For Want of a Better King

The Battle to End All Battles/Not Quite Healed

The Battle to End All Battles

Arya

She had her dragonglass weapon but wished only for Needle, though she'd outgrown it. She was ready- fight and die. Protect Jon. Save Gendry. Stop the end of all mankind. Kill the witch.

Everyone was in their places, everyone was tense, gripping steel tightly, straining their eyes toward the coming horde.

She saw Jon and his most trusted men heading toward the wood. She was meant to be among them. But she had a different kind of evil to fight.

The unearthly glow of the Red Witch almost outdid the flames licking at Gendry's feet. Though it pained her to leave her brother's side, her gut told her to face Melisandre, the real danger.

Melisandre knelt in the snow, chanting passionately. Over and over again Melisandre chanted, her voice growing deeper, and louder. Lightning crackles above her, but she doesn't flinch.

Lightning booms in the distance and more Walkers advance, cutting down men in swathes.

Jon is in the thick of it, The Night King is studying his every move. He fights his way forward to confront this great evil.

It's then she knows.

Melisandre is controlling them, guiding them forward, she's sure of it. Jon's battle with the Night King is well-matched, designed to distract him while thousands of men died.

This was what she'd meant, she believed Arya would come to see her side of it.

She was wrong.

Arya would stop this here, with her.

Arya runs full-tilt toward the witch, only to bounce off the bright light surrounding the chants.

The witch looks up at her now, furious and irritated.

Arya tirelessly fights to get through her barrier, but it burns and it's solid. Melisandre's necklace glows in unison with the flames.

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Jon

Jon deftly cuts a swathe through the Wights, not a blade or frigid digit reached him. He felt an extra layer of protection surrounding him.

He was cornered by a Weirwood. The White Walkers surrounded him, sensing his importance, or at least the trail of dead ones left in his wake. Five of them attacked, in sync.

He fought with all his might, got slashed at a few dozen times, sword tips cutting into him but not too deep. He dodged but their speed was past human, he killed one. Another knocked the wind out of him. He rolls out of the way and avoids the heel of its armor clad boot on his face. He kills another.

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Arya

With many of the White Walkers down, her attention split by Jon's attack, Melisandre has lost some of her steam.

There's an opening in her barrier, Arya reaches through it.

It burns, flames licking at her skin. The pain radiates along her flesh, but she doesn't pull back.

Melisandre locks eyes with her but never stops chanting.

Arya can barely feel anything up to her elbow, will alone allowing her to grasp hold of the necklace and pull.

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