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Chapter Text

The crackling of fire was the only sound to be heard in the room as three figures gathered around the flames. The flames held a vision, the same vision that has been appearing for weeks, with a mysterious voice repeating the same thing again and again.

‘The dragon must have three heads’.

The vision revealed 3 dragons, all of different sizes battling in the sky while columns of ice and fire erupted around them. Below this raging battle a solitary figure stood, the ice and fire seemingly an extension of this person, bending and moving in patterns reminiscent of a dance. The dance moved across the night sky and left a trail of light so intense that it was as if the sun itself was being born anew to chase the darkness away. The darkened eyes of the figure suddenly looked through the flames at the captivated audience and said with a subdued voice:

‘Now comes the dawn’.

The flames flared up inside the chamber, causing an unearthly glow to be cast on the red robes of the chambers’ occupants and then almost immediately died down to a flicker.

“Is it the same vision again priestess?” a concerned voice whispered in the room.

Kinvara rose from her kneeling position and turned towards the other occupants in the room. “Yes” she replied in a steady voice. “The vision remains the same. I fear the time has come for you to finally step into the light my young acolyte. He will need your help to restore the balance that has been shattered by that Mummer’s dragon.”

The acolyte dropped her head and turned towards the chamber door but was halted as if an unseen force had frozen their feet to the floor. Taking a couple of deep breathes the acolyte turned back to Kinvara and raised their head to look back at the priestess. Violet eyes seemed to stare through Kinvara and into the flames as if seeing a hidden truth revealed for the first time.

“The song has not been finished. Only ice and fire can truly bring the dawn.” The acolyte stated.

With a nod of her head Kinvara reached inside her robe and pulled out a choker with a glowing red stone at its center and beckoned the acolyte towards her. “It is time to prepare you for the long journey. To go west you must venture east. All that you seek will be waiting for you”. The acolyte acknowledged Kinvara with a slight bow and accepted the choker with steady hands.

Meanwhile in King's Landing a set of familiar eyes rolled back to their natural state after witnessing events unfold beyond Westeros. The broken king stared out of the window in his solar across the by towards the horizon. “Podrick, send a summons to the small council. There are matters that must be addressed as soon as possible. A shadow comes for us and brings blood and fire to all that we hold dear.”

Podrick hesitated for a moment while digesting the ominous revelation from his King. “A shadow your Grace?" He asked with confusion written on his face.

Bran slowly turned to address his Kinsguard and replied, “A shadow has risen in the east and will drown us all in darkness if we cannot stop it.”

“Westeros will never be the same again” stated Bran with blank stare fixed upon Podrick.

A cold breeze drifted into the room and as Podrick wheeled the King out of the room he couldn’t help but notice that the shadows seemed to grow bigger as if they were actually trying to cover the room in darkness.

As the King was being moved to the meeting place of the small council another set of violet purple eyes stared into the sky as the blast of a horn echoed across what was once a field full of life. A pained roar answered the call of the horn as the flames danced across the field leaving charred corpses in its wake. A priestess in distinctive red robes completed their chant and mentioned for the horn to be taken from the field.

“It has been done my King. Soon you shall cleanse the unworthy in the fires of your ancestors and bring forward a true dawn.”

Well done my friend” replied the hooded man as he kept his gaze skywards. “It is time to go home”

Chapter Text

3 months ago

Jon POV

Jon stared into the ever-present darkness in his cell reflecting on the events that led to him being in this position. The lack of light cast him back to his memories waking up at the wall and knowing that there was nothing in the afterlife. A nothing that he had consigned Dany to in order to save everyone else. His thoughts on that fateful day in Kings Landing always came back to the same spot - A black shadow raining fire and blood on the thousands of defenceless people in Kings Landing, the smell of burnt flesh and the bitter taste of ashes a constant presence in his memories.

He remembers that last moment before he sacrificed his honor and was forced to choose between the two bloodlines that made up his entire being. He recalled the scenario posed to him by Maester Aemon so long ago where he was asked by the wise maester as to what would his father choose if it was a choice between honor on the one hand and those he loves on the other. Jon recalled telling maester Aemon that his father would have done whatever was right no matter the cost. Yet as Jon recalled how Daenerys’ loving gaze faded to nothing he found himself pondering the answer to maester Aemon’s question again.

‘Perhaps there is no right choice’ Jon thought to himself.

‘Perhaps the path that led to the choice was the one that should have been questioned’.

Jon recalled staring into the eyes of Drogon after stepping away from Daenerys’ body and bracing himself for death. A fitting end to the line of dragons to be consumed by the fire of a dragon. Yet death never came. Drogon made his choice and now as Jon realised, both him and Drogon would have to live with that choice for the rest of their days.

The memories of that day swirled around in Jon’s head along with more recent visions of haunting violet eyes that seem to follow him wherever he turned. Those eyes constantly haunt him in his solitude and always seem to be accompanied by a quiet familiar voice that keeps whispering in his head – ‘Our song has yet to be sung. It will begin in the west’.

The weeks spent in his jail cell have given him plenty of time to reflect on those words that threaten his sanity. In his childhood he had visions of the Winterfell crypts and they always were accompanied by words warning him that he didn’t belong there. He learned to suppress those nightmares since his bastard status meant he couldn’t seek out his father’s comfort without creating a minor uproar in the castle from Lady Stark. The words and visions that occupy his every waking moment disturb him more than those from his crypt dreams and no matter what he tries he cannot keep them away. Jon chuckled to himself as the whispers finally lessened. ‘Perhaps my coin hasn’t stopped spinning’ he mused. ‘A voice in my head surely cannot be a good sign.’

Just as he was preparing himself for another day of solitary confinement Jon became aware of footsteps approaching his cell. In fact these were the distinctive sounds of an Unsullied unit coming down his corridor and they seemed to be moving with a purpose as if marching to battle. The footsteps came to a halt outside of his door.

‘Odd’ Jon thought. ‘I wasn’t expecting this level of activity until I was due to depart for the Wall in a few days’ time…..perhaps Grey Worm has grown tired of my presence and has arranged for any early departure.’

The door to his cell opened rapidly and the sudden increase in light forced Jon to shy away from the door. As he regained his bearings he noted that several Unsullied were already in his room and as expected Grey Worm was standing in the center glaring at him in his accustomed manner. Grey Worm threw a cloak and small bag at Jon and motioned for Jon to follow him without uttering a single word. The bruises on Jon’s torso were a harsh reminder that resistance was not an option for him. Jon nodded and followed the Unsullied leader out of the cell and through a set of corridors that were unfamiliar to Jon before their procession came to a stop at the docks.

There on the docks was a gathering of the new nobility of the six kingdoms and the independent northern kingdom. As Jon took note of the faces, some friendlier than others, he also noted that they were next to a ship bearing the direwolf sigil of House Stark. This ship was being loaded and prepared for departure, but Jon also noted that there were no other Night’s Watch members on the ship or near the docks as he continued to take in all of the activity.

‘Fuck, they must be really anxious to get rid of me. They are even sending me off under my own banner’ Jon mused to himself.

Jon started to feel a familiar surge of emotions that plagued him during his time at the Wall. A feeling, he now suspected, was due to the notorious dragon blood that courses through his veins - a feeling of anger, a feeling of fiery rage at the implications of his hastened exile using a vessel bearing the markings of his mother’s house. A House that he has lost everything in order to keep it's members safe.

As Jon stared at the faces assembled at the dock, he noticed that while some were sad and distressed the Unsullied and Bran remained as impassive as ever and the only smirk to be seen was on Arya’s face. As Jon’s expression started to drift to one of confusion Tyrion interrupted the silence.

“There has been a change in plan Jon. It seems that Varys spread the truth of your birth farther than anticipated and now there have been complications.”

“ Why should that matter now Tyrion?” replied Jon. “ I am already being exiled. Names and bloodlines matter little on the Wall.”

“If only it were that simple Jon.” Responded Tyrion. “As a Snow you managed to become Lord Commander and King. There are whispers already starting up about you Jon, or should we say Aegon?” Tyrion paused for a moment.

“The dragon who saved Westeros. The person with the right family name and the ability to inspire people to follow him. The last person in the world who coincidentally has a tie to the last living dragon. A dragon that did not even attempt to strike you down after you killed his mother.” Tyrion again paused for a moment before continuing.

“ Do you see the problem Jon? Even if you were at the Wall you could become a symbol that could lead to chaos in Westeros. A symbol that could call on a dragon and a loyal following of free folk warriors is not a threat that we cannot afford to ignore.”

The anger rose some more in Jon as he looked around at the gathered assembly. “Is that truly what everyone feels? After everything that has happened, do you truly feel that I intend to start anther war? Do you think I intend to rise up in the future and make a claim to a throne that I have repeatedly rejected?” he asked incredulously.

“Sansa, Bran….Arya?” Jon asked with obvious distress in his voice. “Is this what you believe?”

Jon was met with prolonged silence and in that moment he felt the dragon finally rise to the surface. The dragon was awoken with its full force on display. “How can you judge me for something that may not even happen? Dragons don’t like the cold and it doesn’t get colder than the Wall!” Jon exclaimed. “What more do you want from me?" he asked with a fire unfamiliar to those who still thought Jon to be another quiet wolf.

"If I am such a problem perhaps you should just let Grey Worm kill me!” Jon concluded in frustration.

It was Sansa who finally broke her silence at this point. “Don’t say that Jon! We don’t want you to die! It’s just too complicated right now to let you go to the Wall.” That caused Jon to stare at Sansa in disbelief.

“Please explain it then Sansa. It would seem that I truly know nothing.” Sansa flinched slightly at Jon’s sudden ice-cold tone and cast a glance over to Bran as if beseeching him to intervene. After a few moments of silence Bran delivered the final verdict in a voice devoid of emotion.

“You need to leave Westeros Jon.” Jon felt his heart drop at that moment. The fire in his veins was quickly being replaced with a cold chill.

“Leave?! You want to banish me from Westeros just because I have Targaryen blood? Do you fear that I will wake up one day, call Drogon and set fire to everything?!” Jon noticed everyone except Bran and Arya tense up at his last statement.

“As your sister said it is too complicate to simple leave you to your own devices in the North." Tyrion interjected. "Some people think that sending you to the Wall would just allow the Northern Kingdom to free you from your vows. Everyone knows what you sacrificed to stop Daenerys and that has brought you respect and appreciation in many circles” stated Tyrion. Grey Worm was becoming noticeably agitated at that point.

Tyrion continued “Stories of you defying your own men to protect the smallfolk during the massacre have endeared you to the people. Combine this with your heritage and your banishment back to the Wall is already being met with quiet rumblings of discontent among both the highborn and the smallfolk.” Tyrion then turned to look at the Dornish contingent assembled on the docks.

“Parties such as our Dornish allies here have even offered to host you at Sunspear for the foreseeable future, citing your common dragon ancestry as a reason that they should be trusted with your wellbeing.”

Jon opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by Sansa. “That was never going to happen!” she stated emphatically while staring daggers at Tyrion and the Dornish contingent.

“They were silent through the last conflict and now they want to host a man who coincidentally has blood ties to both the North and the remaining six kingdoms?!”

“I don’t believe for one moment that their intentions are as innocent as they make it seem!” she concluded with a scoff.

Grey Worm, who had remained silent up to that point, took a sudden step towards Jon. “No More talk” he said.

“You betrayed our Queen and broke your oath. Death should be your final punishment.”

Jon, as if sensing Arya’s changing mood, turned to her and noticed that she was gripping Needle tightly and he silently hoped that she would remain calm. Grey Worm continued to speak, either unaware of the Arya’s tension or not caring what she would do.

“ You are only alive now because Drogon chose to spare you. You are only alive because our Queen ordered me to stay close to you during the fighting to keep you safe. You are only alive now because her final order means that Unsullied cannot kill you.”

Jon and the rest of the assembly were all stunned at that revelation. Many persons had wondered why the Unsullied didn’t kill Jon immediately when they discovered what he had done. They wondered why the same Unsullied who did not hesitate to strike down their Queen’s enemies, would then leave her killer alive for others to determine his fate. Now that reason has been revealed.

“Our Queen told us that you were of her blood and needed to be kept safe, but you cannot be allowed to remain in Westeros for someone to put you on a throne.”

“You do not deserve to have comfort while our Queen lies dead. Dothraki want to either kill you or follow you. Many lords in this country want the same and Unsullied will not accept this. You must leave Westeros or Unsullied will give no peace.” Grey Worm concluded.

A wave of regret washed over Jon when Grey worm revealed Dany’s last orders were to keep him safe and he immediately recalled the words that kept haunting his dreams. ‘Perhaps his leaving Westeros is for the best after all.’ He thought.

He definitely had no intention of ruling anyone again and he certainly wasn’t going to be some puppet in another’s plot for the crown, especially if it meant hurting Sansa and Bran. He glanced at Sansa and noticed a solemn expression on her face. He then looked to Arya, who gave him a nod almost as if answering a question that seemed so obvious but had yet to form in Jon’s mind.

“What’s west of Westeros?” Arya asked.

After a brief pause Bran replied, “No-one knows.”

Bran stared intently at Arya for a moment before he continued. “But perhaps someone should find out the answers.”

Bran then turned to Jon and said “Jon, you were where you were meant to be. Now you will go where you should be.”

As Jon was about to question Bran’s statement, Arya stepped directly in front of Jon and declared “We are going to find the answers stupid. You don’t need Bran to spell it out for you.” Jon’s eyebrows raised slightly and stared at Arya as if challenging Arya’s declaration.

“ If you think I am going to let you out of my sight again I will really have to stick you with the point end.” She added with a smirk.

Grey Worm looked at Jon and Arya and nodded his head before turning to Bran.

“Unsullied will accept this option.”

Tyrion, who had a perplexed look on his face let out a deep sigh and stated with a shrug of the shoulders.

“ It seems that we have an agreement then.” He paused for a moment as if expecting objections. “In order to keep the peace and ensure a stable future Jon will go with Arya on her venture west.”

“I expect that if your journey is successful and you find the answers you seek then enough time should have passed that will allow for all parties to move on from the events of the last few moons.” Tyrion concluded. Jon looked at Tyrion and after a few moments nodded.

“It’s a pity that you won’t get to visit the Water Gardens Jon” replied a veiled female figure from the Dornish party.

“ Your exile would have been more fulfilling in the land of your birth.” added the voice with a subtle sultry undertone. There was a huff from Sansa as she directed a withering glare at the unnamed speaker at the same time that Arya levelled her gaze at the Dornish party. Jon took that moment to close his eyes and absorb what just transpired on the docks but before he could become lost in his thoughts he felt a familiar warmth at his side and Jon knew, even with his eyes still closed who was the source of that familiar feeling.

He opened his eyes to find a familiar pair of blue eyes looking back at him and was lost in their gaze to the extent that he didn’t even notice Arya had moved to his side and was now gripping his hand. She didn’t need to say anything to convey her intentions at that point.

‘We are in this together’ was the feeling radiating form Arya’s gesture.

“ The pack will survive.” Sansa stated with conviction as she drew Jon and Arya into a tight embrace. The three former lone wolves huddled together seemingly oblivious to everything else going on around them.

“This is a time for wolves” added Bran as he was wheeled away by Podrick.

“This pack will indeed survive for it has been forged in fire and blood.”

The wolf pack remained together for a few more moments before heading inside to do their farewells. None of them knowing when next they would be together again.

Chapter Text

Jon POV

Jon stared out towards the horizon as the galley sailed further from Oldtown. His exile began with little fanfare and for that he was grateful as the time spent in Oldtown did little to calm his troubled dreams. He couldn’t help but feel like there was something tugging on his mind the longer he stayed in the Reach. The last time he felt that tugging was when he formed his bond with Rhaegal but Jon knew that this tugging couldn’t be the same thing as all of the dragons were gone from Westeros. He started to ignore the tugging as he prepared to depart Westeros for the first time in his life and as he stood on the deck, 2 months into the journey, he allowed himself to recall the events that occurred in the days before his departure.

The days leading up to his departure from Westeros had in fact gone by in a blur as the crew and equipment that would accompany him and Arya were assembled with amazing speed. The potentially historic journey had attracted some brave souls seeking to write their names in the history books and this led to a rather eccentric collection of souls that would form the bulk of the ship’s crew for the immediate future.

The volunteers for the voyage now included the last remnants of Theon’s Ironborn crew who had survived the battle at Winterfell, some sea faring associates of Ser Davos and some crew members from the North and Oldtown who came looking for a fresh start. There was also a parting gift from Grey Worm – a small 10 man unit of Unsullied soldiers whose sole responsibility would be to ensure that Jon didn’t abandon his exile and sneak back into Westeros. Jon took some comfort from the fact that they weren’t actually going to murder him in his sleep, but he made a mental note to keep an eye on both Arya and his new Unsullied bodyguards as he didn’t want them to ‘accidentally’ toss each other overboard during their journey.

Sam was one of the first persons to meet with Jon when he had initially made it to Oldtown and he brought with him 2 colleagues from the Citadel, Archmaester Marwyn, who spent most of the time seemingly dissecting Jon with his gaze, and one of Sam’s closest companions at the Citadel, an acolyte by the name of Alleras who Sam had declared as one of the smartest minds around. Jon then learned that officially the Citadel wanted to send Alleras on the voyage west to chronicle the events as they unfold but unofficially they too wanted to enact their own version of exile on Alleras, who it seems was too confrontational and inquisitive for their tastes. Jon was hesitant to allow the Citadel to send someone on the journey for the sole purpose of recording their every action but it was Arya that eventually convinced Jon to allow Alleras to come as she pointed out that a written account of their discoveries could go a long way to painting Jon in a light other than an exiled criminal.

Good old Sam also made sure to provide enough reading materials to keep Alleras and Jon fully occupied throughout their journey, including several books about dragons and House Targaryen. Sam explained his choices by simply reminding Jon that he and Drogon were the last of their kind and in the event that their paths cross again then Jon needed as much knowledge as possible. Alleras agreed with Sam’s assessment and offered to help Jon go through the information as way to pass the time. Sam and Alleras then entered a heated debate about the best way to navigate across open seas and as Jon observed he slender form of Alleras force the much larger frame of Sam to retreat a few steps with some animated hand gestures he had a sneaking suspicion that their journey would certainly not be dull.

Another pleasant surprise was the sudden appearance of Ghost at the docks in the days leading to their departure. Ghost had caused a minor panic when he seemingly appeared out of nowhere but Jon knew his faithful companion had no intention of letting Jon leave him behind as his recent dreams revealed that Ghost had started his journey south around the same time that Jon had departed Kings Landing. Jon recalled that when Ghost joined Jon aboard their ship he promptly set about terrorising the crew with his silent movements and piercing gaze. He even managed to sneak up on Arya a few times, eliciting a few squeals and curses from the normally restrained Arya that had Jon laughing more than he could remember doing at any point in the past few years. Jon recalled the first time Ghost saw the direwolf sigil painted on the ship’s sails. The wolf sat on the deck and stared at the image for hours before heading off to the kitchen to scare up some food.

The sounds of spears clashing together on the deck behind him brought Jon out of his musings as he turned to observe Alleras and Arya sparring in an open space on the deck. It was a shock to both him and Arya when Alleras offered to spar with them after pointing out some flaws in their spear handling. Arya had been incredulous initially but quickly changed her tune after Alleras had knocked her on her arse the first few times they sparred. Alleras had ditched the stuffy robes of the citadel and adopted loose garments in a similar style to the Unsullied and after that first sparring session Alleras and Arya became thick as thieves and took to conversing in Valyrian during their spars much to Jon’s chagrin as he could tell by their matching smirks that they were talking about him.

Thus it came to be that as much time as he spent sparring with Arya and Alleras, he would spend almost the same amount of time learning Valyrian from both Arya and Alleras. At times he swore that getting whacked with spears was less painful than learning the language of his ancestors. His early lessons often left him biting his tongue as he sought to pronounce the complicated phrases, often butchering the phrases with his thick northern accent and this often led to Arya rolling off the bench in laughter and Alleras shaking his head in disbelief. Now, after the last 2 months of daily lessons, his grasp on the language was enough to be able to converse with Arya and Alleras and exchange words with his Unsullied guards.

A small whack to his side brought his attention back to the deck as he found a familiar set of grey eyes staring back at him. Arya was now holding 2 training swords and had an impish grin on her face.

“If you have got time to brood then you have time to spar” she said.

“I do not brood” Jon replied

“Sure you don’t Jon and I am a 20 foot giant” she added with Alleras chuckling on the side.

“You are a giant pain in my arse” Jon responded with a chuckle of his own.

Arya opened her mouth in mock shock. “I was going to take it easy on you today but just for that comment I will have to knock you on your arse until you take it back”

Jon chuckled some more before replying. “If that is your aim then we might be here for a while considering you haven’t been able to beat me in a while little wolf.”

That’s only because I didn’t want you to strain your old bones and make you brood some more!” huffed Arya before tossing one of the swords to Jon. Alleras regarded their exchange with some amusement before leaving the sparring area for Jon and Arya to have their fun.

“I’ll show you old bones” Jon said with a grin while twirling his blade. Arya adopted her now familiar water dance stance before they began circling each other silently observing each other while mirroring the other’s movement perfectly, as if they were 2 halves of the same coin.

These daily spars with Arya were now a part of their established routine that did wonders to improve their spirits as time passed on their monotonous journey. They had managed to fully reconnect with each other and were now almost back to type of relationship that their younger selves enjoyed while growing up at Winterfell. Arya had started to be more outgoing and less like the stoic version of herself that appeared back at Winterfell in the days leading up to battle against the Night King.

They spent many nights in their shared cabin catching up on the experiences that that they encountered during their time apart and Jon recalled Arya’s distress as he showed her his scars from his last days as Lord Commander. Arya had only calmed down when he brought her hand to his chest over his heart to remind her that he was very much alive. They had briefly talked about their relationships but the topic of Daenerys was still a sore subject for Jon and Jon certainly didn’t need to hear about Arya’s journey into womanhood with Gendry as her recollection of her time with Gendry caused Jon to almost choke on his drink.

As Jon also recalled some of the more pleasant memories of Dany, Arya reflected on her own lack of interaction with the dragon queen and acknowledged that she should have taken the time to know her before everything went to hell. Jon gave Arya a small smile at that admission and they agreed to table discussions on former lovers and focus on more uplifting topics.

The shared cabin where they spent their nights was a result of some of more brazen crew members attempting to charm their way into Arya’s bed. One of the benefits of Arya being the only woman on the ship was that she was entitled to her own cabin. However, being the only woman on the voyage came with its own issues as she became the object of attention for many of the men. Jon had wanted to interject initially but Arya reminded him that after the Night King the men of the ship did not cause her any worries and that she was more than capable of dissuading her would be suitors. After the first month of the voyage, and primarily for the safety of the crew, one of whom now sported a needle shaped puncture near their groin, Arya declared that all those who sought to share her bedchamber were welcome to it since she would no longer be in it.

Jon was initially confused by her declaration but that same day he discovered her intention when, after returning to his cabin following his evening meal, he discovered a second bed had been set up and Arya’s trunks now occupied the space next to his own. As he took in the changes and prepared his objections on the grounds of impropriety, his eyes landed on Arya and Ghost who were both seemingly challenging him to defy the new cabin arrangement. Jon shook his head acknowledging that he was definitely not winning that argument if Arya had Ghost in her corner. He recalled the laugh he and Arya shared when one her potential suitors ventured to her former cabin and, after finding it empty, retreated down the corridor uttering many curses about sneaky she-wolves.

Jon remembered the shocked looks on their shipmates’ faces when they found out that him and Arya were now sharing a cabin and after that day Arya found herself with virtually no more unwanted advances. Many nights they found themselves laughing themselves to sleep as they recalled their happier tales from Winterfell and Jon found himself having dreamless nights for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

Their current spar began with a quick clash of blades as they started a dance that was uniquely their own. They had sparred with others on the ship, Alleras and the Unsullied were decent opposition but they found that in recent times the only times that they were pushed to their limits were when they faced each other. Their identical movements, a perfect combination of speed and grace, were the envy of many on the ship. They had also unknowingly started to dress alike for their spars, a fact that Alleras pointed out with some amusement when they first appeared in matching attire – simple tunic, breeches and identical boots and matching hairstyles.

Their blades clashed again, Jon had the edge in power but Arya’s agility kept his strikes from finding their intended target. Arya’s lithe body and allowed her to adopt unorthodox positions and attack rapidly from odd angles and Jon’s own speed was the only thing that saved him from being soundly beaten in their spars. As with many of their sparring sessions time seemed to come to a halt as they continued their dance in the sparring area and they eventually started to draw heavier breaths as the sweat built up on their brows. The intensity of the spar increased as they each sought the winning blow as Ghost regarded his fellow wolves from his usual position off to the side of the sparring area. Jon almost managed to get Arya in a headlock as she attempted to slide under one of his swings and as they broke apart they smirked at each other as if saying to the other that they almost won with that last move.

As they prepared to clash again the ship lurched suddenly, causing them to lose their footing and stumble into each other. Acting on pure instinct Jon dropped his sword and wrapped his arms around Arya to prevent her from falling. Another strong lurch caused them both to tumble to the deck with Jon landing on his back and Arya landing on top of him. The ship bucked a few more times before settling again and Arya sat up suddenly and pressed her hands on Jon’s chest.

“I told you I would knock you on your arse” Arya said with a grin.

Jon paused for a moment before raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “This doesn’t count”

“Does the legendary white wolf admit defeat?” added Arya as she pressed her weight onto Jon, challenging him to free himself. Jon started to raise his hands as if to signal defeat but suddenly gripped Arya’s waist and expertly flipped them over so that he was now the one on top. Arya tried to wriggle free but Jon held her in place as he brought his hands up to her ribcage to hold her in position.

“I know a move that will now make you submit with no chance to escape” Jon said as Arya squinted at him defiantly.

“You know nothing Jon...” Arya began before realising Jon’s intention.

“Don’t you dare Jon!” she exclaimed before renewing her efforts to wriggle free as Jon began to grin mischievously. Before she could utter another protest Jon began to tickle her with one hand while holding her hands above her head with his other hand. Arya’s laughter was mixed with a few curses as she again attempted to wriggle free but she was unable to escape Jon’s onslaught as his laughter joined hers.

Suddenly they were both bowled over by a white mass in the shape of Ghost who decided to intervene and show who was top dog, or in this case top wolf. Arya and Jon were now both sitting upright with Arya in Jon’s lap as Ghost applied his patented lick attack to subdue his fellow wolves.

“Ok Ghost! You win!” said Jon as he clutched Arya close to him. “You are the master of submission moves” he added with a laugh.

Arya started to laugh again and rubbed Ghost’s head once the licking had ceased. Jon and Arya fondly regarded their wolf companion who had also inserted himself into their daily routine. They were hardly ever without Ghost wherever they went the crew had jokingly enquired if they were Ghost’s keepers or of Ghost was their keeper.

Jon and Arya were shaken from their thoughts by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them. Arya looked over Jon’s shoulder and found Yannick – one of her original suitors - regarding them with a puzzled look on his face.

“Did you want something Yannick?” asked Arya with blank look on her face

“Aye.” replied Yannick. “The captain says a storm is coming so we need to lock down the ship. We don’t want our wolves to get wet and slide off the deck.” he added with a smirk.

Ghost regarded Yannick for a moment while Arya recalled last time Ghost was caught in the rain. The smell of his wet fur was something no-one on the ship wanted to experience again.

As if reading her thoughts Ghost huffed and made his way below deck. Yannick regarded Jon and Arya for a moment before they realised that they were still wrapped up in each other and became acutely aware of the position that they were in. Arya detached herself from Jon hastily and gathered her things as Yannick moved off to help the deck crew prepare for the oncoming storm.

Arya and Jon paused for a moment and looked out towards the darkening horizon.

“Let’s get inside little wolf. Ghost is not the only one that gets miserable when they get wet” said Jon. Jon regarded Arya for a moment and thought he saw a faint blush appear on her face and neck but he chalked it up to his imagination.

“Only because someone thought it would be funny to hide my towels while I was taking a bath” replied Arya. “You try being pleasant walking around in wet small clothes!”

Jon considered her statement for a moment before responding. “I would feel sympathy for your plight if my shirts didn’t keep magically appearing in your trunks.”

Arya glared at Jon for a moment. “It’s not my fault that your shirts are better than my sleep wear stupid. The nightgowns that Sansa sent are too girly for me to wear and they can’t keep me warm.”

“You do remember that you are a girl right?” asked Jon in an amused tone. “Girls need nightgowns. It’s like a rite of passage or something” Jon added while tapping his chin.

Jon barely had enough time to duck as Arya aimed a cuff at his head. They stared at each other for a moment as Arya’s glare eventually gave away to an exaggerated roll of the eyes. With a final chuckle they made their way below deck as the first rumbles of thunder began.

Chapter Text

Sansa POV

A cool breeze swept over Sansa as she took a moment to enjoy the tranquillity of the Godswood. The weeks following her coronation had gone by in a blur and she quickly found herself overwhelmed with a flood of aid requests from all across her fledging kingdom. The requests ranged from food to housing requests with some cheeky lords masking requests for her hand in marriage in the same scroll requesting aid.

She remembered holding back laughter as one of the bolder lords had presented his suit in person and was promptly tossed out of the Winterfell gates by an animated Tormund, accompanied by a string of curses by the newly selected leader of the Free Folk.

Tormund and his party had agreed to delay their departure back to the lands beyond the wall and assist with the repair efforts at Winterfell. The Free Folk indicated that if it wasn’t for Jon Snow they would have ceased to exist long ago and it would only be fair to help his family rebuild their home. Sansa fondly recalled as Tormund had wrapped her in his patented bear hug and proudly declared that now that big woman had gone the last of the red heads had to stick together as he offered her a horn of his infamous giant’s milk.

Sansa had also given the Night’s Watch a new mandate. The remaining members were converted into a roving squad of aid providers, supplemented by the surviving members of the Brotherhood without Banners and this group would bring much needed relief to all corners of the north. This initiative was met with initial scepticism but it proven a resounding success as the much needed supplies were rapidly distributed across the realm after being collected from the docks at White Harbour.

Sansa recalled her initial feelings of being overwhelmed by the weight of her crown and briefly lamented her decision not to join Jon and Arya on their voyage when Arya had first made the offer prior to their separation at Kings Landing.

Sansa had prayed for guidance in those early days and was rewarded in the form of Meera Reed and Wylla Manderly, both of whom arrived at Winterfell for her coronation and quickly became vital members of Sansa’s ruling council. Their fierce loyalty and strength of character gave Sansa a peace of mind that bolstered Sansa’s spirits and allowed her to maintain her sanity after the chaotic early days of her monarchy.

Another boost to Sansa’s spirits came in the form of the 2 adorable balls of fur that were now sleeping in her lap. Nymeria had returned to Winterfell and assumed the role of Sansa’s shadow and brought with her 2 wolf pups, whose streaks of white fur left little doubt in Sansa’s mind as to who was father of the mischievous little pups.

The pups had attached themselves to Sansa and even began showing up at her council meetings, keeping a watchful eye on the petitioners that came before Sansa. Their presence, along with the knowledge that Nymeria was constantly nearby, always ensured that the meetings stayed free of frivolous topics as the pups had an uncanny ability to separate the people with honest intentions from those who would prove to be less than honourable in the eyes of the crown. This fact was proven as the pups had taken an immediate dislike to Lord Glover, who had presented himself after Sansa’s coronation as the very picture of a repentant soul, but as was later found out, had been plotting to have himself named as Sansa’s Hand at which point he would have attempted to reduce her to mere figurehead when it came to ruling the north.

Sansa chose to make an example of Lord Glover and exiled him the Night’s Watch to serve under Tormund as the new steward of Castle Black. His objections were quickly squashed when the wolf pups knocked Glover flat on his back and threatened to use his genitals as a chew toy. Sansa recalled fondly Lord Glover’s high pitched squeals when the wolves’ teeth pierced his material of his pants. It was the last sound made by the man as he was escorted from Winterfell under the watchful gaze of Nymeria and her wolf pack.

Sansa’s thoughts turned again to Jon and Arya as well as the dreams that had given her sleepless nights over the past week. In her dreams a small she-wolf and a larger white wolf were standing back to back, snarling and snapping at swirling shadows and as the she-wolf made to make a run at a solitary figure emerging from the shadow, a darkness would fall over everything. The haunting silence that followed was broken by a despairing howl from one of the wolves. As the light slowly returned and Sansa became able to see the wolves again she noted with a chill in her bones that the she-wolf was desperately nuzzling the side of the white wolf was now lying prone on his side in a rapidly expanding pool of blood. At this same point in her dream Sansa always awoke covered in a cold sweat and overcome with a sense of dread growing deep in her soul.

As the pups started to stir in her lap and let out small whimpers, she regarded their yawning faces and whispered to them “It was only a dream little ones” as if seeking to ease their fears as much as her own. The pups regarded her with a steady gaze, oddly similar to the soul piercing gazes that Ghost was known for, as if reminding her that nightmares often become real much too often in her life.

The sounds of rapidly approaching footsteps caught her attention as Maester Wolkan made his way towards her clutching a raven’s scroll.

“What is it?” she asked with some trepidation.

“A message from Kings Landing, your Grace” replied the maester as he handed Sansa the scroll with shaky hands.

Sansa felt the blood drain from her face as she regarded the message.

‘Sunspear has fallen. The capital is under attack. Refuges are heading for the North. The black dragon has returned.’

Sansa read the words a few more times before rising to her feet and making her way back to her solar as Nymeria fell into step beside her. Sansa contemplated the words of the numerous messages that she would be sending in the coming days throughout the north and out to the vale, calling for all able fighters to prepare themselves and come to Winterfell.

War had raised its ugly head once again 6 months after Jon and Arya, the heroes from the last 2 wars, had left Westeros.

As Sansa lit the candles in solar and began to draft her first messages, she couldn’t help but shake the feeling that this war would be more devastating than all of the preceding ones combined.

Daenerys POV

As Daenerys stared into the flickering flames of the candles that illuminated her cabin, she recalled Drogon’s flames beating down on the Red Keep on that fateful day in King’s Landing. Her mind had been so clear that day with her single purpose of making everyone who had betrayed her feel her pain. She recalled Jon’s desperate pleas to call a halt to her conquest and his pained expressions when recounting the images of all the dead women and children that lined the streets in ruins of the capital city.

In her mind justice had been served. In her mind all those that chose to seek Cersei’s protection reaped their deserved rewards. In her mind she couldn’t understand why Jon was willing to shed tears for the people that at one time had cheered when Ned Stark lost his head. Surely such people deserved to be wiped from existence before they could inflict more pain on her loved ones. Her bold new world could only take shape when the baggage from the old world was no more.

She realised in that moment that Jon was as lost and broken as she was and perhaps she could forgive his betrayals and allow her love and the gift that Jon gave her to heal them both.

She never got a chance to turn any of those thoughts into words as she and Jon shared a kiss for the first and last time in front of the Iron Throne.

The pain of the dagger that pierced her heart was the first thing that greeted her when she awoke naked and alone in a cold strange room almost 4 months ago. Daenerys recalled that as she traced the scar over her heart for the first time she broke down, screaming and crying into the dark as she brought her hands down to rest over her womb, cursing the name of Jon Snow for his ultimate betrayal.

She had wanted desperately to mount Drogon and hunt him to the ends of the world to enact her vengeance for destroying their family but she was unable to move from her bed as the pain of the stab wound crippled her body. As she drifted into unconsciousness due to pain she remembered wishing for death to take her away once again.

Kinvara had come to her in that desperate hour and set her on the path to recovery, helping her to heal both her mind and body. Her nights immediately following her resurrection were plagued by the tortured screams of the thousands of women and children that perished under Drogon’s flames and she often found herself waking up to her own screams at the hour of the wolf and empty the contents of her stomach onto the floor of her chamber inside Kinvara’s residence.

Her desire to bring fire and blood to Jon Snow diminished with each night that her nightmares interrupted her sleep. Kinvara helped her to realise that she had lost her way after the battle at Winterfell and had become the monster that she had always promised to defeat. It was to her shame that she came to realise that she had exceeded the horrors inflicted by her father , the Mad King and further lamented the fact she had caused the death of more mothers and babes than any of slave masters that she encountered in Essos. Daenerys came to realise that in a twisted turn of events Jon had saved her from performing further acts of devastation when he murdered her that day. The Night King had caused the deaths of over a 100, 000 people during his last campaign and in less than a day Daenerys had killed almost 10 times as many people.

She recalled a statement that Bran Stark had made that day they passed judgement on Jaime Lannister back at Winterfell.

‘The things we do for love’ was what Bran had said to Jaime and she had wondered at that time what was the point of that statement.

Daenerys couldn’t deny her last kiss with Jon was filled with love and she recalled Bran’s words, she started to wonder about the true meaning of those words.

She asked herself if she would be able to do what Jon did to her if the roles were reversed. Would her love have been enough to do what was required to prevent a greater tragedy from unfolding?

As she sat in her cabin contemplating that question again as she made her journey east across the Summer Sea on the ship that departed Volantis 2 months ago, she remembered that she hadn’t felt Drogon’s presence for a few days. The connection with her last child was always present no matter how far apart they were in the days following her resurrection but now there was something blocking that connection and every time she sought him out she felt a pain in her head that she couldn’t explain.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the now familiar fluttering in her womb as the life she thought she had lost was now growing stronger with each passing day. She remembered that day at the waterfall in the far north where Jon’s seed had evidently taken root and the discovery of her surprise condition during those dark days at Dragonstone when she had survived Varys’ first attempt at poisoning her. Her altered senses had detected that something was off with her meals and she had mused at the time that the wolf blood in her child’s veins had saved her that day. She had vowed that day to protect her little treasure at all costs but as it turned out the cost was too high for her to afford.

“Don’t fret my little dragon” she said while caressing her abdomen. “We will find your lost brother when we return to Volantis. He’s probably gone far out into the Dothraki Sea to fill his belly with many goats”

As Daenerys drifted off to sleep that night she swore that she heard a desperate howl of a wolf calling to her from the dark.

Yara POV

Yara continued to mutter curses as she steered her ship through the raging storm waters that were threatening her ship. The shipping lanes around the Stepstones suddenly became perilous due to a massive storm that had appeared out of nowhere.

Yara and her crew had enjoyed calm waters after departing the Stepstones after successfully completing her transaction with former associates of her late uncle – Euron Greyjoy. She had taken possession of a mysterious artefact that was of huge importance to her new trade partner in Essos. The successful delivery of the artefact guaranteed a big payday for the Iron Islands and most importantly this payday would allow her people more freedom to operate outside of the restrictions of King Bran’s stifling rule.

The loss of Theon and Queen Daenerys had sent her mind to a dark place in the days after Bran Stark was elected as King of the Six Kingdoms. Yara was torn between honouring Theon’s sacrifice to protect Bran and Sansa Stark and a fulfilling a dark desire to bring pain and suffering to the newly independent northern kingdom.

She knew then that the Iron Fleet was a shadow of itself and in no position to bend Westeros to her will. The edicts from the capital, that had come 2 months after that treasonous Jon Snow had departed on his journey into exile, had effectively scattered the remainder of her fleet to ports all over Westeros.

The once feared Iron Fleet was now to serve as guards for the much needed aid shipments that were being sent from Essos courtesy of the Iron Bank. It was on one of these supply runs that a mysterious figure had approached her with an obscene amount of gold and a request to retrieve precious cargo from a party residing in the Stepstones. Yara had been sceptical at first but the opportunity to break free from the grip of the scheming cowards on Bran the Broken’s small council was too great to pass up. The gold that she would receive after completing the assignment could buy enough food to feed her people while commissioning a large enough array of vessels that would restore the glory of the Iron Fleet. She had baulked at the fact that the cargo she was supposed to fetch was once in the possession of Euron but the trunks of gold that were laid at her feet made her accept the assignment and so she departed Braavos with half of the payment tucked away in her cargo hold and a fresh supply of rum from the finest distillery in Braavos.

Now all thoughts of securing the remainder of the payment were cast to the back of her mind as her crew scrambled about the ship in a desperate attempt to keep it from being sunk.

Watchers on the port and starboard sides of the vessel yelled out warnings as Yara steered the ship clear of reefs lined with jagged rocks that were guaranteed to send her and her crew to meet their Drowned God if the ship ever made contact with one.

She cursed her current employer once again as the ship bucked violently in a manner that suggested that they had struck one of the reefs. Fortunately her fears proved to be unfounded as their forward motion continued and the ship stayed upright.

“Look alive you sons of whores! We didn’t outlive Euron just to lose everything in a little rain! If you let my ship sink I’ll personally send you to meet the Drowned God!!” she yelled.

The crew renewed their efforts to keep the ship afloat and with one final lurch the vessel finally cleared the reefs and reached the open seas beyond the Stepstones.

Almost as soon as he ship made its way across the open sea, storm disappeared, leaving behind an eerie calm. The crew breathed a collective sigh of relief but Yara still had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

As she took stock of the crew that was clearing debris from the deck, she released a gasp as she realised that the sky was as black as night event though it was near high noon.

‘What dark magic is this?’ she pondered to herself.

Almost as if answering her silent query, shadowy figures seemed to spring forward from the darkness and started to attack her crew.

The cries of her men that fell to their death rose Yara from her stunned state and she set about lighting the torches that had been extinguished during the storm. The shadow wraiths seemed to retreat from the light and as her men regrouped the shadows drifted below deck.

As Yara followed the motion of the shadows she suddenly realised the wraiths were moving with a plan.

“Go secure the cargo!” she yelled. “Now!” she added with a flourish of her torch as her men seemed to have become stuck to the deck.

As her men prepared their weapons and lit more torches before heading below deck, a loud splintering sound echoed through the belly of the ship. It was the unmistakable sound of wood being torn apart. It was a sound no sailor wanted to hear in the middle of the open sea on a wooden vessel.

The ship started to buck as if the storm had started again and as Yara led her men down a dark corridor, they passed more lifeless bodies that had their skulls cracked open as if someone had taken a hammer to their heads. As she turned the last corner before arriving at the cargo hold, she was met with a gust of cold air as the light from the torches started to dim.

As she cautiously approached the entrance to the cargo hold she was met with a deafening silence and stared into a rapidly expanding cloud that was as black as the sky they had just seen above deck. Another sudden lurch from her ship and a blinding flash of light from the cargo hold knocked her and her men off their feet and the torches were once again snuffed out.

After what seemed like an eternity, Yara regained her senses and rose to her feet, drawing her sword as she rushed into the cargo hold fully prepared to unleash the kraken’s fury on whatever was threatening her cargo.

Instead as she ran over the threshold her eyes saw nothing.

The room was now empty and there were no sign of the wraiths, the dark cloud or more importantly the crate that held their precious cargo. If it wasn’t for the ruined door that rested in pieces on the floor below her feet, no-one would actually be able to tell that the room had ever had anything locked inside.

“Does this mean we won’t get paid?” a gruff voice said from behind Yara as more men entered the now empty cargo hold.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, resisting the urge to stab the fool that asked such a trivial question after having survived an encounter with spectres straight out of the seven hells.

For a moment a voice in head that sounded oddly like Euron, chided her for not asking for a larger cut of the payment in advance. Her plans to use some of that gold to reacquaint herself with some buxom wenches in the brothels in Lys vanished in a puff of smoke, just like her cargo.

“Set a course for the nearest docking point in Dorne. I intend to get drown myself in enough wine to make me forget this day!”

As her crew rushed off to fulfil her order, Yara entered her cabin fully intending on getting a jump start on her path to drunken bliss. As she reached for her stash of Dornish red she noted with some dismay that the bottle had cracked open and the precious liquid had drained out.

“Serves me right” she muttered to herself. “Should never had gotten mixed up in schemes that involved black magic and Euron Greyjoy. Good riddance to that damn hell horn” she added as she reached for her emergency supply of rum.

That jug was empty as well.

“Why is the rum always gone??!!” she yelled out across her cabin, completely oblivious to the raven that was perched outside her cabin window watching her with an unblinking gaze as she began a fresh round of curses mixed with promises of a slow and painful death for the fool that drank her rum.

Chapter Text

Young Griff

Griff moved towards the window of his chambers inside the great pyramid that once housed the Queen of Meereen. His silver hair was being gently ruffled by the breeze blowing through the window as he stared out towards the Bay of Dragons. All traces of that blue hair dye long gone from his tresses.

He was reflecting on the unbelievable set of events that had brought him to this point and lamented the extraordinary levels of stupidity that surrounded him over the last year. The plan to claim his rightful place as King of Westeros had gone up in flames long before Daenerys torched King's Landing, thanks the efforts of his own father, Jon Connington and their principal supporter - Illyrio Mopatis.

Their constant scheming and alterations to their original plans had caused them to delay meeting Daenerys in Meereen before she left for Westeros. Unknown to Griff, they had made other plans to because they thought that they would need to bring something more significant than the Golden Company and Griff’s royal pedigree to any future alliance with Daenerys. Griff was not pleased that his meeting with Daenerys would be delayed indefinitely. He was already looking forward to their partnership and possible marriage alliance.
When the news reached them, at their hideout in Tyrosh, that the Queen’s forces had suffered heavy losses, Griff wanted to swiftly move across the Stepstones and help bring fire and blood to her enemies. Yet again his wishes were ignored, and patience was advised. His father had said that if Daenerys became desperate enough, especially since she wouldn’t risk killing thousands of innocents by using the dragons on King’s Landing, then they could time their arrival to present themselves as saviors. Daenerys would be so grateful that she would be unable to deny their request for Griff to be King and he in turn would make her his queen as he sat the Throne. Griff reluctantly agreed.

 
Then when news came of the nightmare creatures that threatened the living, and Daenerys’ intent to participate, he became worried. He found himself wondering what he could contribute to a battle against an army of the dead that would allow him to present himself as a worthy contender for the Throne. Him presenting himself as a savior was looking unlikely considering that even the vile Cersei Lannister was contributing resources to what was dubbed as ‘The Great War’. Every single time he thought on that question, the lack of obvious answers made him more worried.

Then his father came up with that unbelievable plan to bring their army to Westeros, courtesy of Cersei’s own gold. Griff felt himself explode when he was told of that plan.
Growing up with Jon Connington he held nothing but respect and love for the only father he had ever know, but he remembered cursing him and Harry Strickland when they accepted the contract from Cersei Lannister and asking if them if they had gone mad. They argued that they would be able to use the contract as a ruse to take over the capital and overthrow Cersei before Daenerys returned from the Northern campaign. Claiming the Throne and occupying the capital would be move bold and decisive enough to ensure that Daenerys would have to take his claim seriously, while showing the rest of Westeros that he was a viable option for King. That is what they argued and also pointed out that the plan had the added benefit of getting paid by Cersei to seal her own demise. 

They thought the plan was fool proof. Harry would lead a company of mainly rookies and carefully disguised slaves mixed with in with enough veterans to make it seem like the actual Golden Company army. While those forces were occupying the capital, the core of their skilled fighters, along with their elephants would remain hidden in Tyrosh and slowly make their way into Dorne and eventually onto the capital. The demise of the Reach’s and Dornish forces would mean that their armies would control everything south of King’s Landing, including the food and that would be needed in the aftermath of the battles up north. 

Griff was sceptical and argued that Daenerys would not take kindly to the Golden Company supporting her enemies and she would just as likely kill all of them rather than appreciate their subterfuge. He argued that he could never make a peaceful claim for being King and co-exist with Daenerys if his own army fought for the Lannister queen. Griff had no intention of dancing with dragon fire at his heels. However, despite his concerns, he deferred to the wisdom of his elders and allowed them to implement the plan.
Then it all went to horribly wrong. Cersei’s forces managed to kill a dragon and behead Daenerys’ best friend in a public execution. He knew at that point that his side were fucked. One angry Queen combined with one large fire breathing dragon and the remainder of the coalition force that fought at Winterfell brought to bear against the capital would not end well.

The death of all but one of the dragons was a sore point for Griff. He had actually hoped to bond with one of the dragons and with that bond further enhance his claim as the rightful ruler of Westeros. Him having a dragon would have hopefully placed him on equal footing with Daenerys when he made his case for being king. Her rumoured bareness would, in his mind, make him the only real choice to further their family line. He would have Illyrio’s gold to help finance his reign and he had planned to coerce her consent with these facts since her condition would mean she couldn’t truly expect to sit on the Throne if she could not provide any heirs for their family. He had planned to keep her as his Targaryen queen while seeking another wife to have his children and he had actually looked forward to all of the potential bed sport that he could enjoy in the future. He would be the envy of every man in Westeros. 

Griff was sent to a near fugue state when he found out what happened after the attack on King’s Landing. The bulk of the Golden Company army that was sent to Westeros was destroyed. The Red Keep and most of the capital, destroyed. Daenerys, dead at the hands of her own blood and former lover. Griff was incredulous when he digested the information on the scroll he received telling him about the truth of Jon Snow. That man who was supposedly his actual brother had taken his place with Daenerys. He had risen to be a king, rode a dragon into battle and was sharing Daenerys’ bed all while being praised for his deeds in the north. In Griff’s mind his little brother was given everything on a silver platter and chose to throw it all away.

His brother turned out to be more wolf than dragon and killed his dragon kin to save his Stark ‘sisters’ and managed to keep his head in the final reckoning after the battle for King’s Landing. Daenerys’ forces didn’t execute the traitor and allowed him to be judged by some of the same people who praised his efforts and opposed Daenerys at every opportunity. Unsurprisingly Jon Snow was allowed to live. Griff could scarcely believe when he found out that Daenerys’ armies left Westeros without any further conflict after all they had done for her in the past. How loyal could they have been if they didn’t attempt to avenge her death. That was a situation that greatly vexed Griff along with Jon Snow still being alive. That was a situation he vowed to correct and punish all those who didn’t support their Queen.

His thoughts of retribution were interrupted by a voice from behind him.

“It is done my King” stated Mei, a Red Priestess hailing from Yi-Ti who came to his side after the fall of Daenerys. 

“That is excellent news.” Replied Griff. “Now we can proceed with our plans. Have you found him yet?”

“He is on the way from Volantis towards the Dothraki Sea. The Flames have shown me that he will journey towards Ghis soon. We can intercept him at that point.” Said Mei.

Connington entered the room shortly afterwards, accompanied by Daario Naharis. Griff got a headache whenever he thought about the egotistical sellsword. The acting Regent of Meereen was proud to remind any and everyone about his relationship with Daenerys and publicly vowed to help Griff get vengeance on her behalf. Griff had been forced to bolster his depleted forces with sellswords such as Daario and his Second Sons after what had happened to the Golden Company. Acquiring these soldiers from the various sellsword companies around Essos was an expensive undertaking and every time Connington and Illyrio’s representative baulked at the fees being demanded, Griff took great pleasure in reminding them why they were in this mess in the first place. Griff would spend every ounce of Illyrio’s gold to get his throne.

Griff had initially wanted to kill Daario for choosing to remain in Meereen, living in comfort and wealth, while Daenerys suffered in Westeros. Griff believed that if Daario was truly loyal to Daenerys then he would not have remined idle in Meereen while his queen suffered her losses. His father had cautioned against that course of action. He pointed out that, even though they could buy the Second Sons out from under Naharis, they would need the pompous fool to get the Unsullied and Dothraki to join their cause. Griff bit his tongue and agreed with his father’s logic and thus Naharis and his forces became their latest ally.

“My people are ready to depart” said Daario. “I am actually looking forward to seeing Grey Worm again. I missed that little eunuch and his unique personality” he added with a grin.

“We are indeed ready to depart” confirmed Connington. “After getting the Dothraki we can contact the Unsullied in Naath and have them meet us in Tyrosh. Our elephants have already been ferried through the Stepstones are should be settled in Dorne by the time we arrive” he concluded.

Griff glanced at the Red Priestess.

“There is a change in plans. I will meet you in Tyrosh” he said. “Mei and her companions will accompany me to Ghis and help secure our largest asset. Then I will personally handle the Dothraki.”

His father made to object to this sudden change in plans but Griff cut him off with a raised hand.

“The Dothraki only respond to power and I intend to be the symbol of that power!” he stated emphatically.

“Their Khalessi died and they went away like sheep. I have no use for sheep! I will assess their suitability to join our cause and unless they show that they are still the blood thirsty terrors that make opposing armies tremble in fear then I will have no use for them and they will be dealt with as if they are really sheep!”

“I hope this asset you are pursuing is worth confronting the Dothraki.” Daario added while twirling his ridiculous knife. “It would be such a shame if a dragon gets killed by sheep.”

Connington gave Daario a harsh glare while Griff gave him a sly smirk.

“Don’t worry about me friend. I have yet to meet any sheep that can withstand the fire of a dragon.” he replied cryptically.

Griff regarded his father and addressed him directly.

“I have arranged for Mei and her fellow shadow binders to send a gift to my brother”

“A gift? How? Isn’t he in exile somewhere on the sea?” his father enquired.

“The Ironborn have a saying. ‘What is dead may never die’. But when I am done with my little brother he will wish he had stayed dead” he stated in with a cold tone.

“His bones will form the foundation for my new throne. Those of all his kin and those that betrayed Daenerys will form the rest of my new seat of power in Westeros.”

Connington gave Griff a reluctant nod and turned to leave the room, taking a bewildered Daario with him.

Griff turned to look out the window again.

‘Those traitors will learn the true meaning of ‘awakening the dragon’ when I am done with Westeros’ he thought to himself. ‘What happened in King’s Landing will seem like a campfire when I am done’. Griff could almost feel the heat on his face from the flames as they beat down on Winterfell and allowed himself to smile for the first time since he arrived in Meereen.

Chapter Text

ARYA POV

Arya slowly opened her eyes after dreaming of Sansa in the Godswood with 2 direwolf pups. Pups that had a curious blend of dark and white fur. The image brought a smile to her face as she focused on the sound of a heart beat breaking the silence in her room. Her mind went back to the aftermath of the storm they had encountered and the events that followed. The storm was huge and the ship had sustained some damage but they stayed afloat due to the sheer stubbornness of the crew. There were some injuries and they had feared that something worse had befallen Alleras when the acolyte went missing. Jon and Ghost had gone to look for their friend and when Jon came back to their room, red-faced and with an unscathed Alleras in tow, she could scarcely believe the cause of Jon’s reaction.

Alleras was actually a woman. A woman that Jon had walked in one while she was naked and in the process of changing her clothes in a storage room, hidden away from prying eyes. Alleras’ clothes had gotten damaged with all of the tossing around she had endured during the storm and she wasn’t exactly in a position to change in her shared quarters with the Unsullied.

Alleras, or Sarella as she was actually named, revealed her true story to her and Jon and the reasons for deceiving the Citadel. Arya was impressed with her efforts and she and Sarella shared a good laugh at Jon’s expense when Sarella revealed how Jon’s jaw had dropped and eyes went wide when he saw her in the nude. Sarella indicated that she had asked Jon with a straight face and matter of fact tone ‘what? You never saw a naked woman before?’ Jon had bundled over Ghost in his haste to escape the room give her some privacy. Sarella recalled that Jon’s face that was almost as red as Ghost’s eyes.

The trio agreed to keep Sarella’s secret and would continue to refer to her as Alleras in public. Sarella purposely rearranged her chest binding in front of Jon which caused him to splutter and stare off into a corner, eliciting more laughter from Arya. That was the high point of the storm’s aftermath. Everything changed a few moments later when shouts of ‘pirates’ sounded around the ship.

Jon and Arya had armed up and convinced Sarella to stay in their cabin much to her initial displeasure. She had wanted to help defend the ship, but they had convinced her to stay safe as her skills as a healer would be needed more than her skills as a fighter. They placated her by stating that if any of their attackers made it past them, Ghost and the Unsullied and their own pirate companions then she could have at them. Sarella reluctantly agreed.

The fighting had already begun by the time they arrived on deck. The scene was pure chaos. A ship had snuck up on them under the dark skies that came after the storm and pirates were now swarming the deck of their ship. The Unsullied were resolutely defending the access to below deck in their usual unbreakable formation. The remainder of the crew had engaged opponents with their own archers picking off random enemy targets. Arya and Jon had agreed to stick close together and take out the more troublesome opponents as Ghost jumped into the melee.

Needle and Longclaw were soon bathed in the blood of their enemies. Arya crippled many of the pirates with her flowing moves, her faceless man training giving her an uncanny calm in the face of the carnage that unfolded. Jon took on the heavier hitters and finished off the wounded men that Arya left in her wake. They were moving in sync and, with the aid of the Ghost, had done a tremendous amount of damage. ‘Swift as a deer’ she recalled from her training with Syrio and that lesson served her well now as the pirates tasted Needle’s point. The time she and Jon spent sparring on the voyage was paying off handsomely as their sea legs were well established and allowed them to handle the pirates.

During a lull in the fighting Arya took a moment to take stock of her surroundings. The unsullied line was unbroken, the archers were almost out of arrows but they had done their job as the remaining attackers were effectively herded into manageable numbers. During that momentary pause Arya got separated from Jon who now found himself facing off against 2 opponents. Before Arya could assist she found herself facing off against a large monster of a man with a demented grin on his face.

“Looks like I caught myself a little she wolf!” the man cackled.

“I promise not to ruffle your fur to much if you surrender. I just want to give you a special gift. What do you say to that?” He added.

“Not today” replied Arya as she twirled Needle and studied her opponent’s form. ‘He’s big’ she thought. ‘But so was Brienne’ she concluded as a grin spread on her face.

The man lost is patience and lunged with his axe. Arya dodged and spun around the man and slashed at his thighs and the back of his legs, drawing blood. The man yelled and advanced on Arya again as if her hits were a mere annoyance. Again Arya dodged and struck more blows in rapid succession, drawing more blood. Arya continued her dance and the man was starting to tire, attacking with less zest than in the beginning.

Then the man did something she hadn’t counted on. During on her thrusts he allowed himself to be impaled in the abdomen. At first Arya thought that she had won the fight when the man stayed still but to her horror he suddenly grabbed Needle’s blade and with shocking power brought his axe down on it. Needle broke in front of Arya’s eyes.

Arya was shocked and stared at the broken piece of needle that remained in her grip. She forgot all her training for a moment as Jon’s voice echoed in her head ‘stick them with the pointy end’ the voice said, except now there was no more pointy end. Arya didn’t register that the man was advancing on her until a white blur flashed before her eyes. As Arya dropped her broken Needle and drew her Valyrian steel dagger she noticed that Ghost was ripping her opponents face off. That snapped her back to reality as Jon came upon her. “Arya” he yelled. “I thought you were a goner. Are you ok?” he asked as he embraced her. The fighting had stopped and the pirates had fled back to their ship like scalded dogs.

“Aye” she said “I’ll be fine”

But there was still an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Why did they attack?” she asked to no one in particular.

“They’re bloody pirates, that’s why!” shouted Yannick from nearby. He was as bloody as everyone else but very much alive. “They don’t need any other reason!”

Ghost suddenly started growling and lunged past Arya and Jon. They turned to follow Ghost and saw him dive at a shadowy figure and when Ghost passed through the figure Arya knew what that uneasy feeling was. The fight was not over. She moved off to grab a torch and engage the shadowy figure.

‘Valyrian steel and fire. One of these things has to kill a shadow’ she hoped. ‘If it was good enough for the Night King and his army then it should work here.’

The shadow regarded her for a moment before seemingly retreating from Arya’s advances. Then out of nowhere the shadow seemed to double in size before knocking her and Ghost to the side. The figure advanced on Jon. Arya and Ghost were too dazed to intervene. Other men attacked and the shadow flung them off, seemingly intent only on Jon.

Arya’s vision came back into focus and she realised Jon wasn’t attacking the shadow and she couldn’t understand the reason until Jon dropped to his knees. The hilt of Needle was buried in Jon’s chest as blood poured from the wound. The shadow made to withdraw the blade and finish off Jon when Jon suddenly shot up and with a yell plunged Longclaw into a torch. When he pulled it back, the blade was on fire. Jon swung it at the shadow and Arya stared in disbelief as Longclaw stuck in the shadow as if it had suddenly become a solid object. The shadow let out a piercing shriek and was promptly tore apart as the flames consumed it.

The shadow was gone and Arya was speechless until a howl from Ghost snapped her from her daze.

Jon was back on his knees. Longclaw slipped from his grasp and he was coughing up blood. Someone screamed Jon’s name.

‘Who is yelling’ Arya thought for a moment before realising that the yelling was coming from her as Jon slumped to the floor and went still. Needle still in his chest.

That last image haunted her sleep as a heartbeat, weak and steady, echoed in her ear. Arya tried to steady her nerves as she laid her head over Jon’s heart and sent out another silent prayer – asking anyone who was listening to keep the god of death away.

‘Not today’ she mumbled before allowing sleep to consume her once again.

Chapter Text

Young Griff POV

Griff rode in silence, reflecting on the events of the past couple of weeks. His men cut him a wide berth due to his dark mood following his confrontation with the Dothraki. He couldn’t understand how the Dothraki failed to recognise him as a worthy leader even when he brought Drogon down on their heads and the resulting confrontation fueled his current mental state.

It had been a struggle for Mei and her followers to contain Drogon’s spirit, even with the use of his blood and some very dark magic. They had been forced to sacrifice some of their men to use the Dragon Binder to eventually subdue Drogon, but even then their control of the beast was not as absolute as they would have hoped.

It was this fact that caused the Dothraki to doubt him a leader as they reminded him that they had fought alongside 2 other dragons who didn’t need dark magic to control their winged companions. The Dothraki did not trust anyone who used dark magic, especially after battling the dark mystical forces at Winterfell. It was quite clear by their aggressive posturing that Griff’s use of magic did not sit well with them.

Griff had made grand promises to avenge their fallen Khalessi and told them that as her last living kin with the power of a dragon behind him,he was owed their loyalty. That boast, Griff came to realise, was a mistake.

The Dothraki sneered at him and said they would follow the one who killed their Khalessi long before they followed Griff. Jon Snow, they said, at least had shown he was a strong warrior and didn’t need to rely on pretty words and foul magic to get what he wanted. The Dothraki then challenged him to a fight to prove his worth and when he refused all hell broke loose.

Despite the presence of Drogon, the Dothraki suddenly charged his forces and caught his men by surprise. Amidst the bloodshed and chaos, he struggled to get Drogon to fight back and that distraction caused him to receive some wounds courtesy of the Dothraki mounted archers.

His injuries seemed to snap Drogon to life and he soon rained fire down onto on the Dothraki. Even then, to Griff's disbelief, the horselords refused to back down and continued to engage his forces with all of the ferocity they were renowned for. Drogon had burnt many of them along with some of Griff’s own forces who had been caught in the dragon’s path.

When the smoke finally cleared, most of the Dothraki were either dead or had scattered into the hills surrounding the  battle field. His men had managed to capture a few of the Dothraki – less than 500 in total – and Griff was so enraged that he had desperately wanted to hunt down the others who had fled. Unfortunately his bond with Drogon was once again starting to fray. Mei advised him not to push the bond any further or risk breaking it altogether.

He made the captured Dothraki submit under threat of Drogon’s fire and even then they did so reluctantly. They acknowledged his strength but Griff suspected that they would never truly be his men. He was forced to sacrifice some of the Dothraki to the Dragon Binder in order to bring Drogon fully under his control once again. The survivors seemed to fear that brand of death more than the threat of being torched and some of their fight left them, making their return to Tyrosh much more peaceful than Griff had expected.

The issue with Drogon’s bond was troubling both him and Mei. It was as if Drogon was challenging his authority even when he was under the influence of Dragon Binder. The look that the dragon gave him sometimes was one of open defiance and a promise of pain and suffering if he ever broke free of that bond. Mei had deduced that the strain on the bond would increase every time he used the dragon in battle and it would be best to use Drogon sparingly in the future. Griff was displeased at that prospect and tasked Mei and her followers to find a more permanent solution to keeping the bond intact.

His dreams on the boat voyage towards Tyrosh were plagued with visions of Drogon unleashing fire on a prone Griff and every time he felt the flames lick his skin he would wake up from his sleep covered in sweat and trembling. This lack of sleep was a constant during his journey to meet up with his father and their forces and certainly helped contribute to his dark mood.

Now as his party approached their camp at Tyrosh, he felt a scowl build on his face as he noted a distinct scarcity of Unsullied troops amongst their assembled forces. He began to wonder if Grey Worm and his forces had assembled elsewhere when his father approached him on horseback. His father took in the scars on his face and was on the verge of asking what happened before Griff cut him off with a raised hand.

“Where are the Unsullied father?” he asked.

His father hesitated for a moment before responding.

“They did not respond as we had hoped to our summons, despite sending Daario in person.”

Griff could hardly believe what he was hearing. First he was denied by the Dothraki and now the Unsullied dared to deny him as well. He had counted on these two forces rallying to his side and help enforce his status as the last dragon and avenge their fallen queen but it seems that prospect had gone up in smoke.

“Did they not understand that we want to avenge Daenerys?” Griff asked incredulously.

“Are they content to let her death go unpunished and to let her vision for a better world die?” he added with a raised voice.

Drogon chose that moment to fly overhead, letting out a noticeable growl as he moved, seemingly responding to Griff’s ire. His father glanced nervously towards the sky before looking at his son again before replying.

“Grey Worm said that he is keeping a promise and would not be in a position to send his entire force. He wished Daario good fortune and sent him away along with 500 Unsullied troops.”

Griff ran through a range of emotions at that moment – disappointment, anger and disgust -being the main ones. He could scarcely believe the lack of support he was getting and realised in that moment that the soft touch he was applying would now longer be enough.

He reflected on their current situation as he rode along towards his command tent in silence. His next objective after securing their forces from Essos was to ally himself with Dorne and use their resources to bolster his own forces. The Dornish would have had one of the larger standing armies left in Westeros, having stayed out of the battles in the North and at Kingslanding. This, combined with their knowledge of the strengths and weaknesses of the remaining forces in Westeros, was supposed to be an advantage as they began their conquest from the South. However, having faced underwhelming support from the Dothraki and the Unsullied, Griff decided to change his plan.

“Have we made contact with Sunspear yet?” Griff asked his father as they moved closer to their destination.

“No.” his father replied. “Our scouts are still looking for a secure place to land our forces in Dorne. Once that is done we will send an emissary to Sunspear.”

Griff shook his head and responded in an unusually calm manner. 

“I don’t think an emissary will be necessary anymore. We will knock on their gates with Drogon and use Sunspear as our new base”

Connington’s head whipped around and he began to voice an objection to this aggressive new plan but again Griff cut him off once again.

“Yes, I know that the Martells are supposed to be my blood and that should bring their allegiance but after being disappointed by the Dothraki and now the Unsullied, I will no longer be asking anyone for their allegiance. I will take it with fire and blood!”

Connington looked grimly at Griff and bit back a response as they reached their command tent. Daario was already inside, sitting in a chair with his feet up on the table, as the other sellsword captains lounged around inside, all of them with a goblet of wine in their hands. Griff eyed the bodies in the tent and groaned internally at the people that now made up his war council.

Daario saw Griff enter the tent and a smirk grew on his face as he saw the scars on Griff’s face.

“Did the sheep not co-operate?” he asked with a smug expression that was soon erased as Drogon let out a loud roar overhead.

“You can ask Drogon.” Griff replied as all eyes were now focused on him.

Daario wisely chose not to reply. For once he had a less than pleased look on his face

“Prepare your men for departure” Griff stated. “We leave for Westeros as soon as possible. We will proceed with haste to Sunspear and will crush them under our boots!”

Many puzzled faces looked at Griff, no doubt many were under the impression that he would ally with Sunspear and not attack it.

“I have chosen not to rely on an ally who likens themselves to snakes. We will take what we need and leave no room for betrayal.” Griff explained

“The spoils of Sunspear are yours to take. Their forces will either bend to my will or I will break them! Do I have your support my friends?” he added as Drogon let out another roar.

Every man in the tent nodded their head in agreement and Griff bowed his head in acknowledgment before departing for his personal tent for food and wine and hopefully a peaceful sleep before they depart for Dorne.

‘It is time to be a dragon’ he thought to himself as he entered his tent.

‘I will bring the fire to Westeros and they will shed the blood.’ He concluded as the first cool draft of wine went down his throat.

Chapter Text

Arya POV

Arya’s dreams for the past 2 weeks were always the same – Jon’s limp body bleeding out in her arms while Ghost circled them and shadows closed in around them. As the shadows draw closer the sound of someone screaming gets louder and more terrifying. In her dreams she was powerless to stop the shadows while she held Jon’s head in her lap and eventually the shadows consumed her.

Only thing, as Arya recalled, some of those things actually happened and the screams weren’t from her dreams. Those screams had come from her after Jon fell. She didn’t remember moving to Jon and holding onto him even as their companions tried to help him. She didn’t remember allowing Sarella to remove Jon from her grasp so that she could take him to his chambers and tend to him with her healing skills. She didn’t remember changing out of her blood soaked clothes and falling asleep next to Jon hours after Sarella had stabilised him.

The only thing she remembered was that Jon got hurt after she left his side during the battle. Her mind went over the battle again and again and she kept wondering if there was anything she could have done differently. When she was with Jon they were virtually untouchable but as soon as they had separated she lost Needle and Jon almost lost his life again, and this time there were no red priestesses to bring Jon back.

The only thing she was certain of is that it had been almost 2 weeks since Jon got hurt, 2 weeks that she had to endure countless restless nights while trying to will Jon to wake up. She even sent a few prays to the Old Gods and the New Gods, asking them to help Jon but nothing seemed to happen.

Every time she laid her head on his chest she could almost imagine that his heartbeat was getting stronger. She was determined not to leave his side until he woke, ignoring Sarella’s plea to go out and get some fresh air and hot food. Eventually Sarella gave up and made sure the food was brought to her, although Ghost ended up making better use of the meals than she did.

“I promise not to tease you about your old bones and let you win more spars” she whispered against his chest as she held his limp hand and continued to listen to his heartbeat.

“I’ll even return all of your shirts” she added. “All you have to do is wake up stupid!”

She waited for a response and was met once again by silence. With a sigh she settled down next to Jon and tried to calm her mind and find some sleep. Hours seemed to pass and she noticed that Ghost was slumbering in the corner of their cabin and Arya found herself jealous of the wolf’s ability to tune out everything and sleep soundly.

Arya adjusted the sleeves on the shirt she had borrowed from Jon as she actually found her eyes getting heavy with the promise of sleep, even as a chill settled over her legs, in part due to the shirt being too short to completely cover her. As she started to drift off she imagined a familiar voice calling her name and the voice filled her with a warmth that brought a sleepy smile to her face. She even imagined that the hand that she held in her own was getting warmer in her grip. The voice continued to call her name and speak to her.

“Maybe not all of my shirts little wolf, otherwise this sleeping arrangement might become a little awkward” a weak, but familiar gruff voice said.

It took Arya a moment to register what just happened even as Ghost had made his way onto the bed and threatened to roll her off the bed in his eagerness to get to Jon. Arya had a huge smile on her face as she became fully aware of Jon’s return to the waking world. She stared into his face and wondered for a moment if she was still dreaming even as Ghost was gently licking Jon’s face.

“I missed you too boy” Jon said to Ghost before convincing his wolf to get off the bed.

“Are you ok Arya?” Jon asked.

She didn’t know how to react to that question and found herself letting out a small chuckle as she sat upright on the bed, staring into the comforting dark eyes that she had feared would never have opened again.

“I’m fine Jon” she said with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not the one that forgot to dodge the pointy end”

Jon narrowed his gaze at Arya before letting out a small, pained chuckle.

“That’s true” he replied before grimacing, as if recalling a painful memory.

They settled into a comfortable silence once again before proceeding to catch up on everything that had happened during and after the battle.

“I remember the fighting and that shadow at the end before everything went black.” He recalled.

“I have never seen anything like that. The shadow whispered something to me after he stabbed me – ‘blood requires blood’. It was very strange”

“I heard from Davos about a shadow assassin that Melisandre created and I can only guess that what we saw during the attack was the same thing.” Arya stated.

They sat in silence for a moment before Jon continued.

“That attack was too well co-ordinated and those men moved too well for common pirates. Their armor and weapons were well crafted.” He paused for a moment before continuing.

“If I didn’t know any better it would seem as if someone wanted us to think they were real Ironborn pirates.”

“I had the same thought too” Arya replied.

“Also some of the men had tans that I have only seen in Essos. I believe that these men were sent here for a reason and not just simple piracy. That shadow assassin was their trump card and they definitely didn’t expect it to get destroyed.”

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation as Sarella came to check on Jon and was pleasantly surprised to find Jon awake.

“Hello cousin.” She said to Jon as she checked his bandages.

Jon regarded her with a puzzled expression after her greeting.

“While you were taking a nap Arya and I realised that you and I are actually related. House Martell and House Targaryen have common ancestors and that makes us cousins” She added with a flourish.

Jon’s mind was still a bit hazy after his long slumber but he vaguely remembered his lessons with Maester Luwin growing up regarding the history of the great houses.

The connection came to him in a flash as Arya and Sarella watched him figure out the link. House Martell were never conquered by House Targaryen and only joined the Seven Kingdoms through the bonds of marriage. All of the future ruling lines of both houses would forever share a common ancestry.

A smile came across Jon’s face as he regarded his 2 cousins who were now seated at his bedside. Even on this unforgiven journey he had managed to find his pack once again.

“I guess you are right, cousin” Jon said to Sarella and as he tried to sit up.

He felt Sarella glare at him and she forced him back down. He began to protest before he was cut off by both Arya and Sarella and he knew in that moment he was not going to win that argument. Sarella told him that he needed to stay in bed for a few more days and gave Arya permission to tie him down to the bed if he didn’t co-operate. With a sigh Jon agreed to her request as Ghost watched silently from the foot of the bed.

Jon decided to change the topic and told Sarella about their suspicions regarding their attackers. Sarella sat back down in the chair next to the bed and pondered the events for a while before springing back to her feet. She told them that she examined some of their abandoned weapons and recognised some of the spears and bows as being Dornish in origin and with a frown concluded that there was definitely a plot unfolding against them.

Ironborn pirates armed with Dornish weapons would certainly lead many people to the certain conclusions that would lead to the end of peace once again. Sarella reasoned that if the battle had gone differently and Jon and Arya had been killed by an apparent alliance between Dorne and the Ironborn, then Bran and Sansa would be forced to respond. Those that backed Daenerys would undoubtedly show their true colours and split the realm in half. The ensuing chaos would then allow the outside force that was apparently orchestrating these events to swoop in take over Westeros.

Jon and Arya were stunned by Sarella’s deductions but they realised that she was right. The attack was too deliberate and focused on Jon and Arya to be just a random pirate raid. The three of them agreed to keep their thoughts to themselves for now to avoid rattling the rest of the crew and agreed to meet up again in Jon’s room to make their own plans for their inevitable to return to Westeros.

“How did you know that the fire would destroy that shadow?” Arya asked.

Jon paused for a moment to remember what had prompted him to plunge Longclaw into the flames. He remembered that the shadow had spoken something else to him.

“Honestly I was a bit desperate. The shadow told me he was going to keep me alive long enough to watch you die. So I figured that if fire could kill a creature of the night when we fought the Night King, then it should at least do some damage against another creature forged from darkness.

Arya nodded slowly and stared at the flickering candle on the table next to Jon’s bed.

Arya, Sarella and Jon sat in silence, trying to puzzle out who could possibly orchestrate this brazen attack until a shout from corridor caught their attention.

“Land ahead!”

The cry echoed in the corridors of the ship as persons suddenly sprang into action. Inside their room Ghost reacted first, vigorously wagging his tail and pawing at the door, no doubt eager to head above deck.

Arya and Jon laughed at Ghost’s antics as Sarella made her way to the door to let Ghost out and head above deck herself. Jon winced as a bolt of pain went through his bandaged chest.

“Rest a bit more Jon while I check on Ghost. He will probably try to swim to shore if we don’t hold him back” Arya mused as she made her way to the door. Jon cleared his throat, causing Arya to look back at him.

“Perhaps you should put on some pants first?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“I don’t think your fearsome warrior image would last if the crew gets sight of your frightfully pale legs” he added with a grin.

Arya was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was only wearing a shirt and flustered a bit before responding to Jon.

“Well if my legs are so amusing then perhaps someone’s shirts will keep disappearing in order to help keep them covered.” She huffed before moving behind a screen to change.

“I will gladly sacrifice my shirts if it keeps you and Ghost from blending into each other if he stands by your legs” Jon replied with another chuckle.

Arya muttered a quiet curse before biting out a reply. “When you are healed up we will see who is chuckling when these legs kick your arse.”

Arya regarded herself in the mirror momentarily before pulling on her breeches and pants.

‘They are not that pale’ she muttered to herself as she fastened her dagger to her waist. An image of her boot meeting Jon’s butt flashed in her head as she emerged from behind the screen and a full grin was now on her face.

After making her way to the deck, she regarded the approaching land mass and wondered what adventures would await them. Ghost came up to her side and she rubbed her hand in his fur before looking at him and regarding his snow white fur.

“My legs are not that pale she muttered to herself”

Ghost turned his head towards her and cocked his head on the side, giving her a curious look that almost seemed to say ‘who are you kidding?’

Arya found herself letting out a small laugh and for the first time in weeks she felt a sense of calm swept over her as the crew started to lower their small skiff into the ocean.

Chapter Text

The journey had taken longer than she would have liked but Daenerys had finally reached her destination. As she stood on the ship’s deck as it docked in Asshai she felt trepidation for the first time since she left Volantis. In every direction, all that she could see was an overwhelming darkness, almost like a never-ending shadow, emitting a darkness that enveloped the surrounding buildings.

There were brief moments on the journey when she swore that Drogon was reaching out to her, but now she could no longer feel any trace of Drogon’s presence in her mind. Instead all that remained was a hollow sensation and the echo of an anguished roar. She could have sworn that she had felt Drogon’s flames beating down around her and, for a brief moment, images of Dothraki being bathed in fire flashed before her eyes. The moment that she had felt the connection with Drogon disappear for the last time she knew that something was very wrong. It was all very confusing for her and now she needed answers.

After losing the connection she began to have nightmares of 2 wolves in a battle on a vessel at sea. One small grey she-wolf and a larger white wolf, battling monsters hidden by shadows. The dreams always ended the same way – the white wolf gravely wounded and the she-wolf letting out a desperate howl for help that seemed to be directed at her. In her dreams, every time she tried to reach out to the wolves, darkness swallowed them whole and an eerie silence filled the air. That nightmare would constantly cause Daenerys to wake up in a cold sweat whenever the wolf howled and she always felt a pain pulling at her heart.

Every time she recalled the images in her mind and pictured the white wolf, the face of Jon Snow would always pop up at the same time. She could not explain why Jon was suddenly appearing in her mind. She hadn’t given him much thought during her voyage but now that was no longer the case. She had thought that dreaming about her murderer was surely a sign that she was going mad, but every time she questioned her sanity, her babe would give her a few kicks to draw her from that line of thinking. The babe seemed to become more active every time she thought about Jon and she had discovered that her little dragon cub would not settle down until she told it a story about Jon. For some reason, whenever she recalled stories about Jon, she found herself becoming less stressed as well.

‘Will I be able to let him into our lives?’ she thought to herself as she stood on the docks after disembarking her ship.

‘Will I be able to see past the betrayal like Kinvara feels is necessary? Will he still consider me a threat?’ Those were the questions that she had constantly asked herself during her voyage. She had yet to figure out an answer.

As she made her way off of the ship, her mind went back to her time at Winterfell. She recalled that Jon had a large white direwolf from their time together as they made their way to Winterfell for the first time, but she hadn’t interacted much with Jon’s companion. The wolf snuck up on her a few times in the castle, causing her initial moments of panic but she had gotten the feeling that it didn’t mean her any harm. Many times the wolf just regarded her for long moments and sniffed her before moving off again. It was as if he was trying to figure her out. Tyrion had even japed that perhaps the wolf thought that Daenerys was related to him since she had white hair and was often seen wearing her white winter coat. That had brought her a chuckle in one of the few light hearted moments she had enjoyed in the North before it all went to hell.

Daenerys hadn’t been sure if the attention that the direwolf gave her was a good thing or not, but since that time when that brazen Northerner spat at her feet, the wolf was always in her periphery and there were no further repeats of that incident as the man was reported to have had a run in with Jon’s wolf later that night.

The looks of scorn continued in Winterfell but no repeats of such blatant hostility occurred again. She couldn’t even remember if Jon had said anything about that incident, but she supposed that in the grand scheme of things that there were greater matters that needed handling at that time. She had endured worse displays during her time in Essos and so she quickly cast the incident from her mind.

Events in the North had unfolded much faster than anyone had anticipated and the aftermath of the battle with the Night King’s forces and the repercussions of Jon’s revelation about his parentage had consumed her thoughts during her journey back south after leaving Winterfell. She had not spared another thought to that large white direwolf as her thoughts turned to Kings Landing.Now, as the life in her womb continued to grow stronger with each passing day, she wondered if the Northerners would have sung a different tune if they had known that she was carrying the next generation of House Stark. That was indeed an ironic turn of events given the Northmen's distrust for anyone not from the North.

‘That is a topic for another day’ she thought to herself as she began to make her way further along the docks, accompanied by her guards from the temple back in Volantis.

She took note of the dark and gloomy nature of her surroundings and wondered how it was possible for the buildings to suck the light from the air. She was so caught up in her train of thought that she didn’t notice a solitary figure approaching her until a long forgotten voice spoke to her.

“Are you ready to pass the under the shadow Daenerys Stormborn?”

Daenerys snapped her head towards the voice and regarded the mysterious figure of Quaithe for the first time in years.

“Are you really here or are you another dream?” Daenerys asked, recalling her vivid dreams about Quaithe all those years ago as she travelled the Great Grass Sea after riding Drogon for the first time.

Quaithe nodded her head and slowly raised her arms. Her face was hidden by an intricately designed mask, leaving only her eyes visible. Eyes that were now intensely gazing at Daenerys, seemingly trying to peer deep into her soul.

The surroundings suddenly got a bit brighter.

“The journey to find your lost dragons begins here. I will help you find the answers you seek before you return West. A terrible power has been disturbed and the future depends on what you discover. The fate of millions depend on it.” added Quaithe.

Daenerys was momentarily distracted by the shadowbinder’s ability to manipulate the light and so she failed to digest Quaithe’s cryptic statement.Under normal circumstances Daenerys would have questioned Quaithe’s true intentions, but with the strange occurrences that plagued her dreams and the loss of the connection with Drogon, she had a feeling that following Quaithe was the right thing for her. Quaithe may have been an enigma but there was no doubt that she had access to the knowledge and perhaps power that would aid her in the future.

“Shall we begin?” She asked Quaithe.

Quaithe turned slowly and walked back into the shadows, with Daenerys and her companions following closely on her heels. The shadows seemingly parting to allow them to pass.

Chapter Text

Arianne POV

Arianne read over her correspondence from her spies in the capital and across Dorne. Something odd was happening and she did not like things that were odd.

Messages from the capital told of multiple secret meetings of the Small Council and a King who repeatedly retreated to the Godswood instead of making his presence felt in the capital as would be expected for a new monarch. She regarded the lack of response by the Crown to Yara Greyjoy’s secret missions to Essos and wondered if the rulers of the Six Kingdoms could really be that clueless. With each passing day that the Crown failed to respond to Yara’s moves, she had increasingly began to ponder an alliance with the ruler of the Iron Islands. Reaching out to Yara may have been a risky move but the potential benefits to Dorne – a fleet to aid their plots, was too tempting to ignore. The Greyjoys and Martells had made an alliance during the days of the Dragon Queen and Arianne was beginning to think that perhaps it was now time to rekindle those bonds.

That was certainly a consideration for the future but for now she was contemplating a situation that was occurring right there in Dorne. Her usual sources of information from the coastal areas had gone strangely quiet and the lack of news was becoming worrisome. She had been so busy seeking news from the other realms that she had failed to notice the lack of information from inside her own territory.

She had sent scouts to the coast weeks ago but so far nothing was being reported and now she was beginning to have an uneasy feeling.

As she poured herself another glass of Dornish Red, she studied the map of Dorne on her desk. She began to take in all of the areas that made up Dorne and all of the paths that connected everything, even the secret ones known only to her kin. Those secret paths were what allowed Dorne to hide from the dragons during the Conquest and had remained a closely guarded secret for generations, only to be utilized during an extreme emergency.

Dorne had never been conquered and subdued for extended periods of time in the past. Those times that Dorne had fallen were due to dragons and overwhelming military force. None of those two elements were currently in Westeros but still she could not shake the uneasy feeling that was gripping her soul.

It had taken many years for Dorne to rebuild their army after Robert’s Rebellion but unfortunately they lost almost half of that army during the ambush by Euron Greyjoy that led to the capture of Ellaria Sand and death of three of her cousins. Stupidity and lack of common sense was what Arianne attributed to that particular debacle. A debacle that once again reduced Dorne to a spectator in the subsequent conflicts. How could supposedly cunning men like Varys and Tyrion Lannister and an experienced sea traveler like Yara Greyjoy herself fail to account for the movements of one of the most notorious naval commanders on the open seas? The man had built a legend for himself across the seas and no-one thought to find out where he was hiding before committing the bulk of their fleet to a naval mission, especially when Yara had made an enemy of the man.

Arianne took another sip of her wine and sighed. Those mistakes, especially the coup that Ellaria had started, had weakened Dorne to the point of them becoming a non-entity in the final battles leading up to the fall of King’s Landing. They had been reduced to a mere footnote in the recent history of Westeros and Arianne was determined to bring them back to the forefront of people’s minds.

She had chosen to let another one of her cousins – the secret son of Manfrey Martell – become the new Prince of Dorne and establish himself as the public figure seen by everyone outside of Dorne as representing House Martell. The Dornish people, however, knew the truth of who was actually running Dorne.

It was much easier for Arianne to rule effectively if no-one was aware she was the true leader. Women in leadership roles all too often received pushback as they were regarded as incapable. Jon Snow’s actions in appointing his sister to rule the North while he treated with Daenerys had caught Arianne’s attention while she laid low in Norvos with her mother. From all reports he did not hesitate to leave his sister to rule the largest and harshest territory in Westeros and surprisingly there had been no objections. His sister had reportedly ruled effectively and held the full support of the Northern lords. Jon had effectively laid the foundation for Sansa to be recognized as a leader of men and that ability to get others to accept his will without resorting to violence made Jon an appealing prospect as a potential partner.

Arianne had hoped to offer Dorne as a landing spot for Jon Snow after it was decided that he was guilty of crimes in the capital and had to be punished. With Jon’s presence in Dorne they could have begun to restore their image and importance in the eyes of the Westeros, as they would be the host for the last Targaryen, one who had ties to the North as its former King. Jon Snow was a man who, even after being labelled a criminal, was still regarded by most people in Westeros in a favorable light.

Arianne was sure that in time her charms could have worked their magic on Jon and eventually sway him to her side and open up many doors for Dorne. With Jon’s support, Dorne could have positioned itself in a leading spot for the next selection of King of the Six Kingdoms. Jon’s children would have the right bloodline and pedigree to stake a realistic claim on the Crown in the future. Arianne had planned to be the mother to those children.

But alas, that plan was scuppered before it could be rolled out as Jon was taken away by his little cousin on her journey beyond the western shores. Dorne had no moves to make at the moment and were forced to watch from the side-lines as events unfold throughout Westeros. Arianne had chosen to be patient and bide her time while readying Dorne to strike when the time was right.

Arianne’s thoughts were broken by the shouting of men outside her doors, as the sound of frantic footsteps approached her door. As she gripped her wine glass tight, she thought that she felt a slight tremor roll over her as her guards approached her in her solar. The glassware on her table had also begun to tremble.

“What is it?” she asked her men as they came before her.

“We are under attack!” one of the men responded.

Arianne was stunned by the answer.

“Who is attacking?”

“We don’t know, but they have a large force and are using war elephants to breech our defences. They have already broken the first barrier along the path of the Three Gates!”

‘That is not good’ Arianne thought.

The Three Gates was a path that led straight to the front door of the castle and its multiple gates were supposed to be stout enough to repel most direct assaults, but there had never been elephants at their doorstep before. She knew of the awesome power of these beasts from her time in Essos.

Before Arianne could question how an invasion force could have snuck up on Sunspear, a loud roar shook the walls. She knew from the tales of the survivors from Kings Landing what that sound meant.

A dragon was flying over Sunspear once again.

Her forces could not repel a dragon, much less the elephants that were currently wreaking havoc. She knew resistance was pointless and quickly ordered her men to abandon the castle and scatter to the hills. As she made her way towards the hidden escape tunnels, she hoped the Prince of Dorne was not stupid enough to stay and offer opposition to a dragon. The man was full of bravado in true Martell fashion, but he lacked the common sense to know when to move like a true viper of Dorne. That was a lesson Arianne learned when she was still a little girl and had carried with her all through her adult life.

Now as she entered the underground tunnels that would take her and her guards away from danger, she wondered if she should have just joined Sarella on her journey west. As the escape tunnels started to get narrower and she was forced to crawl at some points she became convinced that she was definitely getting too old to be having adventures.

Of all of the things she had pictured doing when the sun had risen that morning, fleeing through cramped tunnels as a foreign army invaded her home was definitely not on her list. Regardless, she thought to herself as she came to the end of the tunnel and made towards the horses that had been saddled and readied for departure, she will remain unbowed, unbent and unbroken as she would now most likely be the last Martell left alive after this day.

The roar of the dragon in the distance and the screams of men being slaughtered was the last sound she heard from her home as her group rode away from Sunspear. The menacing figure of a dragon flying over the Tower of The Sun and the Spear Tower was the last image that burned in Arianne’s memory as she began to plot her revenge.

Chapter Text

Jon POV

The journey to shore had taken what seemed like an eternity, at least it appeared that way to Ghost. The direwolf grew more restless the closer the rowboat got to the beach and once in touching distance of dry the land he jumped overboard and swam the rest of the way to the shore.

The journey to shore was agonising for Jon, as each bump the boat received from the waves jostled his wounded chest. He had insisted on coming to shore with Arya and Sarella, arguing that the fresh air would do him more good than staying inside the cabin on the ship. Fortunately Ghost had backed him up as he ushered the three of them to the launch boat with firm nudges that had almost put Sarella on her backside. None of them could say no to Ghost.

As the boat carrying them reached the shore, they noticed that there were people emerging from the brush. These people were obviously natives and their garb was simple and appeared to be a combination of cloth and vegetation. If Jon had to describe the garments that the females wore, then it would be skirts made of grass.

‘Well’ Jon thought ‘We are definitely not in Westeros anymore’

A few of the natives stepped forward carrying reefs of flowers and paused as if waiting for something.

Yannick stepped forward and decided to make introductions. With an unusually loud voice he said “Hello. We come in peace. We friends.”

Yannick was emphasising each word slowly while gesturing to their group. Jon felt Arya grimace next to him.

The natives looked at each other with puzzled looks on their faces and after a moment an elder male stepped forward and responded to Yannick.

“Hello friend. Why are you shouting and talking so strangely? Did you hit your head or something?” The man’s accent was foreign to them, but it was clear that he spoke the common tongue fluently.

Yannick’s companions broke down in laughter as he was stunned into silence, his jaw hanging open as he stood rooted to the spot.

“We can help fix your head injury if you wish.” The elder man added while looking at Yannick curiously. He then motioned for the people with the wreaths to step forward.

“Welcome to our home. My name is Kalani. Please accept these tokens as a symbol of peace and goodwill.”

The other natives placed the wreaths over everyone’s heads, even Ghost, who looked like he was deciding if he should taste the flowers or not. Arya manged to hold back her laughter before stepping forward and addressing Kalani.

“I apologize for my friend. Some of us do believe that he was dropped on his head as a child”

Yannick, who had still been in a stupor up to that point, snapped his jaw shut and regarded Arya with a look of betrayal.

“My head is fine.” He huffed.

“That only happened once, and my nana said that it would build character!” That drew more laughs from his companions on the beach.

Sarella, back in her guise as Alleras, stepped up towards Kalani and spoke.

“You speak the common tongue very well. How do you know our language?”

“You are not the first visitors that we have received from the East. Our people have had contact with those familiar with dragons and wolves” he replied while looking at Jon and Arya and then at Ghost.

“It is wonderful to see the famous direwolf of the Starks from the land of winter” he said as Ghost moved closer.

Sarella seemed puzzled by that statement as her mind tried to work out what Kalani meant.

Jon then addressed Kalani “We thank you for your warm welcome. We seek a safe haven to shelter and rest and take on fresh supplies”

“Of course my young friends. Welcome to the Big Island. We are happy to help” Kalani said and motioned for the group to follow him back into the brush.

As they made to follow the natives off of the beach, Kalani stepped in front of Jon and regarded him for a moment.

“Your mind and body are in pain. Your spirit is in turmoil.” He stated as his gaze intensified.

“There is a fire stirring inside you, but you seek to repress it. Your body will never heal if you deny a part of your very soul”

Arya had come up next to Jon and tensed as Kalani mentioned fire.

“Our healers can help mend your body , but only you can mend your soul”

Jon looked at the man in confusion as Ghost came up next to him and pressed his head into Jon’s hand as if sensing his need for reassurance.

Kalani continued.

“You have only accepted 1 part of your power and that has been your mistake. I sense a great power inside you that is waiting to emerge. I believe that this power can do many great things if you let it. Destiny awaits you.”

Arya scoffed next to Jon and replied

“Destiny is overrated. People do many things – good and bad- and attribute them to destiny. No-one should allow some random thing labelled as destiny to control their life”

Kalani stopped walking and looked over to Arya, causing Jon to stop as well.

“You may not believe in destiny child, yet your group has managed to find this isolated piece of land in the vast uncharted sea beyond your land” he paused for a moment before continuing.

“It’s almost as if something guided you here, wouldn’t you say?”

Arya made to respond but was cut off by Kalani.

“It is true that many bad things have been done in the name of destiny but all too often those that seek to deny their own destiny end up ignoring things that cause more hardship than should exist”

“Come my young fire wolf. It would seem that your kin will need a bit more convincing and my people are quite good at convincing non-believers.”

Kalani moved off without waiting for a reply. Jon and Arya locked eyes for a moment before following the elderly man.

“I don’t know about answers and destiny but if they have something to fix Yannick’s head then I guess anything is possible” she mused, bringing Jon out of his brooding silence as he let out a small laugh at Arya’s statement.

They followed Kalani in silence, taking note of the lush vegetation that surrounded them. The forest gave off a sense of tranquillity and the array of colours and smells were a pleasant change from what they were used to on the boat. Ghost was enthusiastically running all over the place, taking in all the new discoveries and trying to imprint himself on everything, much to Jon’s and Arya’s amusement.

“We will never get him back on the boat at this rate.” Arya japed.

Ghost paused his activities for a moment to regard his fellow wolves and with a shake of his head, dashed off into the bush to chase his own adventure.

Eventually they came to a clearing and were met with a settlement, where the locals were going about their activities in a manner that oddly reminded them of home. They were both so caught up in their reminiscing that they had not noticed that Kalani had also stopped and was watching them, until his voice snapped them out of their musing.

“This way my young friends. The other elders are waiting to meet you” he said while gesturing towards a large hut at the center of the little village.

As they entered the hut they were met with the gazes of 5 other elderly men, who all turned their heads at the same time to look at Jon and Arya. The men were seated on a simple looking long bench in front of a small fire in the middle of the hut. The person who was sitting in the middle of the 5 men spoke to Kalani in a language foreign to Jon and Arya. Kalani responded in the same tongue before offering a translation for the young guests.

“Our Chief welcomes you to our village. He says that your arrival has been expected and that we will aid you as best we can”

Jon and Arya nodded in acknowledgment to the village chief. The Chief looked at Jon and spoke again, pausing to allow Kalani to translate.

“Our Chief says that you have been touched by Death and this is causing your spirit to be split in 2. The ice and fire spirits are not in harmony and your body will not heal until you find balance again”

“Can you help me to find this balance?” he asked the Chief, through Kalani.

Kalani translated Jon’s question and the Chief nodded his head before speaking to his fellow elders on the bench. The 5 men exchanged words for a few minutes before the Chief spoke to Kalani again

“There is a ritual that our people perform to help ailing warriors. It allows an injured body to heal while their spirits are also restored. The ritual allows one to enter the spirit world and recover their own balance”

Jon was starting to feel uneasy as the talk of spirits sounded too close to the shadow magic they had just encountered. The Chief, as if sensing Jon’s distress, rose from his seat and approached Jon. He raised his hand towards Jon but paused for a moment and looked Jon in the eyes, as if seeking permission to proceed.

Jon nodded his consent.

The Chief placed his hand over Jon’s heart and immediately Jon felt a warmth surge through him, his pain dissipating and a peace of mind grew that had been absent for many moons. The Chief had a smile on his face as he withdrew his hand. He spoke some more words to Kalani before he and the other elders exited the hut, leaving a confused Arya and a curious Jon alone with Kalani.

“Our Chief and his trusted elders have gone to begin the preparations for the ritual. He believes that it will work for you, even though you are not a native”

Jon looked to Arya who had remained silent throughout the entire affair.

“What do you think?” he asked her.

“I can’t get a read on them, but I don’t think that they are lying. They truly believe that whatever this ritual is, it will work. I guess the only question for us is if we can trust this unknown ritual”

Kalani interjected at this moment. “You will find that this ritual will provide more clarity than you think possible”

Jon searched his feelings for a moment and realised that every fibre of his being was telling him to proceed with the ritual. He took a deep breath and replied.

“I will accept the help”

Kalani nodded and motioned for him and Arya to follow him out of the hut. They made their way in silence towards a cave just beyond the village. Jon reached out to Ghost through their connection and found that he and the rest of their companions had all made it to the village and were settling in.

The cave itself was not very big but the size was not its most important feature. The cave was illuminated with torches that were set in the cave wall and at its center was a pool of water that had an unusual blue tint. The light from the torches seemed to make the pool glow, but Jon was certain that it was all in his imagination.

The other elders were now positioned around the edges of the pool and were each drawing symbols in the dirt. One of the elders then made his way to the rear of the cave and began drawing a circle and other symbols, whilst Jon and Arya were ushered to that side of the cave.

The elders came to together and began a chant that echoed throughout the cave. Kalani took and Jon Arya towards the edge of the pool and spoke.

“What you are hearing is a prayer to the Gods, asking them to lend their strength and protection to a worthy son.”

Jon made to question what they meant by son, but Kalani began to speak again

“You must enter the pool and make your way to the center. If the Gods deem you worthy, then they will grant you passage to the spirit realm and the healing powers from the pool will wash over you and restore your body and mind.”

“And if he isn’t’ worthy?” asked Arya with a furrowed brow.

“Then he will just have to be content with a relaxing dip in the pool” Kalani replied with a smile.

Arya made to respond but Kalani motioned for her to go to the circle that was drawn away from the pool.

“He will need your help young one. If this works his mind will wander and follow its own path while he is being healed. He will need an anchor to this realm so that he can make his way back once his journey is complete.”

Arya looked from the circle back to Jon, who was beginning to disrobe.

“My Chief believes that the bond you both share will be more than enough for you to be his anchor”

“What do I need to do?” she asked as she regarded the symbols that had been drawn into the ground.

“Enter the circle and allow your thoughts to be focus on Jon. The enchantments will prevent your spirit from being accidentally pulled into the spirit realm, while allowing you to be a beacon for Jon to find his way back.”

The chants were soon completed, and Jon was soon making his way to the center of the pool. Arya was seated in the middle of the circle that was also adorned with what Kalani had indicated were the protective charms.

Kalani left her side and made his way to the elders and soon the chants started again. The pool seemed to glow brighter with each passing moment and after a while Arya closed her eyes and began to think of Jon while he floated in the pool.

The chants filled the air and Arya felt a warmth wash over her as time seemed to stand still. She lost track of how long she had been sitting inside the circle continued to focus on Jon. She could have sworn that in that moment she could see Daenerys as well as Jon, standing in front of her, reaching out to grasp her hands.

Jon’s gasped broke her from her thoughts as he shot up to an upright position in the pool. A gasp left her lips as she noted Jon’s appearance – his scars had all but vanished and all that remained were faint red marks akin to bruises. The scar over his heart was now a jagged red line.

Jon’s eyes looked frantically around the cave before settling on Arya and at that moment he seemed to calm down.

Arya noted that the chanting had stopped as Kalani made his way towards the pool with cloth for Jon to dry himself with.

“The Gods deemed you worth Jon” he said. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Jon nodded slowly as he exited the pool and began to pat himself dry.

“I saw things and felt things that I can’t explain. My pains are gone, and my mind is clear. How is that possible?” asked a clearly confused Jon.

“There are many things in this world and beyond that defy all explanation and cannot be accounted for with words”

Arya had made her way next to Jon as Kalani continued.

“This place has been kept secret from the outside world for many generations. You have been entrusted with this secret because the Gods have given you a gift. You will need this to restore that balance that has been disturbed in the world”

“What balance do you mean?” asked Arya

“Something dark has stirred from the shadows and is threatening to consume your homeland. The dream of spring that your people chase can never come to pass until balance has been restored”

“How can that be?” Jon asked. “When we left there was nothing that powerful that could threaten the peace”

Kalani looked at the pool that was still glowing, but not as brightly as before.

“You are correct on that point. However this darkness didn’t begin there. It came from the Shadowlands beyond your shores. It is the same darkness that you fought not so long ago”

Jon and Arya had matching expressions of disbelief on their faces as Kalani’s words sunk in.

“How can we fight when we are so far away? A power that dangerous will destroy everything before we can get back!” Arya asked

“There is enough strength in your homeland to hold out until you return. You will need to continue your journey West. All that you need to succeed is waiting for you.” Kalani replied as one of the other elders approached them and handed 2 items to Jon and Arya. The man and Kalani exchanged a few words before departing from the cave. Jon and Arya hadn’t even noticed that the other elders had already left.

“The items that you have been given are pendants, marked with protective charms that have been worn by our people for generations. They will help warn you when evil is near and offer protection from its influence”

“Thank you” Jon said. “How can we repay your kindness?”

“Win” was all Kalani said before beckoning them to return to the village.