"I am no maester to quote history at you, Your Grace. Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and...
"CERTAINTY OF DEATH. SMALL CHANCE OF SUCCESS. WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR?" - Gimli, Lord of the Rings: Return of the King.
Year: 121ac
Location: Winterfell
It was a cold Winters morning when Dralarys had found someone in her room by the window.
The man was unknown to her.
She stood by her door, tempted to pry it open and call out for her guards, but she didn't.
A flat table stood by the window while the man had been laying on it, with nothing, but an undergarment to hide his privates.
A direwolf, not rare amongst Winterfell, but never kept as a pet, was sleeping underneath the table as if it was protecting the man on the table.
9 year old Dralarys Targaryen had taken it upon herself to step forward towards the man.
The Direwolf woke up from its sleep, now standing. The wolf was in no way of any threat towards her. He had waited for her to step closer before sniffing her hand. The wolf licked the back of her hand and then sat down next to her.
Dralarys eyed the man on the table.
No responses of breathing or any movement were made.
This man was dead.
Cuts on his chest are visible. This man had been stabbed several times before death eventually arrived.
There was a cut to the right side of his head near his brow down towards the lower part of his eye.
Why was she seeing this?
What was she to do?
The Direwolf slightly pouts.
Dralarys had reached over, putting her warm hands over his heart.
Behind her, stood Bran Stark, watching the young Targaryen without being detected.
Dralarys felt how cold a dead body could be.
In just an instant, it was if something was telling her to say the words. But the words were unclear. It was more like a bell. Bells ringing. People crying out for help if this man did not return.
Dralarys spoke. "Wake up, Jon Snow!" Her little 9 year old self somehow knew this deadman's name. But the man did not move. "Wake up, Jon!" Nothing. Just more noise. The crying and calling out got louder and louder. The Bells ringing over and over. Fire sounds and destruction were heard. Dralarys cried out. "WAKE UP, AEGON!"
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Suddenly the man opened his eyes, gasping for air.
For a moment. Just a moment. The mans eyes had seen 9 year old Dralarys next to the Direwolf, just before he blinked. And when he did... she was gone.
