Notes: This is the final part of a six-part series, the entirety of which can be found on AO3.
Drogon and Rhaegal clear the way for a girl shaped into black bone.
Cloaked in the magic of death and light.
In this form, Arya joins the Night King's army, striking him down in a single swift stroke.
~o~
A wildling embraces a warrior.
~o~
A squire pulls back his lady's sleeve.
Rolls down her glove to brush his lips against her wrist.
Curls a strand of red around his finger.
~o~
Through Daenerys' window, they watch the spring sun.
Jon manages a few hoarse words.
"I suppose we should marry."
"You Northerners." Daenerys twists a curl of Jon's damp hair around her fingers.
Jaime nudges her. "It's only sensible, really." He grins, brushing the bruises on Jon's neck with his fingertips. "He's been thoroughly defiled."
Through the window, a beam of light falls on Jaime's face, turning his hair to a circlet of bright gold.
"I spent my journey to Winterfell imagining how I'd die."
"It seems your fortunes have changed," Dany says, and she holds his maimed arm, caressing his stump.
~o~
War's stragglers scatter.
The Seven Kingdoms will be ruled, eventually.
There are more pressing matters now.
A heart tree and a septon.
Three bands of red silk.
~o~
In the night, oaths sworn by skin.