I wasn't entirely happy with Sunday's episode (not that I expected to be), but the ending especially was shocking to me. All that buildup for years, only for it to end so simply & suddenly just seemed...unfitting an ending for the NK. So, I started playing around with the idea of expanding upon his past a little. I basically took the show-canon version of things out back, shot it, & replaced it with my own fanfiction-version of events. Enjoy!
(I'd also suggest listening to The Night King by Ramin Djawadi while reading. I listened to it on repeat while writing this!)
Battle raged all around her. Screams, the clang of steel, fire. Horrifying sounds in the dark of night. A night that, if they did not win, would never end. The world would cease to be. She didn't want to think about how many were dying because of her...about how many more would die because of her. All because he had finally come for her.
Years. She had dreamt of him for years. Or, at the least, his voice. His touch. He never actually showed himself to her, no matter how much she begged and pleaded for him to. Why come to her nearly every night, plaguing her dreams, plaguing her nights, only to elude her in not showing himself? Why keep himself hidden? Was it to manipulate? Perhaps in a way he had.
She didn't know who he was, or what he was. Just his voice. His touch that always seemed to be ice-cold and always sent shivers down her spine. She'd always jerk awake, gasping for breath and shivering. Wrapping herself in blankets and furs wasn't enough once she had awakened from one of her dreams. Only fire. She was always warm until he came. Then it was as if ice had filled her veins.
But she always came back for more, as did he. She was always left both hoping for and against him coming to her again the next night. Sometimes he would, and sometimes he wouldn't. He always left her wanting for more. Wanting to know why, who, how he was doing this. So many questions. So many riddles. Some days her mind felt like a pile of mush from her exhaustion and constant contemplating over the things he'd told her.
Then there was the familiarity of him. She knew his voice...but didn't. She was afraid of the dreams and their unpredictability, but not of him. He would never hurt her. She somehow knew this with certainty. Or maybe it was ignorance...
Soldiers stood at the ready all around her. But their fighting would be futile. She had tried to tell Jon this, had tried to tell all of them this. But they all refused to listen. Their arrows and swords would be no match for what was to come. He had survived for eight thousand years. No simple arrow, sword, dagger, or even fire would take him out. It was ignorant to think otherwise.
A sudden chill filled the air and she stiffened. He was here, after all this time, and she wasn't ready.
The men nocked and drew their arrows. Others readied their swords. She steeled herself against the cold and gripped the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath her cloak.
They slowly emerged from the other side of the Godswood. There his generals stood. The men there to protect her were picked off one by one as his fought against them. Which each body that dropped she took another step back. Terrified. Ready to run. She was a coward. All those that had fought and died, those that were still fighting and would die...
All for her. And she would leave them so easily? And she had so foolishly believed he would let no harm come to her before. When that was exactly what he was here to do now.
Men lay dead all around her. Cold winds whistled through the trees. Finally, he came closer, the fire illuminating him. Blue. Like ice. His eyes seemed to be as hard as...
He was the thing of nightmares and for the first time, she felt afraid of him. Truly afraid. She felt the kind of fear someone with common sense should've been feeling for all the years he had been coming to her in the night.
So easily he had let his men kill hers. The only thing that was left to keep her safe. And now her time had come, too. This was her end. The end. He couldn't be defeated. She knew it in her heart of hearts. Valyrian Steel was the only other option left, but she feared the possibility of it being just as futile as all other attempts against his life.
Tears threatened to escape. She thought of her family. But she would see them again. Her father, her mother, her brothers, Robb, Rickon, Jon, Bran—even if he said he wasn't now he always would be to her, little Arya who had grown so much, and Sansa.
She tightened her fists. She wouldn't spend her last moments letting him see her afraid. He would want that. She would look death in the face.
Finally, he stood before her. They were only a few inches apart now. She could feel the cold radiating from him. She tilted her head up to look at him. Into his cold, dark, empty eyes.
"Have you come to kill me?" her voice was much more still than she had expected it to be.
He tilted his head to the side as if he didn't understand the question. Or perhaps he didn't understand what she was saying at all. He wasn't human. He'd been alive...dead...for thousands of years. Whoever he had been before this, whatever kind of man he had been...was long gone.
Quickly, she took the dagger hidden from under her cloak, ready to plunge it into his gut, but he caught her wrist and took it from her. She froze, horrified.
Her heart was pounding so hard it was all she could hear. Her chest hurt from it. This had been their last resort. And now it was gone. It truly was the end now. "Well, do it!" she screamed.
He didn't flinch at her sudden display of anger. He instead slowly reached up and pushed her hood back, off of her head. She flinched and tears threatened to come forward.
He then pushed the hair draped over her left shoulder away and gently rubbed his thumb along the birthmark on her neck.
She shivered at his touch and began to shake harder. He had put his hands on her. She couldn't be brave anymore. She was so scared. She didn't want to die. After all she had been through she deserved to come back from it. She deserved a long, happy life. Not to die so He could bring about an Endless Night.
He dropped his hand and looked at her once more. Her eyes were beginning to well up with tears. She looked down. "Just do it," she whispered.
She felt a slender finger under her chin. He lifted her face until she was looking him in the eyes once again. He began to move his face closer to her and she flinched, afraid of what he might do. He stopped for a moment. And then he pressed his cold, hard lips to hers.
She nearly staggered backward, but his hands came to her waist to hold her in place.
Before she had a chance to react to what he was doing visions started to flood her mind. No, not visions. Memories. Memories of a time long ago. When he was someone else...still himself.
Those she was watching couldn't see she was there. Not that it would matter if they could. What she was being shown had already happened. There was no changing it.
First, a vision of a wedding. He was tall, and handsome. It was who he had used to be. And the woman...as she stepped closer she saw. Her brows furrowed and she stepped back in horror. And then the scene changed. The same two from before were now in bed, making love.
He had truly loved her, his wife. He had loved her as much as any man loved a woman. As much as any human loved another. She could see it in the way he touched her, the way he caressed and kissed her.
And then once again, it changed to a different scene entirely. He was tied to a tree. Bound and gagged. What looked like little children—only the furthest thing from human—surrounded him. One took a knife made of dragonglass and plunged it through his heart as he screamed in agony. Her heart broke for him.
It wasn't his choice. It never had been. It hadn't been for any of them. They were cursed with this existence. To walk what small portion of the world that they had been allotted in a land of forever winter. They would never love again, never laugh, or hold those they loved close again. Because they were all gone, while they were left behind...
Next, it was him returning home. But not as himself anymore, and not to stay. To say goodbye. But when she saw him—the love of her life—and what he had become, she screamed in horror, terrified of her own husband...who wasn't anymore. She took a knife but knew she couldn't fend him off. She couldn't bring herself to kill him.
So she turned it on herself instead. As she lay dying, he held her, unable to shed a tear, but his heart that no longer beat broke all the same. He kissed her lips, and then the side of her neck, leaving his mark. They would meet again someday, and this would all be over. He felt it.
Until then, he would wage a war against his creators. Against those that had turned him into this. Against those that had forced the hand of the one who had meant the most to him. They said one day Azor Ahai would come again, but so would his Nissa Nissa. For she had to. That was the only way it could ever end.
When she opened her eyes again, he was looking down at her. She knew everything now. There was so much he had wanted to tell her before, but this was the only way. If she had told them—her family—what would need to be done, they wouldn't have allowed it. They would've tried to find another way. It had to be between just them at the right time. It had to be now.
She bit her lip so hard she began to taste blood. She willed the tears not to come, but they did anyway. She muffled her cries with her hand and he gently brushed away a tear. Not much of him was left, but the day she was born something had shifted in the world. In him. He began to remember.
He hadn't wanted to live in a world where she didn't exist, but he couldn't die either. So he was cursed with immortality. To walk alone in a world so empty and so cold, at least for him.
The memory of who he had been begun to return... What he had been. Why this had happened to him and why he become what he had: a vengeful monster deadset on destroying a world that had turned against him as if it was all his choice. He had been chosen against his will to be made into a monster to wage someone else's war.
But then there was her. She wouldn't have wanted that. And this was the last piece of him that remained. And she would want him to do the right thing. He now had to do the right thing, by her.
He gripped the castpaw dagger she had tried using against him just moments before in his hand. She began to gather herself, knowing this was the only way.
She wiped away her tears. She had loved him and he had loved her. She still did...and so did he. It was why he was here. Why he had come. So many had died on both sides for a war others had started so long ago. And it just never stopped.
She looked into his eyes for the last time. "It's ok," she gently placed her hand against his cold cheek. She knew everything he would want to say, but simply couldn't.
She looked back to his generals. They were all just tired of living. They didn't want this. They never did. They didn't want this fight. None of them did.
All of the White Walkers and wights had turned into monstrous creatures who only knew how to kill. They had once been people. They had once loved and hated. Feared and rejoiced. They had had families. Hopes and dreams. But a cold death took it all away and left them with...this. What they were now.
But there had been no other choice when it came to this battle. To this war. There was no changing any of it. Once something is set in motion it couldn't be stopped. Only left to play out until it ran its course.
They all just wanted to be laid to rest. And not be brought back ever again.
She stood on her tiptoes and pressed one last kiss to his lips and placed the knife in his hand and nodded. He gently brushed his thumb over one of her eyelids and she closed them. He took a step back, she took one last breath, and then he plunged it into her heart.
She opened her eyes again, but she couldn't meet his. She didn't want him to look into her eyes as she died. Not again. She began to stumble backward, but he caught her and gently lowered her to the forest floor. He held her to his chest as she went. Her breathing changed from ragged to small little puffs until there was none at all and she was gone.
Finally, he removed the blade from her breast and stood. He held it up high with both hands grasping the handle. And then he brought it down in one swift motion, plunging it into his own chest.
He shattered into a million little pieces of ice. From ice he had come and to ice, he returned. The Long Night was over.