The White Dragon - A Redhead and a Dragon. (Patreon)

Ygritte, Bolton Lands – the North.

Everything had gone to shit.

Simple as that. There was no other way to put it. They had been careless, and the group had been cornered by a group of deranged kneelers.

They had fought back, of course. They had taken down at least half a dozen bastards, but the enemy was far more numerous, better armed, and better protected.

Not to mention the fucking rabid bitches that had torn Orell apart, thought the redhead, with barely any strength left in her body after the terrible night.

Ygritte and Tormund had been captured. Orell’s body had been thrown into a nearby river, left for the crows and wild beasts, while Tormund had been beaten and tortured throughout the entire night. The redhead could still hear the ginger’s screams, as well as the fucking laughter of the bastards, who were clearly enjoying torturing him.

Ygritte expected a similar fate, to be honest, or worse. She expected to become these men’s nighttime entertainment, for them to take turns with her body, just as her mother had warned her so many times.

Alas, apparently, the twisted beast leading these men had… other plans.

Tormund’s screams had stopped several hours ago, but the redhead had not been able to close her eyes for even a moment. Something inside her, that instinct every freefolk possessed… warned her that the worst was only beginning.

Throughout the cold night, Ygritte had been tied to the fucking tree, her hands above her head, completely numb as a result of the merciless cold. And although she was exhausted, her mind remained alert, searching for some way to escape or make these bastards pay for what they had done to them.

However, the redhead’s murderous thoughts were interrupted by a soft and mocking female voice.

“Well, well… look who’s awake. The new prey,” said the bland woman.

She was… quite forgettable. Ygritte had observed her since the previous night, her wrists still marked by the ropes these animals had used to bind her. That woman who always rode beside the leader of this filth during the day, and who surely also rode his cock during the nights, thought the readhead.

Her face was pale, almost lifeless, and her dark eyes lacked the fierce spark one would expect from someone so close to a monster. Her black hair fell gracelessly over her shoulders. She was a bland woman, and most likely she was fucked as such.

Nothing more than holes to satisfy carnal hunger, and Ygritte was certain… that deep down, she knew it.

Perhaps it was hatred speaking through the redhead, or perhaps it was hunger and cold. But compared to the free women of the Northern mountains, with their wild laughter and fire in their eyes, she seemed terribly bland.

The woman saw the impassiveness on Ygritte’s face, which made her frown and make the mistake of getting too close to the redhead, close enough that…

CRACK!

“Fuck!” the woman spat, grabbing her nose with both hands to stop the blood that had begun to flow after the headbutt Ygritte had given her.

Good, thought the redhead. If she was going to die, she would not do it silently or begging.

“Fucking disgusting bitch!” the brunette spat, drawing her dagger, more than willing to end Ygritte’s life, at least until a shrill and annoying voice intervened.

“Enough, Myranda.”

The order was obeyed instantly, and the brunette retreated like the trained bitch she was, while Ygritte coldly observed the fucking beast in the skin of a man.

Physically, Ygritte was not really impressed by what she saw. He was a man who was not very tall and thin, with narrow shoulders and disturbingly light movements. Long, messy black hair fell over a pale forehead.

He had an angular face, with pronounced cheekbones and cold, almost watery eyes that betrayed the cruel and violent nature of the creature standing before her.

Ygritte knew she was in grave danger. Everything in her body screamed at her to get as far away as possible from this creature, who looked her up and down not as a man would. There was no real lust in those eyes, but… something beastly, as if Ygritte were nothing more than the next prey in what was undoubtedly a long list of victims.

“Little doe, I hope you rested well. I have a great day planned for us today!” whispered the… creature, with a twisted smile, before grabbing Ygritte’s hair forcefully, exposing the redhead’s neck.

“AHHHHG!” the redhead cried out in pain, making a titanic effort not to give the animal the satisfaction of hearing the pain in her voice. But Ygritte could not stop herself from shuddering when the putrid creature deeply sniffed her neck before giving it a long and disgusting lick from one end to the other.

And from one instant to the next, the deranged creature began laughing uncontrollably. The sound was so disturbing that Ygritte, who was normally fearless and brave, felt genuinely unnerved.

There was something seriously wrong with this man.

A moment later, the rest of the men approached, all carrying bows and wearing leather armor.

“My Lord, we are ready for the hunt,” one of them said, making the man nod softly before turning around and beginning to give orders.

“Perfect! We have a new prey, an exquisite sun-kissed wildling! I am sure her skin will make an excellent cloak, hahaha!” roared the beast in human form, making the rest imitate him and making Ygritte’s situation perfectly clear.

The man took his bow while drawing a hunting knife and, with a mastery that could only have been acquired from skinning hundreds of times, made a perfect cut across Ygritte’s cheek, enough for a trail of blood to begin flowing down her face, but not deep enough to be truly concerning.

Then he made another cut through the rope binding the redhead, causing her to fall into the cold snow, where Ygritte tried to get back up quickly, but… due to the long time she had spent captive, her arms and legs refused to respond, making her look like some kind of newborn deer and drawing mockery from the men around her.

The obvious leader merely gave her a mocking smile before bringing the knife stained with her blood toward the pack of hungry bitches, who began obsessively sniffing the object, evidently trained for it.

And when the beast shouted,

“Time to eat, girls!”

Ygritte understood everything.

She was going to be nothing more than entertainment for this putrid creature, another prey.

The young redhead was filled with helplessness. She was at a complete disadvantage, without her bow or even a dagger to defend herself, nothing more than a simple prey before these bastards. She knew this was the end. Nothing short of a miracle would save her. She had no strength left to run.

However, just when Ygritte thought everything was lost…

It happened.

Suddenly, the entire forest fell into absolute silence, while a dense and mysterious fog appeared out of fucking nowhere, surrounding the entire camp. The event was so sudden and disturbing that all the men began looking around, clearly unsettled.

“What the fuck is happening?” one of them spat, evidently disturbed by the unnatural sight before them.

The brunette looked at him and snapped firmly,

“Get a grip, Miles! It’s just fucking fog and…”

AWOOOO!

The howl was sudden, not necessarily loud, but in the complete silence of the camp, it sounded to Ygritte like a fucking avalanche. It was a terrifying sound, a single warning that something… much more dangerous than the men surrounding her was lurking nearby.

The newly named Miles looked around in terror, moving erratically, his trembling hands gripping his bow, prepared to attack at the slightest provocation.

“What the fuck was that? Show yourself, you piece of shit! Show—”

WHOOOOSH

A precise and swift arrow shot out from the fog, its origin unknown, but the mysterious archer’s aim was true, piercing the throat of the newly named Miles and throwing the group into chaos.

GAHHHGHG

“Fuck!” the stupid woman said, having enough common sense to duck, while more arrows began emerging from the forest, wreaking havoc among the bandits and taking down two more before the leader could react.

“DOWN! WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!” he roared, throwing himself into the snow to evade the relentless rain of arrows, but the rest of his men were not fast enough.

The ambush had been precise. Half the soldiers had been killed before they could even react, but Ygritte noticed something… strange about the attack. The arrows emerged, yes, and they were lethal and tremendously effective, to the point that the redhead watched one of them pierce completely through one of the enemy’s necks, but what was truly strange was that… as soon as the arrows touched the ground…

They all disappeared without a trace!

As if they had never been fired.

And apparently, Ygritte was the only one who had noticed, although she could hardly blame her captors, considering the massacre the unknown attackers were inflicting upon them.

“RELEASE THE BITCHES! NOW!” roared the cowardly leader, who was hiding behind an enormous pine tree while the rest of his men tried to survive, much to Ygritte’s disbelief.

Alas, apparently, the fear the men felt toward the man was great enough that, regardless of the relentless rain of arrows, they all obeyed without complaint, releasing the rabid animals, which charged fiercely into the fog, their furious barking disappearing into the mist and causing the rain of arrows to stop.

For several seconds, none of the men dared to stand, at least until the leader did so, observing the fog with a manic and satisfied expression. The barking could still be heard, and apparently the rabid animals had found those responsible for the attack.

“Go tie the wildling bitch again. We’ll hunt her another day. Right now, we have to make those idiots who dared to—”

However, the words of the putrid creature were surprisingly interrupted by a sharp canine shriek, one that clearly expressed agony, undoubtedly originating from the hunting dogs they had released.

And then…

“What the fuck!” the terrified woman screamed upon seeing one of the dogs’ bodies thrown back toward the camp from within the fog. They had been torn in half, with marks from enormous claws and fangs covering their flesh.

The image looked like something taken from the worst nightmares. They were trapped like rats, with nowhere to run, while the fog, to the terror of everyone present, began advancing, slowly consuming the camp and leaving the redhead trapped with these vermin.

Ygritte could not help cursing as she observed the familiar marks on the beasts’ flesh… marks her mother had taught her about, marks associated with attacks by direwolves, the mythical beasts of her homeland.

One by one, the remaining dogs were thrown toward the now-terrified hunters, who looked in every direction filled with fear, cursing and challenging whoever was responsible to show themselves…

When—

“AHHHHHG!”

The scream was sudden and belonged to one of the men farthest from the camp. Ygritte could only watch in absolute shock as a brown silhouette, the size of a fucking horse, emerged from the fog, grabbed the man by the neck, and dragged him back into it, his agonized and pleading screams ceasing the instant his body disappeared from sight.

“What the fuck was that?” the woman said, completely overwhelmed by the situation, her bloodshot and terrified eyes looking in every direction as the rest of the men began being swallowed by the fucking fog.

But Ygritte’s eyes were not on the bandits, nor on their leader, who was desperately trying to restore order among his men.

They were on the enormous female silhouette clad in steel armor and a white cloak, emerging from the fog directly behind the brunette bitch Ygritte had struck earlier.

And on her chest… was a peculiar symbol, one that even in the North was known among the freefolk.

The Direwolf of House Stark.

But this one… instead of being gray with jet-black eyes, was… white as snow, with blood-red eyes shining brightly.

And apparently, the bandits recognized the symbol as well, because more soldiers wearing similar armor began emerging from the fog, and one of them shouted,

“IT’S THE STARKS! GODS DAMN IT, THEY’RE—AGHHH!”

The scream of absolute terror was silenced by a man clad in armor similar to that of the unknown woman, who used an enormous steel sword to cleave the bandit in half before charging toward another of the remaining men.

The brunette woman realized, far too late, that the mysterious Stark warrior had arrived, so she could only release a terrified gasp before being separated from her head, courtesy of an elegant and slender sword in the hands of the mysterious warrior.

This… was a massacre.

Ygritte’s kidnappers were being butchered like pigs to the redhead’s delight. She watched with obvious excitement as two figures emerged from the fog. They were different from the rest, wearing armor black as night, evidently of better quality than that of the soldiers around them, both wearing blood-red cloaks and, on their chests… an unknown banner.

Some kind of… winged reptile with three heads, coiled around itself. It looked imposing and terrifying.

Both carried swords and both, much to Ygritte’s obvious pleasure, walked directly toward the leader of these pigs, who was desperately trying to avoid being killed by one of the other white-armored warriors.

They were… quite similar, at least in the redhead’s opinion, with the difference that one had silver hair while the other had jet-black hair, although both were quite handsome.

Under different circumstances, she would not mind stealing one for herself, but this was not the right time for that.

The silver-haired man readied his sword and, with skill and precision, slit the throats of two of the remaining men in the camp before focusing entirely on the leader, while the black-haired one, who was evidently the leader, ordered,

“Don’t kill him yet. We need information.”

He walked directly toward where Ygritte stood, paralyzed and in pain, observing everything around her, completely lost in those powerful purple orbs that revealed only one thing.

Power.

Ygritte watched in astonishment as her captor tried to say something to the man in black armor, only to receive a closed-fist punch directly to the face. Ygritte watched with satisfaction as several teeth went flying from the man’s mouth, only for the black-armored man to lift him again and begin giving him the most savage beating Ygritte had seen in a very long time.

It was obvious there was a history between the two. That hatred could not be faked, of that she was certain. Ygritte grimaced in pain when she saw the handsome warrior with moon-colored hair crush her captor’s groin beneath his heavy boot, drawing the most pathetic and agonized shriek Ygritte had ever heard.

Alas, the spectacle was interrupted by the other handsome and mysterious man, who blocked Ygritte’s view of the scene by kneeling before her and staring directly at her.

He was extremely handsome. His eyes were two purple stars shining like the dawn. He looked like one of those handsome southern princes the spearwives mocked in the North.

Although he was clearly a powerful and agile warrior, thought the redhead as the fight ended and the white-armored warriors began searching the camp.

“Are you all right?” he asked. His voice, although masculine and deep, had a gentle tone that calmed Ygritte’s racing heart, and she merely nodded calmly, still quite distrustful of the entire situation.

“I am,” she replied simply, making the man nod with a soft smile before frowning and looking at the cut on her cheek, which had covered her face in blood.

Upon noticing it, Ygritte shrugged and made a motion to wipe it away, something the mysterious man did not allow.

“Allow me,” he said firmly, moving his hand gently in front of Ygritte’s face. She felt a warm breeze, followed by a slight tingling sensation around the wound.

“Done. Good as new,” the man said, while the redhead touched the skin in disbelief, as smooth and soft as if it had never been wounded.

How the fuck had he done that? Ygritte wondered, too stunned to respond, just as the warrior from before, the one who had killed the bland brunette, approached, allowing Ygritte to observe her silver-colored hair and sky-blue eyes.

She was undoubtedly beautiful, but… there was a side to her… almost wild in her face, although Ygritte could not explain it, if she was being honest.

“My King, we have found another survivor. He is in very bad condition, but we believe we can save his life,” the woman said, making Ygritte respond instinctively.

“Tormund is alive?” she asked aloud, cursing herself a second later when she saw the warriors’ attention focus entirely on her, while the blonde woman answered.

“He is. Barely. He will need many potions to recover,” the woman replied, at the same time that this… King… answered.

“Treat his wounds and search the camp. Anything that tells us who these men are, burn the bodies,” he ordered before standing up and looking toward where the moon-haired man was still beating the pathetic creature.

“Don’t kill him yet, Viserys. We need information,” he ordered, making the other warrior stop his attacks. He was panting, but his face was contorted into an expression of cruel satisfaction as he looked at the man whose face had been disfigured.

“Make it quick, Aemon. I want to finish this fucking animal once and for all,” said the newly named Viserys, dragging the man by his hair toward Aemon’s feet, where he waited impassively.

His face was… completely fucked up, his eyes closed and lips split open, clearly near death.

The newly named Aemon grabbed the ruined man by his hair, staring directly into his eyes for several uninterrupted seconds. It was obvious that something was happening, judging by the way everyone was watching this… Aemon expectantly.

Suddenly, the black-haired warrior began blinking rapidly, staring at the man with a gaze filled with hatred and contempt before raising his eyes toward Viserys and ordering,

“Make him suffer. This pathetic creature deserves nothing less.”

Apparently, that was all Viserys needed, because his face twisted into a bloody grimace. He grabbed the poor bastard by the hair and, without a shred of remorse, dragged him toward the central bonfire of the camp.

“What will he do with him?” Ygritte asked curiously as she struggled to stand, leaning against the body of this… Aemon to keep herself upright.

“Send a message,” he said simply, before, much to Ygritte’s disbelief, pushing the man’s head directly into the blazing flames.

“AHHHHHHG! AHHGHHGG!”

The man’s agonized screams lasted for a couple of seconds, but Ygritte was certain she would remember them for the rest of her life. The handsome man, Viserys… remained impassive, the flames licking at his hands and, to the redhead’s surprise, leaving them completely unharmed.

“I will send a message to Winterfell. Apparently, Robb needs to pay a visit to the Dreadfort. Prepare everything and rest. We will continue our journey to the Wall at noon.”

The orders were obeyed instantly. All the men and women struck their chests and bowed their heads, revealing their loyalty and submission to the man Ygritte was leaning against, and the redhead did not need to be the smartest person alive to know that this… Aemon, was quite important to the southerners.

Perhaps… he could help her.

If she earned his favor, perhaps.

So the survival instinct that all wildling women carried within them activated instantly, and she said,

“Do you need a woman to warm your bed?”

The look of stupefaction on Aemon’s face made Ygritte burst into loud laughter, feeling safer than she ever had before.

Perhaps this was the beginning of something quite good.

She was not wrong.