"The beautiful thing about fighting for your life is that no matter how hard you fight, Death can snatch everything from you in an instant. Hope is a gift and a curse. Hope makes you think that everything might be okay in the end, but more often than not, it's a trick. A cruel trick."
——————
꧁~~The Living~~꧂
"It's gone quiet.."
Theon Greyjoy whispers, the Godawood feeling more eerie than it ever has in his entire life. The Ironborn behind him clutch their weapons as they wait for the inevitable doom they all know is coming. But despite the tension, Bran sits there under the Weirwood tree, silent as a crypt as he stares at the initials 'ED' and 'JS' carved into the white bark of the ancient tree.
"I wish I did things differently, Bran.."
Theon whispers, as he clenches and unclenches the spear in his hands, pacing in the snow slightly as Bran looks away from the tree to Theon. Bran was always confused before about why Theon betrayed the Starks. He was like a brother to them, and yet he betrayed them. But Bran realized long before he became the Three-Eyed-Raven, home is what drives a man forward. That and love, something Theon never had.
"Those decisions brought you to where you stand now- where you belong; home."
Theon let's out a shakey breath as he looks down at the Stark who is nothing like the Stark boy he had known all of those years ago. And despite the blank gaze in Bran's seemingly dead eyes, there is signs of forgiveness, of recognition as a friend and as a brother. And in the end, that is all that Theon Greyjoy wanted.
Ellaria Sand paces back and forth, flicking around her twin Dragonglass daggers in her hands, her breath showing in the frigid yet damp crypt inside of Winterfell.
Tyrion had been drunk for the last few hours. He had been drunk even before the dead had arrived. What's the point in dying if you're not dying sober?
"It's gotten quiet up there."
"Why is nothing happening? Did we lose already?"
Someone asks after Tyrion's comment. But nobody answers the woman as she holds her baby closer to her in her arms. Sansa watches on, feeling utterly useless as the dagger her little sister had given her lies next to her on the ground, waiting for her to stand up and use it.
"I need to be up there... I need to be up there. Maybe baby girls are out there.."
"If you go up there, you'll be putting us all at risk."
Varys states, trying to sound calm and reasonable but it does not seem to ease Ellaria one little bit as she turns sharply.
"What do you know about it? You have no children like me and her!"
She points at the woman who's holding her newborn baby in her arms, whispering soft coes to coax the newborn into sleep.
"You wouldn't understand what it is for man and wife to create life. All you do is scheme and take like a scheming snake slithering about in the garden, biting those you don't like."
"Lady Ellaria, pleas-"
"And you wouldn't even know the half of it."
Ellaria whips around quickly, pointing a finger at Tyrion's chest before storming off, not being able to really go far but she needs to be away.
"She's right, you know."
Sansa says, making Tyrion and a few others glance at her, almost surprised hearing her voice after a long term silence from her.
"You would not know what it is like."
"And what do you know of raising a child? What it is to lose one, if not, more than one?"
Tyrion asks, the conversation of losing children to the blade, sickness or just simple death in general making him feel guilty. His sister, however much he could hate her, is sorry that her children, the only thing she loved in this world, are gone. Dead and gone, no chance of ever coming back.
Sansa couldn't care less for Cersei or her suffering. In fact, she kind of enjoys the thought of her suffering.
But the politics and the life of the game of thrones will not matter one little bit of the dead kill them all.
The wall of flames roars with power and life.
The living remain on the better side of the fire, The dead, on the other. The thousands upon thousands of dead men, women, children and other monsters all stare back with cold, blue, empty eyes as the living stare back in fear at the eerie silence. One moment they are screaming like terrible monsters, the next they are deathly silent.
"Get inside!"
Jon says and with only slight hesitation, the living still outside of the wall turn to go back inside. Tormund and Greyworm usher everyone still outside back in as Jon stays for a moment, looking at the dead across the flaming wall. They stare back at him with such emptiness that anyone would figure these creatures- these monsters- were ever human to begin with.
Suddenly, one Wight steps forward, falling into the flames without a sound uttered. Jon stares in confusion, watching as another one falls and then another, then one more. One after the other, the undead begins to pile ontop of the only thing keeping them from the living.
"Prepare the oil and fire on the walls! They're going to get through!"
Jon turns and dashes back towards the gate, running inside as he shoves past several people to get onto the ramparts to help defend against the soon coming storm.
Tyene runs through the courtyard of Winterfell as fast as she can, shoving past people trying to escape as she fights her way to find her love.
"Arya!?"
She shouts over the frightened cries of the people.
"Arya, where are you!?"
Arya looks down from wall back into the courtyard as the dead begin swarming past the dying trench. In the chaos of the courtyard, she sees her love running towards her, shoving past anyone who gets in her way.
"Tyene! What are you doing!?"
Arya hollers as Tyene forces her way up the stares, dashing up them before finally reaching the ramparts. As the archers are relieved from the wall, regular soldiers come in to man the barrels of pitch and oil, torches lit next to them so that they might light. Arya and Tyene crash into one another, lips connecting as the screams and snarls of the undead call to them like a whisper from Death himself.
"Love, what are you doing here? Why-"
"I love you, Arya! I can't be in those crypts without knowing you'll be alright!"
"They're coming! They're climbing the walls!"
Arya smashes her lips against Tyene's one more time before turning sharply.
"Let's do this, then."
She as the first of the dead reach over the wall. The living clash on top of the wall against the dead, forcing them back due to the advantage of the high ground. Jaime Lannister stands beside Brienne, the pair fighting like they were born to do it together as soldiers begin to pour oil and pitch over the walls, setting it aflame as it dumps onto the hundreds and thousands of dead, killing them in droves.
But it isn't enough.
"We're out of oil! We need more-"
The man screaming suddenly shrieks in pain as a Wight climbs over the edge, ripping into his throat with its teeth. Seeing the gap in the walk starting to break, Arya rushes forward as well as Jaime, slamming into the man and the Wight at the same time, making both tumble off of the wall as more and more gaps open up, making their effort in vain.
Beric Dondaarion waves his flaming sword in a frenzy, as the dead begin to overwhelm the living on the walls. Instead of killing the fighters on the wall, the dead shove right last them, going for all of the living inside on the courtyards and ones inside the keep.
Over the sounds of snarls and screams of the dead and living alike, loud cracks are heard from the barred gates. Wights pound on the gates relentlessly before smashing it open. Lyanna Mormont stares in shock for a moment as a massive Wight bear charges in, slamming into her and sending her flying as it starts massacaring the living alongside the thousands of Wights pouring in.
Sandor Clegane watches in fear as flames erupt everywhere it seems, his mind racing back to when his older brother burned half his face clean off in fire. The literal walking dead smash through the living, cutting them to pieces as the fighters still alive fight with everything they have left.
Beric swings his flaming sword once more, noticing the Hound for the first time in the battle.
"Clegane!"
A Wight charges, making him focus up again as he kills it.
"Clegane, come on! Keep fighting!"
"We're fucking losing! Don't you see that!? We're done!"
A shout rips across the wall as Arya swiftly spins around, wrapping her arms around a Wight before body slamming it to the ground and Tyene stabs it with her dagger.
"Tell that to her!"
Seeing Arya give it her all with the one person she loves in this world, Sandor Clegane picks up his sword once more, anger fueling him as he fights alongside Beric and the living.
"KEEPING FIGHTING!"
"GIVE THEM NOTHING BUT YOUR SWORDS!"
The Wight bear continues reading havack as Lyanna Mormont slowly stands to her feet, pain shooting through her entire body as her ears ring as well. Her mind drifts off slightly, seeing her mother's face, though not pretty one bit. But she knew that she was a warrior, and always will be.
Standing up, Lyanna draws her Dragonglass sword, shouting without fear and with such determination as she charges at the Wight bear. The bear turns sharply, swiping at her chest as it nearly rips her open in one swing. Lyanna falls back into the bloody snow as the bear pounces on her, ripping into her shoulder as the Mormont of Bear Island screams in agony but with fury. Her arm not being ripped apart reaches towards her belt where her salvation lays.
Quickly shouting with determination as the bear continues crushing her body, Lyanna Mormont swiftly takes the Dragonglass daggers, jamming it into the Wight bear's throat over and over again, making it roar one last time before collapsing on top of Lyanna, officially ending the Lady of Bear Island as thousands of Wights still charge over her now dead body.
The storm still thrashes the dragons around without mercy. Drogon and Rhaegal continue to struggle to stay flying as their riders continue struggling to hold on. Evelyn and Daenerys scream at the top of their lungs, trying to call out to one another through the vast storm of winter hell.
Calling out is useless. The bear fur Evelyn wears over her shoulders barely hangs on and barely does a thing to keep her warm as so many thoughts run through her mind. Despite the whipping wind, she can hear the absolute slaughter going on down below, making her try her best to direct Rhaegal to swoop down below the storm. Everything shows itself in an instant. Wintefell looks as if it's burning as a sea of undead monsters crash onto and over it's walls.
"Come on!"
Evelyn shouts as the dead continue overwhelming the living. But as they are already over the wall and inside, Evelyn can do nothing but make a few strafes with Rhaegal.
"Dracarys!"
She screams as Dragonfire spews down into the endless wave, cutting through them all in an instant and turning them all to ash.
But the King of eternal night and winter watches down from the dark night sky, watching with calm and calculating eyes as his dead continue to massacre the living. His eyes flicker to the dragon sweeping down with fire. With the tiniest hint of a smirk, he direct his dragon to move a bit further down.
Evelyn makes another pass on top of Rhaegal, desperate as she watches the people be massacred inside of her childhood home. Landing Rhaegal on one of the walls filled with only dead, Rhaegal leans his head out, dumping fire on the dead that try to come near him and his rider as Evelyn looks all around. What could she do? What can she or anyone else do to prevent this slaughter.
The screech of a dragon other than Rhaegal catches her attention. But it sounds nothing like Drogon, as she has memorized the sounds each of the dragons make. This one sounds...dead. Broken. Her eyes widen in realization as she swiftly looks up, peering into the sky as only a little light from the ever distant moon above pokes through the clouds just for a moment, illuminating the figure of a broken undead Viserion and his new rider.
Evelyn's breath hitches for a moment, staring in horror as the Night King looks down upon her, seemingly inviting Evelyn to fight in the sky with a challenging look. Knowing that it is more likely a trap than anything, but with few choices, Evelyn directs Rhaegal to take off, giving chase to the Night King.
But as they get higher and higher, the clouds envelope them, block both of their vision as the frigid cold nips at them both.
"Daenerys!?"
Evelyn screams, hoping her love is all right. But in a sudden motion, something massive slams into Rhaegal, nearly knocking him and Evelyn out of the sky as Drogon accidently runs into his brother in the sky by accident through the chaos of the storm. But as the riders gain balance once more, Drogon and Rhaegal fly like tredding water.
"He's here!"
Evelyn calls out with the loudest voice she can muster.
"The Night King is on Viserion!"
She screams.
"Evie, we can't see! Go up!"
Daenerys shouts and Evelyn immediately nods, directing her dragon to take off up towards the the. Flying for a few moments beforebbreaking through the clouds, the crystal clear sky shows itself, the moon and stars shining brightly but dimmer at the same time.
The air is calm. Drogon and Rhaegal look around as Evelyn peers across at Daenerys.
"He's going to ambush us from below! Move Drogon higher up!"
Evelyn shouts as they both move their dragons up higher and higher above the clouds. Rhaegal huffs and puffs as does Drogon. Neither dragon has ever had to fight for thg to show. But Evelyn and Daenerys still look below, waiting as the game of cat and mouse continues. Evelyn's heart beats like a pounding drum in her ears as the seconds continue counting by.
"Evelyn!"
Daenerys breathes out, fear nipping at her heart as she looks across at her one true love, the only one she ever had in her life. Fear of losing was always present as soon as the Night King took her baby boy and turned him into a monster. But now it's increased tenfold.
"What are we going to do? How can we win this?"
"Dany, we'll beat this! We cannot lose this!"
Evelyn shouts as the wind whips a little bit faster for some reason. Just as Daenerys opens her mouth to speak once more, blue fire erupts out of nowhere, catching her and Drogon completely off guard as Drogon takes off to avoid the seemingly frigid flames. Evelyn watches as the Night King chases her love on the back of her baby boy before breaking off, dissapearing back into the clouds. Rhaegal catches up with Drogon as Evelyn looks out to Daenerys in worry and fear.
"Are you hurt?! Drogon?"
"I'm fine! We're fine!"
Though, the quick attack had nearly given her a heartattack. Looking back down below at the endless amount of stormy winter clouds, Evelyn looks back to Daenerys.
"He's in there somewhere. We have no choice!"
"It's a trap!"
"We can't fly hear looking idol whilst the Night King is alive! We need to force him off Viserion before killing him!"
Evelyn shouts, making Daenerys nod as she too looks down into the winter clouds of cold darkness.
"I love you."
She feels as if her voice is a whisper, but in the moment of silence, Evelyn had heard her.
"I love you, too."
She whispers back. Though apart, the lovers could hear each other clearly. Daenerys smiles, feeling revigored as she nods. Evelyn and her dive back down into the winter clouds to root out the Night King, hopefully to end him once and for all.
Inside the keep of Winterfell, Arya sneaks around silently, Tyene following as they try their damnest to stay silent. The halls are dark and eerie silence and tension builds as they creep through the halls.
The library is up ahead. A library is usually the quietest place in the world it always seemed, but this... this is just as silent as the grave. Arya has trained as a Faceless Assassin, learned how to walk as quiet as a shadow yet fast a viper. She's danced with Death before many times. But this is one of the hardest times. Tyene had trained with her father all of her life along with her mother. She had trained in footwork, though not to the extent of Arya. But Tyene refuses to abandon her lover's side.
Walking through, a creek makes both of then freeze as the door on the far end busts open, a few Wights piling in. Tyene whimpers slightly as the dead tremble through, snarling every so often but they do not run. They look around, milling about in search for someone or somehing to kill. The dance with Death has commenced once more.
Silently sneaking through the columns of books, Arya squeezes Tyene's hand in a fearful death grip as the dead continue milling about. Avoiding them as best they can, Tyene and Arya duck under one of the table, Tyene covering her mouth as she struggles to maintain her breathing. Fear that the Wights will hear her heartbeat frightens her as Arya cannot help but fear the same. She feels fear. They both do. They fear Death, no matter the face he might where.
A single Wight walks by, growling lowly as the once human turned creature looks for flesh but stops for a moment, listening in.
Drip...drip...drip..
Arya looks at Tyene, seeing blood drip from a slightly open wound, watching the blood drip onto the wooden floors. The single Wight can hear it as it shuffles slowly towards the table. Fear and panic begin to rise in Tyene once more as she struggles to stay quiet. Arya draws her Valyrain dagger as softly as she can as she wraps an arm around Tyene as the Wight looks underneath the table, the Valyrian dagger softly and silently going through its eye, killing it in an instant as the other Wights did not notice the noise. Arya withdraws her dagger quietly, easing the body off the blade as she looks back to Tyene, worried about the wound.
"We need to move.."
Arya whispers as quiet as she can into Tyene's ear. Any other circumstance, and that whisper might have made Tyene tremble in pleasure, but now wasn't a time at all. Now, she feels fear and nothing else. She fears her sisters are dead. She fears her mother is dead. Fear fears Arya and her are the only ones in the world that are left alive.
But pushing through, Arya and Tyene silently move away from under the table, sneaking across the room as a Wighr narrowly catches them in it's sights but misses, moving on. Arya silently grabs a book from a table, throwing it towards where the Wights came from as it makes a ruckus where it lands, making all of the Wights in the library charge towards it, giving Arya and Tyene the chance to move. But to the exit of the library they go, a Wight walks around the corner, catching Arya off guard completely. But before a noise could even be made, Tyene swiftly and silently moves her dagger up right through the chin and up into the mouth and it's skull, killing it in a silent instant.
The Wight's body leans against her, pouring out dead blood as Tyene and Arya softly move it to the ground before standing back up. Arya looks up into Tyene's eyes with love, appreciation, fear and everything else jumbled together before Tyene leans down, planting the softest and quietest kiss possible on her lover's lips.
But the dance with Death is far from over.
The crypts are silent as the literal grave. The woman from before holds her newborn babe in her arms silently, the baby no longer crying as it is fast asleep.
Missandei sits quietly by herself, hands folded together tightly in nervousness as her lover is out there fighting those things. Tyrion takes another swig of wine as Varys only watches. The Spider has no power down here. His schemes and plans mean nothing at all. Everyone down there, no matter their class in society or power in the Game, are useless and can die all the same.
Ellaria Sand flicks around her twin Dragonglass daggers, staring off towards the stairway leading up to the exit of the crypts. Her eyes do not waver in the slightest as the doors begin to be pounded on.
"Open the doors!"
"Open them! Come on!
"PLEASE! OPEN THE- AHHH!"
As everyone else trembles in fear, Ellaria continues staring at the stairway, flicking around her daggers as she prepares to die.
"It is convenient we're already in a crypt."
She remarks quietly to no one in particular as whoever was banging on the door stops. Now, the eerie silence returns to the crypt as Ellaria smiles to herself.
Sandor Clegane and Beric Dondaarion walks through the halls of Winterfell as quiet as they can. Beric's flaming sword flickers slightly and lights their way forward. But suddenly, within a flash, a door at the end of the hall is burst open as tomorrow figures are thrown inside.
"Arya!"
The Hound shouts as a few Wights start start pile on top of her and Tyene. Beric throws his flaming sword with skill, impaling it in the Wight as the flames spread onto the other Wights, allowing for Tyene and Arya to crawl away.
Blood, bruises and other injuries cover their bodies as the Hound swiftly lifts them both in his arms, turning around and taking off as seemingly dozens of Wights give chase. Beric struggles to keep up from his wounds. A Wight stabs him in his leg, making in growl in pain as he fights his way through it.
Arya watches as the Hound pulls her away. She watches as Beric repeatedly gets slowed down as they round the corner. Just as Beric rounds the same corner, a Wight stabs him in the back, making him stumble. He holds his hands on the narrow hallway walls, blocking the paths of the Wights as he is stabbed repeatedly over and over again.
"No! No!"
Arya screams as the Hound pulls her and Tyene to the door to the hall, throwing them inside as Arya tries fighting against him. Just before he slams the door shut though, Beric stumbles inside, collapsing to the ground as the Hound slams the door shut, Tyene bolting it shut as the Wights pound on the heavy wooden door.
Arya holds onto Beric as he dies slowly. Blood leaks from his mouth and his many stab wounds as Arya looks at the man she hated for so long with tears in her eyes.
"No..no, no, Beric.."
"My p-purpose.... What t-the Lord b-brought..brought me b-back for.... is...is...done.."
He whispers softly as he closes his one eyes for the final time in this world. Beric Dondaarion had given his last life in this world to save Arya.
"He's right, you know. He's serves his Lord's purpose to the end."
Arya turns, looking across the room as the Red Woman stands beside the flames in the hearth.
"I know you. You're the Red Woman."
Arya says a bit bitterly as Tyene and Sandor continue piling stuff against the door.
"And I know you, Arya Stark."
"You said that we'd meet again."
"It seems we have. At the end of the world, that is."
Melisandre approaches as Arya looks at the Red Woman with untrust.
"You said that I would shut many eyes. Eyes that I would shut forever. You were right about that."
"Brown eyes..."
Melisandre starts, gazing down at Arya knowingly.
"Green eyes... and blue. But those eyes are saved for only one.."
Melisandre looks to Beric's dead body, motioning to it as Arya seemingly understands what the Red Woman means.
"You will play your role, just as he played his. You must wait for him to raise them once more, then you can make your cut."
Arya nods slightly as Tyene and the Hound only look on in confusion as Arya crouches next to Beric, waiting patiently.
"Arya."
The Red Woman states, making Arya look back to her as silence fills the room for a long moment. Melisandre looks down at Arya, seeing the fire and determination in her eyes. The eyes that would shut many forever. The eyes to help shut the blue ones forever.
"What do we say to the God of Death?"
Arya smiles, looking back at Beric Dondaarion as she draws her Valyrian dagger.
"Not today."
The wind whips as blue fire covers a long strip of wall surrounding Winterfell. The Night King forces Viserion to dump fire on the living as he makes his strafe. But out of the blue, Evelyn directs Rhaegal to slam into Viserion, the living and the dead dragon dancing in the sky high above Winterfell now as they bite and scratch at one another.
Evelyn roars with fury and determination, encouraging Rhaegal to fight. But doing this takes its toll on Rhaegal. He's fighting his own brother, fighting to the death as Viserion now has no hesitation to try and kill the one he hatched beside, nor has any hesitation in trying to kill the rider that helped raise him alongside his mother.
"Get off!"
Evelyn screams as Rhaegal and Viserion continues tussling. The Night King sits atop Viserion, holding up a long and sharp icy javelin, ironically, the same one he had used to kill Viserion.
Evelyn stares as they spin around in the sky, thrashing against one another as the Night King lifts the javelin up, waiting for a clean throw. Viserion cuts at Rhaegal's chest, clawing a huge gash in the dragon's chest as Rhaegal roars and shrieks in pain. Viserion bites at Evelyn, making her scream as the bear fur around her shoulders his ripped clean off from her.
Just before the Nighr King can throw the javelin, a massive winged creature, making Evelyn think just for a second it's Balerion the Black Dread, crashes into Viserion, snatching him by the neck and throttling the Night King off as he plummets to the ground. Drogon and Viserion fight it out for a few moments, but the smaller dragon is no match for the beast that is Drogon as Viserion retreats.
Evelyn holds on with all of her might as Rhaegal approaches the ground faster and faster while trying to slow himself. Running along the ground, Rhaegal shrieks as he crashes, sending his rider clean off as Evelyn hits the snow hard.
For a moment, she thinks she's dead. For a moment, she wishes she was.
"Get up, kid."
"Maege...?"
"Get up. This isn't over, not by a long shot."
Evelyn tries to get up, forcing herself up by her hands but crumples back down onto the cold snowy ground in pain.
"I can't!"
She whimpers as tears sting her eyes.
"I can't... I can't do it.."
Don't give me that. Daenerys needs you. The world needs Evelyn Dayne to get up off her ass and fight."
Opening her eyes, Evelyn sees Maege Mormont, her greatest friend she had ever known looking down at her with the softest and friendlest of smiles possible.
"You have things still to do, Evelyn Dayne."
"Maege.."
The past Lady of Bear Island begins walking away into the falling snow as Evelyn reaches out with a shakey hand.
"Maege..!"
"Just remeber what I said."
Her voice calls out as Maege Mormont finally fades away into nothing. Her hair is an utter mess, her ribs are killing her, and she's tired. Evelyn is tried of fighting. Death is inviting her to join him on the other side. She so wants to take that invitation but she can't. She knows she can't.
Evelyn huffs, spitting up a little blood onto the snow as she pounds her gloved fists in the snow in determination, forcing herself to stand as the snow continues falling on the battlefield, the only sound being the wind.
Daenerys looks down to the ground of corpses, looking down past Drogon as she sees him. She sees the Night King. And the Nighr King sees her. For a moment, Daenerys can see Viserion hatching from his egg in the flames of the funeral pyre. Viserion was born after Drogon, curling up in her lap as Rhaegal was born soon after. Daenerys remebers the warmth and love of the flames. But now, she sees the cold and unforgiving nature of death before her, staring back at her in the eyes with challenge. A challenge Daenerys is all too happy to meet.
"Dracarys."
Drogon spews Dragonfire down onto the Night King, burning away the landscape around him as he dissapears into the roaring flames. Evelyn stumbles forward, shielding her eyes from the furious flames of the fire as Daenerys urges Drogon to keep burning. Ten seconds past, and then twenty, and Drogon still spews fire until Daenerys makes him stop. The flames still roar tall, bright and hot, blocking the view below as Evelyn and Daenerys look on in wonder and hope.
But that hope is immediately snatched away as the flames die down, revealing the Night King standing their, unburnt and very much alive. That fact only makes the Night King smile as he bends over to pick up his dropped javelin. Fear sparks in Daenerys' eyes as she immediately directs Drogon to fly away, narrowly avoiding the icy javelin of death.
Making Daenerys and Drogon flee, the Night King stands triumphant as he begins walking slowly across the field of corpses, making his way to the burned down and bashed open walls of Winterfell to where is target lies.
Lifting her arm up to her back, she clasps her fingers and palm around the hilt of Dawn, drawing the blade from its scabbard with a twirl as she begins to run forward. The landscape is quiet. Only the wind and the flickering flames around the battlefield ring out as the Night King walks slowly, the sword strapped to his back bouncing lightly as he figures nothing can stop him now.
But fast footsteps from behind him catches his attention as he turns around slowly, watching as Evelyn makes eye contact, slowing down for a moment. The two enemies, living and dead, stare at one another across the field. If the Night King had been human, had any humanity in him at all, he'd find Evelyn to be commendable. Her courage and bravery shown clearly. But he finds it amusing really that she tries so hard when all their is in this world anymore is death.
He begins to raise his hands, and Evelyn's eyes widen in pure fear and shock. She knows what that means. Beginning to sprint faster than she ever has in her entire life, Evelyn runs over countless corpses as their eyes begin to open, whatever color they had before now turning blue. Just before Evelyn can reach the Night King, the dead block her path, staring at her with dead, cold eyes.
Any little victories the living had in this fight are gone. The dead all around Winterfell rise up in eerie silence. The Night King looks ar Evelyn, smirking one more time before walking away, leaving her to die alone in the cold.
~~~~~
A/N
Holy fuck, fuck, fuck!
Feedback is dearly needed and it is always appreciated when it comes. Hope you guys and gals are on the edge of your seats!