Author's Note
I do not own ASOIAF.
At the end of all things, the armies of the Westerlands and Highgarden march on the North. The fortunate ones break rank and flee. The unfortunate ones freeze where they stand, their bodies standing as sentinels as the winter storms sweep south.
At the end of all things, the Others stir in the far North and arrive at the North, led by a man in a cloak that might have once been black. Their snows hammer the lands, their storms whipping across the seas. The living huddle in their castles as the dead hunt – and are hunted.
There are stories of the shadow, the tornado, the stormchild, who brings hurricanes in their wake and wraps the living safely in their cocoon.
Tales of the river monster cut across the Riverlands and into the Westerlands, the creature with glowing blue eyes who emerges from the depths and drags all nearby back to depths, living and dead and Other alike.
The Ice Maiden walks the land clad in a gown of ice and crowned with a band of silver. The living fear her not, for she preys only on the Other, tearing them open and feasting on the shards.
The White Wolf never shows his face, but he prowls the lands with his pack, and howls follow at his feet. He holds no sympathy, no mercy, and none survive an encounter.
The Black Brother haunts what used to be the lands Beyond the Wall, protecting what remains of the Night's Watch. He tears down the Other and the dead, but the living are safe before him.
The Protector doesn't roam and is never seen alone. He appears with another, and allows nothing to come near. His greatsword strikes down the living and the dead alike.
At the end of all things, the Battle for the Dawn is not a battle but a matter of survival, and as the winter ends, the monsters bring a bride of ice and diamonds to the Lord of Winterfell.
Their magic rebuilds the Wall to defend the lands of men, but their footsteps haunt the whole of Westeros.
At the dawn of all things, the King of Winter marries his new wife with only the mother that was never his to give him to her.
But as the sun sets and the snow melts, glowing footsteps mark the godswood.