Season 8 episode 7 Part 1: The King of The Ashes

The Crater

Azor Ahai

The morning after the battle, the living's numbers were tallied, and treatment began on the wounded. The Reach survived a preliminary attack by the Army of the Dead, and sent as many maesters as possible to Harrenhal, to try and save as many men as possible. But some deaths were inevitable. Beric Dondarrion was one such death. The grizzled veteran succumbed to his injuries after being impaled to a wall with half of a trident, courtesy of The Night King.

And then, there was Ser Jorah Mormont. The exiled Bear Island veteran had been killed attempting to hold the battlements against thousands of wights. The man's wounds had been counted, and it turned out that he took twenty - three sword wounds, before finally stabbing himself with a dragonglass dagger, so he wouldn't come back to life.

Barely seconds after Jorah's death, Ghost, Jon's Direwolf, had ripped through the mass of wights, to try and save the man, but failed, when the direwolf realised the man was already dead, and had even stabbed himself with, to ensure he wouldn't become a wight.

How did Jon know this? Because, when he died, Jon's mind entered Ghost. He controlled the direwolf, and, upon seeing the disgraced former heir to Bear Island, immediately tried to save him. But, when the Night King commanded his wight body to pick up Lightbringer, he was brought back to life, to end the Night King, once and for all.

The Night King.

His death was supposed to be cause for celebration. They had survived the Long Night, they had triumphed against the dead, they had slain, permanently, all of the undead. But there was no joy.

Everyone was too consumed by what they had lost. Jon was sunken in the thoughts of his second death, and the second time he was brought back to life. He was consumed by his loss of Daenerys. It didn't matter how she became towards the end. She was his truest love. He had wanted her. He was at his happiest around her.

Jon wished he could turn back time to that boat. He felt like he was in heaven on that boat. All he wanted was Daenerys, the Daenerys before she found out he was a Targaryen, the Daenerys he had before she realized he was a competitor to the Iron throne.

He wanted his Daenerys. But that was impossible. She was dead.

She had been dead ever since she tried to shove him off the Kingspyre. She had already been dead, to him. She was never his, not ever since they disembarked the boat at the fingers, when she had wanted to burn Jaime Lannister alive.

"Jon."

But he still wanted her. He still wanted his Daenerys back. He came back to life. Why not Daenerys?

"Jon."

Jon felt the strange inflection on his name, as if the speaker were aware that that was not his actual name. Jon turned, and saw Jaime, holding the torch in his hand. Jon was yanked back to the present, and to where he was.

They were in a large depression in the ground, where the very stone had fused together, courtesy of the Forty Thousand pots of wildfyre that had exploded here. The reason for this spot was because it was the spot with the least amount of snow, every other place near Harrenhal was filled with snow.

The survivors of the Long Night were huddled together. Beyond them, were four hundred massive pyramidical pyres, to burn all those who had died during the Long Night - at least those whose bodies had been recovered.

Jon finally accepted the torch Jaime was offering him, and stared at the pyre closest to him. In it, was a certain aunt of his, her face still as gorgeous as she was when he had been alive. When she had been alive to him. Just him.

The Crater

Jaime Lannister

Ninety thousand bodies to burn. Ninety thousand families torn apart. Ninety thousand widows made. Ninety thousand.

All because of him.

All because he wasn't a good enough commander of the armies. When he had been named the commander, he wanted to prove that his lack of a hand didn't dull his intellect. But he had failed. He failed.

And one of them was his sister. His twin. His other half. His love. His first love, his only love. He wanted her back. He wanted the Cersei he had loved, the one for whom he would sneak across Casterly rock to meet. The one who always was there for him.

But she was gone now. Dead. He had shoved her off the Kingspyre tower, and, later, she had fallen limp when the Night King died. But to him, she had been dead far earlier than that. She had been dead to him ever since she had wanted to kill him with the Mountain that day in the Red Keep. She had been dead to him ever since then.

But that hadn't stopped him from wishing she would go back to her old self. Oh, how they had dreamed about wedding, like the Dragonlords before them. Cersei had planned how it would happen a hundred times over. They had thought of what servants to include, and which to not. But it had never worked.

It never would have.

It was a mere childish fantasy, like some young girl dreaming of becoming a dragonknight.

But wasn't it mere childish fantasies that brought them this far?

Mere childish fantasies, for Jaime to become a Knight. Mere childish fantasies for Jaime to join the Kingsguard. Mere childish fantasy for him to Jaime to try and go against Tywin Lannister's word.

They said that you couldn't spell Tywin without "Win." And it was true. His father would go to any length to get his will, even to the point of letting his son stand trial for a crime he knew he didn't do.

What if Tyrion hadn't been born a dwarf, hadn't killed his mother on the way out?

Then Tywin Lannister would have proudly given Casterly Rock to Tyrion. He wouldn't have cared about his whoring.

Which, of course, was a childish fantasy.

Why was he thinking these thoughts over and over in a loop was beyond Jaime, who was wrenched back to the current time.

Jaime held the torch tightly, as he walked towards the pyre which held his first love in it. His trueest love, which he had never betrayed.

She had betrayed him. And she payed the price.

A Lannister always pays his debts.

The Crater

Samwell Tarly

Samwell moaned as he tried to rise to his feet. He was in a bed, in a massive room, so massive it seemed like some huge cavern. His right hand hurt, although his left seemed fine.

"Sam!" Gilly ran to Sam's side. "How are you? Do you feel okay?"

"What… What happened?" Asked Sam, slowly rising. He was in patient's robes, and was on one of at least a hundred beds in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths. Many of the beds had maesters tending to patients, many of whom were crying out with pain. A pile of hacked off limbs were in a cart, which was pushed along by a Maester, who would simply take the limbs from other Maesters, who would chop them off, then move on to the next patient. All thirty five hearths were glowing, casting an eirie glow over the cavernous room.

A man in maester's robes walked up to Samwell. He was an old man with a slight limp, and a crooked nose.

"Hmmm. The amputation appears to have been completed nicely. Lord Tarly, you are free to leave."

"Wha - What amputation? And I'm no Lord."

The maester looked down at Samwell over his crooked nose sympathetically. "Perhaps, Lady Gilly, you could…. Assist Lord Tarly here."

Gilly's nodded, her eyes filled with tears.

"Wha - What was the maester talking about?"

Gilly walked up to him, breathing deeply, as if trying to find the courage to speak. "It… It's a miracle you survived, really. You took twelve slashes, and had four swords stuck in you by the time they fished you out from the mound of corpses. One of the swords… One of them went through - and through you."

Samwell nodded. "I… I saw Jon die. I wanted to … Avenge him."

"Lord Snow came back to life."

"What?"

"When he held Lightbringer as a wight, he was brought back to life."

"That… Makes no sense. I'll have to read about it. Maybe it was the magical strength in the sword -" Samwell would have continued rambling on, but then, he saw the look on Gilly's face.

"You… You don't know." Said Gilly.

"Sam… I have two things to tell you."

"What is it?"

"Do you want the good news first, or the bad news?"

"The bad news."

"Well…" Gilly removed the blanket from his body.

Sam blinked. He had a lot of wounds, but it wasn't too overly shocking, given that he had just been through a battle. There was a particularly nasty wound at his left side, likely the result of being stabbed through and through. He moved his left hand, to try and feel the bandage on the wound.

He didn't feel anything.

Samwell suddenly froze, and felt his side again.

"What?"

"The maesters amputated your left arm." Said Gilly. Samwell turned his head, and saw that his left arm ended just below the shoulder.

Amputated my left arm.

My arm.

I lost my arm.

Tears appeared in Samwell's eyes.

"And… And the good news." Said Gilly.

Sam didn't say anything, he was still in shock.

Gilly placed her hand over her belly, and looked him in the eye. "You're going to have a child."

Ser Davos Seaworth

His stance was by Jon, his King. His true king. Yet, his mind kept straying, to House Seaworth, to his children. How would they be?

How much would they be missing him? How much would they be missing their father?

"Ser Davos."

Davos had lost both kings he had served. Stannis, and then Jon. Both had been declared as Azor Ahai by Melisandre of Asshai. Both had died.

But one had come back.

"Ser Davos."

So, he would serve his King. His true King. Jon Snow.

"Ser Davos."

Davos was wrenched back to the present. He was at the crater, along with his King. His true king. His King was offering him a torch. Davos saw the sadness in his eyes, that he would now be burning the woman he had loved, had loved truly, as truly as any man could love.

Davos accepted the torch. "Thank you. Your grace." Jon simply nodded.

Both of them walked towards the pyres, along with Jaime Lannister, and the other survivors.

Davos walked up to a pyre, and Jon walked up to to another.

Jon stared at a face in the pyre, a face that was still hauntingly beutiful despite having fallen off a dragon and dying. The face of his love.

And, all at once, The survivors of the Battle of The Living's Stand set the pyres aflame, watching the remnants of their loved one's bodies go up in flames, leaving nothing other than memories.

Memories.

And there we go! The first third of the seventh episode, which will deal with the future of Westeros.

I would also like to tell you guys, my beloved readers, that there will be a sequel to this, entitled: "Game of Thrones: The Next Generation", which will focus on the events forty years after the Game of Throne.

In the meantime, please review, even for chapters past. I would especially like to read through your reviews for the final battle chapter. So, please review.

Anthony Appleyard: I normally reply to reviews in PMs as well as in new chapters. I would reccomend that every time you post a review, you check your PMs soon afterwards, because I will reply within 24 hours.

The next chapter will come out soon, and will be the second to last chapter!