Hey all. Since my last one-shot got quite some attention, I'd love to write some more GoT stuff, and here is another. I know that I'm slightly late with this, but I had no time to finish it sooner. Season finale was great btw. Already looking forward to next season, but then again, who doesn't?

Once more: title indicates the point to where you must have seen the series if you don't want any spoilers. Please Greyjoy... Uhm, I mean: enjoy.

S07E05: Fire Meets Ice

The wind blew harsh and enduringly on the cliffs of Dragonstone. Jon Snow's cloak flicked like a whip as it suffered nature's raw power. Though even with all its brutal strength, it could not subdue the northerner. For these gusts could never be as cold as the freezing breath that had welcomed him each time he had stood atop The Wall. He remembered those times all too well; even after his descend, it had felt like his face would never get warm again. No, in comparison to that, the maritime breeze here was nothing than a gentle stroke across his cheeks.

Jon made his, by now usual, round over the island, from the castle down to beach and back. Bound to stay on the island, he had no choice other than to walk around and contemplate the problems that needed to be overcome. He had to stop the Night King and his increasingly large army of Wights. Although having been granted permission to mine Obsidian from the nearby caves, the north alone still didn't have the manpower that was necessary to defend mankind against the legions of undead that were marching to The Wall. But in order to get more men, he had to persuade the other rulers of Westeros, Cersei and Daenerys, to agree to a peace treaty and aid in this battle. And to get that done, he first had to convince both these Queens that such an army even existed.

This was perhaps the hardest task. How could he get someone to believe in the living dead without them having seen it themselves? If only there was a way to show them that the Night King was real and not a fantasy. That he was the greatest threat that mankind had faced thus far, instead of a mere bedtime story to frighten little children. Sadly he couldn't think of one. Thus he had to persuade two women – that were already suspicious since they waged war against each other – to settle their differences because of a mythical horde of zombie warriors coming for Westeros. And if there was anything his father had taught him about women, it was not to intervene when they were fighting.

He halted atop one of the many cliffs and peered out into the distance. Dragonstone, despite being closer to King's Landing than Winterfell, almost seemed further away due to the vast amount of water that lay between it and the main land, stretching out to all horizons and beyond.

Staying here could be considered both a blessing and a curse. The flat blue walls that imprisoned the islanders upheld an impression of seclusion that was strong enough to give you the idea that you could escape the problems of the world. But Jon was never one to forget a problem easily, therefore the isolation was maddening. Although his strategy to defeat the Night King needed some pondering, it was evident that being kept here, was not helping him come up with improvements.

He stared down into the dark mass below, hoping that somehow the sea would shout out an answer to him. That it would break its pattern of trashing the rocks with its turbulent waves and present a possibility to save humanity from the imminent darkness.

His stare was broken by a strange sound. Albeit hard to hear amongst the noise of the roiling waters beneath, it was distinguishable because it was something different. A faint screech that could only indicate one thing. His eyes scoured the sky for that which his ears already knew was headed his way. After a brief moment, his pupils locked onto the small, dark silhouette with wings. It was tiny still, yet grew quickly as it made its way towards the island.

Jon walked slowly to the end of the cliff, yet before he reached it, the huge dragon was already close by. Its cry echoed against the rocky shoreline as it recognized its destination. The skin of its wings tremored as they tamed the winds that held the animal airborne, whilst the tail made circular moves in order for the body to maintain a straight course. The head was the only thing that remained unwavering as its eyes were fixated on the path that lie ahead. Its wings were in fact so massive and powerful, that every stroke displaced enough air for Jon to feel the zephyrs of the dragon flying overhead. The horrors that the dragon's aggressive attitude and fiery breath could unleash were temporarily buried under the majesty of its shape and flight. It was like a glance in the past, to the time when these creatures still dominated the world from their kingdom in the heavens. For the moment, Jon could only sense admiration.

Unfortunately, as he had been staring, Jon noticed a little late that the animal in question had chosen to land not far from him, its thick claws sinking deep into the grassy earth. Worse yet, it made its way over to him.

The fact that mobility and grace had gone to waste after the beast's touchdown, were things Jon hardly had eyes for. The enormity suddenly began charging towards him and it froze him up with anxiety. It unleashed an ear-puncturing scream as it opened its jaws, showing its with saliva covered teeth. The four inch long daggers and blood-stained tongue were likely the last thing many men had seen before their journey on this world had come to an end. As it rose up high above the King of Winterfell, its volume, size and reputation, had him overcome by fear. Although it was unlikely that Daenerys would allow her 'child' to attack him, his subconscious wasn't as convinced as his sense of reason. His eyes shot left and right as he decided which way to run.

Suddenly, a voice resounded in his head.

'Hold your ground, Jon.'

He remembered that line. It was something his father had said to him when they first encountered a wolf. Like then, he had felt an irrepressible urge to make a run for safety. To run back to Winterfell and lock the door. It had been his father who had told him otherwise. Not giving up territory was vital when facing a wolf. Because if you did, you acted like prey. And if you acted like prey, you'd become the prey. Stare right back, and you weren't prey. You were an equal.

But the sole reason Jon had managed to maintain his nerves back then, had been because his father had placed a hand on his shoulder. Now it was up to him alone to suppress his anxiety. To stand his ground against something that was ten times bigger than a wolf… ten times bigger ten him…

'Hold your ground, Jon.'

Jon thought about the line that kept being repeated by his memory. Although this monster was definitely not a Dire Wolf, it dawned on him that the situation was maybe not so different as he originally assumed. If it had wanted to kill him, it could already have done so. This was an act intimidation, meant to test Jon's strength and confidence. Like with the wolf, if he'd stay put, he might be able to earn the animal's respect. Also, if he ran now, what would Daenerys think of him? She would never help him fight the Night King if he cowered like a turtle. No, he had to maintain his position. However the stories of Old Nan about dragons being the most dangerous creature ever to have roamed the earth, gnawed on his subconscious, keeping it on edge and making him quiver from head to toe.

Luckily, the black-scaled beast ceased its vocal intimidation. This allowed Jon to regain enough calm to determine that this was Drogon, the largest of Daenerys' reptilian offspring. However the moment was less than brief since Drogon in turn was equally curious to find out who he was. Or so he thought. The problem was, that there was no way for him to discern curiosity from hostility. Drogon had a natural expression of anger written over him and Jon had no idea what features to look for to read the emotional state of the giant in front of him. And as Drogon's face drew closer with every second, Jon couldn't keep himself from trembling even more.

He had never been this close to any of the dragons, let alone establish contact with them. And as they probably saw Daenerys as much a relative as she saw them, it was logical that they were interested to know who she had been talking with for the past days.

Like all animals, dragon too communicated a great deal through smell. But since Jon was so unsure of what was to come, every of Drogon's sniffs made a greater portion of Jon's blood retract from his feet. The head was only an arm's length away. The dark slits within the orange irises watched him carefully, taking in every detail. It was easy for Jon to count every spine that wreathed the large skull, yet all he could see were the bared teeth. They curved out of the jaws, each with a different angle, yet altogether forming a straight line of spikes that barricaded the inside of the mouth by interlocking perfectly. Unlike many other reptiles, Drogon's teeth were not serrated, but smooth with viciously sharp points and their roots buried deep in the gums. They were excellent for exerting high amounts of force to crush flesh and bone… probably armor as well.

From Drogon's back, Daenerys could not see what was happening. She knew that she had pulled on the spines to keep her child from tearing into her newfound ally, yet was astonished by how quickly he had reacted. As if he had never had the intention of attacking Jon Snow, even though she knew that none of her dragons took kind to strangers that wandered within range of their jaws. What annoyed her, was that she could not look past Drogon's massive neck and head and was therefore unaware of what played out between Jon and her eldest.

As seconds passed without anything happening, Jon caught himself thinking of something that was so absurd that he hadn't thought he could come up with it on his own. Or maybe it was not so idiotic. Deep down, he had a strong feeling that Drogon's actions demanded a response. Maybe the warm wind of the south had corroded his brains or maybe it was just the adrenaline that clouded his rationality. Either way, he couldn't resist carrying out the crazy idea that had just formed in his head. He had to give it a try.

He pulled his left glove from his hand and carefully extended his hand. His heartrate rose to precarious heights as he reached closer and closer to Drogon's crushing maw. Apparently, Jon's weird idea of Drogon insisting on a reaction was not that farfetched after all. The animal did another step towards him, bringing its nose even closer to him. In addition, the fact that he hadn't lost his hand – or more realistically, his entire arm – gave him the courage to go even further. His hand was shaking like a leaf as it approached the glistening fangs, yet maintained its small momentum forward.

Suddenly Drogon started growling and Jon's heart stopped. He hesitated. Maybe he ought to abandon his course of action and be happy to have survived the encounter rather than pushing his luck. But then Drogon's lips covered his gums, his rumbling faded and he bend a little forward. It gave Jon the last bit of confidence he needed. He did a small step forward and placed his hand on the scaly muzzle.

To his surprise, the dragon's hide was not at all what he had expected. In his mind, it had been rough like sandpaper and rigid as wood. The skin was actually smooth and pliant like leather, albeit more dented than usual. Stroking the animal, he could feel its warmth, its heartrate, its life. Drogon emitted a soft rumbling sound. Jon looked up into the citrine eyes at the end of the long skull. They stared back at him kindly, quite the opposite of what he had seen before. As if the big eyes welcoming him like a long lost friend. As he continued to caress Drogon's nose, he sensed a sort of mutual understanding with the beast. A primordial connection that he had only ever experienced with Ghost. It was almost as if he was permitted entry to Drogon's mind, exchanging thoughts, feelings, even the smallest figments of the brain.

And as much as the eyes gave, they took back from Jon himself. The eyes seemed to know what troubled him, what burden he was carrying, what perils he had seen in his life... or in his death. They stared back with compassion. It was at that moment, Jon reckoned that just as he was reading its mind, the dragon read his. It reminded him of the connection Daenerys had spoken of while describing her relationship with them. And in that split-second that his focus had dulled, the moment of intertwinement with this magnificent creature slipped away.

Jon lowered his hand.

He tried to fathom what had happened. How could he form such a strong connection with a dragon? He was a Stark, a northerner, born from ice, born from snow, a bastard no less! Dragons were pureblooded creatures of fire and flight; they ought to be his more like his counterpart if anything at all to him. Why was it, that Drogon's eyes had radiated so much familiarity.

He looked up as Daenerys stepped from Drogon's back. She had seen how they had interacted and smiled proudly as she treaded towards him. He donned his glove, trying to avoid her shimmering eyes. Meanwhile Drogon took off with a screeching goodbye. Despite Jon still having difficulties trying to believe what had befallen him, he knew that he would never forget this moment. The sensation that the dragon's eyes had awoken in him had been indescribably beautiful. He had felt like the little boy again, with his father after the encounter with the wolf. Filled with pride, amazement and exhilaration.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Daenerys said.

He wanted to agree with her. Tell her all about the experience, about the sensation that the dragon had awoken within him. However, something whispered to him that it was best to keep it all to himself. To cherish, not brag about it. So instead, he chose to produce a mild reply with a slight taste of humor.

"Wasn't the word I was thinking of, but…"

The joyful flames that had burnt in Daenerys' eyes were extinguished in a second by his attempted joke. Jon quickly reformulated his answer to avoid a negative influence on their future alliance.

"But yes. They are. Gorgeous beasts."