When I awoke the following morning, the warmth of the sun was streaming through the windows, something I had not felt on my skin for centuries. Daenerys was already gone, leaving behind a gentle scent of fire and life. The bed felt empty without her warmth, a stark reminder of the solitude I had known for so long. I sat up, the fur sliding off my bare shoulders, revealing the newfound warmth of my skin. The castle was alive with whispers and footsteps, a living contrast to the silent march of the dead I had once led.
With a sense of curiosity, I approached the mirror that hung on the wall, a relic from a time when I had been a man, not the embodiment of the eternal winter. As I gazed into the reflective surface, I was met with an image that took my breath away. The icy blue eyes that had stared back at me for millennia were now a deep, warm brown. The pale, frostbitten skin had been replaced with the rich, golden tones of the living. The crown of spikes that had once adorned my head was now a simple circlet of gold, a symbol of a different kind of power.
Did she turned me into a human? Apparently so but how? Was it the bath in the Dragon's Blood? Or our lovemaking? Maybe the mix of both.
Daenerys returned to the room, a warm smile playing on her lips. She greeted me with a gentle kiss, her touch sending waves of heat through my body. Her eyes searched mine, looking for any sign of the coldness that had once ruled me. "You look... perfect," she said, a hint of lust in her voice. "I know you're not used to it yet but l give it a week or two and you will feel comfortable in your new skin."
"What do we do now?" I asked, still grappling with the reality of what had transpired.
Daenerys's smile grew, a warmth that seemed to emanate from her very core. "Now," she said, her voice filled with the promise of a future beyond the cold, "we bring peace to the realms. We show them that the Night King is no more, that a new era has begun. One where fire and ice rule together. And we will do that by marrying each other...today."
The announcement of our impromptu union sent shockwaves through the castle. The people of Dragonstone whispered of a new king, one born not of blood and ice, but of fire and passion. The warmth of their whispers filled the cold corridors, washing away the fear that had once accompanied my name. I felt a strange sense of belonging, a feeling that had been buried under the cold, unfeeling mantle of the Night King.
The wedding preparations were swift, a flurry of activity fueled by the hope of a new era. The Great Hall was adorned with the colors of House Targaryen and the Stark direwolf banner, a symbol of our unlikely alliance. The air was thick with anticipation, the warmth of the dragonfire contrasting sharply with the chilling winds that had once heralded my approach.
As I stood before the Sept, clad in robes of black and red, the weight of the crown on my head was nothing compared to the burden of the icy crown of the Night King. Daenerys approached me, her beauty a living flame in a world that had known only cold and darkness. The High Septon recited the words of the ancient ceremony, his voice a gentle reminder that even the coldest of hearts could find warmth.
The people watched with a mix of awe and fear as we exchanged vows, the warmth of her hand in mine erasing my memories of the cold grip of the undead. With every word spoken, it felt as if a piece of the old me was being chipped away, revealing a man beneath the monster. The warmth grew, filling me with a newfound strength, a strength that was not born of the cold but of the fiery love that burned in the heart of the Mother of Dragons.
The crowd erupted into applause as we were pronounced as one, and I could feel the warmth of the living spreading through the castle like a wildfire. The Night King was no more, and in his place stood a man ready to fight for life, for warmth, for love.
Daenerys and I walked hand in hand to the throne room, the very heart of Dragonstone. The once cold, stone chamber was now ablaze with the light of a thousand candles, the warmth of their flames casting a soft glow on the faces of those who had gathered. The Iron Throne loomed before us, a stark reminder of the battles we had yet to face. But as we approached it together, the weight of the throne felt less oppressive, the room less cold.
The people of Dragonstone had gathered to witness our union, a union that represented hope in a realm scarred by war and fear. As we took our seats on the Iron Throne, the warmth of the flaming swords behind us seemed to embrace us, a fiery guardian of the peace we sought to bring. I looked into her eyes, the warmth of hers reflecting the fire that now burned within me.
Our first act as the united rulers of the Seven Kingdoms was to address the gathering. Her voice, a warm melody, echoed through the chamber, sharing our vision of peace and balance. The words she spoke resonated with the warmth that had begun to thaw my frozen soul. We would offer clemency to those who bent the knee, and justice to those who continued to defy us. Arya Stark, the girl who had once been a beacon of hope to me, had become a symbol of the endless cycle of vengeance that threatened to consume us all.
YOU ARE READING
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
