She was burning.

The fire was running through her as fast her bloodstream, feeling like it had always been there.

It had always been there, she was the Dragon, a Targaryen, the heir to the dragon dynasty, the northern dragon.

"Lyanna!"

Her mother had been a dragon too, her father a wolf. Fire and Ice. She was the song of Ice and Fire.

"Lyanna!"

Doubts of her strength had followed her entire life. Just a bastard, a woman, too weak to fight, not good enough for the wall, just Joffrey's wife, traitor, liar, adulteress, weak fighter, treacherous northerner. None of it mattered. She was just like fire.

She would set the entire world on fire with a smile on her face.

She would burn those who hurt her, set the world right, bring back the old dynasty, or at least watch the world turn to ashes as she tried.

"Lyanna!"

'I'm not a dragon, I'm a wolf, a Stark, a Snow, not a Targaryen!' she thought, trying desperately to escape the spiralling sensation of the flames and smoke. 'I am not the Mad King, I am Lyanna Snow, I will not kill anyone,'

Joffrey, Cersei, Ser Meryn, Ser Janos, Ser Illyn, The Hound, Jaime. Well, maybe she did want to kill people. However, she didn't want to kill them by setting them on fire. Why the sudden obsession with burning and dragons?

"Lyanna!"

That last scream of desperation was enough to wake her from the hallucinations of fire, only to realise it wasn't a fantasy; all she could see was fire. During the night the candles must have knocked over, setting the cabin alight. Curse her to the others, Lyanna's irrational fear of the dark had caused this. It wasn't just the cabin that was burning, as the screams from the deck above proved to her that the entire ship was soon to be ashes. There was one question remaining to Lyanna, though:

Why wasn't she burning?

'Fire cannot kill a dragon,' she thought, and in the same moment, felt what she guessed were tiny claws digging into her chest, causing her to groan in pain.

Looking down, she blinked, the smoke stinging her eyes, the cracking of flames making it hard to concentrate, but she still saw it. A dragon. A little hatchling clinging to her chest, its tiny scales matching the grey of the egg. Part of her wanted to laugh, another part of her cry, and another wanting to hit herself in the face as if she was dreaming. Even if she wasn't being burnt like a piece of meat, the thick vapour was making it hard to breathe. Coughing, she tried to run over to where she knew there was a small hatch passing as a window, looking out to see the coast of Essos. The nearest city had already seen the blaze and had sent out rescue boats making Lyanna want to grin in relief.

Except she couldn't relax. Lyanna was so confused. There had been no dragons for centuries, why now? Why had she been chosen to bring another into the world? Even if you took the dragon out of the situation, Lyanna was still anxious about the fire. How many men had she killed by not blowing out her candles? Was Alize dead? Where was Winter?

"Lyanna!" The scream made her spin around to see Alize knelt over in the corner in a ball with Winter, desperately trying to keep away from the flames. The orange lighting showed Alize's face luminously, adding emphasis to the streams of tears flowing down her cheeks. In her hand, Lyanna could see Alize was holding the dagger from Robb, not like it would help much against the fire.

As calmly as if she wasn't holding the first dragon in at least three centuries, like she wasn't caught up in a fiery inferno, Lyanna walked carefully, avoiding the excited embers in case her Targaryen genes fell short and she caught fire right there. Reaching Alize, Lyanna held out her hand, pulling her friend up, who was sobbing and screaming in fear, not helped by the sight of the dragon.

"We need to get out of here!" Lyanna decided, looking down at the dire wolf, who had enough sense to stay backed away in the corner.

"If we leave the boat, we drown! If we stay here, we burn to death! We're doomed! God's help us!" Alize cried at her. The fear took over the girl so much so it was difficult for Lyanna to remember back to when they were in King's Landing, when Alize cut the door down with an axe; where was that courage now?

"Fuck the Gods, we save ourselves!" Lyanna shouted to her, watching as the flames corroded away at the wooden wall of the boat.

The wood faltered, snapping away and sea water began flowing in. The boat was sinking slowly, the holes created by the fire weighing it down. At the water seeped in, the fires slowly started going out. Alize, who still looked as if she was going to faint pointed to the side of the cabin no longer burning.

"Your weapons, the trunk, we need them," Alize began, but Lyanna was already on the job.

She reached the leathers, which had only been slightly singed, tossing them over to Alize, before throwing the bow over to her as well, not daring to throw the arrows in case she ended up impaling the handmaiden. Finally, she carefully picked up the two swords, worrying that the fire would have warmed them up, and just merely touching the hilts would cause her hands to blister. Lyanna realised how foolish that was when she held both swords to feel the hilts felt cool to her; why wouldn't they, when she'd already not been burnt alive?

The quiver slung over ther shoulder, a sword in each hand and the small dragon with its claws dug deeply into her chest, Lyanna beckoned Alize and Winter over.Watching Alize fearfully mind the creaking floorboards, guiding the wolf with her, Lyanna kicked the wall, the already splintering planks collapsing, letting more water flow in.

It was only when Lyanna leapt into the freezing sea did she realise she was naked. The flames had burnt away her clothes, leaving her bare to the world, only one nipple being covered by the hatchling, clinging to her for dear life.It didn't help that she wasn't the greatest swimmer either. Lyanna was never to most sleek, elegant woman, but the sight of her holding two great swords with a dragon attached to her only to stumble underwater,and begin flailing around would have been funny, if only there was anyone around to laugh.

Except there was people around. Lyanna noticed the men in the small, wooden rescue boats pointing towards her, shouting things in a language she didn't know. They noticed that she was struggling to swim and began rowing towards her, only to stop at the sight of Winter, who was swimming perfectly at her side. Eastern people had never seen wolves before, the sight of one terrifying them.

"Trust you to rub this swimming thing in my face," Lyanna muttered to the wolf, struggling to keep her head above the water. The dragon, desperately trying to stay dry, climbed up her body, digging its sharp claws into her flesh until it found itself perched on her head. "You know what, Winter? There wasn't that much call for swimming in Winterfell, I didn't know I'd one day find myself drowning on the coast of Essos with a bloody dragon attached to me!"

One of the men finally seemed to get close enough to her. He leant over the edge of the boat, holding his hand out for her to take. Lyanna threw her blades into the boat, before taking hold of his hand, letting him pull her up. For some reason, he didn't seem disturbed by the small dragon clawing anxiously on her head. Instead, he was shouting commands to the other boats around them, probably making sure one of them got Winter and Alize.

"You alright?" He asked, looking her up and down. Lyanna could see, despite the poor light from the moon, he had copper skin, shoulder length hair, and was wearing robes which a slave would wear. For a slave, he spoke the common tongue perfectly.

Lyanna nodded, taking in deep breaths, only now realising that she had been struggling to breath around the smoke. Still confused about the dragon situation, she reached up, taking the small being into her hands, holding it close to her chest. Winter had been this small once. The only one of her animals that hadn't been... Snow.

"Snow!" she whispered, fighting back tears. There was no way the horse would have survived the blaze. The beautiful white mare was now just ashes under the sea. One of the last things left of the north, of her family, of Ned. She bit down on her lip, fighting tears as she thought about getting the horse, all the rides she took on her, all the memories. It was her fault Snow had died, her fault all of those innocent men on the ship had died.

Not understanding, her saviour smirked at her. "You'll find no snow here, my lady. Welcome to Essos,"

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