Game of Thrones || The Sword of the Morning

Shattered Hope

~~Evelyn Dayne~~

Flying up from the bridge down below, the White winds of winter howl like wolves as the dark clouds approach closer and closer to the Wall.

"Do you see them?!"

I hear Daenerys shout over the whipping wind and I shrug, trying to keep from flinching from the harsh wind and snow.

"I can't hardly see shit!"

Viserion, Rhaegal, and Drogon all fly up a bit higher as the dark clouds approach even quicker. The storm is truly coming. It smashes into us like a wave crashes on a sandy shore and I grip Rhaegal's horns as hard as I can to hang on.

"Dany!"

I scream over the wind as Rhaegal continuously loses balance, flapping his wings hard to try and regain it, barely managing to do so. Drogon, Viserion and Daenerys are long lost in the winter winds as I see nothing but white. I can hardly hardly see Rhaegal's scaly back in front of me.

All I can do is scream out for my lover whilst trying to hang on for dear life.

~~Jon Snow~~

The bastard of Wintefell walks through the muddy and snowy courtyards of his childhood home, seeing everything from a different perspective. Life could never be the same after learning what he truly is.

No matter how hard he tries to pretend, his life wouldn't ever be the same.

The Northerners look at him as he walks through, some with angry looks and others in understanding. Some of their emotions Jon can't even read. He can understand where they're coming from with their anger.

He's just like Torren Stark. The King who knelt.

Though he isn't Torren Stark. He's not even a Stark. Not fully.

Jon Snow huffs softly as he makes it through one of the entrances to the Godswood, making his way through the enclosed forest. He breathes in the cold brisk air, watching his breath show in the frigid air.

The Weirwood tree comes into view, the many carved faces with bleeding eyes stare back at Jon as he approaches. Jon had seen much over the course of his life over the Wall. Bran had explained what he was. The Three-Eyed-Raven, or something along the lines.

But he had explained before how he's a Warg. Jon had met a Warg before during his time with his lover and Mance Rayder. Jon felt at times he could see himself through the eyes of his direwolf, Ghost.

He misses the simpler days. He misses Ygritte.

But he also misses the creamy gold dragon belonging to the one and only Daenerys Targaryen. Though he had only ridden on Viserion once, he felt extremely connected to it.

Evelyn had said a few days beforehand that learning to fully master the concept of dragon riding was difficult. And Jon found that to be true. After the first five minutes, or fifty miles, he had gotten used to the fact that he was soaring through the sky like a raven.

But a dragon is no raven.

He misses Evelyn already. Some of the Northmen are causing problems with the Dornish and Unsullied. And Jon himself finds that he can't accept how the North treats them any longer.

He let it go for the sake that they all would be fighting together to face the dead soon but he couldn't stand it any longer.