Reborn In Fire And Blood

Chapter 40

Jon

He didn't know how long he had been chained to the wall. It was dark and cold, where no sunlight could reach him. Guards would force food and drink on him, but still he sat motionless. He thought of his wife. His daughter who he'd never see again. He thought of Daenerys. All the love he had for her, all the admiration. He had made a drastic mistake that took her life, and he was beginning to pay for it now.
His throat felt dry and rough, leaving a choking feeling every breath he drew past his withered lips. The only thing on his mind was his pain and revenge. A man driven too far.

He felt the chains on the wall, as he rattled them slightly. They felt weak, bendable. All the moisture that had crept into the cell from the sea had weakened them. He used his body pulled himself up on the chains, breaking them with his weight. The cuffs still lingering on his arms. He was kept in no extra cell, to the guards fault.
Beside the staircase lay his confiscated sword. Slowly, he withdrew it, and padded up the stairs, on the watch for the Unsullied. One stood in front of him, his back to the staircase. Jon speared his sword through the neck of the man, as the sounds of his choking silently filled the room.
Jon stepped over his body, investigating the castle halls. Daenerys had left some Unsullied, along with her child. Jon choked at the thought, but he persevered. His mind was lost, gone with his wife. His ideas brief and thoughtless.
Jon crept the corner to find several Unsullied guards, around a single door. It must've been her daughters door. Jon picked up a fallen brick, and threw it down the staircase that led in front of the hall, flattening himself against the darkness of the stone. Several soldiers broke away, speaking a foreign language before mbarking down the staircase. Jon slowly began walking, only one guard stood by the door. He was concealed in the darkness of Dragonstone. Before the lone soldier could call for help, Jon shoved his blade into the chest of the man, pulling it free from his ribcage. He grasped the throat, slowly letting his body drop to the ground, as to not bring back anymore guards.
Jon walked through the door, only to find a man inside the room. He turned around, in awe to see Jon.
"You're the man who betrayed my queen then." The man spoke, withdrawing his sword.
"And you're the man who knocked her up." Jon responded, flashing his sword in the light of the lanterns. Daario observed the blood that glistened on the blade.
"And now you're here for my daughter." Daario approached Jon, as Jon himself gripped his sword.
"Aye."
Daario swung, as Jon brought his sword up to meet. Daario kicker Jon's leg from underneath him, as he dropped to one knee. Jon jabbed forward, but the man jumped back, slicing the skin on Jon's arm. The man threw himself backwards, as Daario approached, ready to embed his sword in Jon's belly. Jon kicked the mans knee in, as a crunching sound filled the room. He called out in pain, but Jon had already stuck his sword up through his throat. He pulled it out, letting the mans head hit the stone floor. Jon stared down at his body, a stream of crimson liquid flowing freely onto his body and the floor. He stepped over it, making his way to the bassinet that held Daenerys child.
She was beautiful. In the moonlight, her hair shined brightly. A true Targaryen she was. Jon's throat tightened. He drew the knife he kept at his belt. He felt his limbs go weak as he picked up the babe. It wasn't even a few days old. His stomach sank as he stared down at the innocence he held in his arms.
The child opened its eyes. It stared up at him with dark eyes, almost black. Eyes full of new life, new opportunities, new hope.
Jon looked down at the slaughtered man one last time, seeing his lifeless blue eyes stare into the ceiling.
Jon choked, he dropped to his knees, holding the child.
His child.
He dropped the knife.
A low growl came into the room, as Jon looked up from his horrid realizations.
The white dragon stood on the stone balcony of the room, as it let out a cry of anger.

The last thing Jon felt was its rows of teeth tear into his arm.