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Phantom hands claw at his body as Rhaegar flashes him one last serene smile, eternal gratefulness shining in his expression alongside melancholy - perhaps for the fate that may await him when he is released from his mind - before Percy's sight blurs and with a brief flash of light and then dark, his eyes snap open and are immediately captivated by violet orbs. He realizes surely and with a sudden warmth, that the hands grasping him aren't the clutches of death dragging him down, but the soft, caring ones of the woman kneeling in front of him.

"...Love?"

"Percival!" Daenerys' words are choked, quick and panicked as his eyes meet hers. Eyes that, just seconds before, had been as cold and lifeless as the many bodies scattered around them. "You're here, you're alive! Look at me, love! I thought...I thought you were-"

She's interrupted by a pained groan that escapes the Lannister man's lips, one that he's as unable to hold back as the blood that follows, pouring from his mouth in thick streaks. Crimson stained teeth clench so hard that they feel as though they may shatter, and his hands move to clench the hilt of the sword still embedded inside of him.

"Do not touch it, I'll find you a maester soon, just keep still!" Daenerys snaps her gaze from his injured form to the surrounding area, scouring it for survivors. From the crumbled ruins of what remains of Winterfell to the burning field that surrounds them, any sign of life seems to have been long gone. Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal are perched mere feet away, the middle of the three watching his injured rider with the as wounded of a look as a creature that menacing is capable of wearing. "Stay with me, love, it's almost dawn. Just a little longer Percy!"

"We are out of time, my love. Go, please."

His words from earlier in the night ring true in his mind, sorrowful and laced with regret as they echo in his memory. The only words that seem to want to escape his mouth when he finally musters the courage to open it though, aren't reflective of his earlier sentiment.

"Dany...please-please d-don't leave."

Fresh sobs wrack Daenerys' body as she scoots in closer, clutching him at the neck while allowing him rest his weight against her. His words, like cold water dumped over her, snuff out any fire the Targaryen queen has left from the throws of battle just earlier.

"Never, I would never leave you, my love! We made a vow, remember?! That you would be mine and I would yours, together, till the end of our days! I'm here, Percival, please just...just stay with me!"

Jon gazes at the scene before him helplessly, knowing there's nothing he could possibly do to assist either of them. Melisandre trails behind him, seeming to appear from out of the haze as if a phantom omen of death, walking almost despondently as she asses the battlefield around them.

Percy tries speaking to her too, mind seeming to not be able to focus on any one thing or person at a time. Or perhaps even in his critical state, he's still looking for blind assurances that the threat has truly been vanquished. But his thoughts are halted when his lover's faint whispering reaches his ears, tears threatening to emerge from the queen's eyes. "Please, not him, not him...gods please..."

Those words, seemingly subconsciously muttered by the woman for only herself to hear, are like daggers teasing the surface of their listeners hearts. They're the words of a girl who's lost everything and everyone that she's ever loved in her life. Her family, her friends, her lovers. It's a prayer to whatever gods will hear, whatever gods with enough mercy to spare her the heartache of losing another, one most noble and good. One she loves more than any other that came before, and more than any other that may come after.

Viserion has moved closer to Percy and Dany now, careful and slow as he settles around his parents' hunched forms. A whine leaves his large body, sounding choked now with ice instead of the flames that stir within him. His brothers screech to the sky above them, angry and sad and pained at their family's sorrow.

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