The Dragon's Sister || Game Of Thrones (Under Rewrite)

Episode 8: The Return Of Spring (Part 1)

A New Dawn

Intro

The pyres were all lined up with several bodies accommodating each stack. Unsullied, Dothraki, Northmen, Knights of The Vale and Starfall, Dornish, Ironborne, and even Lannister soldiers were all laid to rest, along with the army of the dead, for they were the lives lost in the battle. The fallen were all spread in front of Kings Landing, a city that was once beautiful and fascinating, now only covered in smoke and fumes that clouded the sky that was to be the first day of spring.

   But spring was still a long way ahead. 

   On one of the pyres separated from the rest was the motionless body of Jorah Mormont. He looked peaceful almost with his eyes shut and mouth no longer grimacing in pain. His waist, chest, and back had visible puncture marks that were yet to fade away as old scars, some caking the armor and flesh with crimson blood. 

   It bothered Daenerys to see her friend's body in such a state, even if she knew that he was no longer in pain. But the pain was left behind for her to suffer from it. All she could do by standing besides her companion's corpse was to whimper in grief and sorrow, eyes filling with tears and her lips trembling--keeping her whimpering in check.

   Daenerys leaned down to his whisper and began to whisper indistinctly. All she could hope for was for Jorah to stand up, to fight for her again, to kill for her, to keep her afloat if she were to fall again. That wasn't going to happen anymore, however. He had kept his word for her.

   To die for her if need be.

   She wasn't the only one to mourn in such a state. Sansa was leaning over the body of a Theon Greyjoy, whimpering, crying, with her tail twitching in complete misery. Sansa began to think to herself, thinking what was to happen had she somehow encouraged him to retreat from Winterfell, to fight for her and her House again. Would he be alive still? She would never know.

   The dead would not hear her questions for answers. 

   She then pulled out something from beneath her winter cloak, the pin of the sigil of House Stark. Sansa placed it on top of Theon's armor, tucking it in so it wouldn't fall out when she was to burn his body. She looked back at his face, realizing that he somehow looked happy, happy enough for her to somewhat feel at ease that he was free from his torment. 

   On another pyre was the body of Podrick, surrounded by Tyrion and Brienne. Brienne pulled out Podrick's sword and put it in front of his chest, making it look like he was being given a knight's sendoff. If only he lived longer would she be able to make that dream of his come to a reality.

   Tyrion walked up to Podrick's side, rubbing the young man's shoulder that was now stiff and cold and emptied of life. Half of him expected to see Podrick trying to please him, telling him of his past adventures with Brienne of Tarth, telling him that he wasn't a squire, but a knight in training. He wished he heard more of it. 

   Everyone that was to say their farewells to their loved ones knew it was time. They stood up from kneeling, from crying their hearts out, and walked to where everyone else was, crowded in front of the city. Jon emerged from the crowd, a respected expression on his face--his beard looking longer than usual and a tired glance in his eyes. 

   Sansa and Arya looked up at him, eyes watering and hearts shattered. Bran's body had been prepared to be burned along with everyone else, but that was not how a Stark was to join the old pack. Sansa and Arya and Jon would bury their youngest brother with the rest of the pack once they were all reburied in the Crypts.