Silver Stag

Lightbringer

[King's Landing]

As the last rays of the setting sun disappeared beyond the horizon, the Night King stood on the ramparts of King's Landing, gazing out over the city of ashes and rubble. He could feel the power of the final artifact coursing through his veins, its influence spreading to every corner of the realm. But then, suddenly, he felt a strange sensation, like a cool breeze on a sumer day. He looked down at his hands, and saw that they were no longer the pale, glowing blue of the undead. They were human hands, with flesh and blood and warmth.

Jon Snow, the King in the North, stood before him, his sword Lightbringer shining with a fierce, golden light. "You're not the Night King anymore," Jon said, his voice firm and steady. "You're just a man, and you're not welcome here."

The Night King's followers, the wights and the White Walkers, began to falter and stumble, their eyes clouding over with confusion. They looked at their master, and saw only a man, a mere mortal. They began to die, their bodies crumbling to dust as the magic that had sustained them faded away.

The Night King himself felt his power slipping away, and he knew that he was doomed. He raised his hands, and Lightbringer met them, the sword glowing brighter and brighter as it struck true. The Night King screamed, his voice echoing through the city as he fell to his knees, and then he was no more.

The city of King's Landing was silent, the only sound the soft rustling of the wind. The people of the realm looked up at Jon Snow, their new king, and they knew that they were free at last. The Night King was defeated, and the realm was saved.

But as Jon Snow looked down at the body of the Night King, he saw something strange. The Night King's eyes were open, and they were not the empty, soulless orbs that had once been there. They were human eyes, filled with a deep sadness and a profound regret. Jon knew that the Night King had been a man once, a man who had been consumed by darkness and driven to madness. He knew that the Night King had nevr wanted to be the monster that he had become.

Jon Snow felt a strange sense of sorrow, a sense of loss for the man who had once been the Night King. He knew that the realm was safe, but he also knew that a part of him would alwys mourn the loss of the man who had once been his enemy.

The people of King's Landing cheered as Jon emerged from the battle, hailing him as a hero. The Night King may have been defeated, but the memory of his reign of terror would nevr be forgotten. The city would rebuild and move on, but the knowledge of what had almost been lost would alwys be remembered.

Brienne had been searching for Arya Stark for what felt like hours, her armour battered and her breathing heavy as she made her way through the ruined streets of Winterfell. She had heard from Sansa that Theon Greyjoy had imprisoned Arya in one of the abandoned, fortified houses, but so far she had found nothing but empty buildings and false leads.

As she turned a corner, she saw a figure emerging from the shadows - it was Arya, her face streaked with dirt and her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"Where have you been?" Brienne asked, rushing forward to embrace her friend. "I've been looking all over for you."

Arya shook her head, her expression grim. "I've been trapped in this house," she said, gesturing to the building behind her. "Theon put me here and left me to rot."

"Are you okay?" she asked, examining Arya for signs of injury, other than the burn she knew about.

Arya nodded. "I'm fine," she said. "But I need to know what's going on outside. What happened during the battle? Is Sansa okay?"

Brienne took a deep breath. "Your sister is fine," she began. "Arya, I need to talk to you about your list."

Arya looked up at Brienne, her eyes narrowing. "What about it?"