Chapter Text
A Song Told Through Time
By wicked17writer
Chapter 1
The Past
The long night came.
A battle was fought and lost at Winterfell.
And a girl was alone once again. The many-faced God had granted her request, she would not die with her family, friends, and allies. She would not die today.
Not today.
The Present
She couldn’t breathe properly. There was pressure on her body everywhere. And it was so warm. It was suffocating and sweltering and she was so confused and afraid. There was also a strong smell of earth and blood and sweat, but also the faintest hint of rot and death. She opened her mouth to take in a breath or perhaps yell for help, but dirt filled in and she nearly choked instead. She began to thrash and claw at what surrounded her. She was buried, that was clear to her now, buried alive and all she could think was “OUT”. She had to get up and out and free.
It was no easy task, digging free of her would be grave, but she did it. She had no concept of how long it took but panting and gasping she broke free to the surface. Her muscles ached and the taste of blood and dirt coated her lips and once free of the ground she was nearly blinded by the sun, but she welcomed all the pain as it was a reminder that she was alive.
Using her hand as shield she let her eyes adjust and took stock of her surroundings. She hadn’t been buried that deep, but there was a sizeable hole at her feet now. Looking around she saw mostly straw-colored grass but before she truly got her bearings or had time to really question where and why she had been buried alive, let alone why she didn’t seem to remember it happening, nor much else, she spied some rough looking men heading her way.
There was a part of her, a small stupid part, that perked up in excitement, after all they could help her, couldn’t they? If they were good and kind people, surely, they would help her? That small stupid part of her was quickly squashed down by more logical and suspicious sensibilities.
There were five men in the group heading towards her. All large and burly, armed with weapons that hung loosely from their fingertips. From their stance she quickly deduced they saw her as no threat. One called out to her, she thinks, but he spoke a language she didn’t understand. Instinct had her moving backward, only then did she realize there was a sword on her own hip and a fancy dagger on the other one.
She drew the blade, it was long and thin like a needle, but it looked sharp enough she supposed. The men chuckled at the sight of it. Anger flashed through her at their ridicule, but better judgement had her turning to run away. Only to stop immediately.
There was a group of six men approaching from the other side. She was surrounded. The group of six were much farther away though, it would take them a few minutes at least to reach her, if they didn’t run. Which they weren’t.
She took a breath. She was tired from her ordeal in the dirt. She was thirsty and hot. The sun above shone brightly and sapped her strength, looking down at her attire it did not seem she was dressed for the warm climate. But she didn’t have time to correct that. She didn’t have time to rest. She didn’t have time for anything but to assume a fighting stance.
Both groups of men called out to her jeeringly, words she could not understand but the sentiment of which translated effortlessly.
The battlefield she found herself on was not ideal. For one, beyond the hole of dirt she emerged from there seemed to be nothing but flat grassland that slowly sloped up on all sides, leaving her in a barren pit of yellow green nothing. There were no trees, no boulders, nothing. Nothing but six rough looking men at the top of the hill slowly making their way down to her and the five already on her level getting ever closer.
Yes, surrounded on all sides by an unknown enemy that outweighed and outnumbered her was not ideal at all.
She would have to choose her first opponent carefully, turning she observed the group of five that were almost upon her position. The largest of all the men was in that group. He was by far the tallest and the widest, while still looking fit enough to still be quick. To his left was possibly the youngest of the group, and to his right with as man with a white beard. To the far left was a man with a bow and to the far right was a man with a trim black mustache.
The enemy was now only paces away from her, that was all that mattered. She did not dither on doubts or questions. She just moved.
Running as fast as she could towards the largest man on the field she dove between the oaf’s legs, tumbling before getting to her feet in one smooth move. Now at least all her opponents were in front of her.
She used her slim blade to stab the large man through the neck while simultaneously grabbing up her dagger, slashing at the pair of hands reaching for her from the bearded man. Dancing away from the men she kept her weapons up and at the ready, they seemed in shock as the largest of them fell to the floor gurgling, spewing blood out the throat, dying.
She took advantage of their surprise, darting forward she stabbed her blade through the young one’s gut before retreating and waiting for their counterattack. This seemed to galvanize the men, the group of six that had been furthest away now hustled towards them faster and the group of five, now three, converged on her.
The mustached one made to swipe at her neck with a sword while the older bearded one grabbed her arm to hold her in place, she allowed the grabber to make contact and in fact grabbed him back. Pulling with all her might she ducked down and forced Beard-y to take her place. Unfortunately, given the height difference between her and Beard-y when his friend swung his sword at her neck it was at level with the older man’s bicep. She had hoped that the blow would kill him but it did not. However, there was such power in the swing that Beard-y’s arm was completely detached from his body.
Sword still in severed arms hand, the appendage fell to the floor with a ‘plop’ and the man who had been maimed started to scream. As did the one who did the maiming. And the bowman who had stayed out of the fray entirely. Once again, she took advantage of their momentary shock.
Striking out with her foot she kicked the mustached one as hard a she could between the legs. As he bent in half, dropping his sword to hold himself she lashed out with her dagger cutting his neck.
The group of six were upon them now, but seeing her dispatch so many so quickly had them hanging back. She jumped on the bowman, the last of the unharmed group of five, now two, he fell onto his back in the dirt and felt her dagger sink into his heart before he could even react. Getting to her feet she looked at Beard-y, screaming and bleeding and now one armed, he looked at her in horror. She smiled in the face of his fear. She gave a kick to the older man’s chest, watching him fall into the hole she had dug her way out of not fifteen minutes ago.
And just like those eleven opponents became six.
The remaining men no longer looked at her with amusement. Now she saw anger and caution as they murmured quietly to each other. The leader of the six had a darker complexion than the others, and a long black braid that reached halfway down his back. From his calculating eyes, she just knew he would be a challenge.
She sighed, and wiped a few stray hairs to the side of her face, the sweat pouring off her would hopefully keep them in place. Having dispatched five grown men already and now facing down six more, on top of the mystery trauma that had started her day with an arduous amount of digging, she felt a deep sense of fatigue settled over her. She feared the next fight would be more taxing than her already drained body could handle.
Still, she planted her feet firmly readying for attack.
The group of six split up, the hole at her feet meant they could not attack her head on, they had to go around. The leader said something to his men, a command of some kind. And then his men were running at her in tandem, two from the left, two from the right. She decided to face the enemy to the right first, those two looked younger and therefore were probably faster. This was a mistake as the leader waited until his men were close enough to turn her attention to them before he jumped across the hole with ease, tackling her to ground and taking her by surprise.
It was only a second before the other men were on her, pinning her limbs to the floor as she struggled under the weight of the man crushing her to the ground. She was quickly disarmed and punched in the face, though she turned her head to let the fist glance across her cheek instead of letting the blow on her nose as intended, it still hurt and disoriented her a bit. She was punched again, too slow to avoid it that time, her nose exploded in pain and blood began to flow down her face.
This made the men laugh and her vision grow fuzzy at the edges.
She was so tired and it was so hot and now there were hands groping her body and heckling her, raining down random slaps to the face. She snarled like a wolf and tried to bite the hands that hurt her but this just made the men laugh more. When she spat blood at the leader, the glob landing in his eye, her head was taken between two large hands and slammed into the ground.
It was all so disorienting it took her some time to realize they were now undressing her.
A man at her waist was unlacing her breaches, another working on her boots. The leader was grinding his dick into her stomach, a hateful smirk on his face as he grabbed up her face and dug his nails into her cheek, forcing her lips into a pucker. He pressed their lips together and while she struggled against him and the other hands on her body, she knew it was of no use. She was outmatched. Most likely these men would rape her to death. She would have to wait until after or during the act itself to make a move and fight back in a meaningful way.
Her pants had just been tugged down to her knees when a growling noise filled the air. Everyone stilled. It was instinctual for all of them she thinks, to freeze at a sound like that. She did not see recognition in the men’s faces. It was not a human growl. Or a wolf. Or a bear or any earthly creature. This was the growl of a giant.
Then the earth shifted. Literally, the dirt underneath them all was moving, like something underneath it was breathing…or waking. The leader of the men attacking her said something, but no one had time to reply as just a few paces away from them the earth erupted in fire.
The men scrambled off and away from her. And though her head swam, dizzy, her vision blurry, she managed to pull her pants back into place and grab her weapons off the ground. Struggling to her feet she missed twice before she was able to sheath her dagger.
The men were fleeing, but she did not think it would make a difference. The sloping hill that surrounded them on all sides, there was something underneath it. And it was breaking free.
Grass and dirt rained down as a fire breathing dragon shook off its earthy blanket. It was huge. It had black and red colored scales, and red-black wings that it shook out, getting rid of as much dirt as it could. Angry perhaps, at being buried in the dirt like she had, it let out a terrible roar. Then breathed fire into the air, seemingly just because it could.
She could not fight a dragon, she would have had better odds with the men intent on raping her, but still a manic smile made its way to her lips. She was perhaps shaking in fear, or maybe it was the exhaustion, it didn’t really matter, and she didn’t think it would help but with a trembling hand she raised her small sword and assumed a fighting stance. It was stupid, she knew, but be it stupidity or pride, she wanted to die on her feet with a sword in her hand.
They eyes of the dragon swept over the scene taking in the fleeing men, then down to the ground the dragon looked at her. A name came to her lips, it was not her name, right now she didn’t know her own name, but she knew the dragon’s name. Without thinking she called out to him, “Drogon!”
As their eyes met something very strange happened. There was a flash and her vision went white. And then like blinking, it was back, only now she was looking at herself. But from a much higher vantage point.
It was an uncomfortable sensation, this perspective, like a sword in her head, and her thoughts were trying to work around the stabbing sword but she just couldn’t make the connections work. And so, her thoughts were more unformed, more visceral, more like pure instincts and feelings.
She felt recognition, anger, sorrow, a thirst for vengeance she could not help but relate to and at last determination.
And then she was herself again. And her head hurt so much more than before. So much that her eyes began to flutter, trying to close. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t miss meeting the many-faced God, awake and aware, that’s how she wanted to go. But it was no use. Her eyes closed, her hand went slack, the blade fell, and so followed her body. To the ground, asleep once again.
*
*
*
Her second awakening was more pleasant, but only in comparison. Ash and smoke filled her nose, making her cough and groan as she curled in on herself. She could smell the dirt underneath her and she could feel the stiffness in her limbs, but that wasn’t what troubled her. It was the sound of a large beast breathing that had her clinging to the safety of unconsciousness.
But she couldn’t stay asleep. She was awake now, and she could feel the heat radiating off the body of the dragon all around her.
Slowly she opened her eyes, her sword was the first thing she saw. On the ground in front of her, but right behind it, at first unfocused in her vision, was the face of the dragon. It was awake and staring right at her.
Quick as she could she snatched up her sword, but slowly she sat up. The dragon’s eyes tracked her every movement.
She was still afraid, but her body no longer trembled.
“Drogon,” She said quietly, the dragon tilted its head as if saying ‘go on’ and suddenly she knew her name. “I am Arya.”
It was the only thing she knew about herself.
The dragon watched silently as got to her feet and then walked away from it. She had no plan really, she just picked a direction at random and started walking in a straight line, slowly at first but then her strides gained confidence as she grew more certain her body would not fail her again. When she walked past what she assumed were the charred corpses of her would be rapists, to her great surprise, Drogon started to follow her. Once she registered what the dragon was doing, she stopped, and then he stopped.
She stared up at him questioningly, he stared back, but what he was thinking she did not know. As he didn’t appear to want to kill her, she decided it was something she could not dwell on. She had more pressing concerns than a lonely dragon. So, with a shrug she started to walk once more. The great dragon following behind did not have to take many steps to keep pace with her, and so they made their way forward, together, if not a little awkwardly.
She was very troubled by her lack of memory, but at a loss as to what could be done. Should she sit and weep about it? Talk her self in circles about what could be the cause? No. It did not matter why or how she lost her memories, because nothing could be done about it. Not now anyway. Either she lost her memory from a blow to the head or it was a curse or magic of some kind. And considered she woke after being buried alive with a dragon that was now following her like a lost duckling, she was leaning towards magic being the cause.
Her mental faculties seemed to be unaffected by whatever had befallen her memory. Or at least she thought so. So, with a nod to herself, she decided to not ponder her mysterious ailment, there were much more important things to contend with. Like finding clean water and food. Shelter. Coin.
After some light exploration she soon discovered they were on an island. It wasn’t a very large island as she was able to walk the circumference within an hour or so.
It seemed while she had been asleep Drogon had taken it upon himself to kill everyone on the little island and set everything that could have been helpful to her on fire. Like the few buildings, the dock and boats, and more importantly the little well at the center of town. How and why a dragon would go out of its way to set a well on fire, she could not even guess.
She glared at the great beast as she contemplated her options. She didn’t have many. And so, she vented aloud to the source of her ire, though she wasn’t sure he would even understand, “You fucking fuck.” She grumbled as she sifted through the remains of a cart filled with charred food stuff. “What am I to do now, hmm? Eat grass?”
The burnt remains of the food were obviously grown elsewhere and imported to the island from somewhere else, so the island was at least close to some other port or land. But how close was the question. “And how will I get there?” She continued to rant to the dragon, “Where ever ‘there’ is. Hmm? Swim? Wait for winter to come to freeze the ocean and walk!?”
She kicked a burnt bucket in frustration. “At this point I'm thinking I would have been better off with the bloody rapist.”
The dragon let out a noise between a snarl and a grunt, which she interrupted as a feeling of indignation. She let her glare soften minutely, “Not that I’m not grateful and all, but really, what the am I supposed to do? I can’t just fly back to civilization like you can! You’ve effectively trapped me here with no food and no water and no way to escape this burnt to a crisp barren island!”
Drogon roared at her and she was so annoyed by everything that had happened thus far that she just roared back at him. It was actually pretty cathartic.
Either angry or amused, the dragon took his giant wing, and gently for a dragon she supposed, pushed her to the ground.
“Are you joking!” She exploded shrilly as she climbed to her feet, only to be pushed to the ground once again. A scream tore its way from her throat, and with no care to how childish she may appear, Arya kicked the ground several times while pounding her balled up fists into the dirt. That felt a little cathartic too.
When she was done throwing her little fit, she felt a bit better, if not more defeated. Getting back to her feet with a sigh she startwd walking back to the shore. Away from the smell of burnt everything and toward the soothing sounds of the ocean crashing on beach.
The sun was setting, it was already growing dark and that meant it would be cold soon. And frankly she never wanted to sleep in dirt again. She let her body slowly melt down until she was seated in the sand, taking off her outer coat she laid it down to act as a pillow. Finally, she laid down and looked up. The stars were just starting to peek out of the darkness.
Turning on her side she watched as the dragon settled to the ground copying her. It curled its big body around her, until it could rest its head on its tail completing the circle of warmth and protection around her. She supposed this was the pose they were in this morning, buried under dirt though they had been.
She wondered about the dragon and her connection to it. Why had it spared her when it seemingly decimated an entire island on a whim? Why were they buried alive together? To what end? What happened to her? Why was she dressed for winter when they were in the middle of summer? So many questions and all she had to look to for answers was a disgruntled dragon and her own incomplete mind.
Shuffling back, she pressed against the dragon for warmth. On her brief exploration of the tiny island, she had found no other sources of clean water, no streams, or lakes, or anything. Besides the well which had been melted to ruin, and the undrinkable ocean, there was no water for her on the island. That would be the first thing she dealt with in the morning.
She didn’t remember falling asleep, but it was restful.
The next morning she awoke with a goal in mind. Find clean water. She spent the day thoroughly searching the island and found nothing. Tired, hopeless, thirsty, and hungry, she collapsed onto the beach before night had even descended once again.
She and the dragon slept on the beach in the same pose as the day before, only now she was a bit bolder. Cuddling up to the dragon more and using it as a proper pillow, and her jacket as a blanket.
On the third day, at earliest light she decided her only hope to live was to leave the island all together. She figured she had two choices, either build a raft, or use the dragon to escape.
She stared the dragon down in hopes it would read her mind and sense her resolve. It stared back, its thoughts unknown to her. After a few minutes of silence between herself and the beast she concluded staring didn’t seem to be working. Perhaps a more direct approach? “I need to leave the island or I will die.”
Drogon made a chuffing sound through his nose. “Will you help me?” She asked just a tad softer than she intended. When the dragon didn’t react, she grew irate once again, “Or do you intend to just watch my feeble attempts at survive like I am some deranged one-woman mummer’s play suffering just for your amusement!?”
At the contempt in her voice a little growl was released in the back of the dragon’s throat. She was unintimidated. “Well?" She prompted, "Are you on my side or not?”
Again, the dragon didn’t respond. He continued to stare at her, but now there was something imploring in his gaze. She got the feeling he was trying to communicate with her, but she just wasn’t getting it.
“Drogon,” She drew closer to the dragon’s face and in response he lowered his head so they were at eye level with each other, she put a gentle hand on his snout. Her voice lost all trace of frustration, until only desperate vulnerability was left, “Will you fly me away from here?”
Finally, a reaction. The dragon nuzzled into her touch. And then he lowered his body to the ground, looking at her expectantly.
She was terrified, but she climbed on. Once settled, Drogon took to the air.
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AI helped me visualize the scene of Drogon bursting out of his Hibernation/Grave
Alternate Versions of my AI generated Cover Art
Alternate Versions of my AI generated Cover Art (Not all so successful, enjoy my failures!)
