A Dragon In Wolf's Clothing ~A Game of Thrones fan fiction~

Chapter Twenty Eight: Just Like Fire

She was burning.

The fire was running through her as fast her bloodstream, feeling like it had always been there.

It had always been there, she was the Dragon, a Targaryen, the heir to the dragon dynasty, the northern dragon.

"Lyanna!"

Her mother had been a dragon too, her father a wolf. Fire and Ice. She was the song of Ice and Fire.

"Lyanna!"

Doubts of her strength had followed her entire life. Just a bastard, a woman, too weak to fight, not good enough for the wall, just Joffrey's wife, traitor, liar, adulteress, weak fighter, treacherous northerner. None of it mattered. She was just like fire.

She would set the entire world on fire with a smile on her face.

She would burn those who hurt her, set the world right, bring back the old dynasty, or at least watch the world turn to ashes as she tried.

"Lyanna!"

'I'm not a dragon, I'm a wolf, a Stark, a Snow, not a Targaryen!' she thought, trying desperately to escape the spiralling sensation of the flames and smoke. 'I am not the Mad King, I am Lyanna Snow, I will not kill anyone,'

Joffrey, Cersei, Ser Meryn, Ser Janos, Ser Illyn, The Hound, Jaime. Well, maybe she did want to kill people. However, she didn't want to kill them by setting them on fire. Why the sudden obsession with burning and dragons?

"Lyanna!"

That last scream of desperation was enough to wake her from the hallucinations of fire, only to realise it wasn't a fantasy; all she could see was fire. During the night the candles must have knocked over, setting the cabin alight. Curse her to the others, Lyanna's irrational fear of the dark had caused this. It wasn't just the cabin that was burning, as the screams from the deck above proved to her that the entire ship was soon to be ashes. There was one question remaining to Lyanna, though:

Why wasn't she burning?

'Fire cannot kill a dragon,' she thought, and in the same moment, felt what she guessed were tiny claws digging into her chest, causing her to groan in pain.

Looking down, she blinked, the smoke stinging her eyes, the cracking of flames making it hard to concentrate, but she still saw it. A dragon. A little hatchling clinging to her chest, its tiny scales matching the grey of the egg. Part of her wanted to laugh, another part of her cry, and another wanting to hit herself in the face as if she was dreaming. Even if she wasn't being burnt like a piece of meat, the thick vapour was making it hard to breathe. Coughing, she tried to run over to where she knew there was a small hatch passing as a window, looking out to see the coast of Essos. The nearest city had already seen the blaze and had sent out rescue boats making Lyanna want to grin in relief.

Except she couldn't relax. Lyanna was so confused. There had been no dragons for centuries, why now? Why had she been chosen to bring another into the world? Even if you took the dragon out of the situation, Lyanna was still anxious about the fire. How many men had she killed by not blowing out her candles? Was Alize dead? Where was Winter?

"Lyanna!" The scream made her spin around to see Alize knelt over in the corner in a ball with Winter, desperately trying to keep away from the flames. The orange lighting showed Alize's face luminously, adding emphasis to the streams of tears flowing down her cheeks. In her hand, Lyanna could see Alize was holding the dagger from Robb, not like it would help much against the fire.

As calmly as if she wasn't holding the first dragon in at least three centuries, like she wasn't caught up in a fiery inferno, Lyanna walked carefully, avoiding the excited embers in case her Targaryen genes fell short and she caught fire right there. Reaching Alize, Lyanna held out her hand, pulling her friend up, who was sobbing and screaming in fear, not helped by the sight of the dragon.