Frozen Flames

The Bastard of Winterfell

The crunch of the keel of the rowing boat dragging across the beach was followed by the King in the North's footprints as he stepped onto the island's grey sands and looked up.

Jon's eyes widened and his heart almost stopped at the sight of Dragonstone castle casting a looming grey shadow over the island. Davos had told him many times how large a stronghold it was but you had to see it, to believe it.

The thick walls and battlements climbed hundreds of feet into the sky while the turrets climbed higher, still. The dreary weather, aided in giving the stronghold a truly ominous feel and Jon stared in wonderment at how large it was up close, compared to Winterfell.
The thought of his home, sent a stab of longing for the snow and cold air of the North, through his heart. But he had a job to do, something he could not ignore if they wanted to survive the terrible war to come.

The wind blew his remaining raven curls away from his vision while he helped his men push the boat upwards and away from the dark water that he'd been sailing for the past week.

Jon rubbed his hands together to keep the windchill from freezing them while beside him Davos visibly shivered. Dragonstone (being in the south) was significantly warmer than the snow covered turrets of Winterfell but Jon still felt a chill; not know why.

Several sounds of footsteps caught his ears and he turned to find the Targaryen welcoming party descending down the steps, built into the cliffs. Jon noticed the significantly shorter person, leading the procession was undoubtedly, Tyrion Lannister.

His heart quickened at the realisation that he was about to meet the daughter of the 'Mad King'; the man who had burned both his Uncle and Grandfather alive. But Jon knew better than to let his fear show and hunched his shoulders into his usual defensive and brooding stance.

Jon watched as Tyrion approached and nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment. With a mischievous glint in his, made to speak first.

"The Bastard of Winterfell."

"The Dwarf of Casterly Rock"

Tyrion smiled and Jon returned one of his own before they shook hands. With the weight in his chest lifted slightly, Jon was relieved to see a friendly face among the strangers that made up the majority of the welcoming party, even if it was that of the person whose sibling, so happened to be sitting on the Iron Throne.

Tyrion gestured to Jon's right and shook Davos' hand as he introduced himself to the dwarf.
"Ah, the Onion Knight! I believe we fought on opposite sides at The Battle of Blackwater Bay."

"Unluckily for me," Davos replied matter-of-factly, a slight edge on his voice hinting at something unspoken.
Jon's kept quiet, his mind trying to focus on the task at hand. He observed the Dothraki soldiers, that had accompanied Tyrion and a woman across the Beach.

"This is Messandei, the Queen's most trusted advisor," said Tyrion gesturing to the tall dark haired woman on his left. She was foreign, Jon observed but she had an air of authority about her that, he thought, came from her role.
What surprised him, was her well-spoken accent.

"Welcome to Dragonstone. Our Queen knows you have traveled far and she appreciates your coming. If you wouldn't mind handing over your weapons". Messandei motioned to the Dothraki soldiers.

Immediately, Jon's defenses went up. It was enough that he had been advised against going to need the 'Mad Kings' daughter, however now he was to go unarmed and undefended too? All his morals and alarm bells in his mind were screaming at him to leave, but he had no choice but to comply. He reluctantly handed Longclaw over to a fiercely intimidating Dothraki soldier, who's unwavering stare was enough to make anyone shiver; though not Jon.