Rivers of Fire and Blood

Jon XII

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Ice and Fire Novels, Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon TV shows. However, I decided to have a little play around with the characters. I do not earn any money from writing these stories, it is for my entertainment and is something I like to share.

Jon had been flying north for almost two hours before he saw the Mad Prendos anchored along the Last River, which wasn't the most obvious place to find such a large ship. He landed Drogon on the embankment next to it, where Drogon simply lifted his winged and Jon climbed up it and onto the ship to inspect any damage the Dothraki might have caused. Fortunately, the Dothraki did not know the customs of Westeros and may have not realised how odd it was for a ship of this size to be so far up river. Their knowledge of sailing was almost non-existent, which explained why they hadn't touched the ship at all. He walked around, inspecting all of the decks, but nothing had been touched, which either meant the Dothraki hadn't been this way, or they hadn't thought to destroy the ship. Jon was still concerned which route the Dothraki had taken, so he flew south towards the Dreadfort, where their route quickly became very obvious. Their horses had trampled all over the land, houses and villages burned. Rotting corpses strewn over the fields, ready to attract flies and disease, and any potential whitewalkers should they decide to rise once more. Therefore Jon did the one thing which he knew was right. Despite the stench, he dragged the eighteen bodies together, who all looked like members of a family and placed them together. Three of the family were children, and it was obvious the women had been raped. Jon stopped and vomited three times as he carried the bodies, tears rolling down his face. For the first time, he was happy he'd killed the Dothraki, they were savages who had no regard for life. He washed himself in the stream which ran down from the aptly named Weeping Water before climbing onto the back of Drogon. "Dracarys!" he said as Drogon roared, his flames burning bright, hot and fierce, melting the rotting flesh and charring the bones, until there was virtually nothing left. Then Jon set off to fly back to Winterfell, his mood low at what he'd had to do.

On his return, he saw the group Ser Davos was leading to the ship. Wanting to speak to him, Jon stopped a little in front so as not to scare the horses with the sight of Drogon, although they were accustomed to him flying around Winterfell. Ser Davos rode towards Jon and they both dismounted their respective beasts to meet.

"Jon." Ser Davos grinned. "What are you doin here?" he asked.

"Just checkin the Dothraki didn't destroy the Mad Prendos." Jon replied. "It's still looking fine, I inspected it." he smiled weakly.

"What's up?" Davos could always spot when Jon was leaving something out.

"They came up the Weeping Water instead. Destroyed a village, killed eighteen, three of them babes. The women raped." he shook his head. "Fuckin evil." he snarled. "I burned the corpses to make sure they didn't come back as whites."

Ser Davos nodded. "They're gone. You made sure about that. They won't be coming back anytime soon, or ever."

"Aye." Jon agreed.

"What about this Ranny woman? Is she who she says she is?" Davos asked.

"I think so." Jon nodded. "She looks like a Targaryen, and she's got the manners of a highborn. So our trip to White Harbour will also be to Pentos and Volantis. I'm also thinking about stopping at Dragonstone to see if there are anymore books and things which we can find."

"I won't be able to take the ship there." Davos frowned, looking over to Drogon. "You're brining him?" he asked.

"I wasn't going to, but I think it might be wise." Jon sighed.