Chapter Five – Crowning of the Night King
Death lofted throughout the keep like a stench that would crinkle ones nose. It oozed from the life forms inside, sought out by the supreme leader of the Army of the Dead. Jon pulled back his arm to send Daenerys into a more profound unconsciousness state. He froze momentarily, looking down on her. Something held him back, something native to this vessel. Seconds later he shook his head returning his focus when an individual barreled into him, shifting him away from the battered women.
"Run!" Tormund yelled with Jon in a bear hug. He had charged Jon before he could land another punch, shoving him away from Daenerys. Jon jerked his shoulder into Tormund, loosening his hold. Instantly forming another ice spear and shoving it up through Tormunds chest. Tormunds eyes widen at the realization with blood flooding and spewing from his mouth. Jons lips curled, forming a bothered frown at Tormund. He watched, ensuring the life started to drain from Tormunds eyes. The weight of Tormunds body Croincreased as his strength diminished, legs giving out from underneath him.
Daenerys groaned, struggling to make her way to her feet. She wavered from side to side, her coordination affected by the pounding her head had taken. The room started to tilt as her dizziness only worsened. A cold hand grabbed her neck as a white stopped her escape, screeching in her face. Instinctively, one of Daenerys hands moved to grasp at the deadly grip. With her other hand she reached down for the last dragonglass dagger from her belt then shoved it into the bottom of the whites jaw. Sending it into an explosion of ice shards, pushing her out of a low sitting window.
Jon savagely removed the spear causing Tormund to drop to the ground. He storms over to where the white had just exploded, finding Daenerys absent from the scene. Head whips towards another white with an arm violently thrusted in one direction, commanding the whites to search for the Targaryen girl. Tormund laid there, gasping for air as more and more blood flowed from his mouth making it difficult to breath. His pupils dilate as his body fights against the inevitable. With the remaining air leaving his lungs, his eyes become lifeless.
Lips ruptured open as lungs drew in air due to the brutal hit delivered by the stony ground some stories below. Her chest burned as her bashed ribs shifted over the expanding lungs. Daenerys head was pounding accompanied by her throbbing face. She could sense the swelling and bruising set in as it spread underneath her skin. She rose from the ground only to be met with the world spinning around her. Feet were sluggish to move and heavy to lift causing her to trip and stumble. Her hand naturally cradled her head as each heartbeat felt like a hammer to her skull.
She fumbled her way to a nearby wedge of stone, leaning on it for support. Her vision finally sharpened as the blurriness cleared away. White Walkers were rummaging through the area with crystal spears in hand. Daenerys hurriedly hid out of view, her pulse escalating briefly. She needed to get back to the horses, get back to Drogon. Then could she return, return and have her vengeance on the one who struck her down, regardless of the color of his eyes.
Daenerys stooped down to make herself less visible. Synchronizing her progress with those of the whites, remaining undetected. Nearing the edges of the clearing she spots a white securing the reins of both horses. She sneaks around the back side, allowing her to plunge a dragonglass dagger deep in the whites neck. The hostile encounter frightens the horses and panicked whinnys gather the attention of the dispersed Others. Daenerys scrambles to grab the reins in the midst of their rearing and pulls herself up onto the saddle. She repeatedly rams her boot into the steed, sending it into a full gallop as undead sprint over to their signaled location.
She rode through the night, not giving a moment to rest so long as the horses leg stayed beneath them and his spirit persevered. Her thighs and pelvis were exhausted as she watched the sun rise over the horizon. Weary and drained Daenerys could make out the distant yelling which alerted Castle Black to her arrival. The heavy gates opened as Daenerys entered the tunnel to the Nights Watch fortress.
Daenerys remained quiet through the bustling activity of Castle Black. A member of the Nights Watch had wrapped a fur pelt around her shoulders while others prepped a carriage for her travels back to Kings Landing. The culmination of the past few days finally caught up to her. Her mind was spiraling at the implications from what had happened. Skin crawled at the thought of Jons actions. She could still feel his cold lips pressed a top hers, ravenous for more. Daenerys had to shake her head to rid herself of the feeling.
Cold gusts of wind charged under the rim of her jacket uninvited, amplifying the electrifying sensation that plagued her skin. Arms snaked around her torso, constricting her body. She tried to curb the trembling that was now resonating up and down the length of her body. The contusions decorating her face reminded her of the lifeless eyes that watched as a fist pounded her face. Jon had nearly taken her life for the second time.
**'What happened to Jon? What happened to Ghost?' Daenerys contemplated. She hoped whatever transpired it was painless; actually she hoped it was excruciating and tormenting. She was once again robbed of her vindication. First Cersei now in essence Jon has been whisked away by something, something cold. Nevertheless Jon will pay for the crimes he committed, despite of his infliction.
The Lord Commander swore he could feel the ripples caused by her frenzied quivering from looking at her. He extended an arm with the intention to console her but jerked away at the last second. Touch would be the last thing she would care for. Daenerys noticed his gesture and it was a warm change from the past forty-eight hours.
Once the carriage was ready, Daenerys headed back to Kings Landing alone to inform Bran and the council of what they had found.
"And yet, you went against my request to have Jon returned to Kings Landing alive. I am well aware of the dagger you shoved into his stomach." Bran blatantly calls Daenerys out. "But I am also aware it did nothing but humor him as well as lead to Tormunds death."
Her mouth opens and closes. "Whatever that thing is, it is not Jon anymore." Daenerys withdrew into her chair, crossing her arms against her stomach. Tormund had intervened, shoving Jon off of her and inevitably saving her life. Any reason Daenerys had for Jon attacking her again was lost when it came to Tormund. One of the few remaining friends Jon had and he slaughtered him without a second thought. She questioned whether there was any remnants of her Jon left.
Bran removed his gaze from Daenerys, knowing his message was understood. "I may be able to shed some light on how all of this occurred. While I was unable to see Jon through the blowing snow and ice previously, I was able to use Daenerys and Tormund to locate him. The original Night King was created by shoving a piece of dragonglass through his heart by the children of the forest. Due to the fact there are no longer any children of the forest remaining, there is no way for a new Night King of this origin to be created." Bran explained.
"It was not until Jons hunting trip where he found a lone white walker. Wounded, he tracked it to this unknown ice fortress that Daenerys and Tormund stumbled upon. When inside, Jon came across a container full of white walker magic. In his defense, he had no idea what it was and the danger it posed to him and others. Incidentally the container fell, causing it to break and release its contents. That magic clamped down on the nearest living thing it could find which happened to be Jon at the time. Immediately after contact with it, Jon was twisted and contorted to what he is now."
"Which is what exactly?" Tyrion asked hesitantly.
Without changing his tone Bran stated, "He is the Night King now."
"And what do we do with him next?" Everyone whipped around at the familiar yet unrecognizable voice. They could feel their hearts stop as Jon waltzed inside the council room, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The temperature dropped as he entered the room forcing their breaths to become visible. Striding around the table, he sent a condescending smile in the direction of Bran.
"Hello little cousin, enjoying the throne are we?" Everyone stiffened, speechless as he walks past each of the council members.
Unfazed by Jons coercion, "You have become the very thing you sought to destroy." Bran replied.
Jon slammed his hands down onto the table causing a crack to race to the other end of the table near Bran. "Jon Snow made a decision that would save thousands. And those who understood the dangers of Daenerys Targaryen did nothing to defend him. He was then banished because of said decision." Ice began to form on the table where his hands made contact. "Do not think I will so easily roll over and die such as he." Jon yelled.
Everyone froze to the back of their seats with their heads down. Terror washing over their faces. Jon notices their distress to his reaction. He closes his eyes, releasing a bothered sigh. Jon straightens his back returning to a standing position and removing his hands from the table. Daenerys watches as the ice on the table is pulled back into the palm of his hands but says nothing of it. Jons cold eyes fall back onto Bran, "I suggest you leave well enough alone." Briefly glancing at Daenerys his breath hitched before heading to the exit. In passing, Jon places a hand on Brans shoulder. Bran smiles inside for the gravity of that simple gesture is greater than anyone in the room realizes.
The moment Jon is out of sight, Daenerys shoots up from her chair. The abrupt move startles the council, gaining the attention of everyone at the table. She makes no attempt at words and follows after Jon. His intended direction was not hard to figure out as she discerned iced over foot prints guiding her to the courtyard. She was not currently equipped with a dagger nor sword so Drogon would have to do.
Coming to the entrance of the Red Keep, Daenerys was able to close the distance and locate Jon walking only ten meters ahead. Her focus was quickly directed elsewhere as a dragon the size of Drogon was seated in the court yard as well. This one had a deep navy blue base with white undertones, highlighting the rippling muscles and wings. The unmistakable glowing blue eyes were contrasted against the darkened blue color. Unlike Drogon who was visibly quite tense, this dragon casually sat there awaiting Jons return.
Daenerys turned back to Jon, "Jon!" The sound of his name prompted him to stop, pivoting to face her. His cold stare sent shivers down her spine. Daenerys very rarely became intimidated but Jons dragon lingering in the background as its head loomed over him was another sight to behold. Drogon directed a hiss against this behavior, posturing within the dragons peripherals. Jons dragon did not even register the warning nor act on it.
"You may want to control your dragon." Jon spoke smugly.
Daenerys tried to find a hint of Jon within this cold, hardened exterior. She raised her hand, steadying Drogon. She needed to get Jon away from his dragon, she needed to stall. Daenerys collected herself in preparation of speaking. "Jon, we need to talk." She spoke as evenly and soft as she could muster given the situation.
"We have nothing to discuss." His expression was stoic and his movements were eerily motionless.
Unsure why but his words stung. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She had to clear her throat and blink several times to keep her composure. "You know how this looks." Jons outward presentation may not have been comparable but the feeling she experienced, the atmosphere around him was similar to that of the Night King.
Anger flared across his face as he made large steps towards her, "You think I chose this!" He stopped, his face a mere foot from hers as he jabbed his finger down. "You have no idea what is going on."
His face. His skin still retained its organic appearance unlike the iced over flesh of the Night King. Even his rich, intoxicating smell persisted.
"Then help me to." She pleaded while attempting an outward display of worry. Jon was now out of reach of his dragon. She did not fear collateral damage at this radius so long as he paid for his repeated betrayal.
"Nābēmagon." An expanding rumble grew from Drogons mouth as his fang packed jaws separated. He arched his neck in preparation to clamp down on this now enemy, obeying his mothers wishes. Weaving muscles contract, driving his head down at the man. Drogons snout crinkles in opposition to a masked force, halting his aggression. The unanticipated stop causes blood to leak from his nostrils. Jon thrusts his hand at Drogon, ricocheting him into the side of the Red Keep. Daenerys jumps, stepping back to gawk at Drogon in concern.
Jons stoic and closed off behavior reappeared. He remained silent as her motives were evident, leaving her to climb onto his dragon. They took to flight where they were joined with two smaller dragons in the air. Drogon crawled over to his mother as they both watched Jon fly north. She did not know what to feel anymore. Pain. Anger. Sadness. Fear. Her emotions blended together to create a concoction of confusion. She needed time to clear her head and gather her thoughts.
In the coming days, Bran urged the council to come to a decision regarding Jon. "Your grace, what would you like us to do? We have no army, our allies are scattered, and Kings Landing is in great debt. Any means we took to defeat the Night King previously have been dispersed." Tyrion reaffirmed.
"We do have one dragon." Bran suggested.
"Uh if you do recall, dragonfire does nothing to the Night King, only valyrian steel or dragonglass are effective." She reiterated. "And I do not know who you think you are but my dragon is not yours to command." Daenerys wanted to make a point that she nor Drogon were his to order around.
The council grumbled amongst each other around this distressing topic for the past couple days with no solution established. "I could attempt a diplomatic move." Daenerys finally offered.
Davos spoke up, "You heard what he said, he is the one to bring the long night. Which if I am not mistaken, was the last Night Kings intent as well."
"That is quite dangerous for you as well. You being alone up there with him, with them." Brienne added.
"Well at this point I see no other solution and if we do not take action now more will be lost." Daenerys made her best attempt at persuasion. Another go at a strategic ploy would get her within an arms length of Jon and slit his throat. She did not care if some foreign liquid spewed from his neck or he shattered into pieces.
"I will grant you your request and see that you are outfitted with the proper gear." Bran stated.
Daenerys smirked, "It was not a request. Your grace."
Within the day, she was flying Drogon north. The skies were laden with clouds giving a gloomy overcast. White Walkers were scattered through the surrounding grounds, looking up at the angel of death upon them. Their numbers had increased in frequency since her last visit. The towering fortress stood tall, somber in its appearance.
"Dracarys." Daenerys spoke with such confidence and assertion her intentions would almost be deemed pure. Drogon unleashed hell fire down on the undead minions standing below. A disturbing sight was on exhibit as none of the White Walkers were moving out of the way from her incoming attack. They remained still, frozen as the flames engulfed them. The lack luster reaction did not fill the empty cavity in her soul. Unsatisfied with the results, she steers Drogon en route for the keep itself.
"Dracarys!" She screamed, tears streaming down her face. Drogon unloads on the nearest tower causing it to collapse and fall to the rocky surface below. Her crazed destruction still did not pacify the pain her heart was drenched in. No structure, no walking corpse would lessen the misery, she needed Jon to fulfill her built up hatred.
The ground shook at the immense weight of Drogon, teeth clamping down on a nearby White Walker. The body rag dolled as it was thrashed around violently before being tossed aside. The slightest twitch emanated from the corpse as it laid there. To her surprise she noticed the shortage of undead wight lurking around, actually there were none at all. Astonishing, the Night King had hundreds, thousands; hundreds of thousand wights under his command but not a single one was present here. Daenerys was perturbed at this finding but those ideas were fleeting as her mind retreated to the comfortable vindictiveness.
Sounds of clicking boomeranged through the crypt-like halls. Daenerys thundered down the corridor so entwined in her anger when giggling voices interrupted her trance. A pair of children brushed past her, running as they chased each other. They circled Daenerys before taking off out the door. Their melodic laughs lightened the atmosphere, dissolving the tension surrounding her. An older woman, most likely their mother, followed in-suite. Their clothes made of fur and leather lead Daenerys to one conclusion, wildings.
Why would Jon have living, breathing wildings? And why does a supposed Night King have an absence of wights in his company? These questions and revelations muddled her judgement. Threatening the motives behind her intended actions. The details on Jon were now contradicting each other. He states his purpose is to bring the Long Night but neglects to build up his army and houses alive wildings in his fortress. There was something else at work here.
Daenerys found Jon within the elongated great hall sitting on a fabricated stone throne, leaning onto one arm while a single finger glided over his upper lip. He made no attempt to budge from his position as she entered the room.
"This is unexpected." Jon stated with flat voice. A hush of whispers squirmed in the back of Jons head as he inspected her. The Targaryen armor she wore elevated her status, yielding a regal and benevolent essence. Her hair bound in a tight bun gave her more assertion, controlling the room with just her presence. He continued to peer at her with a level of admiration and scrutiny.
"Yes well, you left quite the impression in Kings Landing." Each time she sees his face, her stomach twists more forming a knot. This is a diplomatic session she had to tell herself. Her hidden blade burned against her thigh while her fingers fiddled with the overlaying cloth.
Jon battled to keep the voices from becoming a deafening force on top of the darkness trying to sneak through the cracks. He fidgeted in the seat, he was growing more uncomfortable with their combined pressures. He did not have time to deal with her nor Brans problems, other issues were developing in urgency.
Daenerys waited for a response but was left with an unregistering gaze. Pushing the subject at hand, "The council." A bothersome sigh escaped between words. "And the king would like to know your true plans." Daenerys tried to get right to the point as her nerves were amplifying.
Jons hand dropped from his face, pushing himself up from the chair. He strutted down the stairs, nearing Daenerys. His eyes traveled the height of her as he walked around her. Feet stilled in front of her, eyes finally landing on her face but remained silent in his survey. He pinched his fingers together, pinning his arms to his sides. His body strained in an attempt to hold back the immense urges the darkness applied. Jon was doing everything possible to keep his hand at his side. He grunted, "To bring the long night." His voiced forced.
Noting the strife in his tone, "Right, well the council and the king do not much appreciate that intent." She searched for any hint of acknowledgement but was left analyzing a blank slate. His behavior was troubling her, he seemed detached or preoccupied like he was juggling multiple things at once. She has observed specific topics spark an influx of emotion from Jon, potentially dropping his guard so she decided to take a different approach. "Jon, you are promoting death."
"Death defines life. What drives life more than death?" Is all he responded. Daenerys pushes her mouth together forming a straight line with her lips. She broke eye contact as frustration spewed from the lack of input she was receiving from him.
"The undead." She returned to Jon, shaking her head. "Where are they?" Daenerys jostled for some backlash, anything to throw him off. Jon was mute to the question, his eyes looking through her. She could tell his mind was directed else where.
"Because the Night King is known for his undead army." Daenerys was unsure as to what to think or do at this point. The combination of his silence and her nervousness were causing her to be frenzied. "He certainly does not have wildling children living under his roof!" She blurted out. The topic had been festering in her mind since they ran past her. Cultivating her madness into a physical form.
Daenerys unclipped the buckle carrying her dagger, wrapping her fingers around the hilt. She quickly went from unsheathing the weapon to propelling the blade towards Jons exposed neck. Her strike came to a halt when something gripped her wrist. Jon had used his opposite hand to stop her offensive move. Her throat tightened at the realization of her failure and his probable lethal retaliation. But a glance in his direction only showed a calm in his eyes and soft facial features. This was different from his usual ruthless and rigid exterior. It was almost as if she was looking at Jons eyes again.
Jon seemed to snap back to reality at the mention of the children, "What is your point?" Irritation leaked over Jons face. He was defensive at her reference to the wilding children, the ones that closely resembled Sansa and Arya. He still held Daenerys wrist but did not address the fact she had plainly attacked him. Her questions were picking, pulling at the very fibers that contained his greedy dark passenger.
"I do not understand, what you claim you want is contrary to what you are actually doing. You want to bring the Long Night but yet you have no undead soldiers and wildling children are running around your fortress. You cannot tell me there is nothing else going on here." She argued.
He took a moment, just staring at her before saying, "I do not know. There is something inside.. continually pointing me in a singular direction. Constantly taking control of my actions. I know it is wrong but whatever it is. The more I..." He wanted to go on but once again withdrew. "I have matters that require tending." Jon was barely maintaining a grip on himself. He was too comfortable, too relaxed in her presence. He was risking more lives, risking losing control to his unwanted guest.
Daenerys watched for a second time as Jon walked away tailgate by the lightest flutter against her chest. She was unsuccessful in ending Jons life with each encounter, but amidst every confrontation a pleasant feeling was slinking back into her conscious. It dulled her rage towards him, soothing the inherit dragon nature. Jon was all she had left from her prior life and he was in the process of being taken from her, but by what exactly was more terrifying.
Daenerys rode Drogon back to Kings Landing with no real victory and even more questions. Exhausted from her travels, she decided to head straight for bed. On her way through the corridors she heard a familiar voice talking and laughing in another room. She followed the sound to find Kinvara sitting with Bran. Kinvara stood, looking pleased to see Daenerys.
"Queen Daenerys Stormborn. It is good to see you made it to Kings Landing." She said with a smile.
"Kinvara, what are you doing in Kings Landing?" Daenerys asked.
"Oh, well I know you lost your unsullied army and had decided to leave the Dothraki in the Great Plains so I sensed you would need some assistance in your journey. King Bran here was just informing me of a growing concern for the kingdoms."
"Growing concern?" Daenerys considered it odd that a king would dispel such information to a red priestess, especially one he does not know.
Kinvara nodded. "Your Jon. He has returned and is serving the Great Other." Daenerys does not gift her with a response. "My dear, the Lord of Light and the Great Other cannot exist together. One must be vanquished for the other to thrive."
"What are you saying exactly?" Daenerys flushed with anxiety, unnerved as her heart starting to race. After everything that had transpired, she hesitated at the sudden protectiveness she had over Jon.
"What I am saying is we should go north, cutoff any possible means or resources he has and put him down. Before he has time to act and before his terror even begins." Kinvara took a few steps forward.
Daenerys very core sank at those words. Even her own Targaryen lust for dominance dissipated at the possibility of Jon. She felt she had finally seen what was happening, seen some hint that Jon was still present.
"I mean, there is much to talk about and I am quite tired from my recent trip. Do you mind if we pick this up another time?" Daenerys suggested, avoiding the subject. She has witnessed the damage the Night King can cause and is well aware of the threat he posed to the living. Differentiating between Jon Snow and the Night King at this point was a fine line that even she thinks Jon is unsure of.
"Of course, my queen." Kinvara bowed ever so slightly.
Daenerys faked a smile before hastily walking back to her quarters and latching the door, preventing entry of any unwanted visitors. She wearily undid the buckles of her armor, removing and placing it on the table in the room. She stopped at her undershirt and pants which she found to be quite comfortable. Daenerys out stretched her arms in the air as her aches screamed to life. She did not remember dragon riding causing her to be so sore afterwards.
The sound of wings flapping came from just outside her room, bringing her to stand to get a better view. To her surprise she sees Jon walking off the bridge of his dragons nose onto the balcony below.