Dragons and Wolves

Chapter 17

(Aegon fancast)

Bran left his human body with ease; already half in Drogon, the warg took almost no effort.  Bran sighed in relief as he felt Drogon's heightened senses return completely.  He had gotten used to seeing through the Dragon's eyes he liked it. The more vivid colors and smells, never being cold, he could get used to it.

He nodded to the cream and gold dragoness awaiting him.

Viserion growled in response, obviously impatient. 

Viserion plucked his body from Jojen and the guard with ease.

Bran flapped his wings and took to the air, hovering a few feet above the ground he grabbed the blacksmith and girl with his backclaws.

Meera hadn't come back to see him off.

Oh well, while his heart still panged for her there were far more pressing matters.

With one last look at Jojen and Howland, Bran took to the skies and towards the Wall.

"Then why are you telling me this?" Bran asked, "If this could jeopardize my brothe—cousin's life then why not take the secret to your grave."

"You don't understand, Brandon, the secret is going to come out, the weirdwoods are whispering, someone knows the secret and it's going to come out, you have to tell him, he has to know the truth before someone does it for you and in front of someone who could use it again him and you're family."

Bran nodded, telling Jon was going to be hard. Jon was honorable, selfless, his broth—cousin modeled himself after his fath—uncle and other uncle Benjen. To learn he wasn't Eddard Stark's son was going to destroy him, to learn he was the product of rape was going to be even harder. Bran wasn't looking forward to what laid ahead.

--

Arya rummaged through her things. 

Her quarters always looked like someone had ransacked them.  Weapons, books and clothes strewn about.

She was collecting anything sharp that she could throw at Rickon for their training session today.

No one moved faster than someone who had pointy things being thrown at them.

After she had gotten him to sleep, Shaggydog had followed her around, bored.

He was as wild and stubborn as his master.

"When was the last time you slept, you dumb beast," Arya turned to him.

The black behemoth of a direwolf barked at her and jumped up and put his front paw on the top of her shoulders.

She frowned and knocked him back onto all fours, "By the old gods and the new, your breath is horrible! I apologize for the dumb beast comment."

Shaggydog whined.

"Don't worry, they'll only be flesh wounds, he'll be as good as new in a fortnight," Arya scoffed as she grab a vest off the floor. It looked torn to bits, she rummaged through the pockets when a needle pricked her finger.

"Blast it!" Arya put the bleeding finger in her mouth and a chill ran up her spine.

Death's nudge.

Arya collapsed and Shaggydog ran a circle around her, whining.

Arya struggled to pull herself up using her bedpost, her limbs feeling like sludge. She clenched the bed post tightly with one arm and held her other hand up to her face.  She tried to move her fingers. They weren't obeying her.