Main Content
Archive of Our OwnArchive of Our OwnHi, TheBrimmedHat!PostLog Out
FandomsBrowseSearchAboutWork Search
tip: "uchiha sasuke/uzumaki naruto" angst kudos>10
Actions
Entire Work ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter → Chapter Index Edit Bookmark Mark for Later Comments Hide Creator's Style Share Download
Work Header
Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warnings:
Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death
Category:
Gen
Fandoms:
Game of Thrones (TV)Godzilla - All Media TypesA Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. MartinA Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Characters:
Daenerys TargaryenKing GhidorahJorah MormontMissandei (ASoIaF)Grey WormBarristan SelmyTyrion LannisterJon SnowQuaithe (ASoIaF)The Others (ASoIaF)Samwell TarlyMaester AemonKinvara (Game of Thrones)Aegon Targaryen (Son of Elia)Jon ConningtonShireen Baratheon
Additional Tags:
Not Canon CompliantCanon-Typical ViolenceGhidorah is still Dany's babbyintelligent GhidorahTelepathyTelepathic BondParent-Child RelationshipGame of Thrones Fix-ItThunder and LightningBAMF Daenerys TargaryenDaenerys Targaryen Deserves BetterDaenerys did nothing wrongMissandei Deserves Better (ASoIaF)Literally all the women in GoT deserve betterNot Beta ReadBAMF WomenWomen Being AwesomeA mix of the show and the booksDragon RidersSymbiotic RelationshipDaenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queennot stark friendlyHope vs. DespairTargaryen RestorationDaenerys Targaryen-centricDragonsMinor Original Character(s)Character Death@D&D ruthless doesn't mean Mad™And doesn't mean you'll just randomly burn the shit out of civiliansNo RomanceImplied/Referenced Child AbuseImplied/Referenced Rape/Non-conImplied/Referenced IncestDaenerys Targaryen is Azor AhaiWhite Walkers (A Song of Ice and Fire)
Language:
English
Collections:
✨An Assortment of DAMN Good Fics✨, Earth Shakers - World Makers, Shady GoT Faves (Including Crossovers), JNW1'S favourite ASOIAF/GoT fics
Stats:
Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,539Kudos:6,021Bookmarks:1,661Hits:467,442
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 54: FIRE AND BLOOD
Summary:
✨Happy Matariki! ✨
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Griffon's Roost had been easily taken as Jon Connington knew well of the secrets of his family's castle and the quickest means to seize it. Only four men had been lost in taking it. The castle provided a good foothold for the Golden Company to convene, many ships scattered in the rough crossing of the Narrow Sea. Though the stormlands were fractured; the deaths of Robert and Renly saw to that, with the remaining brother Stannis a hard, cold man who hardly inspired loyalty and had vanished to the North after being defeated in the Battle for the Blackwater. Licking his wounds half a world away, with the storm lords left snapping and barking at each other like mean spirited mutts. Luckily enough the Golden Company was well used to quick deployment and discipline, and sweeping through the shores to secure Cape Wrath. With luck the missing fleet would land close and soon, so they could regroup numbers.
And as luck would have it, the following morn after settling within Griffon's Roost they received word that the Crow's Nest and the Rain House had been taken. The Gold Company had their foothold upon Westeros and as the days trickled past more missing ships appeared upon the shores.
A few of the more spiritual soldiers claimed that comet sighting during the crossing was a sign, a streak of golden light across the stormy sky within the dead of night. Gold as the company's banners. Connington knew luck and godly blessings won no wars, and kept his attention upon the mercenary army spreading across Westerosi soil.
There had been the parchments in the tower amongst the ravens, as Haldon Halfmaester discovered. He brought news of the collapsing alliance between the Lannisters and Tyrells, Queen Cersei and Queen Margaery snapping and barking over a king barely off the teat, with trials of debauchery and treason heavy within King's Landing. Mace Tyrell had even abandoned his siege of Storm's End, marching back to the capital to come to the aid of his daughter. There had even been news of the far east, Daenerys Targaryen still lingering upon the lips of Westerosi despite being a world away.
The confirmation of a three headed dragon of golden scales, an army of Unsullied and freemen. A continued battle against slavery, sending cities burning and ancient houses extinct. Blood and vicious, a dragon queen against the Ghiscari.
It was news Jon Connington thought upon, near delirious with pain from his newly missing limb. The discovery of Greyscale, the scant tips of his fingers, and his entire right arm had been loped off at the shoulder.
Septa Lemore kept a close eye upon him for any relapse when Haldon was not cleaning out the wound or forcing tonics down his throat. Jon tried to avoid drinking too much milk of the poppy, knowing how muddled and dazed one could get, but the agony of his missing limb meant he was forced to drink at least once per day.
"At least it seems the Greyscale did not follow the limb," Haldon had told him on the fourth day after inspecting the meaty stump. Connington was more coherent though not by much. He still felt as if his arm were there despite the lacking weight.
And upon that fourth day Aegon arrived, with Lady Lemore greeting him in her newly adorned white septa robes and a white-cloaked Ser Duckfield. Connington forced himself to meet the lad, despite his pain and weakness.
The armour from Illyrio's chest had been forged in the likeness of Prince Rhaegar's own, the plate as black as night with the three headed dragon of House Targaryen decorated in rubies upon the breastplate. Connington had felt something in him lurch painfully in a way it had nothing to do with his severed arm when he saw Aegon wearing that armour and with the blue dye fully washed from his silvery hair.
Now he looked like a Targaryen prince.
Eleven days later they left for Godsgrief, just as the leaking blood at the stump of his shoulder began to cease.
They took Storm's End.
Frantic and bloody but Storm's End had been held by only a token force. The small fraction of the Tyrell army left behind by Lord Mace were taken hostage; Jon Connington made his orders extremely clear that none were to be harmed or executed. Though Highgarden had their cherished rose Margaery married to the basted lion's son upon the throne, from what information they had gathered she had not borne him any children.
The Reach was the wealthiest of all Kingdoms in terms of harvest and from the past Connington hoped they would be willing to parley when the boy king perished, since the late Renley proved they were willing to shift allegiances. The civil unrest engulfing King's Landing help see to that. As it was, House Tyrell seemed to have no love lost to the Lannisters especially with the persistent rumours of Queen Cersei who had escaped the Faith but was hardly what one would call a reasonable woman and perhaps behind Margaery herself being imprisoned. Thus the Tyrell forces would be kept safe in the Golden Company though when they breached Storm's End all the Baratheon's inside were killed.
Prince Aegon had insisted on being involved in the siege, despite the danger and being untried.
"You don't understand," Aegon had insisted when Jon protested the decision for him to be on the field. "She wants me to prove my worth, of House Targaryen. How could I ever do that if I remain an untried lad hiding behind sellswords? I will be worthy of Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, and worthy of the Iron Throne. Worthy of our family name and history and of Aegon the Conqueror's legacy, who is my namesake. We are the dawn of a new era for House Targaryen. I will not be cowering when my aunt comes to me. I am the blood of the dragon, just as she is. I will have the Seven Kingdoms under my command as its king when she arrives from the east."
At least Aegon hadn't been killed during the siege, but he had been injured. Bruises and a slice upon his arm from a wayward arrow but Connington knew it could have been far worst. 'Only flesh wounds' Haldon had reassured him after they secured the castle but still Jon was displeased.
Only Ser Estermont was held as a hostage, the man Stannis's own uncle, once they sacked the castle of its bone-bare defenses. Otherwise the Golden Company staked the other Baratheons in the courtyard like scarecrows. Grotesque but a fitting reward for those who turned upon their true king years ago to favour the Usuper. The consolidation and taking of Westeros grew each day.
While at Storm's End they found the scrolls bearing news from across the far sea; they had already received word of Queen Daenerys and the disaster of her encounter with that old fool Homeless Harry. The base in Pentos razed by a furious dragon, Strickland dead and his squire much the same. His son, Harry Strickland the Second, seemed quite blithe in receiving the news. He was made of sterner stuff than his father, and also avoided his father's weak looks and spine, and had accepted his father's death with the ease all sellswords do so. If anything, he seemed more annoyed his father had fumbled so badly with the dragon queen. What type of alliance could they ask for, when it seemed the late captain-general offended her to such an extent she killed him herself? Because Connington knew that had been the fate of Homeless Harry, the weak blooded fool never could watch his mouth.
However the dragon queen's rage was given further concern as they received news the very following morn that Queen Daenerys had completely destroyed the slaver alliance. A massive force of over eighty thousand, all the ancient houses of Meereen, numerous sellsword companies, and seven slaver cities marching in force against her.
All destroyed in a single night by the queen and her three headed dragon.
And swiftly followed by news of several cities, ancient and strong and standing since before the Doom, being completely razed to the ground by dragonbreath in retribution.
Jon Connington's fears of a second Dance of the Dragons seemed ever more prominent. They had no true hope of fighting a furious dragon queen. Even if a lucky shot from a scorpion bolt could find a draconic brain it seemed the queen's had spares if she ever came to Westeros seeking fire and blood.
Though he was still greatly curious as to why the queen had come so far to the west, when Slaver's Bay was so far beyond that. Apparently she had been at Braavos, currying favour with the Sealord. But it still seemed odd indeed she would do so in person, rather than simply sending a letter. However it proved how swift dragons were- in what would take months only took the queen days. If she had chosen to, she no doubt could have flown across the Narrow Sea from Pentos and confronted them within the same day.
But while at Storm's End and securing their position Aegon told Connington of his vision of his aunt, coming to him while he was bathing and demanding to see his worth. Jon was tempted to waive it as delirium from his injuries, as Jon's own was a constant beat of agony, but Aegon had barely a scratch which was healing well and whole. He told Connington of how he was visited by Daenerys. How she told him how she killed Strickland for trying to steal Blackfyre from her. How she told him about Daenys the Dreamer, the magic running through their Targaryen blood.
Her demands to prove himself, after citing her own historic war against the ancient slave masters. Her rage at him potentially trying to trick or lie to her.
Her speaking of Aemon Targaryen, claiming to have met the man in Braavos when he traveled from the Wall. Held him in her arms as he died.
That last one was something that caused Connington great unease when Aegon told him of it, because he knew there had in fact been an Aemon Targaryen in the Night's Watch. Due to his closeness with his late prince, Jon had been well versed in the numerous Targaryens that had lived and died through Westeros. And Aemon Targaryen, the brother of Aegon the Unlikely, was one he knew of. But the man must have been over a century of age when he passed, his name forgotten by near all living.
It made Connington worry, if it was some phantom trying to trick Aegon or some strange warped vision. Either way Aegon was suddenly, intently, interested in his wayward aunt ever since to the point of demanding that the Golden Company's spy master Lysono Maar give him as much information on the dragon queen as he could. Most seemed to be wild accusations from the slave masters, though that information greatly lessened after the destruction of the slavers. Instead it seemed almost eerily silent that far east, though the words of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh were more concerned. Slaver cities they were, many harassed by Braavos doggedly through the centuries and now it seems they would have to watch the east for the dragon queen if she chose to march. And in most likely she would, having ripped apart Slaver's Bay and now that the blood was drying Connington doubted she was ease back her campaign. The few whispers of Volantis told of severe tension rising, the city getting ready to devour itself like a mad snake if it had not happened already.
Though it did somewhat ease Ser Connington's worry Aegon would be displeased with his insistent that the lad not take a bride, especially with the arrival of the beautiful young Dornish princess. Connington was insistent Aegon remain free for Daenerys, giving great lecture to the boy about how many opportunistic noble women would try many a tactic to persuade him the further they fought across the Seven Kingdoms. Aegon seemed to be getting increasingly fixated upon his wayward aunt half a world away, something Connington actively encouraged.
It seemed also moot in meeting the Princess Arianne about potential seduction, as she seemed almost disgusted by Aegon even if she hid it extremely well. The girl was charming and witty but Connington remembered the last Dornish woman who got close to a Targaryen prince and he would not let Aegon be ruined by the girl like Rhaegar had been by his weak, unworthy wife. So he kept guards upon Aegon's chambers and food testers at his plate, in case of either opportunistic scenario the girl may try.
However there had been some altercation when it was revealed the Golden Company had retrieved Ser Gerold Dayne who had wished to speak to Prince Aegon, the princess most displeased. But she simply let it pass unchallenged when Connington offered no complaint to the knight trying to kill Princess Myrcella. Let the Dornish have the Lannister welp. At best she would remain a hostage as Dorne had sent the princess so Doran was not being lax in this regard. Even being told of Dayne's killing of Ser Arys Connington paid no mind; Arys had been part of Robert Baratheon's Kingsguard and it seemed they were having their comeuppance for supporting the Usurper. Ser Dayne simply seemed highly amused at the accusation even if he said nothing upon them.
At the very least Prince Aegon was willing to listen to Connington's urging to take Ser Dayne as a Kingsguard. Loyal as Ser Duckfield was, he was hardly the most accomplished warrior. House Dayne meanwhile supported the Targaryens while the Sword of the Morning fell to that traitor Stark while following their prince's orders. Though not wielding his House's historic weapon Dawn, Ser Dayne was still amendable to the offer. He held no love for the Lannisters nor the Starks and it seemed the House's loyalty to dragons would win out. Upon that note, Connington made sure to have Lysono Maar keep close watch towards the south where Starfall was.
However it showed how willing many Houses would be to a Targaryen reclaiming the stolen throne. Something furthered when a self proclaimed pirate king reached out to Storm's End, a man by the name of Aurane Waters who delivered the remaining wayward Golden Company soldiers to land when they had been knocked adrift in the storm. With no love for the Lannisters, the Bastard of Driftmark having outright stolen the fleet of dromonds the Iron Throne had created when Cersei had been imprisoned, he offered alliance in turn for Prince Aegon legitimizing him and naming him the lord of House Velaryon when he took the Iron Throne. The current head of the House was a boy naught even ten years of age. It was something Connington encouraged the prince to accept, as half of King's Landing was waterfront and the Golden Company was no naval strength. Luck would have it the Redwyne fleet had left back to the arbor from news of great ironborn attacks nearing Oldtown so the east coast would be undefended. House Velaryon had long been the most stalwart of allies to House Targaryen throughout both Houses history; the Targaryens ruled the sky while the Velaryons ruled the sea.
An acceptable agreement then, all things considered. And yet another victory, adding a fleet to their numbers.
However Connington remained vigilant. Dorne had still not fully declared for Prince Aegon, even if the princess was keeping close watch upon them. He had little doubt she was keeping her father heavily apace with their victories but Doran would turn to dust before he ever forwent his long drawn dithering and caution. In Connington's opinion Doran's idea of rebellion was simply waiting for his enemies to die of old age. Yet even if Dorne did not march at the very least they were willing to leave the Golden Company as it was. The princess refused to confirm or deny if her father did believe Aegon to be his sister's son, but neutral was better than hostile so they would not have to worry about attacks from the south.
They would continue their march but first they settled upon keeping a hold upon the Stepstones and the stormlands, consolidating their information and troops while pacifying the area. It would do not good to end up surrounded when they marched inland, even with the added benefit of their newly acquired fleet.
Though upon end of their twelfth day at Storm's End Lysono Maar came to him bearing a missive. Reportedly a passing fishing vessel from the Summer Isles had sent it along with nary more than cheerful words. The seal was unknown to Connington, a simple butterfly pressed upon the crimson wax with nothing else scrawled upon the envelope's cover. Despite knowing the Lyseni spymaster's ways he had been irritated at seeing how the wax seal had been broken.
The contents of the letter was vague and basic, reading with the casualness of family. It spoke simply of how things were still quite busy, as the 'auntie' was having to clean up her house as some guests left a mess yet she hoped to be finished soon and perhaps they could meet for supper at a later date? It confused Ser Connington until Lysono Maar said, in fairly amused tones, that it seemed the dragon queen held no grudge over Homeless Harry. It was the pain interfering with his quick wits, Jon knew, but he found it vexxing all the same the man had spelled it out for him as if he were a simpleton.
But as luck would have it Queen Daenerys seemed amendable to the prince, even if she was not outright acknowledging him. Perhaps she was still wary of him being a Blackfyre or simply wanted her to try and steal her dragon, as it was known dragons would accept new riders when their past died, but this missive seemed calm. Vague, easily dismissed by anyone else who might have taken it by chance. But amendable and confirmed the queen would head west at some point in the future once she had finished bloodying the slaver cities. Time would tell if she reached Westeros alive but it also let him know the dragon queen had her own spymasters keeping watch upon events and who knew how much that fool Strickland had told her.
When the Golden Company had tightened their hold upon the nearby lands they prepared to march forward, heading north west. Both to secure castles and lands within Westeros for supplies as they marched but also to prevent themselves from being encircled. It was during this discussion that Aegon insisted upon visiting the ruins of Summerhall and nothing could convince him otherwise. Summerhall was in ruins, never rebuilt since the burning of Aegon the Unlikely, and picked clean by scavengers before the ghosts drove them away. There was nothing of worth left in that lonely place but even so the prince insisted on the detour.
"It's where Aegon the Unlikely burned as did his son, it was where my father was born. The Tragedy of Summerhall. I must see it, do you understand?" was all Aegon said.
There was an almost nervous energy with the insistence, stating that such a journey would help him understand his family history more. The life and deaths of Targaryens. No doubt something whispered into his ear by Lemore and Haldon, when they half buried the lad in books and made him recite history and prayer. Connington had seen Summerhall, a desolate and lonely place. A place of misery now and inhabited by nothing but ghosts.
Yet a smaller group of troops upon horseback could reach Summerhall as the main host marched at a slower pace as not all were mounted. It meant a diversion would not lead them astray, nor put them in much danger with the Golden Company scouts keeping close watch from where they were scattered about. A detour not worth much but one must obey the prince.
"What do you mean you lost the prince?"
Ser Rolly Duckfield looked contrite while Ser Gerold Dayne was defiant.
"It is hardly our fault," Dayne snapped, a sneer marring his handsome features, "The prince-"
"You are his Kingsguard, it is entirely your fault!"
Never mind Aegon, the fool boy, had snuck out of the back his tent sometime in the night and managed to avoid the soldiers to disappear into the ruins of Summerhall. How long had he been gone? When Duckfield went to rouse him in the early dawn light the prince was nowhere to be found and his bedding had been cold and unused with the rear of his tent pulled back. Even his armour and sword had been left behind in whatever fool's errand the young prince had set off to.
I never should have brought him here, Connington thought in despair as he looked towards the quiet ruins of Summerhall.
He had known Aegon had gotten more tense, wild, the closer they got the Summerhall. In Storm's End he had just insisted he had wanted to see his father's place of birth, where his grandfather had burned in magefire and the beginning of the end of House Targaryen. Then he started talking about Daenerys and his desire for her, for the Targaryen legacy and all that entails.
"It wasn't a hallucination nor a dream," Aegon had insisted the night before when that vision of his came up yet again in conversation. "It was like that golden star in the sky- the first one was crimson, for when Daenerys hatched her dragon. The one of golden scales, with three heads for our House, crimson for our colours. The second one was for me. Golden like her dragon, like the company. Don't you see?"
There had been something fevered in the young prince's gaze, making his indigo eyes alight with a near maniac intensity. It left Connington disturbed, knowing how close many Targaryens teetered between madness and greatness. Fearing that, perhaps, the boy had inherited a spark of his grandfather's insanity. At the very least his fanaticism seemed directed towards his aunt half a world away, rather than setting people ablaze or religious scripture. But nonetheless he worried.
Septa Lemore was of no help; she had actively encouraged the boy's delusions, claiming it was favour sent from the Seven. She had encouraged him to pray before the taking of Storm's End and throughout their marches, and firmly believed the prince's conviction was a sign.
"The Targaryens had been a house of magic and faith, fire and blood," the woman had said haughtily when Connington spoke his concerns to her. "Our prince had asked for guidance and it seemed the Seven, especially the Crone, listened to him well to gift him wisdom and guidance. He was granted inspiration through his fellow Targaryen and strengthened in his conviction."
"Keep that doggerel to yourself, we don't want our prince thought mad," he had snapped back.
The woman had refused to back down, simply standing there and staring levelly back at him. Much like Aegon, she had gotten ever more wild and willful upon Westerosi soil.
Though Jon refused to admit he could believe such visions while at Storm's End; after the siege he could have sworn Rhaegar had been staring at him from a corner high in the tower. Beautiful and fair, clad in red and black with a sword hilt at his back and eyes gleaming like polished amethysts in the dark. But just as quickly the specter had been lost and Jon Connington had been alone with his pain.
But now that was all irrelevant, the crown prince missing at Summerhall after his fey words and distracted mannerism on the horse ride there. It would be a good place for enemies to sneak in and steal the boy as a hostage; they only had three hundred men with them, a scant force while the bulk had continued to spread across the west and north towards the likes of Ashford and the Grassy Vale. Perhaps he had been stolen from his tent by thieves? Aegon was still very green to war.
Connington ordered the two to search for their prince, hesitating before demanding they say the same to the Golden Company troops who had accompanied them. Duckfield was contrite, suggesting that perhaps the prince had left when the night watchmen had been enthralled by the great meteor shower that had lit up the night some hours before. Dayne was more defiant but still obeyed Connington's orders.
With the two Kingsguard dismissed Connington made haste for the ruins himself. He had been there before, he knew the general bones of the old gutted remains of the once great castle. Reduced to mossy humps and jutting stone, broken pillars and grassy land.
As he walked past a small copse of trees perhaps he could be fooled into hearing Rhaegar's harp. Whenever he returned from Summerhall the prince always had a new song ready. Solemn and beautiful, much like the man himself.
Connington inhaled, the lingering scents of flowers in the air despite the early morning chill. Not yet a frost upon the grass but soon there would be.
It was within the plant choked ruins of the great hall that he saw a sign of the missing prince. All that remained of the huge arching building was the wall remnants no taller than Connington's knee and a single archway like a whale's rib jutting out of the grassy ground.
High above the sky was becoming orange and blue as dawn settled more firmly upon the land. Scattered birdsong flittered through the air, sweet and delicate. But Connington could see where the flowers and grass had been disturbed, flattened and torn. He passed piles of ripped up flowers in bewilderment, he had no idea why the prince had been tearing up flowers and clumps of grass.
As he walked further through the ruins of the hall he found more of the mangled flora and partially dug holes like a rabbits den, as if the prince had been digging and searching for something. Had must of been doing so from dusk til dawn once he slunk from the camp.
In the once great hall there were still remnants of the lost wealth scattered about; towering burnt paintings that were mostly frame with determined tatters, the broken fist that had once been a polished marble pillar, a tapestry threaded through with golden flowers and vines, warped and melted pieces of armour thick with rust. Through it all the oppressive air lingered, like a heady weight upon Ser Jon Connington's shoulders. Little wonder thieves and bandits still tried to not tarry in such an area. It was mournful in a way he could not describe and there was the feeling of intrusion.
Then he found what he sought, near the back of the hall against a giant collapsed heap of stone. Thick with vines but nearly fifteen feet tall. The remains of the castle even if the stone was cracked and warped. And it was there Jon made his way, ignoring the pain of his shoulder, or his missing arm, as he saw the broken relief of a throne. It had been pushed and dragged, leaving thick furrows in the ground. Fresh, Connington could tell from the dark earth. Aegon must have spent many hours of the night moving the throne, for while the dragons etched into the wood were broken and snapped it was still overall a hefty thing.
Awkwardly, slowly, he had to climb over the throne to the empty space between it and the pile of great stone. Moving cautiously to avoid slipping on the dew-slick wood. As he stepped over he saw the hole in the ground, dug in deep with a heap of dirt haphazardly throw out of the way. Connington could see the silvery hair of the sleeping youth inside the small pit and stepped forward with a flush of anger and furious words crowding his throat.
Only to stumble, as he nearly trod upon bone.
A partially unearthed skeleton was sprawled upon the ground next to the hole that he nearly missed, bones blackened and cracked, only a ribcage and skull with vertebrae twisted and broken. But the skull, despite being decades lost and barely visible with teeth burned away and eye sockets shattered to shards, had a melted circlet of gold affixed to its curved slope. Forever fused together from the vicious flames of the Tragedy at Summerhall.
The bones of Aegon the Unlikely.
Somehow, Jon knew that with unnerving uncertainty. There was another partially buried, skeleton next to the king along with a great armoured form next to the duo which was mostly enveloped in moss and creeping vines, partially crushed beneath a chuck of stone bigger than a sow. Etched sigil upon the exposed dulled pauldron faded and nearly missed, but still showing the vague form of a tree.
Connington felt tense, nervous, at being so close to the bones of a Targaryen king. One burned and melted within wild fires of unknown origin, the flames of which destroyed enough of House Targaryen it did not recover. Robert's Rebellion saw to that, but Summerhall had been the beginning of the end. Prince Rhaegar's love and misery.
They never should have come to this accused place.
Biting back his anger and anxiety, Jon stepped around the bones while taking great care to not stand upon them to get closer to the pit and see Aegon's sleeping form as the sour scent of brimstone and toiled earth suffused his nostrils.
Aegon was near covered in head to toe with dirt, staining his clothing and tangling in his hair. Skin streaked in brown even if his features were lax with sleep. Curling around himself like a babe in the womb, arms tucked against his chest. His nails were ragged, several missing from hours of digging through earth, bones and ashes. Blood staining with the dirt. The prince was not even wearing any armour, simply clad in a tunic and breeches and nothing else. Not even boots or a dagger.
"Aegon!"
The boy twitched but with another shout he stirred groggily, blinking up at Jon with sleep-mussed eyes. Annoyed, frustration mixing with relief, Connington moved forward to kneel upon the lip of the pit. He went to reach down, to seize the boy's shoulder that was just within reach, only to snatch back his hand with a yelp as a scaled mouth filled with tiny sharp teeth snapped at his fingers, the serpent neck slithering out of the prince's tunic.
He instantly pulled forth the dagger from his belt, fearing a snake had slid around the prince and was ready to bite. He could see the way Aegon's tunic was shifting, the snake must had sought the heat as the prince slept through the chilly morn. He would have to act quickly-
Only to freeze as more of it crawled out of Aegon's tunic, clambering over his collar with scales bright and vibrant with an angled head surrounded by tiny horns no longer than a pinky finger as it stared up at him with eyes like tiny sapphires. Smoke coiled up from its flaring nostrils.
Connington stared as Aegon moved until he was sitting, the small winged beast hanging onto his shoulder like a bat. And then another, sticking its head out over the collar as another clambered out below to crawl onto Aegon's thigh. He gathered them against his chest, and all Jon could do was stare.
For within Prince Aegon's dirt caked arms were three dragon hatchlings, their scales gleaming through the filth clinging to them; orange-and-blue, sliver-and-green, purple-and-black. Splintered remains of eggs were digging into Aegon's legs, scattered in the pit in ragged shards from where he had dug them free of the frigid earth. The scaled humps of two more whole eggs were barely peeking through the dug up earth even as Aegon shifted in place. The creatures began to chirp to one another, voices sharp and whistling like birds.
"Do you see?" Aegon asked, staring up at Jon Connington with his indigo eyes bright and body dirt sodden but smile wide and almost too sharp as the orange-and-blue curled around his throat. "I'm the blood of the dragon. Do you see now?"
Notes:
🐉
Actions
↑ Top ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter → Edit Bookmark Comments (133)
Kudos
Adelina_Hou, Lillian_Tuphan, 24Idiots, angelwritesalot, 13DeadRats, Soren_uwu, Sukeolin, posionivykissed, Slmn, PrincessCarolina03, Baumtraum, Lost_In_WLW_Thoughts, lastrada444, Little_mushroom99, TomatoPotato09, Fert_567, Ellin_wwj, Roxannaaaaaa, cinnamon_frog, wolfdragon3036, TheArkitech, ahuk00, SaffirtheGreat, Cerberus_paw, SebyWildest, EmpressOwl, AriesIsFloofy, Eliaco_6731, 1995chouchoux_de_la_street, PhantomPeach14, ArchdemonSolomon, Karakurtaryen, Redqueen175, naya1822, X1peT0tec, mysty1346, w098458, WHat_In_carNation, Ididnotdie, Rarba, Read1_12, Nikd15, I_AM_NOOB, Mm1221, Eclipzee, Cheyenna_banana808, Iris_Hope_Flower, Hthehumam, Kuramatcha, LettuceNotLemons, and 2502 more users as well as 3469 guests left kudos on this work!
Comments
Post Comment
Comment as TheBrimmedHat
Plain text with limited HTML ?
Comment
10000 characters left
Footer
Customize
Default
Low Vision Default
Reversi
Snow Blue
About the Archive
Site Map
Diversity Statement
Terms of Service
Content Policy
Privacy Policy
DMCA & TIDA Policies
Site Status
Contact Us
Policy Questions & Abuse Reports
Technical Support & Feedback
Development
otwarchive v1.2.0.0
Known Issues
GPL-2.0-or-later by the OTW