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

Chapter Fourteen: Sacrifice

The wights were nearing the rock. It would only be a matter of moments before they reached it. Sandor held Gendry's hammer tightly in his hands, raising it slightly. Beric let his sword ignite. Emmelyne started to aim with her bow. She had twenty-five arrows exactly. That meant she could kill twenty-five wights. That wasn't counting for if she were able to retrieve her arrows. "Fuck it," Sandor said, running at the first wight to get close.

He swung the hammer sideways, sending it crumbling. Another ran at Jon, who sliced it down with his sword. The wights that ran at them were killed quickly. Emmelyne managed to take down three with her arrows. Beric shoved his sword through one's chest, making it light up with flame before he kicked it away. Emmelyne nocked an arrow, aiming at one of the wights. Suddenly, she felt one grabbing at her. She spun around, stabbing her arrow into it's head. When she freed her arrow, the wight fell to the ground.

A wight charged at Sandor, who slammed the hammer into the ice, making the creature fall through. Even if they were taking wights down with great speed, there were too many of them. Sandor dropped the hammer, pulling an axe from his furs. He began hacking through wights. Tormund swung madly with his battle axe, shouting with each hit.

Emmelyne saw Jon be grabbed by a wight. Jorah came up behind, stabbing it roughly in the skull before throwing it to the ground. The pair continued swinging their swords. Tormund let out a shout as one grabbed him around the neck. He thrashed free, throwing it and killing it quickly. It was complete anarchy, and Emmelyne was losing arrows faster than she could count. Some of the wights attempted to free the captive, but Jon took care of them. One of the wildlings was pulled off of the rock and into the water.

Emmelyne looked into her quiver, seeing only three arrows remaining. "Shit," she whispered.

"Fall back!" Jon roared.

Everyone froze, looking around. "Fall back!" he repeated.

"Come on!" Tormund urged.

A wight grabbed onto him, and he grappled with it for a few seconds before hitting in the face with his axe. As soon as he tried to get away, however, he was surrounded by the creatures. They clung onto him, not letting go. Jorah saw, and he started to go to him, only to be distracted by wights in front of him.

The wights took Tormund to the ground. He screamed, trying to free himself from their grips. "Help me!"

One wight got the better of him, it's jaws snapping inches away from his face. Two more wights burst up from the water, grabbing at his ankles and starting to drag him. He threw the wight off him, kicking at the two in the water. But more circled him on land. He kept screaming as they pulled him nearer to the edge of the rock. Sandor ran ahead, knocking back two of the wights on land. He grabbed Tormund's shoulders, pulling him back. He was able to free Tormund from them. The wildling stumbled back onto his feet.

The wights kept coming, and they all kept fighting. Emmelyne finally fired her last arrow, and she fell back, moving away from the bulk of the fighting. She had only brought her bow and arrows. She had no sword or knife to continue fighting. Jon was trying to drag their captive. Wights tried to stop him, but they were killed instantly. There were too many of them. Emmelyne knew that. Another wildling fell from the side of the rock, and was torn into quickly.

This was when Emmelyne gave up. She closed her eyes, balling her hands into tight fists, digging her fingernails into her palms. A few short breaths escaped her. When she opened her eyes again, she moved to the edge of the rock, staring down at the wights. She ran her thumb along the red mark on her hand. Something about Drogon, something about her, something magic, had left that mark. Emmelyne, without even trying, had burned people. Perhaps if she was trying now...

She straightened her hand, keeping her palm pointed at the wights. She watched as the small tornado of fire appeared, twisting in her palm. It needed to be stronger, larger. The more she thought about this, the larger the flame grew. It shifted from the spiral into a straight beam of fire. She continued to focus, and finally, it burst out. The flames hit a circle of wights, who died screaming. She tried to create more fire, but couldn't. Every inch of her being was drained. She pulled her hand back, sighing softly to herself. Her breathing slowed, and she fell back once more. The wights were climbing onto the rock.

And then there was a screech from above.

Emmelyne looked up, her eyes landing on Drogon, who held Daenerys on his back. Rhaegal and Viserion followed. Drogon let out a burst of fire, creating a long path in the ice. Wights either burned or fell through the ice. Viserion and Rhaegal joined in, releasing bursts of bright flame. They were saved. Emmelyne let out a cheer, starting to laugh wildly. She couldn't help herself. She felt Sandor taking her arm, and they all watched the wights die. Emmelyne raised her hand and saw that the tiny tornado was back. She closed it in her fist, knowing that she wasn't needed now.

Daenerys lowered Drogon to the ground, allowing him to settle beside the rock. Sandor released Emmelyne, picking up the wight. Everyone lowered as Drogon moved, breathing fire on the wights behind them. Jon was the first to run forward, reaching up to climb the dragon. Daenerys smiled, reaching down to help him. But he didn't take her hand. He turned back, attacking an advancing wight. "Go!" he urged the others.

They all began to climb onto Drogon's back, Emmelyne shaking as she attempted to find footholds.

On his cliff, one of the white walkers handed a sharp spear made of ice to the Night King. "Jon!" Jorah shouted.

They all stared at Jon, who was killing the wights that surrounded him. "Jon, please! Come back!" Emmelyne cried, but he would not listen.

The Night King moved to the edge of the cliff, walking, unfazed, through smoldering wights corpses. He brought his arm back, aiming his spear.

Everyone was on Drogon now except for Jon. Daenerys stared at him, a fearful look in her eyes.

The Night King focused his gaze on Viserion, who was coming around the rock. And then he threw the spear.

Viserion exploded in a burst of blood and fire. He attempted to keep flying, blood pouring out from behind him like a demented ribbon. Drogon and Rhaegal roared angrily. Daenerys's eyes went wide.

The white dragon hit the ice screeching, his blood draining into the water as he broke through. "No," Emmelyne whispered.

His head lie on the ice. His wings stopped flapping. His bright green eyes closed. Viserion died. His claws scratched at the ice as he slid into the water and disappeared. Everyone went completely stiff. Daenerys stared at the hole in the ice, her expression slack. She was completely shocked. Drogon and Rhaegal continued to roar. Emmelyne was the first to escape from her daze. She began to climb from Drogon's back. "No!" Sandor shouted at her, reaching down and grabbing her wrist.

"I have to try!" she screamed. "I have to try! Let me try to revive him!"

Tormund turned quickly, grabbing Emmelyne as well. "Please," she begged. "I have to! I have to help. Just... just please, let me try."

She began to cry then. She went entirely limp, allowing Tormund and Sandor to pull her back onto the dragon.

Another white walker handed the Night King a spear. "Go!" Jon shouted at the group.

Daenerys looked back at him. He began to run toward them, still shouting. "Go now! Leave!"

Two wights suddenly leaped on him. The three bodies crashed through the ice. Emmelyne screamed. "Jon!"

The Night King came forward again with his spear. Daenerys reacted quickly, forcing Drogon up into the air. The force of the dragon's wings threw a herd of wights backwards. Drogon kicked off of a rock, flying straight up. The Night King threw his spear, but Drogon avoided it barely. Jorah let out a shout suddenly, falling from the side. Tormund reacted fast, grabbing Jorah's wrist tightly. As they flew, Daenerys looked back into the masses of wights on the lake. When she looked ahead again, a few tears fell down her face. Emmelyne stared back, letting out a weak sob. "Jon," she whispered.

Silence surrounded her, and she let out a sigh. He was gone.