Daenerys, the fiery queen, faced Arya with the cold resolve of a seasoned warrior. Her eyes searched the crowd, the warmth of their hope reflected in the steel of her gaze. "You may have ended the Night King," she said, her voice echoing in the chamber, "but it was love that truly defeated him. Will you let your hatred be the end of us all?"
Arya's smile was like a knife in the warmth of the room. "Love? This is about power, and you've proven you'll do anything to hold onto it."
Their swords clashed, a symphony of steel on steel, the warmth of the flaming blade meeting the cold resolve of the Valyrian steel. The sound echoed through the chamber, a bitter reminder of the battle lines drawn in the very heart of the realm. They danced in a fiery waltz, a deadly dance that held the fate of the Seven Kingdoms in its fiery embrace. Each strike, each parry, told a story of their struggle, a battle not just for the throne, but for the very soul of the realm.
Daenerys, the Mother of Dragons, moved with the grace of a fiery storm, her blade a fiery arc that threatened to consume Arya's cold determination. Arya, the Faceless Assassin, met each blow with the precision of a winter's chill, her eyes never leaving the queen's as they danced in the warm glow of the Iron Throne. The air grew thick with the scent of burning metal, the warmth of the flames licking at the shadows that danced across their faces.
The duel raged on, each stroke a silent conversation in steel, their swords speaking the language of power and defiance. The warmth of the dragonfire blade clashed against the cold steel of Needle, sparks flying like a shower of stars in a night sky. The warmth of the room grew oppressive, the air crackling with the electricity of their conflict.
Daenerys' blade danced around Arya's, her fiery grace battling the younger woman's cold efficiency. Yet, Arya's eyes never wavered, reflecting the icy resolve that had carried her through countless battles. Each step she took was calculated, each blow aimed with a precision that spoke of her unyielding nature.
The duel grew more intense, the clang of steel against steel a crescendo that resonated through the Great Hall. Sweat beaded on Daenerys' forehead, the warmth of exertion stark against her cool demeanor. Arya, on the other hand, remained unflinchingly cool, her breaths steady and controlled despite the warmth of the room. Her movements were fluid, unlike the sharpness of her words.
Daenerys' flaming blade sang a fiery tune with each swing, a dance of heat and light that threatened to overwhelm the cold precision of Arya's Needle. Yet the younger woman was unyielding, her eyes never leaving the queen's, a silent conversation of steel and determination. The warmth of the dragonfire blazed around us, casting long shadows that danced with the flicker of candlelight. The air grew thick with the scent of burnt metal, an unnerving contrast to the sweet aroma of victory that had once filled my nostrils as the Night King.
YOU ARE READING
Face The Darkness | GoT x Night King Reader
Fanfic"Some are born to sweet delight, Some are born to endless night." Game of Thrones x Night King Reader
