[Contains GoT spoilers! This series follows Seasons 2 through 8 of Game of Thrones.] Rhaena Velaryon is the daughter of the late Lord of the Tides, Trysten Velaryon, and of the former Princess of House Targaryen, Visaerya Velaryon. Living on the isl...
[A/N: Even though there must be sad feelings all around after that last chapter, I'd like to thank everyone for 5k views! I've decided to upload this chapter and the next more quickly as to not keep you all in suspense for long about Rhaena and her baby's fate and because they've been written for such a long time now. I saw the comments, giggled and then thought 'Is this how George R R Martin feels?'Anyways, the next chapter will likely be uploaded tomorrow!]
[Also coincides with 'Beyond the Wall'.]
The frigid waters pierce his every being, clouding his mind with needles and icy nothings. His brain freezes, preparing to stop working at any moment. Jon fights, forcing every fiber of his being to resist the chilling, below freezing water to swim to the girl several yards away experiencing the same conditions if not worse. She's lifeless. Holding her hand above her as if reaching out to the heavens shining through the thick ice. She sinks slowly, her skin blue and pale white, her silver hair flowing upwards in the water. Everything now moves in slow motion. The wights fighting him cling to his ankle, refusing to let go. Jon swings through the water, hitting it as hard as he can, kicking wildly, prying the dead fingers off of his boot. Every move hits him like a thousand icy daggers across his entire body. Every lift of the finger, every wordless grunt uttered beneath the water. Finally, he knocks the wights into the depths below and swims desperately in Rhaena's direction.
She descends slowly further and further into the endless dark abyss beneath them where her dragon lay in a growing cloud of blood. Jon's lungs begin to contract, turning slowly to ice within him and burning him with a wintry fire. He needs air, no matter how cold it may be. Air. Breath. He forces himself to swim faster, ultimately grabbing Rhaena's hand and pulling her to the open ice hole near the surface. His entire body burns with cold fire, beginning to freeze him from within.
With all his might, he reaches out, grabbing the edge of the ice and breathing deeply upon reaching the surface. He pulls Rhaena above the water, grabbing her and holding her torso to keep her head above water. She is completely blue, her mouth ajar, her eyes nearly frozen shut. As Jon pulls himself out of the water, the wintry air hits him, feeling like a blizzard of icicles and snow hitting his bare face. He can feel nearly all of him going numb as he uses his remaining strength to pull his love from the water and lays her on the ice with strained grunts. You are not leaving me today. After blowing air into her lungs several times, she begins to cough. He turns her on her side to allow her to vomit up the water that filled her lungs before, yet she does nothing more. She falls limp on the ice.
Jon pushes himself to his feet, his body aching and burning and freezing. Picking up Rhaena and attempting to run, he goes to his sword. Upon holstering Longclaw, he turns to retrieve her again but sees himself surrounded. The army of the dead and their icy blue eyes of death stare at him from all corners of the wasteland. On hills, at the edge of the iced lake, row after row of rotted flesh only standing there. He carries her to the island he fought on and lays her in the snow. Her cold, frozen, lifeless face then hits Jon. What if she's dead? No. He unsheathes his sword and assumes a weak fighting stance, ready to defend them until his dying breath. The dead advance but something else rides through them.
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An unknown figure swings a fiery ball attached to a chain into the wights, knocking them down or throwing them across the lake. Jon lowers his sword in exhaustion and confusion. The rider gallops by him and stops some few feet away, leaping from the horse and coming towards him. Removing his hood and mask, Jon sees for the first time in years his uncle, Benjen. "Uncle Benjen...!" Jon cries breathlessly. Benjen hoists Rhaena off the snowy ground and on to the horse, then helping Jon on as well. Amongst the chaos and cold, Jon manages to move his frozen mouth to form words. "Uncle..."
"Ride for the pass." Benjen tells him, his hands cold as ice and face as pale and scarred as a wight.
"Come with me."
"There's no time. Go!" He slaps the horse and Jon is on the move, galloping to safety. Peering over his shoulder, he sees his uncle unravel his chain, igniting it once it is ready. He swings it at the oncoming wights, taking only a few with him before he is overwhelmed and lost in the sea of dead. Jon feels himself trying to cry but his tears freeze on his cheeks and crack off, flying into the snow behind the horse. He holds Rhaena closely. Feeling her breathing, even if ragged, brings him some kind of joy. Feeling her belly and the wild kicking within does not. Her only hope is to reach the Wall alive. Jon senses her being in great pain and, from the kicking and wiggling, in labor. He has no time to be upset. He need only ride into the wasteland and make for Eastwatch as soon as possible.
