One by one, the undead knelt before Arya, their cold bodies creaking and groaning with the effort, a silent acknowledgment of her power. The warmth of their collective hope suffused the air, leaving behind the chilling presence that had once dominated them. They had been freed from the shackles of the Night King's will, the coldness of their existence replaced with a nascent spark of purpose.
Arya's voice, now a warm beacon in the coldness, grew stronger. "Kneel," she demanded, her eyes flicking to me, filled with a fiery resolve. "You will join your creations in their servitude to life."
The coldness of the room seemed to thicken as the undead obeyed her command, their movements a silent testament to the shift in power. Yet, I did not kneel. Instead, I watched her, the warmth of curiosity burning in my cold gaze. Her demand was unexpected, a challenge to the very essence of my existence. "Why would I kneel before you, girl?"
Her eyes, the warmth of life and fire, met mine, unyielding. "Because," she said, her voice steady and filled with the warmth of certainty, "you were never meant to be the Night King. You were a protector, turned by grief and anger. Now, you will be the instrument of change. You will help me bring peace to the realms, or you will join your undead minions in the cold embrace of oblivion."
The warmth of her words was a jolting reminder of the humanity I had forgotten, a warmth that slowly began to melt the icy fortress around my heart. I felt the pull of the living, the warmth of their hopes and dreams, the fiery passion for life that had once been my own. But I knew that I would never kneel before anyone. "Never meant to be? Protector? Oblivion?" I asked coldly as my eyes narrowed, knowing that a fight would be necessary to subdue her. "I don't think you understand who you are talking to, girl. It is you who should kneel."
Arya, unfazed by my challenge, took a step closer, the warmth of her defiance radiating from her. "I know exactly who you are," she replied, her voice steady and strong. "A lost soul, bound by the coldness of your own making, seeking a purpose beyond destruction."
"You dare to speak of purpose to me?" I retorted, the coldness in my voice like a knife. "You, who know nothing of the sacrifices made to maintain this balance?"
Arya's eyes never wavered, the warmth of her conviction burning like a beacon in the cold, dark chamber. "You speak of balance," she said, her voice clear and steady, "but what you've brought is only more death. I've seen the warmth of life snuffed out too many times. I've felt the coldness of despair and the bitterness of vengeance. I understand the price of power. But I also know that true balance is not found in destruction, but in unity."
Her words hung in the air, a warmth that seemed to thaw the very ice that made up my essence. "I offer you a choice," she continued, "To stand with me and bring peace to the realms, or to fade into the annals of history as a mere footnote in the endless cycle of war and chaos."
The coldness within me stirred, a dormant emotion that I had not felt in millennia. I searched her eyes, the warmth of her spirit shining through the coldness of the room. "I offer you a choice as well." I said, my voice firm. "You either agree to a partnership where you will follow my instructions and behave...or...we will fight for the throne."
Arya's smile was warm, yet filled with the coldness of determination. "I've fought for everything I've ever wanted, Night King. I will not be a pawn in your game."
The room grew colder, the warmth of our words giving way to a tension that could shatter the very air. "Then so be it," I said, the coldness of my resolve unwavering. "You will see the folly of your decision."
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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
