RhiaWriter

The Dragon's Cloak

Chapter 1

Snow and the deep winter quiet blanketed the wolfswood. Lyanna’s breath fogged her vision, as she gripped her bow. She focused on the sounds of the forest. In the quiet of the winter wood, sound was the best tool for a hunter. A twig snapped, and she turned quickly to her right, spotting the red of the fox tail and letting her arrow fly. The fox let out a cry that was eerily human and fell to the ground. The red fur gleamed bright against the white snow. A deeper red seeped out of his coat, soaking the ground with blood. Still the fox cried. 

Lyanna liked the idea of the hunt—the chase, the quickness, the use of all of her senses. She liked keeping up with her brothers in the woods. She liked feeling strength in her arms when she used her bow the only weapon that her father had reluctantly let her learn. She hated the killing itself–especially of a creature that sounded so human. Best put it out of its misery, she thought. She pulled a second arrow from its quiver, and it landed easily at her target, the fox’s throat. The noise stopped. The woods were blissfully quiet again. For a moment.

“Benjen!” She yelled at the top of her lungs. “I got one!” 

“Others take you, Lya!” 

Her brother’s footsteps were as loud as a horse’s hooves. No wonder he was a lousy hunter.

“I was about to kill a stag!” Benjen peaked over the crest of the hill. His nose was bright red and his brown hair was in disarray. He was holding a dead rabbit.

“Right, Benjen!” Lyanna laughed at him, calling his bluff. Her fourteen-year-old brother was prone to exaggeration. “The biggest stag the wolfswood’s has ever seen? Was he a magic stag? Sent from the Old Gods?”

“There was one!” Benjen climbed down the hill, frowning at his sister. “You don’t have to believe me. I know I had him in my sights. Would have gotten him too, if you hadn’t been so loud.”

“No one’s seen a stag in the woods in months,” Lyanna said. “We must have eaten them all. Even Winterfell will be limited to rabbit stew soon enough.”

Lyanna picked up the fox, holding it away from her fur cloak, as they walked back to the grove where their horses waited. Foxes were skinny creatures. They never made for good meals. But the fox coat could make a nice hat or glove lining.

“The maesters think spring is near,” Benjen said. “They say it’s warming in the south.”

“So I’ve heard.” The good news didn’t bring a smile to Lyanna’s face. Spring meant movement through the Kingdoms once again. It meant the north would come out of its seasonal hibernation. For the sixteen-year-old girl, newly arrived at womanhood, spring meant inevitable change. As they walked through the wood, Lyanna memorized the sights and smells that she would be sent away from soon enough.

“Don’t be sad, Lya,” Benjen pleaded with her. “You never used to be sad. And now you’re sad all the time.”

“Old age makes you mopey,” Lyanna said, trying to brighten her mood.

“You’re not old!” Benjen said.

“Older than you,” Lyanna spoke with feigned world0weariness. “When you’ve lived two whole more years, you might be somber too.”

“The betrothal’s not even official yet,” Benjen said.

“That’s only because father is trying to squeeze Storm’s End for all it’s worth. It will be official soon enough.”

It's really striking how much of the book is about Rhaegar. No wonder he's such an important character in fandom, even though he's never on the page. It all comes back to what really happened with him and Lyanna back in the day. It's such a puzzle to hear about him from these different perspectives and try to piece together the man behind all the stories.

As the royal party rode south, Lyanna sat on Flurry in uncharacteristic silence. Ashara tried to goad her into making up their own verses for “The Bear and the Maiden Fair,” but Lyanna refused to join in the fun. Ned was in the royal party as well, headed back to court with his sister while Brandon, Catelyn, and Rickard all traveled north. Ned also tried to talk to her, concerned that something had happened with Robert at Riverrun. But Robert was the least of Lyanna’s worries.

Their last night in Riverrun, the maester had confirmed Rhaegar’s suspicions. Lyanna was with child. She was carrying a dragon-wolf, which perhaps explained her dreams. Rhaegar had been overjoyed at the news, but Lyanna had found it more shocking. She shouldn’t be surprised. She was a newly married woman who bedded her husband often. This was the natural course of things. And yet, her pregnancy filled her with a terrible fear.  

She convinced Rhaegar to keep the news quiet until they returned to King’s Landing. The maester told them it was early yet, and it was still possible she would lose the babe. When they had returned to bed that night, Rhaegar was eager to talk and make plans for the future, but Lyanna had insisted on sleep. A good night’s sleep eluded her, however, as she was once again beset with an unsettling dream of a dire wolf with wings leaping off the Wall. The symbolism of the dream was now clear, but that gave her no comfort. If she was carrying the future prince or princess of the Seven Kingdoms, why were they at the Wall? The only explanation matched Rhaegar’s own visions too closely for her comfort. Was she spending so much time with her husband that she was now dreaming his delusions? Or was there truth to his concerns about a darkness stirring in the north? She didn’t know which possibility she feared more.

On the journey south, she avoided Rhaegar. His joy at the news of Lyanna’s pregnancy quickly turned to dismay at the distance between them. Lyanna felt his eyes upon her always, tracking her every move. He was likely eager to make sure that she wasn’t being foolish on the road and was following the maester’s orders to keep their child safe. He allowed her to ride, but only at a slow and careful pace. When Rhaegar tried to speak to her, she was as cold and evasive with him, as she was with everyone on the road. She insisted that they pitch a separate tent for her, and slept apart from her husband at night—hoping that that would allow her to sleep in peace, but her disturbing dreams continued.

The one person she did seek out was Howland Reed. He was headed south with them, although he had warned her and Rhaegar that he would need to return home soon. He wasn’t built for a life at court.

“Howland,” Lyanna approached him. He road towards the back of the group, and they had a semblance of privacy. “I have been meaning to speak with you since our trip to the Isle.”

“I have as well,” Howland said, looking remorseful. “The Isle of Faces is an unsettling place. Forgive me, Your Grace—I know it’s none of my business—but I feel terrible the trip caused a conflict between you and your husband.”

Denials rose in Lyanna’s throat, but she felt too tired to put on an act of a happy marriage.

“I did find it unsettling,” Lyanna said. “I also find it unsettling that my husband keeps so many secrets.”

At the Wall, Lord Commander Jon Snow and Queen Daenerys Targaryen lead a united army to protect the land of the living. As the Army of the Dead advances on the Wall, emotions run high. The lord commander and the queen find that in order to lead the fight for the living, they may need to give themselves something to live for.

“Cotter Pyke thinks the dead are planning to cross the expanding ice at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea and Lord Brandon confirms it,” Jon said to the war council, gathered in his solar at Castle Black. His brother Bran and Sister Sansa were both safe at Winterfell, but Bran regularly sent Jon ravens with his queer knowledge of the Others’ movements.

“I suggest we move the bulk of our army to Eastwatch, Your Grace,” Jon continued, speaking directly to the queen. “Along with you and your dragons.” He had maps of the Wall strewn over the tables in his solar, which had become the command center for the queen’s war council. The queen sat at the head of the table. The rest of her war council was present, including Lord Tyrion, Lord Royce, Lord Hardyng, the Blackfish, Lord Hightower, Lord Thenn, Tormund Giant’s Bane, and Maester Sam.

“It’ll be a joy to see those dead fuckers go up in flames, Yur Grace,” Tormund said with a fond wink at the queen. He did his best to follow Westerosi customs, but hadn’t quite grasped that he was not supposed to be so familiar with the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

“Will you lead this force, lord commander?” Lord Tyrion asked.

“Aye,” Jon said.

“Is it wise to have you and the queen in the same position?” Lord Royce asked. “Perhaps you should remain here, in case they are trying to draw you to Eastwatch, only to attack Castle Black.”

Jon considered his maps, feeling the eyes of the room on him. Lord Royce had some wisdom. It could make sense to split their strength. They didn’t know how the Others thought. They weren’t human, after all. But the only sightings of them were in the east. They needed to amass their strength where they knew them to be, as the force could so easily overpower them. Besides if he remained at Castle Black while Daenerys fought at Eastwatch, he couldn’t protect her.

“We know a force is going to try to cross,” Jon said. “We need our strength in the east. We will leave battalions at the Shadow Tower and Castle Black, while the queen and I move to Eastwatch. If the queen agrees, of course,” he deferred to Daenerys.

She studied the maps carefully, her eyes heavy with concentration.

“I wish I had another rider,” she said. “Our defenses would be stronger if we could leave a dragon at Castle Black and one at the Shadow Tower.”

“We do have wild fire, Your Grace,” Tyrion said, one of his great contributions to their fight. “And our red priests. Our teams are ready. They’ve been training for this.”

“Very well,” Daenerys said. “I’ll leave for Eastwatch tomorrow. The Lord Commander as well, leading the army. We will feast tonight in the Great Hall.”

The group noted their dismissal. They filed out, and Jon expected Daenerys to leave as well, but she lingered, coming to stand beside him.

“I hope you’re right,” she said. Her voice was low. She was standing too close. She could never be close enough. “Part of me wonders if you should stay here. But another part of me remembers the last time we went to Eastwatch.” She shuddered, and they looked at each other for a moment—both remembering the brutal fight at Hardhome, the freezing cold, the army of the dead—and the passionate nights they had shared after the battle.

Jon glanced at the doorway to make sure nobody was listening. He was careful to leave it open, in case any rumors spread about the queen and the lord commander being sequestered in his solar.

“I don’t want you going without me either,” Jon admitted, rubbing his jaw. “Not that I can do much to protect you. You’re the one who rescued me last time, remember?”

“I wish I could forget it,” Daenerys admitted.

“It’s the right thing,” Jon said. “We know their army is amassing there. We’ll face them together. We’ve survived it before.”

I'm releasing a new story in my Crow Flies South Series, so I thought I would give a push/reminder of the whole series.

The Crow Flies South Series is an AU of what Jon/Dany's relationship would be like if Jon was never murdered and remained Lord Commander of the Night's Watch while they fought the war against the Others. It's a story of forbidden love, but I feel like it has a reputation for being darker than it actually is. This is probably my favorite thing to write, so if you're a Jonerys reader, I hope you'll check it out if you haven't already. Links to the stories are below.

The Crow Flies South

Daenerys, ruling from the Red Keep as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, summons Lord Commander Snow south to convince her court of the threat to the Wall. Jon Snow navigates the court intrigues and southron politics to finally rally the force he needs to win his war against the dead. But will he be able to resist his growing attraction to the Dragon Queen?

The Journey North

After years of trying to man the Wall with only rapers, thieves, and Free Folk, Jon Snow now leads the greatest army Westeros has ever seen north to the Wall. As Lord Commander of the Queen's army, Jon has risen higher than he ever dreamed he could.

But Jon's complicated feelings for Daenerys threaten his ambition and his sense of honor. To do his duty, he must end his affair with the queen, a woman not used to being denied.

Love During Wartime

At the Wall, Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen lead a united army to protect the land of the living. As the Army of the Dead advances on the Wall, emotions run high. The lord commander and the queen find that in order to lead the fight for the living, they may need to give themselves something to live for.

Summerhall

“Would you like to come to visit the camp followers with me tonight?” Tyrion asked. “There is a lively group of northern lasses and wildling girls on the south end of the camp. They’re willing to do anything for extra rations.”

Jon stiffened at his invitation. “I am Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch,” he said stiffly. “I don’t whore around.”

“Your men do,” Tyrion said. “And you don’t seem to mind.”

“Aye,” Jon said. “We turn a blind eye when we have to. Our vows technically say that our men are to take no wives and father no children. As long as my men are careful, I let them have their release.”

“Ah,” Tyrion said. “But what about yourself, lord commander? Are you allowed to sleep around as long as you don’t marry the girl?”

Jon stiffened. “I told you. I don’t sleep with whores. Everyone knows that.”

“It’s well known,” Tyrion agreed. “But I’m starting to wonder if it would be safer for us all if you did. The lovely thing about whores is that they’re uncomplicated. An easy, simple solution to the problem that you took your vows, but are still very much a young man with needs.”

Jon turned red, his stoic veneer faltering. “You forget who you’re speaking to."

“I am not forgetting,” Tyrion stepped closer to him. “You are the lord commander of her grace’s armies. And last night I was accosted by your wolf, while I watched you slip into her tent.”

Jon’s face was still, but Tyrion saw panic in his eyes.

“What are you doing, Jon?” Tyrion whispered. “If I can discover this, others can too. I don’t know how to protect you when you seem incapable of protecting yourself.”

“I protect myself just fine,” Jon said. “I have a wolf, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“So did your brother,” Tyrion said. “And he still lost his war in the wrong bed.”

“I know how my brother died,” Jon said.

“Yet that knowledge doesn’t bring you wisdom?”