Game of Thrones:Dawn of Ice and Fire.

I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.

https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon

_________________________________________

Chapter Thirteen: Awakening the Flame

289AC.

The dawn air was crisp and heavy with the scent of frost as Jon Snow stood atop the walls of Winterfell, watching the northern host prepare to ride south. The courtyard below buzzed with activity—hooves clattered against stone, armor gleamed in the pale light, and banners bearing the direwolf of House Stark fluttered in the wind.

At the head of the column, Lord Eddard Stark and Benjen Stark mounted their horses, their expressions grim. The Greyjoys had risen in rebellion, setting the Iron Islands aflame with war. The North had answered the call to arms, and Winterfell would be left without its lord and protector.

Jon's chest tightened as he watched them prepare to leave. He clenched his fists at his sides, a swirl of emotions he couldn't quite name gnawing at him.

"They'll come back, Jon," Dacey Stark said gently, standing beside him. Her voice was warm and steady, like the grounding roots of a tree. "Your uncle and father are strong men."

Jon glanced at her, unsure how to respond.

Dacey had taken it upon herself to act as his mother since her marriage to Benjen. She was kind and fierce, treating him with a warmth that confused him.

Mother.

The word had always been unfamiliar to Jon. For a long time, he hadn't even known who his mother was, and Lady Catelyn's cold, distant eyes had made it clear she was only ever Lady Stark to him—never mother.

Dacey was different. But Jon didn't know how to act around her, didn't know how to let himself lean into the comfort she offered.

Jon forced a nod. "I know they'll come back."

Dacey placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Good. Hold on to that thought."

Jon managed a small smile before stepping away. "I need to go."

Dacey's eyes softened, but she let him go. "Be safe, Jon."

He descended the stairs, his feet carrying him toward the godswood.

The godswood was quiet, wrapped in the serenity of early morning. The heart tree stood tall and solemn, its red leaves rustling gently in the breeze.

Jon's steps slowed as he spotted Leaf waiting beneath the ancient branches. Her golden-green skin shimmered faintly in the dappled light, and her sharp, amber eyes gleamed with knowing.

"You're here," Jon said, his voice curious. "Why?"

Leaf tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Touch the heart tree, little wolf."

Jon frowned. "Why?"

"Trust me," Leaf said softly.

Jon hesitated but stepped forward, his hand brushing against the rough bark of the heart tree. The moment his fingers made contact, a surge of energy shot through him, and the world tilted violently.

When Jon's vision cleared, he was no longer in the godswood.

He stood inside a vast cavern, the walls slick with dark stone and veined with ancient crystals that pulsed faintly with light. The air was thick and humid, carrying the tang of something primal and raw.

Leaf stood beside him, her form shimmering slightly as though not fully present.

"Where are we?" Jon asked, his voice echoing off the cavern walls.

"A cave on Skagos," Leaf said. "A place long forgotten by men."

Jon's gaze swept the cavern—and then his breath caught.

At the far end of the chamber, a massive dragon lay coiled, its dark scales glinting faintly in the dim light. Its wings, tattered and immense, draped over the rocky floor like shadows.

Jon's heart raced. "Is it… alive?"

"No," Leaf said calmly. "This is The Cannibal, the fiercest dragon to ever live after the Doom of Valyria. He died here nearly a century ago."

Jon stared in disbelief. The dragon looked as though it were merely sleeping, its massive form undisturbed by time.

"Why didn't it rot?" he asked.

"The magic of this place preserved it," Leaf explained. "But I did not bring you here for the dragon."

She gestured toward a small, smooth object resting near the dragon's talons—a single black dragon egg, gleaming faintly like polished obsidian.

Jon's breath caught. "A dragon egg?"

Leaf nodded solemnly. "But we don't have time. The egg's magic is fading. Soon, it will turn to stone, lifeless and inert."

"What do you want me to do?" Jon asked, his voice steady despite the awe thrumming through him.

"Let your magic flow into it," Leaf instructed. "Wild and ferocious though it may be, your magic carries life within it. You must rekindle the dying embers before they are gone forever."

Jon swallowed hard, stepping closer to the egg. It radiated faint heat, like coals on the verge of going cold.

He knelt beside it, his fingers brushing the smooth surface. A strange connection sparked between him and the egg, as though it recognized something kindred in him.

"Let your magic flow," Leaf urged. "Do not fear it—embrace it."

Jon closed his eyes, searching inward for the wild hum of power Leaf had taught him to feel. It burned within him, fierce and untamed, like a tempest waiting to be unleashed.

He let it rise, pouring his will into the egg.

The magic surged through him, wild and ferocious. Heat blossomed beneath his fingers, growing stronger with every heartbeat. The faint warmth of the egg flared into blazing heat, and Jon could feel the embers within it turning into a roaring inferno.

Cracks formed along the surface of the egg, glowing with molten light.

Jon's breath hitched as the shell shattered, fragments scattering across the stone floor.

A high, piercing cry echoed through the cavern.

A dragon hatchling emerged from the ruins of the egg, its scales black as midnight and its eyes gleaming like molten gold. Steam rose from its body as it stretched its wings, sharp and fragile.

Jon stared in awe, his heart pounding.

Leaf's voice was soft but triumphant. "You have awakened the flame, Jon Snow."