Chaos reigned within the walls as men prepared for death.
Jon Snow fought with his men at the doors, desperate to prevent the inevitable. Longclaw was stronger than their weapons. Whenever Jon parried, he heard their steel crack, while his held true. Valyrian steel buried into hearts, stomachs and throats, but the men streaming through the iron doors were all too many.
Men beside him fought with heart. The King in the North!, they yelled, before arakhs or swords sliced them apart. An advantage they held was the narrowness of entering the hall, but it was failing fast, as Dothraki and southerners kept invading the thresholds, with no sign of lessening. When they would infiltrate the interiors, the battle would be lost. Why did I drag my men into a massacre?
The castle rumbled violently as, for a moment, the night sky danced in flames of red and white. People were screaming all around him, but nothing was more unnatural than the screech of dragons. Arrows and stones that once fell from above stopped completely.
They’re all dead.
Then Jon remembered. Davos.
He hurtled to the top, bloody Longclaw in hand. As he raced through stairs, Jon saw fallen men near windows, arrows through their skulls or throats. People dead or dying, yet none of them wailing or lamenting their predicaments.
Some of them saw Snow heading up the stairs. “Where are you going?” they were all shouting in panic. “There is a dragon up there! They are all dead! She’s on a dragon, burning everyone! It’s not safe!” He ignored them all, continuing his ascent to the top, as the urgency of warnings increased.
Jon reached the top to thick smoke and the screams of burned men. He could not move two steps before stumbling on charred corpses, all of them unrecognizable. Below, the yells of fellow northmen persisted, urging him to come below while he yet could, but Jon’s eyes could not leave his fallen friends. It could have been the smoke that made his eyes smart, or the overcoming sense of emotion that made the tears roll down his cheeks.
Dancing fires besides made him visible for those below. The ring of steel on steel had lessened. Jon saw below to gather why, and saw the eyes of Daenerys Targaryen’s soldiers staring back at him. He heard the screech of the dragon somewhere in the skies. He looked up to see the winged creature zooming towards him.
They are waiting to see me die.
Jon’s heart filled with fear. He turned to take cover, but his leg tangled among something and he fell. The culprit was a spear.
That’s it.
Jon grabbed the spear in his hand and instead of fleeing, sprinted closer to the edge of the rooftop. Salty eyes hindered his vision slightly, but he could make out the flying creature in the black sky, and the queen riding him.
The dragon was as close as it could be, fiery eyes boring into him. But Jon was resolute. He gripped the spear tighter. One throw to change the course of this war. He begged the old gods to summon him all the strength and fortune in the world before he flung the spear, with all his might, in the direction of the dragon’s eye.
It missed him by miles.
He heard the shouts of celebration before the dragon’s mouth opened and flames engulfed him. All he saw was smoke and fire.
When the snows eventually extinguished him, Jon Snow was naked, clothes set afire, but immune to its heat. His eye caught Daenerys Targaryen’s startled face. Below, soldiers had stopped dueling, unsure what to do next.
*
End of episode – S07E09 will be published on Sunday, 26th August 2018, 8:30 am GMT
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