DEV>Winter Has Come

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The walls of Winterfell had seen centuries, if not thousands of years of assault, and not once had an enemy stepped foot beyond the black, battle-hardened blocks that had protected House Stark for countless generations. This war was not like the Targaryen conquests of old, however. The clouds gathered above, the blizzards growing in strength as a hundred thousand pale blue eyes glowed in the distance, becoming brighter the closer they approached the castle. Daenerys' forces rallied, but the snow was too deep, and the Dothraki cavalry were all but useless, cut down like lambs to slaughter by the hoards of undead. Jaime Lannister commanded the battle from the castle walls, using the Lannister forces dedicated to his cause as the personal guard to Winterfell itself, protecting the last of House Stark. The battle had commenced for a number of hours, and there were high casualities on both sides, with the undead piling against a single wall, using giants to form a bridge to scramble over the fortress and lead an assault into the heart of the North. It was only when a white walker fell, taking a number of undead along with his shattering, icy corpse, did they hear it - a terrible, high-pitched screech that echoed across the darkening skies. A plume of blue fire erupted from above, destroying a tower in the process. Viserion had come, revealing his newfound, undead form to his mother, who could only look on in horror as she circled the castle on the back of Drogon. 

The Night King's eyes glowed like sapphires from the pits of eternal damnation as he surveyed the battle from above. Commanding his forces from a safe distance, the loss of at least a third of his forces had left him no choice but to intervene, calling upon his greatest weapon to turn the battle in his favor. The Wall that had stood for over eight thousand years, had fallen in the blink of an eye to Viserion's wrath, and now Winterfell would share the same fate. Yet, for all his powers of foresight, there was one enemy the Night King had not taken into consideration, much less seen in his visions of the future. A shadow loomed above him as Viserion hovered in mid-air, drawing his deteriorating wings closer to the centre-line of his body, a shadow of a dragon at least four times his size. Where there was once a torrent of blue flames, now there was the unmistakable glow of emerald flames, enveloping the dragon's head and causing him to unleash a shrill cry of pain. Amarielle had kept her promise to her sister, and hadn't abandoned her to destroy King's Landing. A tear streamed down Daenerys' pale cheek as she watched the green-black beast draw the Night King away from the castle, leading him into the skies where the contest would be fought on her terms. It was in this moment, as two completely unique, magical beasts clashed in the heart of the North, that the fate of Westeros - and the world entire - would finally be decided. 

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©GAME OF THRONES belongs to G.R.R Martin.
©A SONG OF ICE & FIRE by G.R.R Martin.
©ARTWORK by 
©LITERATURE/STORY by 

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