Here because I just re-watched game of thrones and just realised 4 of my 6 favourite characters die in the same season and 3 in the same goddamn episode. So I'm living my dreams through this.

Now onto the Downton Abbey part. I have just watched the film and I do so love this show. So really there is no plot or context, it will probably stay a crackfic.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Downton Abbey they belong to their respective creators.

Beric I

What an end to my long treacherous life. Protecting that sweet girl Arya Stark, she would have made a great follower R'hollor. The fires burn bright within her. I'm glad I found my calling the true reason for my 6 resurrections. But I do so miss Thoros, my greatest friend. My saviour. He did not deserve death, but I am happy for him.

I can feel the wet heat of my blood, staining my clothes. I do not feel much towards it because I have died so many times. I almost welcome this everlasting relief. Although hearing Sandor and Arya's grief is not a welcome sound.

As I feel my final flame burn out I pray to my lord of light. "Lord of light come to us in our darkness. For the night is dark and full of terror. May me and my love bathe in your eternal light." Then my eye slips shut and I feel no more.

—-

I jolt up, my breath is shaky and uneven. I feel soft linen sheets beneath me as though I am on a bed. Looking down I realise I am on a bed. How? This is impossible, I can't be alive. The only explanation is that I am dead or the lord of light has revived me. Glancing around the room, I see that it is lavishly furnished with vases and other expensive items. This room does not look like any from the north or even Kings landing. After being lost in deep thought I hear the door start to open, reaching for one of my daggers I realise I'm unarmed and that I am in what would be called silk pyjamas. My panic grew by the second.

As the door opened wide, the one who entered the room was. Thoros! It cannot be. I saw him perish in the cold. I burnt his body! But no here he is, in front of me. Carrying what appears to be a tray with lavish-looking cutlery and a finely painted bowl, with steaming soup inside. "Thoros? How?" I attempt to reach out to him. However, my limbs are heavy and my body is exhausted. He looked almost just as I remember him his greying ginger hair, held together in its usual style of a top bun. He looks so much healthier than he did when he ventured up North. Oh, how I've missed that face. Perfect that he is the first face I see today. Just like every time. Thoros seemed just as shocked as I was. Setting down the soup on the bedside story. "Oh, Beric. I'm so glad to see you awake. I thought you would never wake up." He reached out and hugged me, he was so warm against my frigid body. "How Thoros?" He smiled at me with the same drunkard plastered on his face. "Well."

—-

Thoros I

The cold encased me. It was almost peaceful as I was no longer hearing the struggle. Although getting mauled by a zombie polar bear and having your wounds cauterised did hurt like nobody's business. I feel the warmth slipping from me. The last thought on my mind has regret. Regret that I would be leaving Beric to die and that I would be leaving him without telling him how I feel.

I let myself slip away.

I awaken to a knock. I stare at the door in front of my bed. "Mr Myr. Please wake up the Lord Dondarrion needs you. He's fallen ill." I spring out of bed. I don't care what's happening I need to check on Beric. Opening the oak door I'm greeted by a young man no older than 20 years. He looked slightly dishevelled most likely from his haste to get to me. "Please hurry Mr Myr. The lordship does not look well." He guides me up some stairs, through a corridor. Stopping in front of a beautifully polished door.

As I enter the room I stare at a face I never thought I would see again. Beric. My foolish Beric. In the large bed with its white sheets, he looked so pale against them. I reach towards his scared eye. I pull back after I feel the heat radiate him. "How did this happen?" I ask the boy barely containing the concern in my voice. I'm not used to dealing with an ill Beric since he never got ill after I first revived him. "Well, Mr Myr we're not sure. Last night he just collapsed soon after you did."

"I collapsed?"

"You don't remember sir? Last night you just collapsed outside in the cold. The doctor told us there was nothing wrong with you, he just said that you needed rest." He spoke not meeting my eyes. "Oh well. You can leave him to me." with that he left shutting the door behind him. I sat down next to Beric trailing over each of his visible scars. I noticed that he had new ones, there were stab wounds all over his lower torso. These seemed to have been only a week old. How did he get them?

"Beric can you believe we're alive. It must have been. R'hollo he must have saved us."

No reply but I don't mind I'm just grateful that he is alive.

We stayed like this for almost a week. With Beric sick on his bed and me looking after him. It was almost sweet being back to our odd little dynamic.

Then one day, on my way to bring Beric some soup I look at him awake but disoriented. I have never been so happy to see that ugly mug staring at me.