Fire and Blood

the Dead and the Living

The deafening roar was the charge of undead giants, their charge broke through the wights but crashed into the pike formation. Easily cutting swathes and creating gaps where the wight swarm could strike through. The giants armed with their spiked ice maces and clubs swung left and right breaking the perfectly advancing pikes. Devastating to morale and numbers. Grey Worm raised the horn to signal a retreat back while crossbows and archers gave cover barrage with their obsidian tipped arrows and bolts.

Several pikemen used the dagger-axes of their pikes to create gashes and cuts at the legs of the giants. As the monstrosities fell to their knees in pain, they were skewered in the eye by obsidian-tipped spears. The Giants charge had been absorbed into the coordinated pike wall. They were scattered and surrounded by soldiers with obsidian tipped weapons. Some were felled by the fire wielding priests and priestesses of Rhllor. Fire wielding weapons slicing through ice frozen limbs like knife through butter for some.

One by one they fell. This allowed the formation to recuperate whilst holding back the wights in the front. Pulling back his helm, Grey Worm looked to the dark night skies lit by the dragonfire of the three dragons of his Queen. Life and death. Eternal freedom or eternal servitude as a mindless creature. He had enough of slavery in his lifetime and he found again his resolve to continue on.

From the battlements of Winterfell, the Stark sisters looked on to the battlefield. The smell of winter mixed with the stench of charred corpses, it did not bother them. They were shocked that the dragon queen's strategies were working. Their thoughts were cut off when Bran spoke. "You should have never underestimated her. She is sparing us all much the pain." Before they could respond, a massive explosion rocked the battlefield. Wildfire. A row of wildfire explosions shook the earth they stood, rising to the heavens like towers of Harrenhal.

When the fire cooled down to a flaming partition cutting across the battlefield, the whole scene paused. The dead no longer charged relentlessly. They stood and waited. "Look," Arya pointed out as the dragons landed with their riders. The army of the living stood ready in formation opposing the dead. The greenish-Golden flaming partition divided them.

Daenerys dismounted from Drogon to be greeted by the sight of Melisandre, Kinvara and Quaithe. "Hail Daenerys Stormborn." She nodded, "what is going on now? Why did they halt their charge?" The shadowbinders looked to each other and turned her in unison. "Truce." Spoke Kinvara. Her eyes widened and her body shook. "They know now that they cannot conquer this continent without losing everything, they seek a truce." At the back of her mind she knew this was a possibility. The Others were creatures just like any other sentient being. They were not mindless war machines but wanted something and did not stop when they thought they were winners rather than the defeated.

"Tomorrow, when the sun rises and the Lord grants us his warmth and light. You shall meet the Great Other's pawn at the partition of fire. The pact between the dead and the living must be renewed." Spoke Quaithe.

"The world revolves around balance. Where there is ice, there must be fire to bring warmth. Where there is fire, ice must exist to lessen the heat. Balance is what keeps this world together rather than apart. When the Bloodstone Emperor of the Dawn killed his sister and worshipped the Bloodstone that fell from the skies, forsaking the gods of his ancestors. The mighty beings brought forth a great terror forth. When it all ended the world was never the same, broken and imbalanced."

"The same applies to Old Valyria. The dragonlords who conquered and conquered. Their flame burnt too hot and the world nearly fell had it not been for the Doom that broke them."

"You are the One That Was Promised, Daughter of Fire and Mother of Dragons. You must make peace with the Ice and restore balance in this broken world. Should you fail, neither ice or fire will triumph. For what is victory in a shattered world?"

Daenerys swallowed nervously. So this is the prophecy that was meant. It was never about one defeating the other, it was about maintaining a pact. A pact that would preserve everyone's lives and protect those innocents who should never know eternal servitude. She clenched her fists, never would she let slavery triumph. Prophecy or not, she is the Breaker of Chains and she would live to that moniker.

Whatever it takes.