I have become obsessed with Game Of Thrones and The Winds Of Winter is taking ages to be released so until then, I'll just imagine what's going to happen.

I don't own anything.

Loads of spoilers, you've been warned.

... Prince Oberyn... if you've read the books or seen the latest episode you'll understand. -.-

4 months after regaining the Second Suns allegiance, we stumble across a field heavily deprived of green and littered in black tinted bone, smelling faintly of singed flesh and fear. My nose crunches up at the unpleasant stench and I reign down the sudden urge to spew the contents of my lunch on to the ground. After all, I could hardly make the land look any worse could I?

A man, most likely the owner of the land, sits with his hands clasped upon his ears, chanting over and over as his eyes- glazed and frantic- stare into the distance; lost and terror-filled. I would feel pity for the man if I hadn't recently been almost murdered by my own sister and father. What a pleasant family the Gods have bestowed upon me.

Ser Jorah does not seem to share my condolences for the broken man however, as his eyes only seem to brighten up at the sight as he stumbles over himself in his haste to reach the man. I rub my eyes- baffled at how Ser Jorah Mormont could grace a grin at a scene like this- and re-open them, only to be graced with the same gruesome sight. I mindlessly follow after him, eager to understand why the older man is acting this… strangely. He's has not smiled like that before..

As I near I begin to hear words of 'black demon', 'death', 'fire' repeated in a mantra as Ser Jorah kneels beside him; trying to coax more information out of the grief- stricken man. Suddenly the knight's smile makes sense in this, otherwise, dreadful place as the names Daenerys Targaryen and Drogon seem to scream from the smoke and ashes. A rare but welcome- very welcome- feeling begins to fester in my stomach as I realise we may have bought ourselves a step closer to meeting The Mother Of Dragons.

My giddy thoughts are broken as the farmer's hand shoots up, rapidly shaking but firm in its direction towards the tall mountains- vaguely detectable through the thick white tinted fog cloaking it - west from here.

As Ser Jorah's green eyes slowly rise to meet mine with a notable shine and glimmer that was previously unseen, I cannot stop my lips from forming a small but genuine smile. Maybe those who have been wrongfully mistreated by people like Joffrey and Tywin can finally have justice. We can only hope.

"I'm counting on you Daenerys Stormborn."

After travelling for a week and half in the general direction of west and the farmer's departing words of 'how will you stop the demon?' plaguing my mind, I begin to wonder if this was such a good idea after all. How do you stop a dragon? I may have survived a sword to the face but I am not so certain my body would enjoy being cooked to a crisp by the fire of a dragon and I am not willing to test it out.

As a gaze up at my travelling companion he seems unfazed by the man's words, only set on regaining his Queen's trust and forgiveness; no matter the cost. Is this how I looked when I was infatuated with Shay? So pathetically in love that I was willing to do anything for her?

No, I tell myself, Daenerys and Shay are two different people. I have no right to compare the two. Not after what Shay did to me. I stop abruptly as my heart tightens painfully at the memory of her testifying against me, spewing all those lies, lying in bed with my own father. My hands curl up to the point that my nails begin to draw blood, my teeth clenching together at the very thought. It felt so good watching the life drain from both of them; I just wished I had made their suffering linger. For Oberyn Martell… for his sister… for his family.

"What?"

Ser Jorah's rough voice- coated with fatigue and slight agitation- brings me back to reality and I look up at him questionably. "What what?"

The knight shifts his weight and exhales harshly in impatience. "We've stopped and you were muttering something about the Martell family."

I open my mouth to reply but a loud shrieking prevents me from continuing. My spine shivers and my skin pales as a large shadowed figure forms above us before descending on to the ground mere feet from our position. I grasp at the older man's arm and slightly cower behind him, too frightened to be ashamed of my unexpected coward-ness. My throat constricts as my breathing stops at the sight of the almighty beast. Drogon.

I stare up in awe at the sight of scaled skin, blackened eyes, horned head and wings the size of King's landing. The legends cannot begin to prepare you for something like this. The dragon snarls angrily at us- his perfectly pointed teeth visible- as he senses my fear, his obsidian orbs glinting in hunger and glee at the sight of fresh meat.

My heart freezes as Ser Jorah steps forward, his fear and nervousness carefully masked by an emotionless and indifferent façade. I almost try to pull the knight back but hesitate, my arm slightly outstretched, as the dragon's mouth snaps shut as his eyes lock upon Ser Jorah. His head tilts slightly to the left, studying, watching as the man continues edging ever closer to the beast; as if aware that the dragon seems to recognise him. Time appears to stop as Ser Jorah and Drogon stand, staring at each other as if waiting for… well something.

Suddenly, Drogon lets out a loud and piercing shriek, forcing me to cover my eyes in futile desperation to block out the sound. I watch helplessly as fire seeps from the black dragon's mouth, creating a cloud of ash grey smoke that shrouds all three of us.

"Jorah!" I accidently breath in a mouthful of smoke that sends me into a coughing fit, blurring my eyesight and preventing from seeing whether or not Ser Jorah was burnt alive or not. As the smoke begins to simmer I frantically rub at my eyes, ignoring the sting that has resided there, and open them. A disbelieved laugh escapes my now tender throat as Jorah begins to reappear in my line of sight; seemingly unharmed.

"Where's Daenerys?" His voice stand firm amidst the chaos and death that the dragon represents and I begin to feel a great deal of respect and admiration for Jorah Mormont all of a sudden. This women must really be something for a man to walk blindly into the most dangerous of situations. Ah Love. It is both a blessing and a curse.

Drogon simply snorts in reply before taking off up the lane, shrieking all the way.

"He wants us to follow."

"I thought he may have eaten us for a second there." I chuckle a little, mostly in relief of still being alive.

"That would have been better."

I look at him, perplexed at his answer, but he continues to gaze in the direction Drogon flew off.

"What could possibly be worse than dying?"

Ser Jorah looks brokenly back at me and I frown at the restored emptiness and pain in his eyes that has been missing- thankfully- for the past week and a half.

"If Drogon is asking for our help then it means Daenerys is in trouble."

And with that the knight takes off at a hurried pace up the lane, not even bothering to check if I am following. My stomach begins to restrict in dread as a million scenarios pass through my mind.

I have a bad feeling about this.

I haven't written for a while so I might be a little rusty, comments are appreciated! Still not sure where to go with this so any ideas will be considered:-)