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 |  Fire and Blood |
| Citadel Task #63. PROMPT ▼ Blood of the Dragon Word Count: 991 Daenerys Targaryen landed Drogon in the center of Winterfell’s courtyard. Viserion and Rhaegal flew overhead, slowly descending, finally landing next to Drogon. The occupants of Winterfell stared. The solders studied the beasts, hands on their swords, though their swords were still in their scabbards. Sansa stepped out of the main hall with her half-brother, Jon Snow. The Guard attended her. She stopped when Jon put a hand on her elbow. Daenerys slid off Drogon and approached. Sansa pursed her lips. Jon’s lips tipped ever so slightly into a smile. “You came.” “I did it for you.” She glanced at Jon and looked at Sansa. “You know who I am?” “Daeneyrs Stormborn.” Sansa stiffened her shoulders. “Daeneyrs Targaryen, Rightful Queen of Westros. I am here at your brother’s request, as I understand the matter is urgent.” Sansa drew in a breath. “Tell her what the scout said.” Jon glared at his sister. “There is a good-sized company of the Night King’s soldiers marching on Winterfell. They’re probably two days out now. Winterfell stands a small chance.” “We stand no chance, but we know this.” Jon paused. “Only fire kills the Night King’s soldiers.” “Ah, and you need my dragons.” Daenyrs motioned toward Drogon. “Aye.” Daeneyrs glared at Sansa. “Is that what it takes to have you acknowledge my name?” “I do not want these people to die, Sansa.” Jon gritted his teeth. Sansa glanced at Jon. Daenerys could tell the girl was waging her own internal battle. It mattered not to Daenerys. Slowly, Sansa turned to Daenerys. “Aye.” “When I return, you will bend the knee.” Daenerys paused. “Jon, will you ride?” Jon raised his hand. “I have a condition.” “Oh?” “You will acknowledge Sansa as Queen of the North.” “Accountable to me.” Daenerys was firm. “Aye.” “It will be done.” Daenerys walked toward Drogon. The crowd studied her intently. What would Jorah advise? She paused in front of Drogon and swept her hand, gathering everyone’s attention. “I am Daenerys Targaryen, rightful ruler of Westros. I go to fight the Night King’s soldiers.” Whispers of amazement filled the air. Daenerys stared at Jon. “Rhaegal is waiting.” He nodded and stepped forward. Dani climbed onto Drogon. Jon had only ridden Rhaegal once, and while it was a rough ride, the dragon allowed it. Which lead Dani to question Jon’s parentage. Only a Targaryen could ride a dragon. And he was a bastard after all. Rhaegal lowered his wing as Jon approached and he climbed on. Rhaegal adjusted and Jon settled onto the dragon’s back. Daenerys patted Drogon. “Simonagon.” He rose and the other dragons followed. They ascended into the air and flew north at a moderate pace. Daenerys spied a small village and a herd of sheep in the distance. Drogon twitched his nose. Food? “When we are done,” she said out loud. After an hour the air chilled. Rhaegal flew closer to Drogon. “They’re close,” said Jon. Daenerys nodded. “The dragons don’t like the cold.” She paused. “Don’t let Rhaegal get too tired. The cold will drain him quickly. Keep an eye on Viserion. If the dragons fly too low, they could get hit by a spear.” “Aye.” They crested a hill and there were the White Walkers, the army of the Night King. A good battalion marching almost mechanically. Everything they passed iced over. Drogon snorted and took point. He flapped his wings close to his body and bore down on the army. Viserion took to Drogon’s left, Rhaegal to this right. “Dracarys!” The dragons roared, spreading fire over a wide path. White Walkers cried out as they blazed to death. The Walkers on the flank ran off in small groups, consolidating their weapons as the dragons readied for another pass. Daenyrs noticed they slowed. The cold air was affecting them. The dragons flew lower. Spears flew toward the sky. Drogon turned on his side, as did Viserion, but Rhaegal was slow to make the turn and received a spear in his neck, close to where Jon sat. Rhaegal cried out and sunk even lower. Daenerys tugged on Drogon who made a hard right and torched the White walkers who had thrown the spears. Another volley of spears went up from the left, but Viserion blew a blast of flame and they fell to the ground, burnt. Rhaegal landed, and shrugged his winged shoulder, trying to loosen the spear. Jon reacted quickly, jumping off the dragon and tugged on the object. The last group of White Walkers rushed toward Rhaegal, ready to release another volley. Viserion had to bank a turn and was in no position to torch them. As for Drogon, Dani feared the White Walkers were too close to Rhaegal. If he unleashed his fire, she was confident he’d be fine. His body needed fire. But Jon? Would he survive? Her breath hitched. Jon Snow was a bastard – and one of his parents were Targaryen. She had to take it on faith – and this would either prove his lineage or kill him. And honestly, she had no desire to kill him. When the time was right, she wanted to f*** him. “Dracarys!” Drogon unleashed a blast of flame. The fire spread out, covering the White Walkers as they released their spears. Jon managed to pull out the spear in Rhaegal’s flesh, but has he looked at the blaze, his face dropped in fear. Fire washed over Rhaegal and himself. The White Walkers were decimated. The fire died out. And there stood Jon Snow, naked before Rhaegal and Dani. She landed Drogon. He stood before her dumbfounded. “You tried to kill me!” “I did no such thing. I saved you.” She unhooked her cloak and handed it to him. “Your dragon—” She cut him off, grasping his hand with hers. “There is Targaryen blood in you – how else could you withstand the fire?” “You knew?” “I suspected. Drogon’s fire confirmed it.” Jon Snow stood shell-shocked.   |
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