Jaehaeron Targaryen - The Northern Dragon

The Little Dragonwolf

"For the Watch."
He felt his flesh being pierced.

"For the Watch."
Again.
"For the Watch."

And Again.

"For the Watch."

And Again.

His body hit the cold hard ground as he gasped for air despite his pierced lungs. He felt himself being enveloped by a warm liquid, he realized quick enough that it was a puddle of his own blood.

Jon Snow, son of Eddard Stark and Lord Commander of the Night's Watch felt his life slowly leave his body as fatigue was spreading through his muscles.
It was so strange... To see his life flash before his eyes as his vision became blurry. He remembered Winterfell, he remembered his father, his brothers, his sisters, Ghost, Ygritte...

Jon found that he didn't care as much as she should have that he was dying. He felt relief, he had fought so much, so hard. He had felt so much pain when he learned of his father's demise and of the Red Wedding. His heart had been ripped from his chest when Ygritte had died. But now... he was going to see them again...
As his eyes closed, Jon found that he had no regret, he had lived an honorable life, he had always done what he thought was right, and if anyone would criticize him for falling for Ygritte, he'd punch them in the face and ask his love for forgiveness so he could feel her lips one more time.

He had earned this... To hell with the livings if their pride meant more to them than their survival. He would now rest, and let his past being washed away by his reunion with his loved ones.

Or so he thought...

The next few seconds had been confusing, for Jon had felt his body being crushed in a fetal position as his eyes had been forced shut. He started to panic as he believed than an endless void would be his fate for eternity, yet, he suddenly felt a terrible pressure around his body. He tried to breath, but there was no air to fill his lungs, he tried to scream, but his mouth remained shut.

He thought he'd heard something, something that sounded like a voice. Was it one of the old gods ?

The next thing he heard was some kind of scream that seemed to have been muffled by a pillow. What in Seven Hells was happening to him?

The next second, he was born.
An air colder than he had ever felt when he traveled beyond the Wall bit his skin so hard that he screamed. He felt gigantic hands carrying his body as exclamations he could not decipher resonated around him. He tried to struggle to get free of the giant that was holding him, but the creature's grip was firm, and as he shook his limbs as much as he could, he realized that he could barely move despite all his will!

"Seven hells!" A voice he'd never heard exclaimed. "That one is as wild as a wildling and as strong as a damn bull!"

Jon felt a blanket being rolled around his body, he tried to demand what was happening to him, but only cries and screams left his mouth.

"By the Seven!" growled a woman he did not know. "I've never seen a babe as feisty as that one, that's for sure."

Jon suddenly felt a pair of enormous gloved hands seize his body and snatch it from the giant that had held him since he could breath.
"Jaehaeron Targaryen," snapped a powerful and authoritative voice that could only belong to a man, "your father commands you to cease your crying at once."

And Jon stopped, not out of fear but out of confusion, did that person just call him... 'Jaehaeron Targaryen'? And why was that person wearing gloves? What giant... What old God wears gloves?

Desperate to finally get answers, he mustered all the strength his body could give him, and unsealed his eyelids.

The first person he saw was a young man of sixteen... perhaps seventeen namedays at most. His face was stern after the order he had given, yet, Jon found a warmth in the man's purple eyes he had only seen in Lord Stark's gaze.