Face The Darkness | GoT x Night King Reader

The End

Suddenly, the symphony of swords was pierced by a sharp, cold twang. An arrow shot from the crowd, a dark whisper that shattered the warmth of the moment. It found its mark in the heart of the fire, it embedded itself in Daenerys' chest, extinguishing the warmth that had been spreading through the room. Time seemed to freeze as the fiery blade slipped from her hand, the light in her eyes dimming like an ember in a gust of winter wind. The room fell silent, the only sound the hiss of the extinguished blade as it hit the cold stone floor.

Daenerys staggered back, her eyes wide with shock and pain. I roared in fury, the coldness of the room now a hurtful reminder of the eternal winter I had once sought to bring. I stormed over to her, my feet moving faster than I had ever felt them move, as if the very ground itself was propelling me towards her. I caught her in my arms, the warmth of my newfound humanity failing to shield her from the icy grip of death.

"No," I whispered, the word a prayer and a curse. "Not now. Not like this." The warmth of her life seeped into my cold embrace, staining the fabric of my clothes with crimson. Her eyes searched mine, the fire within them flickering like a dying flame. "Hold on," I pleaded, my voice thick with desperation. "Our son... our vision... we can still change this world."

But Arya's laughter was the only response, a cold echo in the now silent hall. She watched with a smug satisfaction, the light from the dying flames playing off the gleaming steel of her dagger. The room was a tableau of horror, the warmth of hope extinguished by the cold reality of betrayal. I cradled Daenerys, the warmth of her life slipping away like sand through my fingers. Her hand fell to her side, the lifeblood of House Targaryen staining the stone beneath us.

With trembling hands, I gently laid her down, her eyes closing as the warmth of her breath grew fainter. The warmth of her love for me and our unborn child had been snuffed out, leaving me in the cold embrace of rage and grief.

I picked up her sword, the weight of it a bitter reminder of the warmth she had brought into my life. The room was silent, the only sound the hiss of the extinguished flames and the fading whispers of hope. The warmth that had filled me was now a raging inferno of anger. I faced Arya, the light of the dying fire reflecting off the steel, painting her in a crimson hue that matched the blood that stained the floor.

"You will pay for this," I snarled, each word a frosty threat.

"I've made my choice," Arya said, her voice cold as the steel she wielded.

The anger within me grew, a frost spreading through my veins. I lunged at her, my blade a fiery arc in the cold air. She met my rage with a cold, calculated grace, each of her movements a silent rebuttal to my grief. Our swords clashed, sparks flying like embers in a winter's storm as a cloaked figure carrying a bow and arrows stepped up to us, seemingly enjoying the fight, this must've been the scum that shot Daenerys.

"Murderer!" I roared, my voice echoing through the hall. "You will pay for this treachery!" But Arya did not allow me to attack him.

Our swords clashed in a symphony of fury, sparks flying as we danced in the crimson light. Each blow was a declaration of war, a promise of vengeance that I would not let go unfulfilled. The warmth of her blood seeped through the fabric of my shirt, painting the coldness of the room that had once felt like a sanctuary. Her eyes, once filled with warmth and life, were now glazed over, a silent accusation of the darkness that still lurked within me.

Arya was relentless, her cold steel cutting through the air like a winter's wind. She taunted me with every strike, her voice a knife that carved into the newfound warmth of my soul. "You're nothing but a monster," she spat, her breath a mist in the chilled air. "You will never know love, never know peace."

The ground trembled beneath our feet, a thunderous roar shaking the very foundation of Dragonstone. Dreadwing, one of Daenerys' dragons, had arrived. His fiery breath filled the chamber, and the heat washed over me like a scalding wave, a stark reminder of the power we had once wielded together. The crowd screamed, retreating from the dragon's fiery presence. The beast's eyes, a mirror of Daenerys' own, bore into Arya and me, his roar a challenge to the coldness that had claimed her life.

I watched, a twisted smile playing on my lips, as Arya's eyes widened in terror. The warmth of her arrogance was swallowed by the cold reality of the dragon's wrath. Her laughter turned to a shrill scream as the flames consumed her, the sound piercing the silence like a shard of ice. The cloaked archer caught on fire as well, his cowardly act forgotten in the face of the beast's fiery justice.

The crowd panicked, their warm, living bodies turned to ash before my very eyes. The Great Hall, once a bastion of hope and unity, was now a charred ruin, the warmth of our alliance reduced to cinders. The heat of Dreadwing's breath was a fitting end to their treachery, a fiery coda to the dance of swords we had shared. Arya's screams grew fainter, lost in the roar of the flames that danced around us like a macabre ballet.

Through the inferno, I saw her, her eyes wide with fear, the coldness of her heart no match for the dragon's fiery rage. Her laughter had turned to desperate gasps for air, the warmth of life leaving her body in a plume of smoke. The fire reflected off her blade, a final, futile attempt to stand against the power that had been unleashed.

Dreadwing's fiery breath engulfed her, and she was lost to the flames along with everyone else. The warmth of the room turned to an oppressive heat, a burning reminder of the power that had once been ours. The archer who had struck down Daenerys was a mere shadow in the fire's embrace, his treachery erased in an instant.

As the inferno grew, the dragon's roars filled the chamber, a grim melody that seemed to mourn the loss of its rider. The warmth of the flames washed over me, returning me to the coldness that had been my existence for so long. Yet now, it felt like a cage, a prison that had claimed the woman I had come to love, the one who had offered me a chance at redemption.

The heat grew intense, a fiery embrace that seemed to strip away the warmth of humanity that had briefly cloaked me. With each passing second, the pain grew more unbearable, yet it was not the fire that was consuming me, but the cold, bitter truth of what I had become. Through the flaming curtains of Dreadwing's breath, I watched the room crumble, the warmth of life extinguished by the very creature that had been born of love.

Daenerys' lifeless form lay before me, a tragic monument to the warmth that had been lost. Her eyes, once so full of hope and fire, were now vacant, the warmth of her spirit stolen by the coldness of betrayal. The warmth of her blood painted the cold stone floor, a crimson river that flowed into the heart of the beast that had once been her ally.

When the flames died down, I was the only one left standing. Nothing of my humanity was left, I have become the Night King once again, cursed to cloak this world in Eternal Night. There was no escaping it... not this time.

The End