The Queen of Flames (Sequel to 'The Demon of Winterfell') (On Hold)

Chapter Thirteen: Frozen

Black water surrounded Emmelyne. She was completely numb and completely frozen within seconds. Her eyes stung as she looked around the water, and her lungs burned. She hadn't had time to catch her breath.

She struggled against the water, trying to swim to the surface. She had never been a strong swimmer, and instead of swimming, all she could do was stay firmly in place. Her face was entirely red from the cold.

Shadows moved on the surface above her. She closed her eyes, trying to stop herself from breathing in. But she couldn't.

The water burned when she breathed it in through her nose. She let out a few weak gasps, water overwhelming her. Filling her lungs. She wanted to scream. She wanted to swim.

Sandor pulled her from the lake, dragging her onto the rock. She was unconscious, her chest rising and falling far too slowly. She'd set off a chain reaction by breaking the ice. The wights had to stop at the edge and watch as the entire lake fell through. They were surrounding the rock entirely.

Jon's eyes were wide as he looked at Emmelyne. He hadn't even seen her sink. "What happened?" he demanded.

Sandor shook his head wildly. "She broke through. Oh, gods, she's so cold."

Her pale hands were covered with ice. Sandor took them tightly in his own, trying to bring some heat to her body. He looked around at all of the men around him. "Someone help me!" he shouted.

Jorah was the first one to react. He moved forward, lowering by Sandor's side. He began to press on Emmelyne's chest, trying to force the water from her lungs.

It took a long time before she began to cough, heaving up water onto the ground. She gasped for air a few times, slowly sitting up. She was shaking when Sandor wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly into his chest. "Oh, you're alive," he said. "You're alive. You're so cold."

She let out a weak sob, resting her head on his shoulder. The pair sat like this for a long time.

Night had fallen before Emmelyne was at least partly warm. She was curled up in a ball, her arms wrapped around her stomach. The wight on the ground was thrashing and snarling, but none of them paid it any mind. The pain in Emmelyne's stomach had gone away, though she still was worried about her child. Sandor was stood beside her, guarding her closely. She flinched whenever he tried to touch her, and so he had stopped trying to touch her. At some point Sandor sat down beside her, and she nestled into his side. He held her close to him tightly. Curled up in his arms, she fell asleep. It wasn't long until he rested his head on top of hers and fell asleep as well.

When morning came and everyone began to wake up, Sandor stood slowly, untangling Emmelyne from him. He walked up to their captive wight, kicking it roughly in the side. It let out a loud screech, which snapped Emmelyne awake. "What the fuck was that for?" she demanded, and Sandor glanced back at her.

"Sorry," he offered.

Beric moved to check on Thoros, who was lying flat on his back. He shook him slightly. "Thoros?"

Thoros's face had begun to turn blue. His eyes were wide open, unblinking. He was dead. "Thoros," Beric whispered.

Emmelyne rose to her feet, following Sandor to see Thoros. Beric slowly raised the blanket that he'd been wrapped in, covering Thoros's face. Sandor lowered down by his body. "They say it's one of the betters ways to go," he offered.

He reached down, freeing Thoros's flask from his side. He opened it, starting to take a drink. "Lord of Light, show us the way. Come to us in darkness and lead Your servant into the light," Beric said.

He placed Thoros's sword on his chest, closing his hands over it. Sandor started to take another drink, only to have the flask taken by Jon. "We have to burn his body," Jon said.

He poured the flask out over Thoros's body. "We'll all be close behind him unless the Lord of Light is kind enough to send us a bit of fire," Tormund commented.

Beric shrugged, drawing his sword and igniting it. "Lord of Light," he said, "come to us in our darkness, for the night is dark and full of terrors."

"For the night is dark and full of terrors," Emmelyne echoed.

He stepped forward, igniting the corpse.

Jon and Jorah moved to the edge of the rock, looking out at the wights. "We'll all freeze soon," Jorah said. "Emmelyne especially. The water will freeze, too."

He continued speaking.

Emmelyne stepped close to Sandor, letting out a weak sigh. "I shouldn't have come," she said softly.

Sandor shook his head. "I wouldn't have been able to see you if you hadn't come."

"I suppose that's true."

He took her hand again, kissing her cheek. "You'll be okay," he encouraged.

Beric joined Jon and Jorah, leaving Sandor and Emmelyne to themselves.

Not far from the rock, waiting on a cliff, was a group of five white walkers. The Night King stood at the front. Sandor and Emmelyne stepped up to join the others. Emmelyne stared at the Night King. He was an imposing figure, ice blue with bright blue eyes. Each walker rode a wight horse, and each held long spears made of ice. "The Lord brought you back," Beric said to Jon. "He brought me back. No one else. Just us. Did He do it to watch us freeze to death?"

"Careful, Beric," Sandor warned. "You lost your priest. This is your last life.

"I've been waiting for the end for a long time," Beric replied. "Maybe the Lord brought me here to find it."

"Every lord I've ever met's been a cunt. Don't see why the Lord of Light should be any different."

Hours passed. Everyone was trying to occupy their time. Sandor and Emmelyne chose to look at the army of wights. Sandor set Gendry's hammer down, picking up a rock from the ground and hurling it at the crowd of wights. It one of them in the face, breaking it's jaw clean off. "Dumb cunt," he muttered.

He picked up another rock and threw it. This rock skittered across the ice, landing at the feet of one of the wights. It looked down at the rock, then back up. "Oh, fuck," Sandor and Emmelyne said at nearly the same time.

The wight stepped forward, making way toward the rock. Jorah grabbed at his sword, and the others followed suit. Sandor let go of Emmelyne, who nocked an arrow. More wights began to walk out onto the ice. "Fuck," Emmelyne hissed to herself. "Fuck."