The first skirmish is but a taste of the feast to come. The wildlings fall before me like leaves in an autumn gale, their screams lost in the howling wind. The men of the Night's Watch stand firm, their black cloaks fluttering like the ravens they so fear, but their steel is brittle against the relentless tide of the dead. I raise my hand, and with a gesture, I send forth a wave of cold that shatters their swords and freezes their blood in their veins. They fall, joining my ranks in an instant, their eyes now reflecting the cold light of the eternal night.
As we advance, the wall of ice that I have conjured marches alongside us, a testament to my dominion over the very fabric of this realm. The living cling to their beliefs, their valor shining like stars in the abyss, but it is a futile effort. Their arrows and spears bounce off my chest, their dragonglass shatters upon my touch. The dragonfire that once burned so fiercely now seems a mere spark compared to the glacial power that flows through my veins.
Their dragons, those ancient beasts of legend, fly to meet us in a fiery embrace. Yet, even they cannot withstand the might of the night. Viserion's breath freezes the air between us, and with a roar that shakes the very heavens, the dragons of the living fall, their fiery hearts extinguished by the icy grip of death. The girl on the back of one, the one they call "Khaleesi," watches in horror as her world crumbles around her. Her eyes, full of fire and life, meet mine, and for a moment, I see the spark of defiance that fuels her soul.
The battles that follow are a dance of death and ice. Castles that once stood proud now crumble under the relentless march of the dead. Their banners, once fluttering with the pride of their Houses, now lie in tatters, trampled underfoot by the endless horde. The living fight bravely, their swords and spells flashing in the moonlight like stars against the vast black sky. Yet, their valor is no match for the cold, unyielding force that is the Army of the Dead.
"Hold the line!" A living general, his breath steaming in the frigid air, bellows to his men. His voice carries the weight of a thousand lifetimes of fear and determination. I hear his words, feel his resolve, and am momentarily intrigued by his spirit. I look upon him, and for a fleeting instant, I am tempted to offer him a choice.
"Kneel," I command, my voice echoing through the frozen battlefield, a ghostly whisper that cuts through the din of war. "And I shall grant you the sweet embrace of the cold, a reprieve from the suffering of the living."
The general's eyes narrow, his jaw clenched with defiance. "I serve the realms of men," he spits. "I will never bend the knee to a monster like you."
"Suit yourself," I reply, the chilling smile never leaving my lips. "You shall serve me in death."
With a flick of my wrist, I send a tendril of cold towards him, wrapping around his neck like a serpent. His eyes widen, the warmth of life slowly draining from them. He drops to his knees, his men's morale plummeting like the temperature. Yet, amidst the chaos, a figure emerges, a lone knight bathed in the light of his own fire. His eyes, a piercing green, lock onto mine, and he charges forth, his sword aflame.
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Face The Darkness | GoT x Night King Reader
Fanfiction"Some are born to sweet delight, Some are born to endless night." Game of Thrones x Night King Reader
