So beyond disappointed in the Night King's ending on last episode. I know I'm probably the only one but it just seemed to rushed and we didn't even get to know anymore about him. It was years of build up with a super quick death. Anyways, I've had this idea in my head for some time now, ever since I read something about how the Night King became the Night King (from the books I think). I will be taking liberties with facts because this is, well, fanfiction and not canon.
Also I'm well aware that his name is actually spelled Night's King, but I'm not going to do that. Just not.
By the way, the Night King I prefer was the first one not the newer one. He just looked waaaay cooler. His lips were great too, haha.
Arya's vision blurred, her throat being slowly crushed by the Night King. She'd failed. The knife fell from her grip and into the snow, she presumed, darkness tinging the edges of her sight.
His face was terrifying, eyes inhuman blue, skin twisted and cold. Distantly she thought, Of all the faces the God of Death wears, this one's the ugliest.
Suddenly, something red blurred in back of the Night King. Sansa!
He dropped her and turned swiftly around to face her idiot older sister. Arya reached out an arm in a weak attempt to save Sansa from him but everything went black. The last thing she saw was the King advancing upon her sister.
XXXXXX
Sansa shivered in the small cave where she'd been dumped hours before. She wasn't tied up or anything, not that it mattered. The Night King had put a contingent of the dead around to guard her. They simply stood unmoving and staring, waiting for her make a move or a word from their master.
Why hadn't he killed her? She wondered not for the first time. Was he keeping her alive to do something horrible to her? Was he the same as human men?
Maybe he wants to lure John here. Or Bran.
Sansa stood up. That was it. She was bait.
That wasn't going to happen. She'd already had to watch her father and one of her brothers die, she wasn't about to watch another one. She would kill herself first. No Sansa, no bait.
A shuffling noise behind her had her turning around. The dead were parting to let someone through.
Him.
Her heart leapt to her throat. She backed away and hit the cave wall behind her as he advanced slowly toward.
He never spoke, never blinked, never hesitated in his movements. Just walked up to her and then stopped. Pure terror almost made her faint.
"Please, what do you want?"
Of course he didn't answer. But he did raise a hand toward her face. She turned away, squeezing her eyes shut in defense of whatever it was he going to do. Something ice cold settled over her head, seemingly trickling down into her very soul.
And then she wasn't in the cave anymore. For that matter, she wasn't cold anymore, either. She opened her eyes and looked around.
She was in King's Landing, in the Red Keep. It was still winter, she realized looking out one of the windows.
A guttural noise to the side caught her attention. There were two women, one on the floor and one standing over her. She moved closer.
It was Cersei on the floor, she realized in shock. Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at the other woman. "Please," she begged, "have mercy."
The other woman was tall with long red hair even darker than her own. She wore a long diaphanous black dress that didn't even cover her arms from the cold. Sansa slowly circled around them, somehow knowing they couldn't see her.
Cersei begged for her life on her knees, just as Sansa had always wanted her to. The other woman however raised a sword and cut Cersei's head off without hesitation. The short blonde-haired head rolled to Sansa's feet, stopping just inches away.
Then the other woman lowered her sword and straightened, slowly turning her head to look behind her at Sansa.
Sansa saw the face and stumbled backwards in fear and shock. For although the eyes were bluer than hers had ever been and the skin whiter, it was Sansa's face the woman was wearing.
"What?" she whispered in disbelief.
And then the Night King was beside her, watching her face. The woman was gone and instead, she held the sword. Her hand was strangely white and without looking in a mirror she knew her eyes were the same shade of blue as the Night King's.
And then her body moved of its own accord, but it was almost as if she wanted it to, at the same time. She turned to the man-no, monster-next to her and dropped her sword to the floor, uncaring about the noise or anything. Anything except for him.
He gave the smallest of smiles and received her with both arms. Hers snaked around his neck, pulling him down and close. His mouth closed over hers in a long deep kiss. Her body molded to his and she wanted more. To be even closer. She slanted her mouth to draw him in even deeper. He smelled of winter and fresh snow. His hands were bruising in their grip on her waist.
Mine.
The word echoed in her head as if he'd spoken aloud. She purred her agreement and kissed him all the more fiercely.
Suddenly, Sansa was back in the cave. Cold seeped into her bones and the powerful feeling she'd had in the Red Keep was gone. The Night King stared into her eyes which were normal color again. Now he smelled of blood and ash and death and she ripped herself away from his hand and retreated to the furthest corner of the cave.
"Never," she whispered, sliding down onto the cold ground and wrapping her arms around her knees.
Now she knew what he'd taken her for.
He'd shown her a possible future, one where she was a member of his dead army. Powerful and strong. And apparently in love with him. She shivered in disgust.
She stamped down the residual feelings that the Night King's vision had evoked and closed her eyes. The strange thing was, in the vision, she hadn't felt dead. She'd felt more alive than ever.