DAGGERS TO THE HEART Part 2 - CLASH OF THE KINGS

Jon III

The black obsidian castle stood tall and foreboding against the horizon, its silhouette reminiscent of a massive, slumbering dragon, its black scales glinting in the dim light, a dormant beast guarding the secrets within its stony lair. One day, in the future, a black dragon, may indeed occupy the castle, with its siblings and owner. Unless Jon claimed it first. Then the dragon would be white and red.

"It's..." Arya tried to find the right words.

"Intimidating?" Jon replied. "It is as unpleasant on the inside as it is on the outside."

"Well, I think it is quite beautiful." Arya stated.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." Jon admitted.

Arya turned to Jon and laughed. "Says him who fucked the dragon queen and married my sister."

"Don't you dare bring Sansa into this." Jon warned.

"Yes, your grace." The sarcasm was dripping from Arya's mouth, although Jon could tell there was no malice behind it, as she had a cheeky grin on her face.

"Anyway, the castle is cold, dark, damp, and dingy. The Targaryens clearly did not need comfort."

"Just ask a dragon to breathe a bit of fire to warm them up. Although Targaryens have been known for their hot air." Arya japed.

Jon could tell she was eager. Arya was usually quite a sombre person these days. She rarely got overly enthusiastic by anything. Yet, here she was, enthusiastic at the prospect of seeing the hideous island of Dragonstone. An island which, by all rights, should belong to him. However, it would belong to his firstborn, that Jon was determined to see.

The ship laid anchor about half a mile from the shore. Jon and Arya boarded a small boat, with six oarsmen, who rowed them to the beach closest to the entrance to the cave, where the dragonglass was being mined.

The men were still busy at work, taking little notice of the boat which came to shore. However, not everyone had missed their arrival. A woman, with long red hair, in a red dress, was there to greet them. Beside her, was a weathered-looking man, with a small bag hung around his neck, no doubt containing the bones of the fingers, Stannis Baratheon had once removed as a punishment for the crime of being a smuggler.

"Lady Melisandre," Jon bowed his head, turning to Ser Davos and holding out his hand to shake, "Ser Davos. My name is Lord Whitestark, and this is my cousin, Arya Stark." Jon and Ser Davos shook hands.

"My lord, my lady." Ser Davos nodded his head towards Arya. "How can we help you?" He asked.

"We heard about the battle of the Blackwater." Jon explained. "Our men are on this island, and as you can appreciate, we want to ensure their safety. We will take them back north, with all the remaining dragonglass they have mined. Before the Lannisters take this place."

Melisandre stared at them both, with the intensity Jon came to recognise. She turned to Arya, and lifted her chin, staring into her eyes. "I see a darkness in you," Melisandre said. "And in that darkness, eyes staring back at me. Brown eyes. Blue eyes. Green eyes. Eyes you'll shut forever."

Arya rolled her eyes. "Seven hells, not this shit again."

Jon chuckled, as Melisandre turned her gaze to Jon, shutting him up. "There's a power in you, Lord Whitestark, yet you resist it."

"I know, I know." Jon nodded and sighed. "Can we come inside? It is windy out here and I would prefer if we spoke somewhere a little more comfortable. I know the way." Jon set off, leading Arya, with Ser Davos catching up with Jon.

"Lord Whitestark, if you don't mind me asking, how did you know who I was?"

"The pouch around your neck. The bones from your fingers, the ones Stannis chopped off." Jon replied.