This world and all the characters belong to George R R Martin.
TARGARYEN MADNESS
Three mounts must you ride
One to bed
One to dread
One to love
Her blood turned to ice. As the cool winds flew past them, it became clear that the fight for humanity was lost. They were shivering, bleeding, hurting, dying and yet the white walkers were gaining. Each man dead from their side was a gift for the white walkers. The loss of Drogon had knocked her cold. Her mind was a total chaos. Fire wasn't enough to defeat the white walkers. And they were turning blood to ice.
Arya was out there, fighting along with all the masses they had managed to procure. Sansa and Bran had planned an awesome strategic plan involving wildfire which had given them the upper hand in the war. But the Wall had fallen despite all their efforts and now they were losing.
Dany sat on Rhaegal, carefully stroking his scales. He wasn't Drogon, he didn't belong to her. And maybe that was the reason he wasn't cooperating with her. Tyrion was sitting on Viserion, looking like a king. She looked down on the battle ground. Blood stained the ice, blood painted the snow on land and blood shone like rubies under the sky of a thousand hues.
The sun was falling. And we are too.
It looked so much similar to the battle for iron throne that for a moment she thought she had been transported back in time and past memories started flooding her mind. But she was the blood of dragon and she had not lived to perish this day.
Just then the screams of someone grabbed her attention. She lowered Rhaegal to see more clearly. Ser Jorah Mormont was looked at her; every nerve in his body was hurting with desire. He touched the wound near his abdomen from which blood was continuously flowing
"Khaleesi," he mouthed and fell, never to wake up again.
A small part inside her said that he was still alive. It was enough, she decided and lowered Rhaegal. She tried to reach him, at least hold him for the last time for all the faith he had shown her all this time. But she couldn't.
She was surrounded by fire. Rhaegal's majestic body flew high over them towards the white walkers aiming at no one, just spreading fire. Screams echoed all around. And then it stopped.
A low howl was the only thing that could be heard. People were bewildered; even white walkers stopped fighting. It seemed that Rhaegal was the only living being. The howls grew louder until they seemed like a song.
A Song of Ice and Fire.
Arya stood beside her but Nymeria was nowhere to be seen. Direwolves of course, she realized with a pang of surprise. And then amongst the thousands of frozen and dead, glowing like sunset, a red sword was raised in the hand of the blue-eyed king who cast no shadow.
The Night King came towards them with the Lightbringer sword.
She could not believe her eyes. Her world shattered and its pieces flew away with the wind.
"Jon…," She looked into his eyes but they were not his anymore.
Three treasons must you know
One for blood
One for gold
One for love
"Why?" She asked, stroking his curls away from his forehead which she had loved so much, "Why did you do this to me?"
The pain was clear in his eyes as he gave her the lightbringer, "Please…"
"Don't ask this of me, Jon."
Dany didn't know what she wanted anymore. Myriad emotions were rising in her heart. She might be the blood of dragons but she couldn't do what Jon was asking of her.
He whispered again, "Dany…"
Jon couldn't live like this. He would die every second if he remained alive. And she would not be able to see him in so much pain. She took the lightbringer from his hands; its heat torturing her into oblivion.
"No," Arya screamed, "Don't…Jon, you will be fine; we-we'll do something…"
"Arya…" Jon looked at Arya, wanting nothing more than to muzzle her hair.
"You can live…there's no need to die; you-you are a Targaryen after all…" She said with tears shining in her eyes.
"Little sister…Just let-her stick me…with the pointy-end…"
"This is not necessary, Jon … You can live with us as a-a Stark…" Arya wasn't ready to let go.
A rare smile lit up his face as his now blue eyes locked with Dany's purple ones, "I want to-die as who-I am…as Jon Snow."
She remembered all the times she had spent with him; she remembered his kisses, the feeling of him inside her, the way his lips curved when he smiled, the look of him as he fought with his sword and with that she thrust Lightbringer into his heart and she could only look as the last of the light left his eyes…
And then the dragons and wolves tore apart the armies of the dead who had no king to follow.
Dragons fascinate people. Tyrion told her they always fascinated him. They are a symbol of power, he would tell her, and their fire was the sigil of life itself. Fire…that's the word that echoes in her mind again and again as she takes each step forward. A pile of wood rests in front of her upon which lies the body of Jon Snow.
Three fires must you light
One for life
One for death
And one to love
Dany doesn't want power now. Nor she likes the look of the bright flames of fire as they spread on the logs of wood. But she watches. She refuses to let the tears fall or shut her eyes as she feels a part of her soul being snatched away from her.
This time Ghost doesn't even howl. His red eyes lock with hers and there is something strange that sparkles in her purple eyes-madness.
Targaryen madness.