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I haven't written a fic in so long, this probably sucks.

Really sucks.

Its really fast paced, because I didn't want to spend two years writing it when I have a book I'm trying to finish. And its probably shit for plot. Being as I haven't finished the books at all, and I've only had a few spoilers due to the future of some of the characters.

But, it was fun to write! And I didn't edit it, because I didn't have the time!

...spelling errors and all...ick...

Like I said, I'm sure it sucks. But enjoy!



I am the blood of the dragon.
The roaring wouldn't end. It came in like the tides, ebbing and waning. What pounded inside her head was blinding, a pain unlike anything she had ever felt. Shadows danced just outside of her vision when her eyes did open. Everything was opulent and obscure all at once. When she looked up to recognize the moon, the bright light there stung.
When she opened her mouth to cry, she realized the roaring was coming from her.
I am the blood of the dragon.
It was more of a growl, than a roar. But it echoed inside of her pounding head and made everything foggy. She walked on uneven ground, her steps clumsy. Naked, on all fours, crawling beneath the glow of the moon with no one to guide her.
The dragon does not fear. Or cry. The dragon is willful. The dragon destroys its enemies.
But not this one. He was still near, she could feel him. Eyes scoured her body as she tumbled, her face smacking the ground and grinding in dirt. Her mouth filled with bile. She reached again, and felt fresh blood seep from her wounds.
Another roar tore at the air, but this time not from her. This dreadful sound lingered about the forest. It stretched and changed, from wail to angry threat.
She could not help her cries when the clawing returned. A deep goring of teeth and nails dug into her flesh, tearing and ripping. The roaring continued, inside and out. She flopped onto her back and swung at the air, catching something by the muzzle with her fist.
I am born of storm and fire. I am the angry sea, the fierce blaze. I am the unburnt.
And I am dying.
All dragons, like men, must die.


The sun baked her face in a welcomed heat. What a nice feeling. She stretched lazily and rolled, allowing more light to surface upon her body.
There was no storm here, no claws and death. Only pretty sunlight that she kept her eyes closed against and a lovely fresh breath of air filling her lungs. And she could hear the birds calling, and water racing over nearby stones.
But, this wasn't right.
Fear stole upon her happiness, and her eyes flew open.
Daenerys remembered the pain. And the helplessness. She remembered the attack. Memory barged upon her, and the heat of the sun was forgotten as she sat upright to rake hands over her flesh. She wore a simple sailcloth wrap, hiding her body from view. Her eyes were taking time to adjust, but other than the clothing she saw no wounds. No blood. Her mind raced with her frantic hands, and she whimpered in confusion.
“Be still.”
The words were said calmly. She looked over from where she lay, a rough-spun tent out in the open wild. A nearby stream rushed loudly from her makeshift shelter. And beside the stream, a woman.
She was merely a blur at first. Thick auburn hair fell around knees that were pulled up to her chest. And sapphire eyes blinked from an oval face, laying atop those knees. Daenerys blinked until the other came into view.
She wore a similar, simple dress. Yet despite this fragility of garb, she was clean and unmarked.
“Who are you?” She found herself demanding, her tongue lashing out rapidly, unknowingly. “Where am I? Where-”
“I'm sorry.” The girl spoke again, a frown appearing between those vivid eyes. “What is that you're speaking? Is that Valyrian?” Her head rose from her knees. “Come to think of it, you do look Valyrian...though I cannot say I've ever met anyone who was...”
Oh, what a slip. She snapped her mouth closed and sat up further. “Where am I?” She spoke calmer, and in the common tongue.
“We are in the wilderness of the Riverlands. Though we will be moving soon. Once I'm assured that you are well.”
“The Riverlands?” This far into Westeros? How could she have found herself so overshot of Kings Landing?
She looked into the sky. Drogon. He was so difficult to control. Notoriously temperamental. Even she, his mother, could not entirely bring him to heel. And he had left her well passed her intended place.
“How do you feel?” The girl had the kind, soft tone of her milieu. And intelligence behind those wide pretty eyes. She felt herself calming in her presence.
But the trauma of her memory was still returning. Her breath began to harry again, her pulse sparking. “I was...I can't...how did you...”
“Be still.” She uncurled gracefully from her poise upon the shore, revealing a taller form than would be expected. Dust fell in artful spirals off the curve of her bottom as she danced three steps over to meet her. The girl placed a hand upon her head and soothed her.
“Who are you?”
That pink mouth smirked. “Lady.”
“You mean I'm to call you Lady?” She retorted.
“And what shall I call you?” Lady said.
“Mysha.” She said quickly.
“Mysha. That's very pretty.”
“I still don't understand!” She lashed out. Her fingers curled around the dress at her knees, tugging.
“Shh.” Lady held both of her hands and stilled her.
“No. I was hurt-”
“You healed. Because you are changing. Later it wont happen so quickly, so be grateful.”
“I was dying.”
“I know. I found you.”
Her eyes widened. “I was-”
“I know.”
She stopped, staring up at Lady. Her frown deepened so it threatened to make her headache return. But those words stumped her.
“I know everything.”


How could she possibly explain this?
It was something so ingrained in her, Sansa wasn't sure what to say. There was a time she would have walked up on that girl on the stream, covered in her own blood and scarred beyond recognition, and Sansa wouldn't have known what to do. Except cry. And scream. And maybe run away.
But she knew now that wasn't the way. Fear had not lessened her pain, or sent anyone to save her. She'd had to save herself. And thus, she had grown up.
This woman, Mysha, was like to fight as well. Behind her confounded tears there were flashes of anger and demand. Her silver hair and jeweled purple eyes were enviable. She was small. And lovely. And very afraid.
But strong. She would be even stronger soon.
Sansa, or Lady as Mysha would know her, stood to regard her. “Stand and walk with me. It will help you clear your head.”
Mysha listened, taking Lady's hand and rising slowly. Lady tucked her hand close to help her wander from the shelter. The sun seemed to catch in Mysha's silver locks. Her porcelain skin was revealed all along her shoulders and collarbone, as the ill fitting dress dragged on the smaller woman's frame.
“You are entering another life now.” Lady told her. She led Mysha to the water and helped her kneel before it. “It will be confusing, but I am here for you.”
Lady cupped water in her hand for Mysha to drink. The girl drank greedily, her soft lips meeting Lady's palms when she finished. She dipped them into the cold stream thrice more before Mysha wiped her mouth.
“I do not know why he did this to you.” Lady told her. “He is a very unhappy man. A knight. But, no. He was never a knight. He is a rogue. And ever since he turned, he's become a monster.”
“I don't understand.” Mysha stood with her once more.
“He was never meant to be one of us.” Lady went on. “I don't know how it happened. But he changed. And now he is killing anyone in his path. I managed to save you. But...” Lady grabbed Mysha's hands again, bringing them to her heart. “You have to understand that the worst is not over. You have healed, and thank the old gods and the new for that. But now you have to stay with me. Or he will try to finish what he started.”
“Who?” Mysha said.
“The Hound.”


Her first change was horrible.
Daenerys sobbed and sobbed. The moonlight only made it worse. Her bones seemed to twist off hinge inside of her skin. She reformed and stretched, but never fully changed.
But Lady was there. She cradled her head in her lap and spoke softly to her.
“My brother, Rob, was with me when it first happened. Only, I had no attack to explain what happened to me. It was just inside of me, the wolf. My family sigil. It turned out that our banners were a sign of what was to come. Rob told me, all of our ancestors before us changed. My father, my grandfather. Even my bastard brother. We are the wolf. And nobody was to know. My father changed my mother on their first wedding night. And she held that secret with her all the while he went to war, and she grew large with his first son.”
Daenerys wasn't sure how much of this she would remember, but Lady's words seemed to help with the passage of time. So she laid there upon her lap and listened contently, even while the matrix of her body changed and sorted itself.
“It is only for now.” Lady kissed the top of her brow. “After this, it will all be okay. And I wont ever leave you. I promise.”
It turned out that Lady was as good as her word. The following nights were difficult, but nothing like the first. And all the while, her savior remained to see her through it.
And then, when her transformation finally came, she fully reveled in it.
Lady showed her how easy it was to turn. She removed her cloth dress, showing off miles of sinewy pale leg, and lifted her face to the moon. She breathed deeply of the night, and within a blink she was turned. Her grey coat was shadowed by the night, but nothing hid the beauty of her sparkling blue eyes.
The grey wolf stood there, expectant.
Mysha was unsure. Still, in her mind, she was the dragon. Not the wolf. She was flight and fire, not wood and pack.
But once she lifted her face to the moonlight, everything drifted away. No pain came this time. And no fear. Soon, Mysha relinquished herself to the night. And it all faded away.


She was even prettier in wolf skin.
Mysha's coat gleamed, matching the light of the moon. She ran within the trees, the silver of her hair flashing like stardust throughout the wood. She was small and quick, darting alike a doe.
Lady took the challenge. She stormed after her, feeling ungainly with her long wolf legs. Every time Mysha changed direction, Lady would bark in frustration. She would match her stride only to swerve suddenly to avoid a trench, or stumble to evade a tree. Mysha yipped playfully in the distance.
Lady chuffed. She sprinted passed the trees and onto the nearby path. Though loathed to use the roads, she briefly utilized it to cut off her prey. She passed Mysha, then cut her off through the glen, tackling her quickly and sending them both tumbling.
Mysha yelped, then snarled. The two she-wolves rolled and snapped, each attempting to get the upper hand. Mysha's jaws clamped down onto Lady's flank, but Lady shook her off easy and straddled her to mount. The smaller wolf squirmed. Lady bent low and claimed her, wracking her teeth down the side of Mysha's jawline.
Suddenly, fur vanished. Both girls tossed into the moonlight, nude and drenched with sweat. Lady caught Mysha's hands and trapped them against the moss covered ground. Mysha struggled, then stopped to laugh.
“You brute!” She protested.
Lady leaned above her in dominance. She ran her teeth in designs from Mysha's throat to her chest, eliciting more laughter.
“You're quite vicious in victory, aren't you?” Mysha sighed.
“You are no match.” Lady said. “This wolf wins.”
“A dragon never concedes.”
Their legs tangled together. Each rolled atop the other, taking turns as the aggressor. Sighs and giggles echoed into the trees.
They lay together into the night. Mysha was in her arms, cuddled against her front. Lady nuzzled the top of her brow with soft brushes of her lips and cheek.
A strong gust entered from the east. Mysha picked up her head.
Lady ran her fingers down her spine. “A gale.”
“No.” Mysha stood on her feet, padding softly away from her. Lady sighed. Her skin and hair were the striking colors of moon and starlight. The swells of her body were beautiful and she walked, unmindful of her nakedness.
“Wings.” Mysha said. “Drogon!”
She was wolf once more, darting into the trees.
Lady groaned, then changed herself and followed. The density of the forest did not hamper her slower stride. She held Mysha's scent with her, even as she lost sight of her mate through a bend in the wood.
The gust picked up again, and Lady's scruff stood on end. The wind did have a rhythmic beat to it. And off somewhere in the night, a flapping began to grow in sound.
Lady snarled at the sound. She stopped to sniff again. Mysha was gone, no where to be seen. But her scent led a trail through the mists of the forest.
Another sound grew over the flapping. Lady paused. She turned in a semi circle and her tail went to attention.
All went still. Shadows played on the trees as a cloud passed over the moon. A dark figure surfaced from beyond, skirting along the edges and rustling the leaves.
Lady bowed her head. The growl that surfaced from within her bore deep from her soul.
The dust kicked up again. The gale brought torrents of leaves spiraling through her fur. And the scent of him.
The Hound revealed himself from the trees. As a wolf, he was a giant dark thing. His fur was matted and uneven. His teeth were long daggers within the flaps of his slobbering muzzle. But worse than that was the scarring. The terrible scars that ran from his head down the left side of his face and neck. Exposed bone on his jaw line was pock marked, and no fur grew there.
Lady braced herself for the advance that she knew would come. This abomination of man and wolf had tormented the Riverlands for too long. Now she would die trying to stop him.
The wolf prowled low on his haunches. He gave a shifty quarter turn, then stopped to bark evilly. He was larger than her. And a true killer. There was no surviving this fight.
She faced him regardless.
The large wolf lunged. And Lady rushed forth to meet him.


Mysha could feel the heat on her face. Fire. It was tearing across the forest ahead of her. But she ran toward it as if it were her salvation. Soon flames licked at her body. But she continued. A pungent, inescapable smog filled her nostrils. But it was the smell of home.
Out of the abyss of smoke, black scales bathed in the heat. The great dragon beat its wings, sending flurries of sparks all throughout the tree tops.
She skidded to a stop and allowed the great beast to see his mother, the woman Daenerys who he'd dropped to the ground and left to become a wolf. Drogon screeched as the small woman approached him. He spat irritably, and Daenerys held a hand to him.
She must smell too much like wolf. The lizard reared its head and beat its wings.
“Drogon...” She attempted to sooth him, but the dragon snapped at her and pulled back in defense. His nostrils flared and streamlines of smoke poured from each. He was difficult, but she knew that he was trainable. If Viserion and Rhaegal could mind, so could their temperamental brother.
Just as she was starting to advance to him again, a sound carried over the rush of fire and wind. Mysha turned. A howl broke through the trees and reached her. It was the mournful cry of a dying wolf.
She didn't think. In a hairs breadth of time she was wolf again, and running from her hissing son into the forest.


The Hound tugged her around like a plaything. Blood seeped from her leg where he had worried it. Lady limped out of his reach and bayed at the moon. This was her only chance to stop the monster who had terrorized the lands of her uncle. She had seen too many bodies strewn about the Riverlands since The Hound had began his rampage. Now hers would be added.
Lady put too much weight on her back foot and whimpered. It would heal if she escaped with her life. But the ravenous beast was upon her again, all charging teeth and too much bulk. She would not be running anywhere.
Just as she began to cry out, the weight was gone from her body. Lady stood quickly. The Hound flew backward into a tree and yelped. His large body twisted, and he was on his feet again. But something stood between the two where before there was nothing.
At first, Lady was convinced that Mysha had returned for her. A small wolf stood between her and the monster. But upon further inspection, this wolf wasn't silver. It was brown. A small, brown thing.
Lady whimpered. The small wolf turned to look at her. Its sad eyes were completely white.
The Hound was lunging again. But before he could reach them, he was set upon by several wolves. A pack came upon the beast in a sudden force. And behind them, a Direwolf.
Nymeria. And...and...!
Everything else happened so quickly, Lady couldn't cope. The wolves barreling over The Hound, who would knock some back only to be swarmed over again. The sad, sad look in Arya's unseeing eyes as she turned at Nymeria's nudging to advance on The Hound. And then, the large dark wolf was free of them all and running into the wood, all of the wolves on his heels.
Lady swiftly changed, holding a hand to her nakedness and screaming into the night. “Arya! Arya, please!”
Mysha found her that way. Curled into a ball, her leg useless and bleeding into the dirt, sobbing out her sister's name again and again.


The wind was wild, spreading the fire throughout the trees. The morning light was hazy with the smoke.
“Where will you go?” She asked her, staring down at her feet. Drogon nudged the back of her knees and almost toppled her, but she held onto his wing thumb for support.
“Downwind. I have no idea where she's gotten to, but I have to find my sister. And my brothers. We have been separated for so long. I just...lost sight of what my true mission was.”
“Sansa. You said that you wouldn't ever leave me.”
She looked up at the reminder of her words. Her blue eyes were icy with repressed emotion.
“You have a throne to steal.” Sansa said.
“A throne to reclaim. The throne is mine.”
“I want no part of the world back at Kings Landing. That is where my life ended, Daenerys.”
“You could have a new life by my side. Wouldn't that be part of what you've always wanted? Lady?”
“It would mean turning my back on everything. I cannot do that to them. They're my blood.” Sansa said.
“And what am I? If your sister hadn't turned that Hound, I never would have become this.”
Drogon was getting restless from their bickering. His wings rustled, sending renewed gusts to fan the flames growing too nearby.
“I think you'll be just fine.” Sansa winced as she took a step. Her left leg was still mangled.
Daenerys softened. “Does it hurt that much?”
“I told you. When you first change, you regenerate quickly. But later it takes time.”
“What if The Hound is still out there?” Daenerys said.
“Then I will kill him.”
“That did not go so well the first time around.”
“I have to stop him.”
“And I cannot leave knowing you are going to kill yourself!”
The confession whipped around with the wind. The fire scaled higher, crisping everything in its path. Drogon shifted his bulk and nudged Daenerys' knees once more.
“What if I help you?” Daenerys finally said.
Sansa's eyes were critical. “What of your war?”
“I cannot think of riding to war on a dragon who tosses me. He'd be like to throw me directly to my enemies.” She playfully batted at Drogon. He took her entire hand into his mouth, but managed to gnaw gently with his spiky fangs.
Sansa stared at Daenerys' son. He stared back at her. It was not a kind gaze.
“No. Our paths detach from here.” Sansa looked to the horizon. Its orange glow lit the path to nowhere. An endless walk that would bring her abreast of the gods only knew what. “Goodbye.”
Her voice did not break when she walked away. The ground crumbled beneath her unsteady footfalls, but she did not stumble. Everything was choking smoke and long roads. And it might take months to find Arya again.
“Sansa, wait!”
Sansa turned just as Daenerys reached her. The silver woman clutched the ill fitting dress to her body, her feet stamping the fabric as she reached her. Sansa looked down at her and waited.
“I will find you.” Daenerys said. “One day.”
Drogon hissed when Daenerys took Sansa's hand. The sun rose higher, hidden behind a hazy black cloud. Soot settled over their clothing, but their locked gaze did not waver.
“Please do, my queen.” Sansa squeezed Dany's fingers, then turned to leave again.
Mysha straddled her dragon. Lady ran on all fours into the wild. A wolf in the air, a wolf on the ground, connected by their hearts.
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