Face The Darkness | GoT x Night King Reader

Chapter 27

The next second the crowd went silent, and we found out why when Arya stepped out from the crowd, her eyes fixed on us. She was no longer the girl I had met in the Godswood, she was a warrior, a leader, the one who had slain the Night King. The room held its breath as she approached the throne.

Her voice, cold as the winds of the North, cut through the warmth. "Daenerys Targaryen," she called out, "You claim to bring peace but stand beside a monster. The Night King is gone, but his legacy lives on in your union. How can the realms trust a king born of darkness and a queen born of fire?"

The crowd's warmth turned to a frigid silence, their whispers dying like embers in a blizzard. I felt the weight of their fear and doubt, their gazes upon me a sudden blizzard of accusation. Daenerys' hand tightened around mine, her eyes never leaving Arya's. "I stand before you as the embodiment of change," I began, my voice a warm contrast to the icy silence. "The Night King was a part of me, yes, but I am more than the darkness that once consumed me. I am a man who has felt the warmth of love and the fiery hope of life. I am a king who has tasted the sweetness of redemption."

Arya's laughter rang out, cold and mocking, echoing through the chamber. "Redemption?" she spat. "You speak of love and peace, yet you brought with you an army of the dead. How can you claim to be the bringer of balance when you have destroyed so much?"

Daenerys' grip on my hand tightened, but her gaze remained firm on Arya. "You speak of destruction," she replied, her voice steady, "but it was your own hand that ended the Night King's reign and took over his destructive army. We offer you a chance to join us, to help create a world where the living do not live in fear of the dead, or of each other. Will you stand with us, or against us?"

Arya's laughter grew, the sound of it shivering through the warmth of the chamber. "Your words are as hollow as the skulls of the soldiers you command," she sneered. "You speak of balance, yet your union is an abomination. I will never bend the knee to a king born of the night. And you, Daenerys, you will face me in a duel for the crown of the rightful Queen."

Knowing that Daenerys wasn't a fighter, I stepped forward, my hand on the pommel of my sword. "If it's a battle you seek, you'll find it in me," I said, my voice a low growl. The warmth that had filled me was now a simmering anger, ready to boil over. "Your hatred is your downfall, Stark girl. You've proven yourself a formidable warrior, but you have much to learn about the world beyond your own vendetta."

Arya's eyes narrowed, the challenge accepted. "I've seen the lengths you've gone to for power," she said, her voice cold. "I've seen the lives you've taken, the destruction you've wrought. You may wear the skin of a man, but you are still a monster."

Daenerys' eyes flashed with fire. "You dare speak of monsters? You, who have embraced the darkness of the Faceless Men? Who have become the very thing you claim to despise?"

Arya's smirk was like a knife in my heart. "You think you know me, but you see only what you wish to see. I am the hand of the God of Death, come to claim what is mine."

Daenerys rose from the Iron Throne, the warmth of her dragons' flame reflected in her eyes. "You wish to claim this throne with your cold steel and empty words? Then come, Arya Stark. Let us see if you truly are the weapon of the gods."

I stepped before her, my heart pounding with the warmth of life's newfound rhythm. "Daenerys," I whispered, "let me face for you."

Her eyes searched mine, a storm of emotion brewing within them. "You've come so far," she said, her voice a warm embrace. "But remember, she is not your enemy. She is the embodiment of the cycle we seek to break. And she has challenged me, not you." She said while reaching out for my sword.

I stepped aside, allowing her to pass. The warmth of her touch lingered on the hilt as she took the weapon from my grasp. The room was a tapestry of shadows and flame, the warm light playing across the cold steel of the Valyrian blade. "I do not wish to fight you," she said to Arya, her voice resonating with a newfound determination. "But I will not let you stand in the way of peace."

The tension was a palpable force in the chamber, thick as the warm air that seemed to shiver with the promise of battle. Arya's eyes never left Daenerys' as she stepped forward, her own blade, the gleaming Needle, a stark contrast to the fiery sword. "You speak of peace," she said, her voice as sharp as the weapon she held, "but all I see is more bloodshed. And now, I'm going to end you, once and for all."