And then, the day came.
The sky did not clear. There was no dawn, no birdsong. Only a gray, sickly light that filtered through the clouds as if the sun had also fled.
From beyond the frozen walls and stilled rivers, came the mist.
It brought no wind or sound. Only stillness. And death.
The army of the dead advanced. In its wake, the world fell silent.
Hundreds. Thousands. They didn't run or scream. They just walked. Unstoppable.
King's Landing awaited them.
The city was silent.
Not a natural silence of calm or peace. It was an unnatural void, thick, as if the air itself refused to move. King's Landing had been many things: capital, battlefield, symbol of power. Now, it was only a trap. Cold. Empty. Lethal.
Underground, through collapsed tunnels, Arya Stark advanced alone. Her face covered with ash and frost, her body pressed to the wall. Each step was a decision. Each shadow, a threat.
She carried the candle. It had been prepared by Sam and Tyrion with sickening precision. Its length had been calculated to the second. The thickness, measured to the millimeter. It would burn just long enough to give her a chance to escape.
Only one.
On the surface, atop the broken heights of the Red Keep, Jon and Daenerys waited beside Drogon. The dragon rested with difficulty, wounded, his wings trembling with each icy gust. From there, the city spread like an open corpse: empty streets, frozen houses, collapsed temples.
The enemy had not yet arrived.
But it would.
Both knew that everything depended on what happened in the next few minutes. One opportunity. One mistake. One spark.
Meanwhile, in the bay, a ship hidden among the mists with a view of the city floated in silence. Aboard, Tyrion, Sansa, Sam, Ser Davos, and little Jonerys waited without speaking. The baby slept, oblivious to the fate hanging over them all.
Now, everything depended on the Night King entering the city.
The sky was gray. The air, motionless. From the heights of the Red Keep, Daenerys and Jon watched in silence.
Then, they saw it. Hordes of wights began entering through the collapsed gates, crossing the outer fields like a devouring shadow. Deformed creatures, ice spiders, skeletons of giants. Everything advanced toward the center.
But not the Night King.
They waited. And kept waiting. The dead advanced more and more. Too much. If they reached the tunnels and basements where Arya hid, they could destroy the barrels or detonate everything prematurely.
âHe's not there âJon murmured, frowningâ. Why doesn't he appear?
âMaybe he knows it's a trap âDaenerys replied, tense, her gaze fixed on the frozen streets.
Time was running out. And with each second, the wights were closer to the basement.
Then Daenerys decided.
âI have to force him out âshe said, her eyes fixed aheadâ. If he sees Drogon, if he sees we're attacking directly... he'll show himself.
âIt's full of wights down there âJon warnedâ. Drogon is wounded. He can't hold out much.
âIt doesn't matter. I can't stay here watching everything fall apart. Not now.
âThen I'm going with you âJon said, without hesitation.
Both climbed onto Drogon's back. The dragon roared powerfully as he descended through the city's ruins, opening a path of fire through the horde of the dead. The creatures began to turn, to raise their heads, to prepare to attack.
Drogon launched flames against towers and ruined buildings, carefully avoiding any area near the wildfire. They weren't seeking to detonate the trap prematurely, only to attract the wights and force the Night King out of his hiding place.
It wasn't yet time to touch the wildfire.
Only to buy time.
Separate the dead.
Force the Night King to show himself.
And for an instant... it seemed to work.
âThey're falling into the trap âDaenerys murmured, her eyes fixed on the streetsâ. They're concentrating... right where we want them.
From the heights, Jon saw the tunnel accesses cleared. The dead weren't retreating, but now they were focused on another prey: them.
Drogon circled among fallen towers, drawing the attention of every wight with his roar and fire.
And yet...
âDo you see him? âJon askedâ. He... where is he?
âHe must be near. This is exactly what he wanted. He's watching us.
The cold grew denser. The snow fell slower. The silence became unbearable.
Then, from the ruins of the old Great Sept, something emerged.
It wasn't the Night King.
It was worse.
An ice spider, gigantic, with legs sharp as blades and multiple blue eyes. Its body was a dome of living ice. Its breath, frost.
It violently cast a frozen web. Drogon dodged it, but in the forced movement turned wrong. A second web caught his left wing, adhering like burning crystal. The dragon roared, unbalanced.
âHold on! âDaenerys shouted.
Drogon tried to rise, but an ice spear, thrown from the ground, hit his rear thigh. It was too much.
The dragon let out a roar of pain so heartbreaking and powerful that it resonated throughout King's Landing. The sound pierced the ruins, the underground tunnels, reached the bay where the ship was, and echoed against the distant mountains like the lament of an ancient beast mortally wounded.
The monster fell into a dive. Wings closed. Fire went out. The city became a blur as they descended. Jon embraced Daenerys tightly, knowing there was nothing they could do but endure the impact.
The dragon crashed against the remains of the Red Keep. The explosion of debris and fire rumbled throughout the city. Fragments of stone and metal flew. Columns collapsed. Snow was stained with ash.
From the bay, Tyrion watched horrified.
The plan depended on Drogon flying them out before detonation. Now... they were trapped.
âNo... âTyrion murmured, breathless.
Underground, among shadows and wet stones, Arya heard the roar.
It wasn't a call.
It was a farewell.
The agreed signal never came. There was no bell. Only uncertainty. Only silence.
Before her, the candle waited, motionless. Fragile. Lethal.
It was enough to light it... and run.
But something didn't fit.
Was this the moment?
Was it too soon?
Were Jon and Daenerys safe?
Had the Night King arrived?
She didn't know.
No one knew.
Only silence.
Only uncertainty.
Only her... and the flame still sleeping.