often served him well, to be able to tell the fools and the liars amongst the masses, for if a man claimed to be fearless, he was one or the other, or perhaps even both.



Fear was beneficial.



Necessary even, for without it men with any amount of skill would fall into arrogance, and that could be as much a death sentence as a lack of skill tended to be



A balance was needed.



So faced with this abomination, Arthur felt fear, but he held his stance, and he did not let it rule him. He had a duty that went beyond mere oaths to protect Jon, and this was just another foe to face.



Arthur had felled many foes.



The firewyrm drew close, closer and closer until mere feet marked the distance between them.



So close it was that he could even see black blood dripping from its shredded scales, could see massive, pale eyes open but unseeing-



"Arthur?!" Jon's voice rang out, high and clear for all that it dripped raw terror "Ser Jaime?! Ser Barristan?!"



Though his heart all but stilled, he dared not make another movement. A moment passed, and he observed the beast. It had made no move, given no reaction to Jon's voice.



The answer came quickly "If that's you, don't move! It's deaf, and it hunts you by your movements!"



He had suspected as much, but that did not make the beast looming before him any less dangerous.



Despite every instinct of his screaming against his next actions, Arthur opened his voice and roared back, voice echoing "Are you well?!"



"As much I can be!" Jon's voice was heavy with relieved joy, but disbelief was already spreading through it well before he spoke once more "How the hell are you here? We are in the heart of a volcano! How are you not dead?!"



"The Dreamer intervened-" Arthur cut himself off abruptly as the wyrm drew closer, teeth barred and a low rumble emanating from it.



"Daenys?" Jon sounded hysterical "What in the name of-?!"



"Is now truly the fucking time?!" Though he did not turn to observe him, Arthur noticed that Jaime's voice was quite distant. He was farther behind than he'd expected "Your grace, please tell me you have a plan that doesn't involve us standing here and hoping we don't get eaten"



The words came quickly then, as Jon regaled them with a tale of blood magic and a mystical horn.



A horn they needed to find. This brought them rather neatly back to the immediate concern



"How do we retrieve it when a single movement means death, your grace?" Barristan voiced, standing closely behind him.



The plan came quickly, as though Jon almost certainly had prepared for it beforehand. Arthur felt a quick hint of pride at that realization.



"Throw something heavy." was Jon's immediate reply "Anything will do, but throw it far enough away as to put distance between you. It's injured, but it's still fast enough to descend on anyone close enough to it with enough speed that escape will be near-impossible. Split up, keep it off balance, and once you're far enough away, head for the rooms. The horn is impossible to mistake, inlaid with Valyrian steel. We must find it or we all die"



"Lovely. Well, assuming we survive, the stories we could tell would put my Uncle Gerson's tales to shame" Jaime's voice was smug, but weak, though he firmed it a moment later "Arthur, Barristan, on my call, move"



Alarm rose quickly with that proclamation



"Jaime!-"



Too late. There was a movement that had the firewyrm snarling and turning its head before the sound of a massive mound of rubble shifting and collapsing sounded out



Arthur and Barristan dove left, just as the beast roared and struck to the right



"Jaime!"

...​

In hindsight, not the best idea.



"Jaime!"



Arthur's cry of terror did not help still his raging heart, but the sentiment behind it was appreciated if nothing else.



It had been so very long since anyone aside from Cersei had deigned to feel concern for him.



What was certainly not appreciated was the nightmare he had inadvertently trapped himself in.



It had been an immediate reaction on his part.



He hadn't thought, he'd just seen the teeth approaching Arthur, and acted on foolish, ill-controlled instincts.



He couldn't bear to see his old mentor die, despite everything



Not again.



Slamming his weight against the nearest stack of rubble, the entirety of it had gone sprawling, and him nearly with it.



Which would have ended badly, to say the least, given that the monster had descended teeth-first on the ruined stonework, massive jaws crushing solid stone the way he would a chicken bone.



And here they were, Arthur and Barristan having taken the opportunity to dive and bolt across the far side of the chamber, while the firewyrm let out an enraged screech as it spat out stone and dust.



Jaime had the strangest urge to laugh at the creature's sheer outrage.



And then that massive head descended, teeth barred and hardly a foot away from him and that urge dissipated very fucking quickly.



Aware of his heart thundering in his ears, and the sweat dotting his form, he drew in a shaky breath "I'm well!"



"Thank the gods" Barristan's voice was relieved



"Jaime, once you see your opening, move. The plan remains the same. Six sets of doors to your left, Jaime." Gaemon's voice sounded tired, and Jaime could not blame him for it.



Then he thought of the way his life had turned over the last moon and a half (gods it felt like it had been years) and decided that yes, he very much could blame him for that.



Just a bit, in any case



And then he heard it.



A faint, barely audible clinking noise. The wyrm did not react.



It came again, louder and closer, and the beast still did not move.



The third, however, had it stilling, before rising in a sharp movement that had his heart fit to bursting.



"Everyone" Gaemon's voice came a final time "....Move!"



The fourth such noise came, then, and the firewyrm snarled. Jaime wasted no time.



He dove left and, not daring to look behind him, bolted directly for the nearest set of doors.



He dove in, massive doors giving way with strange, disturbing ease, and he froze as his eyes fell on its contents.



Slowly, a familiar smile crossed his face.



This, he could work with.

...​

It's not often I complimented myself, but dear gods, grabbing the bag of rubies was amongst the best choices I ever made



I hurled another ruby, but its predecessor had already served its intended purpose, the wyrm's attention left Jaime entirely as it turned and charged far to the right.



Barristan and Arthur were already gone, the only trace of their presence the still open doors to the seventh and eighth chambers before me.



Jaime waited only long enough for the wyrm's back (tail?) to face him before he too was moving, the yet unexplored tenth chamber his destination.



All the while, I was relegated to beast herding duty, and the amount of ammunition I had to my name was dropping very quickly.



Gods, but they had better have more luck than I did or else we were all dead



The firewyrm roared, as if in agreement with my silent thought.

...​

Barristan stared in awe, disbelieving, because surely it could not be so easy.



But it was.



Premature it may have been, but Barristan could not help the glee that overcame him as he stared at the object suspended on the wall before him, the rest of the chamber bare and devoid of anything else.



Curved, black bone, as dark as any night sky Barristan had ever seen, and inlaid with Valyrian steel, the horn was just as easy to recognize as the King had claimed it to be.



Barristan wasted no time, reaching across the length of the room and pulling the priceless relic free. He had misjudged weight, he realized as he turned to run, the horn being far lighter than he had expected.



An idle though, and an irrelevant one in the end. He ran, ready to save his brothers and his king.

...​

Last ruby clutched firmly in hand, I grit my teeth furiously as the wyrm snarled.



Its movements had become more labored, I quickly noted, injuries substantial and its constant hunt for us not at all contributing to its health, but in return, its fury and aggression had risen all the more, and now it was a rabid wave of teeth and screeching as it furiously drifted left to right.



I pulled my hand back, ready to buy just a little bit more time.



And promptly froze as Barristan emerged, carrying our literal salvation.



Hope flared.



So did the firewyrm, as it quickly caught notice of him and struck



No!

...​

Arthur had trained for war all his life.



He'd prepared for battle of every kind, and of all of them, the battle of the mind was the greatest.



How to dull your fear and rage, how to control your pride, how to balance your mind.



All critical aspects of his chosen path.



But sometimes, even the Sword Of The Morning slipped.



As he emerged from the room of odd and strange treasures, he froze as he beheld the sight of Barristan diving to the floor, instinctively dropping his burden.



He felt his horror mount when the firewyrm kept moving, burying it



And in the end, he could not help his despair as their last and only hope was audibly crushed beneath the monster's bulk.

...​

Oh my god I can't stop with the cliffhangers help!!!!!



That said, it all ends next chapter.



Jaime, what are you up to? XD



As Always, leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it, please be courteous

 

[Firewillreign]

Well, Jaime thought, he was never letting Barristan live this one down.

The thought brought a smile to his face, though the looks of broken horror marring the king's and Arthur's faces were quick to sober him.

Those were the looks of people facing the realization that they'd just lost everything.

He knew them well.

They had been his own for so long.

The horn may be gone, but the Lannister knight had no intention of dying just yet.

He'd given up his entire life, opened himself up to this newborn cause, and suddenly he was expected to roll over and die because some ancient demon didn't have the decency to roll over and die centuries ago.

If that was the will of the gods, then fuck them and their will for good measure.

He looked around then, taking notice of the odd structure of the chamber.

Thoughts began to niggle at his head as he beheld the multitude of surrounding pillars, supporting a circular walkway he'd only just noticed. It seemed there was even more to this vault than he'd previously realized.

He turned and observed the broken and melted great outer wall, and back to the snarling and utterly enraged firewyrm.

Finally, he thought of exactly what Daenys the Dreamer (and he still hadn't quite understood whatever that had been) had done to them

Slowly, a plan began to form, and he grinned.

This could work.

He hefted his prize in hand.

...​

An odd, high-pitched noise, somewhere between a whimper and a wail sounded, full of broken hope and despair.

It took me a solid moment to realize that it was coming from me.

It was only what was left of my abysmal self-preservation instincts that gave me the strength to keep standing, and prevented me from falling to my knees.

All the same, I hung my head.

No more plans. No more tricks. The cruel reality of the world was that I'd hedged all my bets on one final chance, and it had literally been ground into dust before my eyes.

I'd lost before I'd even begun

Barristan was alive from what I could see, from partially obscured behind a supporting pillar. Arthur had already emerged and Jaime was nowhere to be found.

I clenched my fists. I felt like I should be in tears, yet I wasn't. I was too tired, too exhausted to manage even that paltry effort.

My lips trembled and my eyes shut tightly, I raised my head, bitter regret and a thousand shades of despair choking me from within, dense and heavy and endless.

Why like this?

The thought would have been the last straw. I would've collapsed right there, for what else could I have possibly done?

And then a hand clamped tightly down on my shoulder, the very action startling me violently.

I looked up at a sweating, pale-faced but... smug Jaime Lannister.

What?

"Time to finish this, your grace"

Hearing the words felt like being doused with cold water

"We c-" I choked "We can't. The horn is gone, we're finished-"

"I know, I saw" The unrepentant smugness was flashing at full force as he raised his hand and I caught sight of what he held in hand.

"Forget binding the beast, your grace." My jaw dropped, and he smirked: "We're going to kill it!"

…​

"This is insanity!" Barristan roared, and had the circumstances been different he believed that he would be quite upset with his lack of composure.

Unfortunately, he had other priorities. He'd led to the horn's destruction.

He'd failed his king again, and now they were forced to entertain this madness.

He stood still, back to the pillar before him as the firewyrm raged closely, just far enough away that he could not see it. He dared not move and give the game away. Thus, they were forced to yell out every other word.

"This is our one chance!!" Jaime argued back, and Barristan g his teeth.

The smug tone was infuriating, and for all that he felt for and understood the Lannister more than he ever had before, he could not deny that the young man excelled in driving the most even-tempered man to rage.

"We don't have a choice."

Arthur's voice was steel, and Barristan clenched his fists because gods damn it all, he had no arguments to that.

None at all

"Not anymore we don't!" Jaime yelled, "A great shame that we don't have a magic horn that would solve all of our challenges on hand, eh?!"

... He was going to punch him. Gods be good, he was going to break-

"Enough"

Barristan's enraged retort died on his lips. The king was a child, and he did not roar as a grown man would, but his voice may as well have been a thunderclap for all the effect it had.

"We are so close" The boy spoke, voice carrying in the silence, the wyrms low snarls doing nothing to hinder it "So very close to the end. The only question is whether it's on our terms, or that abomination's. Insanity it may be, but Jaime's plan is hardly the pinnacle of madness given the rest of our experiences on this island. Now are we going to keep arguing, or are we going to fight for our survival?"

Barristan's mind whirled wildly before he sighed in resigned defeat.

"I, for one, have no intention of being eaten" Jaime added nonchalantly

"Well said." Arthur intoned, voice firm and ready as it most always tended to be

..."Truly?"

"Not at all, but it'll do"

Jaime's indignant cry genuinely had him snorting before he readied himself for this latest bout of impossibility.

"Now that's out of the way" The King's voice was one part desperate cheer and three parts furious determination "Let's kill this son of a whore!"

…​

Barristan called Jaime's plan insanity.

What a true knight the man was, for being so polite and generous.

It was suicidal stupidity, desperation, anger and a magical weapon rolled into one and tossed about a few times for good measure.

It was also literally our last chance.

I didn't think about it, not truly. I was tired of obsessing and analyzing all the ways something I was about to do would wind up with me dead.

So tired

This time I was diving into a plan headfirst, consequences be damned.

"So run this part by me again" I whispered to Jaime "We need it to...get even more enraged?"

"Indeed" Jaime grinned shakily "Enough that it stops hunting us and just decides to kill us"

I turned to stare at him, absolutely sure my face was twitching

"...It sounds better in my head"

"...I'm sure it does" Shrugging, and feeling not a little bit of hysteria, I pulled my hand back, before thinking better of it and passing my last ruby onto him with a pointed look "Here's to not dying"

"I'd drink to that" Jaime reared a hand back "And anything at all if it means we survive"

He sent it flying forwards, superior height and strength flinging the damn thing far farther and faster than I'd done with the others. It bounced off of the fire wyrm's scales, ricocheting onto the floor, bouncing a few times before it stilled.

For a moment, there was silence.

The firewyrm whirled, the movement fast, and the sound it let out was...Gods, it was indescribable. If it was mere anger and predatory instincts that fuelled it before, now it was unholy fury that drove its vicious, wild movements despite its worsening, near-crippling injuries.

The sound of an injured predator that had nearly lost a fight and was subsequently in a great deal of agony having lost its prey again and again.

"...Well." Jaime's voice was faint "I'm not going to lie, Your grace, this seemed quite the better idea in my head. Nothing for it now, I suppose"

Nothing for it now?

I whimpered. Just a little

...​

The firewyrm lay still, muscles coiled as it waited it's would-be for its prey to reveal itself

Arthur ran.

Heartbeat thundering, blood rushing through his veins, he circled the length of the domed structure that was the vault of House Targaryan, keeping just outside of what he'd suspected (hoped) was the beast's range. Barristan did the same, having moved himself himself the moment the opportunity presented itself.

The only difference was that Barristan circled in the opposing direction, always opposite his position.

It was a feat of coordination and one of utmost necessity.

Any moment and-

"Now!" Came the old knight's call, and they fell into action as one.

Breaking their respective loops, both stepped into the firewyrm's range, fear weighing on them but duty keeping them strong.

The beast reacted immediately, snarling, but just as they hoped it was torn, incapable of choosing a target, both on opposite sides of it.

Gods be willing, it would have neither.

They veered away after but a moment, much to the beast's snarled frustration, for that was their goal in the end.

Arthur smiled grimly, just a bit.

Moments passed, and they moved in again, to much the same result.

The wyrm screeched, rising to its full height and moving left to right as they once more evaded it, weighed down by its injuries and the agony they no doubt carried, it would have had no difficulty hunting them both.

Again and again, they carried out that routine, the beast seemingly incapable of choosing prey and being driven further into a maddened rage by the fact.

And then it got worse, though, for the first time, it wasn't for them.

Gold coins, heavy gems, and precious treasures Arthur had never recognized struck the wyrm from above, and both knights turned to stare at Jon, who'd somehow managed to get onto the second level of the vault face pale but furious as he lobbed a handful after handful of untold wealth at the ever enraged monster.

"On the one hand, my ancestors are probably rolling in their graves at how I'm treating all their most valued possessions!" The boy king screamed, protected only by a stone railing that overlooked the open floor and circled the length of the chamber "On the other, they're the reason I'm dealing with your scaly ass, so fuck them and fuck you too!"

...Crudely put, but fitting, and Arthur was proud all the same.

Together they set out to achieve their goal.

Namely, driving the beast as far into a murderous rage as they could.

...

Gods be good, Why the hells had he agreed to this plan!?

But what was done was done, and the firewyrm evidently agreed.

With a final enraged and beastly call, the wyrm opened its mouth. Arthur's heart just about stopped for all that he kept moving as flames ignited in the beast's maw.

"Move!" Barristan bellowed

"Arthur!" Jon screamed

Then flames filled his vision

...​

The sight of Arthur disappearing beneath a wave of orange flames had me dropping to my knees, hysterical agony burning through my form, screams of rage and denial ripping their way out of me as I called for him-

No please not him

And then he burst out of the flames, clothes burned away but unharmed and I nearly threw up, such was the force of my relief.

Against all odds, Jaime had been right.

Thank all the gods, old and new, for Daenys Targaryen.

Now came the hard part, as Arthur turned to me and roared "Jon!"

He did not need to go on. Time to get dangerous.

I grabbed another handful of treasure and threw it with force. They bounced harmlessly off, but my goal had been achieved. The firewyrm angled its massive head in my direction and ran forwards, the effect not unlike a firefighter's hose at full force.

Only this one belched flames and was headed right for me.

Fuck!

I ran to the left, across the length of the platform as flames exploded where I once was, heat licking at my fleeing back.

And with that, the firewyrm had sealed its fate.

It just didn't know it yet.

...​

The thing was, Jaime wasn't an idiot.

Not entirely, in any case.

Oh, he was brash, reckless, and had an attitude problem that could give any Targaryen a run for their money, but he wasn't stupid. He'd taken notice of the destroyed wall, realized it had been destroyed by way of wyrm-flame, and got to thinking.

The structure of the vault was our greatest ally in the end. The secondary level that circled the length of the chamber and led off to who-knows-where was supported entirely by stone pillars. Many to be sure, but it was so large all it'd take for a significant portion of the structure to destabilize was just two, maybe three of them going.

The wyrm had just bathed five in flame, and its titanic bulk had slammed nearly sideways into four of them.
Their craftsmanship was magnificent to be sure, but tons upon tons of firebreathing muscle slamming into them, coupled with what had been undoubtedly magical flames were too much to handle.

With a tortured noise, the pillars shattered into rubble and red hot debris, the entire portion of the walkway they supported crumbling and burying the firewyrm under its bulk.

I was far enough away that I was at no risk, practically on the other end of the chamber, and I smiled in victorious glee when the firewyrm screeched as it disappeared beneath tons of rubble.

Ordinarily, that wouldn't have done a gods damned thing.

It lived in a volcano, for the love of all the gods, it tunneled through tons of rock and withstood titanic pressure on the regular.

But it was sudden, and it was injured, and that gave us an opening we weren't missing.

Jaime was there, suddenly, as the head began to emerge, tortured whining sounding out as the monster's wounds were no doubt further aggravated. For just a moment, I felt sympathetic.

That faded quickly as the thought of flames and teeth came back to me, and I steeled myself.

For while I had found treasures and relics, Jaime had found something far more useful.

Probably for the best. I could not wield it in any case.

As the wyrm struggled to lift its head, the Lannister knight surged forward drove the tip of the valyrian steel spear straight through its pale, blind eye.

...​

If the beast's screams were terrifying, then its cry of agony was a noise ft for all the seven hells.

All the same, Jaime persevered, putting more of his weight strength into driving the spear further.

Gods, the beast writhed violently, flinging stone and rubble in every direction, but it did not seem capable of moving, too many injuries having finally taken their toll

And not a moment too soon.

At some point, Arthur and Barristan joined him, and together, the three Kingsguard drove the spear onwards, black blood spilling and steaming.

The firewyrm called, fainter, and they gave a final push.

The beast froze. It seemed to shift, for just a moment.

Then it stilled, and at last, lay dead.

There was a moment of silence, where they let go of the priceless spear and stepped back, all in awe.

They stayed that way for a moment, simply staring, beholding what mere mortal men had achieved in the end. At some point, the king joined them

"Jaime?" Barristan voice was detached, and he turned to the old man

The fist caught him by surprise and sent him sprawling onto his back, nose lighting up in pain

"What the fuck?!"

"You are a smug cunt, and that was the worst plan I've ever heard, for anything" The words were calm, and the sheer shock of hearing them had him falling silent, mouth gaping.

…

"Pffft"

They turned their eyes to the king, who was doubled over, hands clutching at his sides. He looked up at them, face red, and it was all over

"And they say Targaryans are mad!"

He fell on his back and howled in demented laughter.

Arthur was next. Bare as the day he was born, the Dayne knight fell to his knees, laughing so hard tears sprang to his eyes. Between one second and the next, Barristan was at his side, hefting him up as they all made utter fools of themselves.

And finally, for just a moment, he forgot about all the strife that lay between them.

For just a moment, they were as one, and he'd never been happier.

...​

Once we'd regained one semblance of order, What I could only describe as a flame of sheer excitement was lit.

It was ...Probably a poor choice of words, given everything, but I was past caring.

We took a moment to get Arthur something to clothe himself with because without literal death staring us in the face, it was much harder not to be awkward about nudity, but, as was becoming the pleasant norm, Jaime came through.

Soon, Arthur was dressed in the oddest garb, gender-neutral robes of black and red.

"I don't understand how they're in one piece" I murmured to myself gently "They're centuries old"

I didn't voice it for the others, of course.

This was Westeros

Common sense had died a brutal death a long time ago, if it ever existed at all.

Still, the thought of the look on my Dragon Lord ancestors' faces, if they realized that their treasures were being worn by an Andal, was hilarious.

Speaking of those treasure robes, they'd been hanging in the hall where Jaime had retrieved the spear, some sort of ceremonial garb. A fact that was quickly overlooked the moment we arrived and realized there were fourteen sets of robes.

And fourteen spears of valyrian steel to go with them, to Jaime's delight and our dumbfounded shock

A king's ransom if there ever was one.

But none of that mattered. Not right now.

While the Kingsguard retrieved the remains of the broken horn, I retrieved my satchel from where I'd tossed it deep into the first great hall that I'd looked through. Now, finally, was the time to begin.

They seemed to know without my saying.

I returned to the hallway I'd seen earlier. I hadn't then the time to explore it, despite every desire I held. Now, I had nothing to bar my way.

Sikagon drōma

Hatchery, or hatcheries, depending on the translation.

At long last.

The air shifted as I stepped into the hallway, and before I knew what I was doing I was holding up a hand to the Kingsguard "Stay here please"

The protests were immediate as if they had expected it.

They probably had, but it was of no consequence. If I'd learned one thing as of yet, it's that my instincts seemed to uncannily draw me into danger and triumph in equal measure, and the thought of them accompanying me was screaming danger.

I walked alone, another tunnel, only this one was no endlessly winding passage. No magma and flame to throw me off. Just one path, and it ended in a moment.

This chamber was different.

Rectangular and sealed.

With steps descending into a pool of utterly black liquid.

In the middle of it, on an elevated platform, you'd have to swim to reach, lay a shape that was as foreign to my eyes as it was familiar.

Gleaming black, the dragon skull was a titanic thing. And I knew who it belonged to, for that bone structure was pronounced and recognizable even centuries after his death.

Lord Aenar must have loved his Morghul, to lay him to rest here of all places

My heart began to beat as I looked at the black liquid once more. The skull had given it away, and I now knew what it was.

The wyrm's black blood had been boiling, a viscerally ugly thing in the end, but for all that it shared its color, I realized that it sang to me in a way the wyrm's own had not.

Or perhaps it was the magic that I knew without a doubt flower within it and within the very walls of this chamber.

Gods, I'd never known it but I could almost feel it.

Dragons Blood

How it was liquid and not stone after all these centuries, I did not know, but I did not need to go use it.

After that, it was all instinct.

Descending the steps, heedless of the way the black, heavy waves of blood seeped through my clothes, I waded into the pool. The water was just high enough to reach my neck.

Uncomfortable, but I paid it no kind.

My head was ringing now, of no natural cause to sure, and my blood rushed in my veins, creating a sensation I'd never felt before.

The eggs flowed out as I upturned the satchel, but I held onto my golden egg even as the others sunk to the unseeable depths below us. I could not see it, but the warmth made it so that I could find it if I were blind

I would never be parted from it.

It came to me then, the realization so strong that I nearly submerged myself.

This was it.

So much effort. So much uncertainty and fear and a hundred other things besides, but this was it.

And still, this was just the beginning.

I grinned joyously, even as I raised my wounded hand to my mouth and bit my injured thumb once more. Blood began to flow.

The Dreamer's prophecy still had one, final application here.

'Fire and Blood shall show the way'

I dropped my hand.

The moment my blood hit the surface, my vision was filled with flames of every color. Pressure and heat exploded around me, a storm of flames enveloping my form.

All the while, despite everything, I never once lost my smile.

How could I?

Despite seeing nothing else, my vision remained focused on the golden egg.

And slowly, but surely,

It began to crack

...​

You have waited, and here we are XD

next chapters the ending for the arc. As promised, not a cheap cliffhanger but a calm one, meant to pave the way for the final chapter

As always, leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it please be courteous

 

[Firewillreign]

For days after the burning of the White Sword tower and their subsequent flight from King's Landing, Jaime had felt lost.

He tried not to show it.

Years of exposure to the vipers pit that was the city of kings had taught him the danger of letting such a mental state show, the sheer number of snakes that would leap for the opportunities it could provide was unfathomable.

So for all he avoided his sworn brothers like the plague, he japed and jested and laughed, appearing as care-free as he ever was

As he ever appeared to be, in any case.

He had not known true peace in years

But when he was alone, during the nights where Barristan and Arthur watched over the boy king that they'd all sworn themselves in service of, he'd often find himself out of the village bounds, be it in night or day, alone with his thoughts.

He would sit, staring up at the sky, and wonder what kind of insanity had come over him.

Why had he willingly joined this insanity?

A king, the last scion of a dying dynasty protected by legendary knights thought dead to the world, one who would one day return to drive out his family's usurper and claim his birthright.

It sounded like a song.

It sounded like whore-shit.

Life wasn't a song. He knew that better than anyone. True knights, for whatever value that word had were as rare as gold was common in the Westerlands.

It was almost certainly doomed to be a fool's quest, one that would end in all their deaths. And yet,

He hoped.

...​

Arthur cornered him for a spar.

He'd been of a mind to refuse, to avoid him as he'd successfully been doing for days on end.

But then his old mentor drew his blade, and just for a moment, Jaime wasn't the disgraced knight desperately hiding his attempts to regain some semblance of honor and control over his life.

Instead, he was the young boy, full of dreams and hopes that hadn't yet been burned by the fires of Aery's madness, joining his idol on his quest to slay the Smiling Knight.

The thought of Aerys proves to be the undoing of Arthur's poorly hidden attempt at reconciliation.

Every time they clash blades, all Jaime can think of is Arthur.

How he'd abandoned him.

Left him in that monster's hands, forced to witness his depravities, to hear Queen Rhaella's screams and all the rest of them, while he gallivanted off to fucking Dorne with Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark.

He told him as much, the rage driving him into spewing poison.

It's cruel and irrational and the agonized look that spread over Arthur's features made him hate himself all the more.

Arthur didn't lose the spar, and neither did he. It ended in a bitter draw, both of them black and blue and hurt.

The draw doesn't matter.

They both lost in all the ways that mattered years ago.

...​

They did not speak for days.

He grew closer to the boy he swore himself to.

To the point where The King became Jon. .

How could he not? The child he may have been, but he was curious and kind, and he knew more about Jaime than anyone aside from the other two and... Cersei.

He...avoided thinking of his sister. Twin.

Lover.

He missed her. He longed for her. And yet... He was free.

Towards the end of his time at King's Landing. Things had gotten worse. Her marriage to the oaf had made her bitter and sharp, and though he loved her still, the change was stifling. She could not hate Robert, not openly and so he was left to take the brunt of her displeasure alongside her love.

Cersei often said that they were one soul split in two, but towards the end, it had been her soul almost drowning his.

And he was already half-drowned to begin with.

He wondered just where this... disquiet had come from. He did not care to know now, in any case.

He fell into a routine then, the days at Dragonstone lonely and peaceful.

Then Gaemon awoke in the middle of the night, face pale, and it all began anew.

...​

Dragonstone.

That happened.

What the fuck?!

He'd doubted Gaemon's words. Of course he had, no amount of assurance would have made it sound any more than a child's ridiculous fantasy.

Magic dreams? Flesh that does not burn?

But Arthur had believed them, and that had been enough. He could hardly let them go alone, could he?

That Decision led to the ironclad evidence of magic's existence.

Fair enough, at this point Jaime was just willing to add it to the list and move on with his life. However long that turned out to be.

...​

Then Gaemon chose to descend into the gaping maw of the Dragon Pit.

Jaime voiced his protests, and though he didn't show it, he felt all too pleased when Barristan supported him.

All pleasant feelings faded, however, when they were left alone.

Gaemon had been a shield. A way to avoid what he realized was coming.

When Barristan turned to him, he knew there was no avoiding what was to come.

It starts small, as it always seems to do.

"Jaime" Barristan's voice sets him on edge "Enough of this"

Not turning to face him, he grits his teeth "I haven't spoken a word"

"Precisely"

And now he was getting angry.

Gods, he hated his life

Though if he was merely angry before, the moment Barristan clamped a hand on his shoulder quickly makes him apocalyptic.

Pushing the old man off, he turned and snarled "Don't fucking-!"

"I'm sorry"

Jaime froze.

"I-" The old man choked, but rallied himself with a great effort "I was a fool. I allowed myself to be blinded by my grief and my rage that I forgot my duty. My duty to you, Jaime."

He didn't respond, heart hammering and the old knight went on.

"I did not ask for your story. I allowed my own dislike of your father and his actions to blind me to your suffering Jaime. A man can only acknowledge his mistakes, and beg for forgiveness."

The very night stilled around them, and his sworn brothers turned eyes on him.

Those gazes are what set him off.

Six years, no, a lifetime of agony came surging forth all at once as he drew his sword with a roar and lunged for the alarmed old knight who raised his own in defense.

Arthur attempted to gain his attention. He paid him no mind.

"Forgiveness?!" He roared, and right then and there he forgot everything. His voice sounds loud enough for all of Dragonstone to hear him, and just then he does not care a whit, consequences be damned "Forgiveness?! You dare!"

Blades clashed, steel ringed and his heart was laid bare for all to see

"Six years!" Jaime spat, Barristan's horrified expression doing nothing to calm his temper "Six years we stood side by side! Every day, every moment! And not once did you ask! "

"I-"

"We were brothers!" He parried Barristan's sloppy strike, less an attack and more a weak attempt to push him back as he swung again. Had Barristan been a lesser man, that would have drawn blood. Jaime couldn't decide whether or not he liked the idea of that "Yet you never even tried. All I wanted was for you to ask! Why, why, why!"

He punctuated every word with a brutal swing

"In the end, a child did what you fucking couldn't!"

And that was the bitch of it, wasn't it?

Arthur could be excused. He was off freezing his balls off in the north and earning the title of Kingsguard a hundred times over.

But Barristan? He had no such excuse.

"Jaime" Gods, the man looked close to tears and Jaime's hate grew unclear, unsure whether it was for himself or the old knight before him. "I'm sorry-

"I don't want your apology!" He screamed and right then his very soul ached"I want my honor! I want my name restored! I want to have never been cursed with the hell that was Aerys Targaryen's reign! I-I...!"

I want to be happy.

The flowed freely then, and he was dimly aware of Arthur trying to reach for him. He pushed the hand away wildly as all the hurt came at once.

He doesn't know quite how it happened after that.

Arthur was trying to comfort him as if he were a child. Barristan was looking at him as if beholding the end of the world, and he himself was just so tired of the secrets and the lies.

He didn't want their pity. He didn't want their comfort.

So he told them about Cersei, about Joffrey.

He told them everything, every sordid tale, and memory, until at last the burning in his very soul was gone, and all that was left was dull hollowness.

No more words were spoken after that.

What else was there to say? What else could be said?

Barristan set his face and stepped forward as if to speak.

Then there was a voice, a flash of silver, and a dead woman stood in their midst

...​

The wyrm lay dead, slayed by their hands, and all he felt was pure elation.

Perhaps there was something to the songs after all.

Arthur dressed himself, and he retrieved the shattered remains of the horn for whatever good it'll do them now, and Gaemon disappeared once more, deep within a chamber they could not follow him into.

Barristan stepped to his side, then, Jaime was elated and tired and simply didn't care anymore, so he hung his head and let whatever was to come arrive.

"You are a good man, Jaime"

His heart stuttered.

Memories of a gentle smile and better times are relived.

"Any fool could see that. You have made mistakes, and I do not approve of your choices. I do not even claim to understand them." Barristan's voice is low, calm, and the most important thing in Jaime's world "But for every wrong, you made a right. You are kind, and your soul is a gentle one for all that your heart is troubled. But I have faith in you."

Slowly, he raises his head to meet Barristan' smiling visage, the all-but-foreign feeling of hope igniting within him

"You will be the greatest of us, Jaime Lannister. And I will help you on that path until my dying day"

Nothing more was said. Nothing more needed to be said, as Jaime felt peace for the first time in years.

Arthur joined them and then, pressed a hand to his shoulder, and the gesture was worth a thousand words.

They stood there for what could have been hours.

At one point, the tunnel blazed with flames of every color, and their calm burned as fear was ignited.

They tried to approach, but whatever magic the Dreamer had laid on them did nothing to prevent the heat from scalding them, and they turned back, hoping against hope for one last miracle.

The cruelty of the world often crushed hope.

When the king emerged, changed, hair burnt off, bare as the day he was born and weighed down by impossibility, their reactions were varied.

Barristan's jaw dropped, Arthur prayed, and Jaime?

Jaime tipped his head back and laughed until he cried.

...​

They clothes the king in ill-fitting robes and the plan is hatched right then and there.

Arthur had already acquired the information on what vessels they could board for their journey, and now they had more wealth than most could ever dream of.

They searched the vault of House Targaryen at its head's order. They gathered gold and jewels, the remains of the horn they never used, books they didn't have a hope of understanding, and scrolls aplenty.

The most immediately beneficial discoveries were the cages. Small, as light and easy to transport as valyrian steel tended to be, and simple to disguise with a bit of cloth.

They left the vast majority behind. They could not carry it all if they were a hundred men, and no thief would ever recover it here.

And then they moved.

They kept a wary eye, aware of the existence of the second beast. But no monster attempted to strike them down.

They emerged from the Dragon Mount, changed, rejuvenated, and there it happened.

The light of a new day struck, and the dragons stirred.

The two green hatchlings were of a mind, struggling to reach the ground they were then placed on. The pink slumbered peacefully, delicately balanced atop the King's crossed arms, alongside its bright red sibling.

And the gold, the one that started it all, rested atop his shoulder, staring at the world with molten eyes.

"I named him" The King's voice was a light, airy thing. All the same, it was as loud as thunder "Biased of me, maybe, but I named him first. I wanted Sunfyre, for the scales, but that wouldn't have felt appropriate. I wanted Balerion, but this one is no black dread. So I combined them. Sun. Sol."

He reached up and delicately scratched beneath the creature of legend's jaw.

It purred, not unlike a cat.

"His name shall be Solarion" The King grinned, changed purple eyes bright "And we will change the world."

It should have been comical. A child, dressed in oversized robes and making such a declaration.

Instead, as the sun rose on the horizon, the three reforged Kingsguard knelt to their one and only King.

For the first time in nearly two hundred years, as the light of a new day shone down from above, the air was once more filled with the music of dragons.

Overhead, the clouds parted, and a red comet sailed through the heavens.

...​

And so ends the arc.

I hope you guys loved it as much as I did.

Stay tuned. You think this was hard? Well I got news for ya:

We've been playing on easy mode XD

 

[Firewillreign]

The full moon shone brightly overhead.

Yet as bright as it was, it was overshadowed by the blood red comet that cut through the heavens as it travelled across them.

An awing sight for ordinary men.

But for those that knew what it represented, for those that could see beyond the ordinary and understood what it's presence meant...

It was terrifying and enthralling in equal measure.

Far, far away from the island of Dragonstone, the city of Lannisport watched as it's fleet burned, a great inferno that blazed and bathed the city in ash and smoke.

An enemy fleet sailed away, having struck the first blow and started a war, and leading them, a single ship travelled ahead of the rest.

Men manned their stations and fullfilled their duties, but all still and silent. Unnaturally so.

Standing at it's prow, a man stood, dressed in black, boiled leather, with hair as black as night and pale skin. His one good eye stared at the heavens, and focused on the comet that sailed through them.

He chuckled, slowly at first, but it grew in strength until he was laughing, head tossed back. His laughter washed over the ship, banishing the silence for just a moment before he regained control of himself.

Despite everything, his focus did not waver.

Euron Crow's Eye stared at the Red Comet, mind ablaze with impossible knowledge, and smiled.

The Silence cut through the waves as the Greyjoy Rebellion ignited.

 

[MemoryDump]

Fuck yeah! I have no idea how more people haven't found this, but this is some top quality serious gourmet shit.
This isn't just a power romp either, which is really common in these kind of stories, But it has more of a Indiana Jones Esque. adventure story. was with the finding buried treasures and ancient secrets. It also reminds me a bit of The Hobbit with the group of skilled heroes and the lost king going to find treasure and fight a (Pseudo) dragon!

 

[Imperator Janus]

Hey, I am reading this as well. And I am extremely amazed and thrilled by the sheer drama of the story. Keep this up.

 

[Firewillreign]

Lyanna died, and Ned died with her.

She closed her eyes, drowning in a bed of blood and tears and broken dreams, and every hope Ned had held close for over a year was ground into dust and scattered into the winds of Dorne like fine sand.

His heart still beat. His blood still coursed through his veins, and the air still filled his lungs with every breath.

He was dead inside all the same.

Then came Starfall.

"Do you not care?!" Ashara screamed, face writ with rage and the madness of loss, haggard and near broken from a pregnancy that bore only heartache and agony "Does it mean nothing to you?"

What could he say?

What the fuck could he say?!

That he was sorry for hurting her? That he grieved the child that could have been?

He wanted to, but he hardly said a word.

His father, His brother, his sister, and now his child, alongside the love of the woman who had held his heart long before he'd ever heard of Catelyn Tully.

The war, the gods, and this hellish world had taken and taken from him until all that was numb agony and a soul drowned in grief.

She struck him, then, clumsy and uneven but enough to turn his head to the side.

He said nothing.

She collapsed, wailing and screaming and desperately trying to make sense of a world so cruel, and he could do nothing but mourn his own loss until her ever-vigilant brother arrived and dragged her away, a look of great loathing marring his own features.

He needn't have bothered.

The man couldn't have possibly hated Ned more than he hated himself.

...​

The return to Winterfell was perhaps the most painful moment of his entire, decidedly miserable life.

He walked through the halls, seeing ghosts in every shadow, flashes of warmth and love and joy now forever lost to him.

The only things that drew him out of his stupor were his children.

Children. Gods, wasn't the world so cruel?

Robb was beautiful and healthy and the sight of him saved him from the waves of grief that struggled to drag him beneath their depths, a living hope for a future he'd thought hopeless only a few moons ago.

Jon was much the same, every bit the Stark in coloring (the hints of Targaryen he sees are viciously dismissed. Never never never!) and he felt genuine surprise at the love that sprung so easily for the child that would never be his.

He'd half-feared he wouldn't ever be able to look at the boy, but perhaps there had been some silver of strength left to him.

One day, when he was visiting the boys, the door behind him opened and for a moment, he half feared that it was Catelyn.

His lady wife had made no secret of her hatred for his bastard, and he did not have the patience for yet another plea to send the boy away.

Lyanna's boy would be banished from Winterfell only when Ned was cold and dead in his grave, and not a moment before.

It was not Catelyn that appeared before him.

Arthur- Alaric, as he was now called, had come once more.

"You cannot remain long. A foreigner visiting the son of the Warden of the North, even a bastard, will draw unwanted attention."

Arthur ignores him, focused on the infant lying in his crib. The visits were part of a routine he carried out with near-religious zeal.

The only reason that Ned allowed it to begin with is the fact that he knew deep in his heart that neither god nor man would stop Arthur Dayne from guarding his king, even if only for a moment.

His inability to stop that entirely without drawing eyes made his teeth grind in black rage. If he had a choice, the knight would never have set foot in the North to begin with.

Ned was a fool, after everything he could freely admit to that, but he was not so blind as to miss his guest's intentions.

Arthur Dayne would not rest until Jon (Gaemon) sat atop the Iron Throne, and Ned would never allow it. He held to their agreement only out of a sense of honor and a debt to Ashara that he could never hope to repay, but he would never permit the realms to be plunged into war again.

He didn't know how, but he would kill the man before he let him corrupt the boy with tales of dragons, glory, and what could have and never will be.

He turned and walked out of the room.

...​

Months passed.

He was haunted by nightmares of sins and sorrow, and for the first time in his life Ned turned to drink with a fervor that would have made Brandon proud and Robert overjoyed.

The thought only pushed him deeper and deeper into his cups.

Day after day, night after night, the sight of a drunk Ned Stark becomes common around the keep.

He ignored his wife, shrugged off his duty despite his very being screaming at the thought and washed away the living hell that his life had become with tankard after tankard of whatever ale was delivered to him.

The servants whispered when they thought he couldn't hear.

The wolf that went mad with grief, they said.

You couldn't possibly fucking imagine, he thought but never spoke aloud.

He continued to spiral down, down, down.

...​

It came to a head on an unsuspecting night.

Benjen, who had made himself scarce for moons, barged into his solar with little fanfare. "Jon is Lyanna's son, isn't he?"

Ned was tired, drunk, and miserable.

All the same, existential terror was enough to send him leaping out of his seat and grabbing Ice, ignoring his brother's flinch as he rushed out into the hallway.

No servants, thanks the gods.

He paused only long enough to drop the sword and grab a lantern before he dragged Benjen away and into the crypts.

"Are you fucking mad!?" His roar of outrage echoed in the darkness of the crypts, but the youngest Stark met his furious with a frenzied glare of his own, Ned's reaction proving to be all the answer he needed.

"It is true, isn't it?"

How could he?-

Dayne. He was going to kill the traitorous-

"I was at Harrenhall!" Benjen glared defiantly "Did you really think that I wouldn't recognize Arthur Dayne on account of a gods-damned shave and stupid name?"

Ned would have retorted with something sharp and cruel. He would have pressed the importance of keeping the secret. He would have warned Benjen. He would have done half a hundred things, yet-

Yet-

Benjen's eyes shifted. Just a little.

They only shifted when he lied.

"What aren't you telling me?" The words emerged as a hoarse whisper that froze his younger brother's form unnaturally.

Fear flashed across his features and Ned's heart began to ache as a terrible, half-formed suspicion came into being.

He only recognized Arthur today, but he suspected Jon's parentage beforehand. How would he know to-?

"Benjen, what aren't you telling me?"

The tears clouded his brother's eyes quickly, and he let out a shuddering breath. "Lyanna told me."

Three simple words.

Three damning words.

At first, through the haze of horror and drink, Ned struggled to grasp their meaning. He struggled to comprehend the enormity of what had just been revealed.

And then clarity and terrible, terrible understanding ring through his mind in an instant.

"No."

He took a step back, two, three.

His breaths felt short. His heart thundered and his vision blurred.

He felt sick. He wanted to heave. He wanted to scream and rage and burn the world to cinders, because...because-"

"You knew." Ned spat the words, and he may as well have struck Benjen from how violently he flinched "All this time. Lyanna. Rhaegar. You knew all along."

"Lyanna was scared," Benjen whispered, and the words were a hot knife digging into his flesh. "Of Robert. Of Marriage. I don't know, she never told me. But she asked me to help, on the way back from Harrenhall. To help her pack and get supplies. Begged me even."

Ned put his hands to his head. "No no no no."

"I didn't know about Rhaegar." Benjen's tone was tinted with honest desperation. "I swear I didn't, not until the end when they all rode off."

"No no no!" The sound that ripped its way from his chest was not unlike a wail, and Benjen all but leaped back. "Why?! Why didn't you say anything? We could have followed, we could have brought her home- Father and Brandon wouldn't have!-"

The words were on his tongue but he couldn't bear to speak.

Benjen's face was a rictus of agony. "She begged me, Ned. Lyanna begged, she did. She never begged a day in her life, but she begged me. Then Father and Brandon died and you left Winterfell before I could try to tell you. I'm sorry."

The last two words are a dying whisper, and Ned was happy to fade with them. To curl into the shadows of his family's tombs and never emerge.

All that carnage that could have been avoided had a child only had the courage to speak up.

Then Benjen speaks again.

"I'll help you with Jon," Benjen promised, full of conviction. "I'll help you when you crown him. I have to. In any way I can."

Crown him?

Crown him?

Ned began to laugh hysterically, and Benjen's expression shuttered.

"Crown him?" He howled in demented laughter, and Benjen's guard only went further up. "You think I went through a war, watched good men and women suffer for it, only to turn around and start another?"

"B-but-" Benjen stared at him in horror. "Jon is Lyanna's! Your own nephew, The rightful ki-!"

"JON SNOW!" He howled with all the strength he could muster, patience at an end. "Is my bastard son. That is all he is, and all he ever will be. Robert Baratheon is the one true King of Westeros, and every word you speak is treason!"

He leaned forward and grabbed hold of Benjen, pulling him close as he snarled.

"Speak it no more!"

Then he turned and walked (fled) trying to remember a time when horror and pain weren't all he could feel.

He didn't make it far. Benjen's fist caught him at the back of the head, sending him stumbling forward as pain lanced through his skull.

He spun around in time to avoid the second blow, fury coursing through his veins "How dare-!"

"How dare you!"

The madness in Benjen's voice stalls him long enough for the boy to tackle him and send both of them down into the dirt, him rising atop him and hammering him with blow after demented blow.

"Robert Baratheon!" his brother howled as tears stemmed down his face. "Again with Robert fucking Baratheon! You're choosing him again! It's all you're fault! If you hadn't forced that whore mongering bastard on Lyanna, none of this would have happened!"

The words agree with his worst, most hellish nightmares, and fear quickly boils into black anger. Ned screams his own rage out as he head-butts Benjen brutally and lashes out, pushing him off of him.

"My fault? My fault!?" The words come quickly now, rage burning through whatever measly inhibitions had previously held them in place. "Who was it that helped her?! Who was it that allowed her to leave like an empty-headed fool, drunk on songs and childish obsession?! Who's the reason she and the rest of our kin lay dead and buried in these halls?!"

"I only did it to help her! I only did it because you brought Robert into our lives-!"

"I did nothing!" His furious denial is near instant, and rings of his own desperation. "Merely suggested a fine match, and Father agreed and pushed it forward! She would have been Lady of the Stormlands, wife to a Lord Paramount! Respected and cherished-"

Cold, cruel laughter cuts him off. "Respected? Cherished? I heard all the tales and saw everything I needed. Robert would have strayed from her bed within a moon at most, and likely less at that. He'd have fucked every whore and honorless noble woman across the Stormlands and fathered bastards on all of them! She wouldn't have been respected, you fucking fool, she would have been the laughingstock of the realm!"

Maybe it was the insult to himself. To Robert, his dearest friend.

Maybe it was that, try as he may, he couldn't refute the possible truth in those words.

Whatever the case, Ned opened his mouth and spoke the words that he would regret for the rest of his life. "Well, I suppose she's better off now, isn't she? The woman who ran off with a married prince and plunged the realm into war. She may as well have been a whore."

There was an instant of frozen silence, just long enough for Ned to realize the monstrousness of what he'd just said.

Then Benjen was screaming and wailing and flying towards him, a wave of furious fists and bottomless rage.

...​

Days later, when Benjen again barged into his solar, he'd already packed a bag and his expression was closed off.

Or perhaps that number of bruises there made it difficult to interpret.

Ned's face was a patchwork of mottled flesh as well. The keep had been whipped into a frenzy at the sight of them, at the implication, but he'd not spoken of it and neither had his brother, not even when Catelyn had all but begged for an explanation.

Looking at him then, he could not yet find the words.

Yet he needn't have bothered.

"I intend to join the Night's Watch."

The words destroyed Ned.

"No, you-"

"You can't stop me."

Ned rose out of his father's seat "You are young yet, brother, and I am your lord-"

"I hate you"

Ned sat back down.

"You're my brother and I love you. More than anyone." Benjen confessed quietly, the words hitting Ned with near physical force. "I will always love you. But right now I hate you. I truly, truly do. And I think part of you hates me too."

Ned opened his mouth to retort.

A moment of silence passed, and he closed it again.

"We can't look at each other, Ned." Benjen had turned around, surveying what was once their father's solar with wistful eyes. Ned remebered with a start that this was perhaps the second time this brother had set foot in it since the death of Rickard Stark. "Every time I see Winterfell, I see all of them. There one moment, and gone the next. Every time I see you, I just see the person who forced my sister on the path to her death, who'd let the rest of our kin suffer in indignity for the sake of the same friend who ruined all of our lives."

Their eyes locked, and Benjen smiled weakly.

"And every time you look at me, you see the craven that caused our family's deaths and plunged the realm into war. I am begging you, Ned, as she once begged me. Let me go to the one place where a second son can rise high. Let me serve the kingdoms in the only way left to me."

"Let me go."

Ned closes his eyes.

A moment passes

"You are prepared?"

"Yes."

"You understand the cost of the oath?"

"Yes."

He didn't. He was just a fool boy, even now. But there was no stopping him.

"Go on then."

His voice had been wet, but he gave the order all the same.

Benjen nodded and strode out, and that was that.

...​

The years passed.

The boys grew stronger and healthier, and his pride in them was endless.

His love for Catelyn prospered, and Benjen returned to Winterfell many times over the years, if only ever to visit. Matters were never the same between them, but they were better than he'd ever hoped.

The North recovered from the war, and for the first time in years, Ned felt the faintest sense of peace.

Then,

He woke one day to find his son and his sworn knight gone, disappeared into the night.

...​

He spent moons sending riders and missives as far as his reach extended..

It did no good.

Jon Snow, the son he cherished with every fiber of his being, was gone.

His boy was gone.

Worse, a part of his mind whispered, Gaemon Targaryen had been unleashed into the world, and with his return would come the drums of war.

Damn Arthur Dayne.

Damn him to all the seven hells.

Winterfell changed.

Without Jon, the light had dimmed, and only Robb's glow and his own wife's love gave him the strength he needed to stand tall.

Events were occurring too quickly, too dangerously.

Barristan Selmy and the Kingslayer had perished in a wildfire eruption, taking the White Sword Tower with them.

The Alchemist's guild was being rooted out of King's Landing and slaughtered by a man at the King and Queen's order.

Tywin Lannister was on the warpath. The Lannisport fleet had been burned and the Ironborn had begun pillaging and raiding in waves, the first attacks of their very own rebellion.

Ned was loyal to his King, to his friend, yet...

Despite it all, even as he gave the order to muster the Northern forces, a dark thought sprang to life no matter how vigilantly he attempted to toss it aside.

The Greyjoy's may have their little bout of stupidity, but the real rebellion had yet to arrive.

And when it did?

Regardless of who emerged as the victor, all Westeros would know Fire and Blood.

He only hoped that his family, all his family, would be left standing at the end.

...​

Far, far away, a young girl startled in her sleep, awoken by a nightmare.

She shifted and turned until a figure slid into the bed beside her and pulled her close

"Another nightmare?"

"Mhmm. Dragons were coming, Viserys! Dragons were coming, Dragons are coming. But bad things keep chasing them! Chasing us!"

She whimpered, and her older brother pulled her closer still and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Just a nightmare, Dany. We're safe here, I promise."

She snuggled into him, sleep quick to reclaim her, and he too soon closed his eyes, mind heavy with thoughts of old hopes, dreams, and all that could have been.

Dragons, eh? If only it were true.

...​

Our boy Ned is one complicated cookie, don't you agree?

As always, leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it, please be courteous.

 

[Liberiin]

Adorei a história! Você queria ideias? Adorei a ideia de Vicerys sonhar com Gaemon e saber que ele é Dany não são os últimos Targaryens, talvez ele conte a Varys e Varys comece a ajudar Gaemon nos bastidores

 

[Warmachine375]

Dragons, eh? If only it were true.

Click to shrink...

No worries Daenerys Targaryen, you will have three Dragons in the future and they would be pure unadulterated awesomeness.