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A Melted Heart

By oddfurball

Fantasy / Romance

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Daenerys heard the shrillness of the wind before she felt its sting cutting harshly into her cheeks. Her attire was not befitting for the snow hurling at her with the wind. She was cold but her blood did not stop its flow and heat emanated from her, the heat of the blood of Dragons running through her veins. She turned her petite frame and looked upon a formidable wall of snow making her feel a mere speck of dust. As the wind hollered on, Daenerys heard the sound of shuffling feet in the growth of trees behind her. The sound drew her to a clearing where a man in complete black stood with his back to her drawing his sword as his rivals flooded in. She gasped at the number of heavily clothed people surrounding one man.

Daenerys circled around to take a look at the face of the man for whom her heart cried out. How could he stand there with no fear of dying? At least thirty surrounded him now but he didn't falter in his steps and held his sword. Daenerys looked at the man and her heart tugged even more. His features were handsome but elegant, a face which could not be forgotten once your eyes had been laid on them, his hair was a mass of black curls and his eyes were brown. Daenerys somehow knew that his eyes, though feral right now masked with hatred and death, can be capable of adoration and love.

There were very few moments which had ever surprised The Mother of Dragons and the one which followed was one of them. She watched with awaited breath as the man charged at his rivals with a fierce scream. He plunged his sword into one and easily sliced another's guts. He worked methodically, slicing and hacking into the men who charged at him. His sword glinted red as he landed it on another and beheaded him. But the wild people he was fighting against had no honour in fighting as they plunged a spear to his leg from the back making him falter. Daenerys felt her heart on her throat when she saw him fall to his knees with at least twenty still advancing on him. That's when she decided to intervene but when she tried to put one foot after the next, her feet felt like lead. The snow buried her legs deep and moving forward was a task she couldn't complete. She felt her throat clogging up; this was a person whose death she could not watch but the death blow never came.

The man got up taking the support of his sword and swore in common tongue. A smirk spread across his lips as he gestured with his hands and called on to them. Daenerys wanted to call onto him and help him but she couldn't. She could see him tire and there came a point his sword swings were not as deadly as before. And that's when she saw a creature, bigger than a hound and resembling a wolf, breathe in the blood and sweat next to her. His red eyes bored into hers as he charged at the wild beings, tearing open their necks and skulls. She saw the man be grateful for the creature's presence and petted him and continued sparring with a renewed enthusiasm.

Daenerys felt herself sigh a relief knowing that he was alive and when she lifted her head to see him hack into the last of his enemies, the surrounding around her dissolved to give way to a grand Throne standing in front of her. The sight looked familiar to her as she had seen the Throne while she was taken hostage by the warlock in the House of the Undying. That was an illusion and in that the Throne Room had been salvaged on by the cold but in this illusion, the Throne Room was warm and glowing. In front of the Iron Throne stood the Man she saw a few seconds back, bringing Death to his enemies. But in this, he looked like a King with a jewelled crown on his head. His eyes were warm as he looked at her. He descended from the steps all the while smiling down at the babe in his arms. That's when Daenerys noticed the baby. The Man approached her and placed the babe in her arms and gave her a smile which warmed her even further. The babe tucked at her hair and she saw that the boy in her arms had eyes resembling her, his mother and a face chiselled like his father; the Man standing in front of her. Daenerys cried out, not believing that she bore a child, and found herself engulfed in the arms of her babe's father. He whispered that he loved her, he loved his dragon and she believed those words. She knew they were meant for him.

Daenerys woke up with the first rays hitting her through the drapes and her head was muddled. As she walked up to her balcony, with a light robe draping her body and tear streaks glittering on her pale skin, all she wished right then was for the dream to never end. She had bore a beautiful child of a man who loved her, who was waiting for her. She could feel it in her heart that the Man in his dreams was real. She needed to find him; she needed to lay her eyes on him because he felt like the ice to her fire.

Her reverie was broken by a knock on the door and she allowed Ser Barristan followed by Jorah into her chambers.

"You called for us, Your Grace?"

"Yes, Ser Barristan. I need to see a map of the Seven Kingdoms."

Daenerys could see the questioning glances exchanged between her trusted advisors.

"Is there a problem?"

"No; Your Grace. We were just wondering the reason behind this action. We thought you wanted to stay on as the Queen of Meereen."

"Question me once again, Ser Barristan, and you will be seeing the gates of this city."

And with that her advisors returned with the Map of Westeros. She looked onto the map until she found the North. The North was decorated with hues of white on green, like snow stretching out on the earth. To its extreme end lay the picture of ice, known as the Wall.

"Ser Barristan, tell me about the North."

"There is not much to tell, My Queen. After Joffrey took up the throne, the North retaliated but now its Warden is Roose Bolton. Lord Bolton overthrew his own king, Robb Stark, to gain the North. It was a slaughter, My Queen. The young Stark was butchered along with his mother and expectant wife while attending his uncle's wedding. Great tragedies have befallen the House of Stark. I knew Lord Eddard Stark, he was a just and an honourable man."

"House Stark; correct me if I am wrong but their sigil is a direwolf, isn't it?"

"You know your history, My Queen. The direwolf has been a symbol of their strength for years now."

Daenerys' mind wandered to her dream. The beast in her dream was as white as snow but that was neither a hound nor a wolf. It must have been a direwolf.

"Ser Barristan, does the House of Stark have an heir to claim back the North?"

"I received a raven from King's Landing yesterday, My Queen. They have officially declared three of the Stark children dead even though their bodies have not been looked upon. The eldest son died in the wedding massacre and Sansa Stark is missing. Though Lord Eddard Stark did have a bastard son, My Queen."

"Is that how lowly a person is spoken of in Westeros? That you resort to calling them bastards?"

"Forgive me, Your Grace. But an illegitimate child is known as a bastard there."

"And where is this bastard? Shouldn't he be working to claim his right to the North?"

Daenerys could see the confused expression on Jorah's face. Her sudden interest in the North was certainly going to raise some questions.

"Bastards can't claim any right, My Queen. Their blood doesn't allow it and upon this subject, I was just about to inform you. The raven from King's Landing had other news too. Lord Stark's bastard, Jon Snow, has defeated an army of wildlings at the Wall. His bravery was commendable. It's said he fought off thirty of them alone and didn't leave any alive. There were mentions of Giants which were also defeated by him. They are favouring him to be the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

"The Night's Watch? The ones who protect the Wall?"

"Yes, My Queen. Some say Jon Snow can ruin his enemies and he might have the blood of a wolf running through his veins. His deed has scared even the Queen Regent of King's Landing."

"Ha, blood of a wolf. The Queen Regent is still mourning the loss of her son. There is no use fearing a boy."

"Ser Jorah, sometimes dynasties are made or broken on the destiny of a mere boy. Don't underestimate a boy."

And with that Daenerys asked their leave and stood at the pinnacle of the pyramid looking down on her city as Drogon lands on the statue of the harpy adorning the pyramid.

Jon's sore body should have lulled him to sleep but sleep still remained elusive of him. He listened as the snores of his brothers echoed in the dormitory. He had fended off an attack of the wildlings and held Ygritte as she died in her arms. He burnt her remains and with that his memories of her. He had loved her, he had doted on her but this was where he belonged. He belonged with his brothers, with the Night's Watch. Ygritte will always remain as a memory of the fact that someone could love a bastard. Now he had pressing matters to think of but he knew that he could not continue on without rest.

It took Jon another hour to fall into slumber which was not a peaceful one.

The faces of the people he killed whirled before him accompanied with the smell of blood. But then it changed. He felt the cold of the wind as he stood in front north of the Wall. When he turned his sight, he saw her. Her silver hair was splaying across her face making it hard for him to distinguish the subtle features of her face but in his heart, he knew she was the most beautiful he had ever laid his eyes on. She tamed her hair and that's when she noticed him looking at her. Jon walked up to her as she gave him a warm smile. He wanted to know who she was but as he got closer, he saw that her clothes were not ones he had seen in the Seven Kingdoms. They were silk and leather, thin and flowy. He noticed she shivered so he removed his cloak and draped it on her. When his skin touched hers, Jon's cold blood became warm. She was warm but pale, her eyes a shade of blue which played tricks with the light. He raised his hand to touch her but drew back. Her skin looked like milk, soft and untouched. His calloused hands would have left scars but she caught his hand in hers before he could lay it by his side and placed it on her stomach. Jon noticed a slight bulge and felt something move inside. She was with a baby and by the smile she reserved for him, Jon knew it was his. His eyes became wet with joy as he smiled back at her but her face was now covered in pain. He looked down and saw a pool of blood forming at their feet, the blood flowing from her stomach. Her stomach had been sliced open cleanly and Jon caught her as she fell. He cradled her and cried, cried for her to come back. He screamed but he didn't know her name. So he cried and screamed but the woman didn't wake. He had lost her and his baby forever.

Jon awoke with a jolt. His brow was covered in sweat and tears streaked down his eyes. Thank the Old Gods and New that his brothers were too deep in slumber to notice his state. He needed fresh air so he donned his black cloak and walked out of his dormitory. He thought of going to the top of the wall but decided against it so he took out his sword, Longclaw, and swiftly struck it through air imagining killing the man or woman who laid a hand on the woman who bore his child. Jon knew that he was behaving silly, the woman was just a figment in his dreams but somewhere his heart had been drawn to her. He wanted her to be real, he wanted to smell her silver hair and touch her smooth skin. He knew that if she was real, he would hold onto her and never let her go. He felt guilt crop out, it hadn'e even been a week since he had burned Ygritte but a part of him called out on his bluff. Ygritte was the woman who had taught him how to love but somehow, the woman in his dreams was the one he was destined to love forever.

"Practicing hard; I see."

Jon spun around and saw The Lady in Red looking at him. She walked up to him as Jon sheathed his sword.

"Let me have a look at your sword."

Jon obliged. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as Lady Melisandre approached him. She took the sword from its sheath and ran her hand down its length.

"Valyrian steel. It's rare, very rare. And to find such treasures in the hands of someone like you, that's rarer. What's its name?"

"Longclaw."

"A befitting name for the man in whose veins the wolf blood runs. Do you know what they call you nowadays, Jon Snow?"

Jon gave a slight shake of his head as Lady Melisandre approached him and whispered in his ear while sheathing his sword.

"They call you the Saviour, Jon Snow. The one who saved all those high Lords from getting beheaded and their Ladies from getting raped. They whisper about you even though they say Stannis' name. Secretly, they all want you to lead them. That's the hold you have, Jon Snow."

Jon swallowed as his throat went dry. The Lady in Red was not one to be trifled with, he had heard. Now, as she pressed herself against him, all Jon could feel was the presence of smoke which clouded his thoughts. So he moved away from her hold.

"I am no such things. I upheld my honour as a brother in the Night's Watch."

"You will be surprised what you can be, Jon Snow. The blood of kings can never be easily diluted."

And with that Lady Melisandre left Jon reeling in his thoughts.


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