● G A M E O F T H R O N E S ●
It's not that I need saving. It's that I need to feel that I'm worth saving. There's a difference.
[Season 1-8]
All rights to George R.R. Martin and HBO!
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JORAH MORMONT'S BODY LAID ON A UNLIT FUNERAL PYRE. DAENERYS MOURNED OVER HIS PRONE BODY. SHE LEANT DOWN AND KISSED HIM GENTLY ON HIS FOREHEAD. SHE THEN WHISPERED SOMETHING IN HIS EAR.
Sansa weeped over Theon's dead body, her hand on his chest. She stepped back, took a Stark direwolf pin from her chest, and secured it on Theon's.
Lyanna, Jon, Arya, Bran, Sam, Jaime, and Podrick stood amidst the Stark men, some of whom bore torches. Daenerys joined the crowd a bit further down, next to Greyworm, Varys, Tyrion and Missandei.
In front of the crowd were scores of funeral pyres in a grid. Stark soldiers stood at intervals with more torches. Sansa returned to the somber crowd, joining her siblings. Even Ghost and Shadow stood obediently in mourning. Lyanna stepped forward to address those assembled.
"We're here to say goodbye to our brothers and sisters." Lyanna called out to everyone. "To our fathers and our mothers. To our friends. Our fellow men and women, who set aside their differences to fight together and die together so that others might live. Everyone in this world owes them a debt that can never be repaid. It is our duty and our honour to keep them alive in memory for those who come after us and those who come after them for as long as men draw breath. They were the shields that guarded the realms of men. And we shall never see their like again."
Soldiers and Free Folk handed torches to Lyanna, Jon, Sansa, Sam, Daenerys and Greyworm. They fanned out to various pyres in the field, joining their fallen comrades for one final farewell; Lyanna to Beric, Sam to Edd, Jon to Lyanna Mormont, Sansa to Theon. As one, they ignited the pyres. Lyanna watched the flames spread under Beric, then turned away. The living returned to the crowd and the flames rose higher. The air filled with a thick black smoke.
Later that night, the victory feast was somber and quiet, even though the hall was filled to capacity. At the head table sat Sansa, Bran, Daenerys, Jon, Tyrion and Lyanna.
In the crowd, Gendry looked around and walked the length of the hall to exit, but Daenerys noticed him as he passed the head table. "Gendry." He stopped and faced her. The hall went even quieter. "That's right, isn't it?"
Gendry approached Daenerys. "Yes, Your Grace."
"You're Robert Baratheon's son." Gendry nodded at her. "You are aware he took my family's throne and tried to have me murdered?"
"I didn't even know he was my father until after he was dead." Gendry shrugged his shoulders.
"Yes, he's dead." Daenerys gave a quick glance to Lyanna. "His two brothers, Stannis and Renly, are dead, too." Lyanna rolled her eyes. "So, who's Lord of Storm's End now?"
"I don't know, Your Grace." Gendry answered, quickly glancing at Lyanna.
"Does anyone?" No one in the hall answered. "I think you should be Lord of Storm's End."
