Winterfell Will Fall

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Winterfell - 305 AC

They were dying.

Sansa was in the crypts, hair disheveled, clutching her dragonglass dagger in one hand and the hand of her - former (?) - husband, Tyrion Lannister, in her other.

A choked off whimper came from behind her.

She wheeled around.

Missandei.

"Gods help us." Tyrion whispered. "Missandei..."

Sansa stifled a sob. "T-tyrion- Tyrion we have to go. We'll die too if we stay here."

"And go where?" Tyrion whispered.

Sansa wracked her brain, frantically trying to think of somewhere they could-

Bran.

"The godswood," she whispered. "Now. We need to hurry."

She took off running. Tyrion cursed quietly and hurried after her.

~•~

Running. They were running.

Her breaths were coming shallow and rapid. Tyrion was panting, just a few paces behind her.

Just a few moments longer. Just a few moments longer and we'll be nearing the godswood.

She was starting to feel a bit of hope spark in her chest. The Three-Eyed Raven - her brother, Bran - would know how to fix it. He'd have the answers.

And then her heart stopped. Right behind her was the sound of a body hitting the ground.

Tyrion.

She ran back to him, tears already forming. Falling to her knees beside Tyrion's already near dead body, the Lady of Winterfell began to sob.

"San-Sansa..." Tyrion rasped, struggling against Death. "I'm so sorry...sho-should've been there..."

Sansa squeezed her eyes shut. "I meant it, you know. When I said you were the best of them."

Tyrion jerked his head once, shakily.

"Good." He whispered. "Good."

He stopped breathing. The Little Lion of House Lannister was no more.

Sansa Stark was now widowed twice over.

Standing once more on shaky legs, she took two of the lit torches off the walls and threw them onto Tyrion's body, watching as the fires set his doublet aflame.

The Night King would not get a wight out of Tyrion. She refused to let that happen.

When she was completely certain that Tyrion's body was burning, she continued running once more.

"Valar Morghulis."

"All men must- learn? Protect?"

"Die. All men must die. It's a Braavosi greeting."

"Tyrion. That's terribly morbid."

"Morbid. But true. All men must die one day, will they not?"

"You will not die. I refuse to let that happen."

𝔍𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔞𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫 ℑ𝔰𝔰𝔞, 𝔇𝔬𝔥𝔞𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫 ℑ𝔰𝔰𝔞Where stories live. Discover now