Suddenly the fires were snuffed out, and the monster descended. Smoke rose from the blackened ground, and charred corpses littered the place. The smell of burnt flesh made her heave forward, despite her empty stomach. Theon managed to hold her, and once Asha regained her bearing, she saw that her brother's chalky face had paled even further. She fearfully traced his gaze only to see that the dragon had landed and was looming quietly a few yards away. The surrounding smoke had suddenly stopped. But that was not what Theon was looking at. A tall figure clad in black armour jumped off the dragon's back and approached them. A white snarling direwolf head proudly adorned his breastplate. He took off his helmet, only to reveal a sharp, long face with long curly hair that looked so impossibly soft that it would not have been out of place if it had belonged to a maiden and a pair of savage purple eyes. There was a piece of silk tied to his wrist, and she could see a direwolf head, and the crowned black stag of House Baratheon embroidered with great detail.