Chapter 92: The Last Warmth

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The Throne Room had ceased to be a symbol of power and glory. Now it seemed like a ruined cathedral, profaned by winter: cracked columns covered with frost, the ceiling collapsed in several sections by the attacks of dragons and giants, stone fragments scattered like bones on the frozen slabs, and snow that fell slow and constant from the upper cracks.

And among all that, lay Drogon's body.

Immense. Motionless. The wound in his neck was a dark and terrible line, from which golden blood still flowed, mixing with the frost, creating puddles that steamed and froze in strange patterns. His wings were folded in an unnatural position, as if he had tried to protect himself in his last moments.

Daenerys could barely stand. Her wounded leg trembled with each breath, and her entire body seemed an extension of the pain that tore her apart inside. In front of her, on the other side of the destroyed hall, lay Drogon's body. The Night King stood beside him, like a hunter proud of his trophy.

Daenerys' scream was not a human sound. It was a primitive lament, cut by rage and anguish, an echo that rumbled throughout the Throne Room. Her voice broke the silence like muffled thunder:

—My son! —she roared—. He was my son!

She tried to take a step toward the body, but her leg gave way and she almost fell. Jon held her by the arm, but she pushed him away with a rabid force born of pain.

—And he killed him... like he was nothing! —she screamed, her eyes fixed on the ice creature at the back—. Like I was nothing!

Her tears didn't freeze this time. They were too hot. Her rage burned above the cold.

—Your sword didn't work... —she said bitterly, looking at Jon—. The dragonglass didn't either... nothing works!

Jon tried to speak, but she wouldn't let him.

—Don't you see? He's going to kill us all! —she panted—. Like him. Like all the others. Unless...

Her voice faded, but her eyes began to change. They didn't lose the pain, but gained clarity... and a terrible resolution.

—The prophecy... —she whispered, trembling—. Azor Ahai. Lightbringer. Nissa Nissa...

Jon shook his head, frightened by the change in her.

—Dany, no...

—It's the only way! —she screamed, grabbing him by the shoulders—. Don't you see? He showed us! With his blood! With his extinguished fire!

Jon responded desperately, trying to pull her away:

—Dany, stop! You're in shock!

But she wouldn't let go, her nails digging into his shoulders:

—I'm not in shock! I'm seeing the truth! —Her voice broke—. He did it in front of me! And I couldn't do anything!

Tears ran freely down her face now, mixing with desperation:

—But I can do something now. I can make sure this means something. —Her grip loosened slightly—. Your sword... if it pierces me... it will be what we need.

—No! —Jon screamed, taking her by the wrists—. I won't kill you!

—Then no one will be saved! —she screamed back—. Like him! Like everyone we've already lost!

Her voice became more pleading, but still desperate:

—Jon... please... it's the only way for his sacrifice to matter. The only way it won't have been in vain.

Jon finally raised his gaze, and saw in her eyes not determination, but wild pain and pure desperation.

—Dany, listen to me...

—No! —she interrupted, trembling with rage and pain—. You listen to me! I saw him fall! I saw how that monster pierced him like it didn't matter!

She brought her hands to her chest, as if physical pain could relieve the emotional:

—I feel like my heart has been torn out. Like a part of me has been ripped away. But if that can create Lightbringer... if it can give us the sword that destroys him...

Her voice became a desperate whisper:

—Then maybe... maybe I can bear it.

—There has to be another way —Jon murmured, though his voice no longer sounded so sure.

—What? —she asked, her voice in pieces, as if she no longer expected an answer—. The wildfire?

Jon looked at her, surprised she had thought of that.

—That would kill us too —Jon murmured.

—Exactly! —she screamed bitterly—. Yes, it would destroy the entire city, kill us all, and we don't even know if that would be enough to kill him! You saw how he resisted dragon fire! What makes us think wildfire will be different?

Her eyes filled with tears of frustration:

—Don't you see? I've thought of everything. Every damn option. Wildfire is too risky, too... uncertain. But the prophecy... the prophecy promises us a sword that CAN kill him. Lightbringer. The sword that is destined to destroy the darkness.

She looked toward Drogon's body once more, and when she turned her eyes back to Jon, there was a desperation in them that broke him in two:

—This is it. This is the prophecy. This is my sacrifice.

—Please... don't let all this have been in vain.

Jon swallowed with difficulty. His hands trembled; the weight of the sword was nothing compared to the weight of the prophecy. The knowledge that she was right was like poison running through his veins.

—There has to be another way —he whispered desperately—. There has to be.

—There isn't —she answered with a thread of voice—. And we both know it.

—Do it now, before...

But she didn't finish the sentence. Because it was then that they felt it.

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