7th Month of 300 A.C. Castle Black
King Aegon VI Targaryen
The world was dark, the sun had gone to die, that was how it seemed to the King as he rode his dragon, his two other children flying at his side, his aunt flying somewhere close by, her children flying close by, a comfort and reassuring. He looks around at the scene below and sees the chaos, the carnage and somewhere inside him he feels the urge to scream. The death he had seen in his visions from the time he was a child, it is unfolding below, on the ground, twisting and turning, writhing around in the ground with pain and a sleekness that belies the evil that fuels it. Aegon looks at it and wonders what will happen, there are men fighting monsters, and some of the monsters are their own friends and family, he cannot imagine the harm and the pain that that is doing to them. He takes a deep breath and whispers a command and Deinor and his siblings begin unleashing their jets of fire and ice, destroying the wights that remain, turning them into nothingness and freezing them. Similarly, Daenerys uses her dragons to burn the wights and the White Walkers seem to be watching with something akin to interest.
As planned they release the horde of dragonglass found deep under King's Landing as well as Dragonstone, and the sound of the dying White Walkers as the dragonglass hits them is music to his ears. He feels alive, so very alive now, and as such he keeps Deinor flying, determined to make full use of this opportunity now. The beasts below seem to be turning and twisting, doing whatever they can to get away from the carnage unfolding around them, and for once Aegon feels happy at that. He remembers hearing about the destruction, reading the letters that had come from Robb, and feeling anger and helplessness, he had left Sansa behind in King's Landing to hold things down whilst he went to sort out this grave problem, and so now he looks down and watches as it unfolds. There is something about it all that fills him with a slight hope, some sense that perhaps they might emerge from this unscathed and something that might well prevent the carnage he has seen within his visions, visions that haunt him still. It must be some cruel twist of fate that even as he fights to change the visions he had seen; new ones keep flashing in his mind.
Not for the first time he is grateful that his connection to his children is so strong, Deinor is able to navigate through the disturbing patterns of Aegon's commands and works to keep the other two in line. They move in and out of focus, but still they do their duty, Aegon can hear and see the flames they are breathing onto the enemy below, wights are disappearing alongside other fell things that the White Walkers bring with them, the White Walkers themselves seem to have learned from the first instance, he does not know where Daenerys is, but he can hear her. The visions begin clouding out everything else. Dreams of darkness, the light having died, the moon reigns supreme over all, the world is nothing but darkness and snow. Snow is everywhere, it covers everything, they are all ensconced in a circle of ice, a man moves somewhere in the distance but there is nothing more, nothing else, and there is nothing but darkness, and snow. The figure looks at him, a leering smile on its face. Aegon looks at the figure, wondering where he has seen it before, for he knows he has, even if he cannot quite place where. The figure looks at him and then raises a hand, clutching something, a man, a boy Aegon thinks, a boy with dark hair and sandy skin, and with a growing horror he realises who that boy is. The figure snaps the man's neck and Aegon screams.
His eyes snap open, and he looks down on the ground, to where Prince Quentyn rests, having descended from some form of magic performed by Melisandre, there before the prince stands a terrifying sight, a White Walker giant. Aegon watches in horror as the sight that had happened in his dream, happens now. The giant grabs the Prince of Dorne and twists him and twists him, before snapping him quite literally in two, the figure looks at him and smiles before throwing the two pieces away. Aegon screams, but somewhere deep down he knows that Prince Doran will be happy, a threat has been removed, though he does not quite understand it. It makes him sick to his stomach, and he bellows a command, Deinor and Barrax take out the giant, engulfing him in pale blue and white flames. The giant screams, bellowing for freedom and release, but Aegon keeps the pressure, determined not to let the thing off easily. He keeps his attention focused on that, and as the dragons' roar, the giant falls to its knees, quivering a mess. Eventually, the quivering and the whimpering stop and the giant falls down, shattering into a million tiny pieces.
Aegon scans through the fighting going on below, he can see Robb down below fighting off a dozen or so wights and those strange beings who flock to the White Walkers. He takes a minute to think and then he steers Deinor and his children toward that part of the fighting, on his count the fire and ice is released, somewhere further afield, there is more fire being released as his aunt takes to the field. He finds himself relieved at having brought her, she was able to soothe some of his worries, but not all of them. The red priestess Melisandre is down on the ground as well, having used some of her own magic to get herself here without the need for dragon flight. He wonders at her, but finds himself more concerned with dealing with the fighting going on below. Deinor and Barrax as well as Urrax take on the figures on the ground, he fires his own arrows, determined to remove as many wights and White Walkers as possible, he feels some sense of relief when he sees the White Walkers fall to the ground broken and destroyed. Shattering into dozens of tiny pieces never to rise again.
Before he can begin revelling in the sense of power and victory, another image flashes through his mind. A great being of power stands in a shadow of a tree, a figure with pale blue eyes, blue skin, and a figure who looks so heart stopping beautiful that Aegon wonders whether or not this is the leader of the army, the dead that come before his home. The figure who has haunted his dreams since he was a little boy, the figure who stalks the land when there is nothing else to do. Aegon can see the land where the figure stands, where the figure rests, and he thinks he knows where that figure is. He moves Deinor, Urrax and Barrax out to meet this figure, determined that one way or another to finish this, for he is convinced that if he deals with this figure he will end the threat once and for all. He looks around searching for Daenerys, unable to find her, he merely decides to take the initiative himself. He searches through his memories, before he finds it, the place where the figure rests, waiting, like a coward. He says a quick prayer and then he sets off. Soon enough, he finds the land, snow and blood cover the ground, and there before him is the figure, ethereal, beautiful and terrifying all at the same time, the figure watches him as he brings Deinor down to land and as he dismounts.
The figure stands before him, covered in ice like armour, its hair is white, its skin is dark and pale at the same time, its eyes are hauntingly blue, and Aegon feels nothing but pure loathing for it. He stands before the figure, Blackfyre in his hands, and he speaks. "Who are you?"
The figure does not speak for a moment and then it replies. "I am everything and nothing. I am the thing you fear in the darkness; I am the thing you look for in the light."
Aegon looks at the figure and asks. "Are you behind all of this? Are you the Great Other? Are you the Night's King?" he feels stupid for asking, but he thinks that if he is to kill something, he should at least know what it is called.
The figure emits a beautiful noise, and it takes him a moment to realise that the thing is laughing. "So that is what they are calling me now then is it? Well that is not surprising, they never did have many imaginative names." A pause and then. "If it helps you, then yes, I am that, the Great Other the thing you called with such fear."
"Why are you here?" Aegon asks, fear begins coursing through him, and he is not quite sure why.
The figure looks at him and smiles, a terrifying smile. "To come home."
"Home?" he asks surprised. "But you live far away, in the Heart of Winter." He feels like a child, but he needs to know, needs to understand.
"I lived where you live once, I know the things you know. Tell me, King Aegon, are you a King or a mere bastard?" the figure asks.
Anger courses through him then, and he moves forward. "I am your death." He replies.
The figure smiles. "Let us see if you are worthy of that title."
Aegon moves forward, his sword drawn, his heart racing, he feels the importance of what is about to happen crash over him then. The figure, the Great Other, whatever it is moves forward and swings its sword, Aegon just about manages to block the blow, feeling coldness run through him as their swords meet. They hold like that for a moment before breaking apart, Aegon is the one who brings them back into contact once more, their swords clanging off of one another, the sound echoing through the dimness that is there. They push against one another, Aegon can feel himself straining against the weight of it, but it seems the beast before him does not feel the pressure, for its face remains expressionless. They break apart, and Aegon can hear himself breathing heavily, his heart hammering rapidly in his chest. They come together, their swords locking into the familiar dance, they circle one another, their swords still locked against one another, he blinks and he feels the cold touch of the sword against his skin, and he feels like screaming. Before he knows it the sword is gone, and they are back to circling one another. He looks at the figure, and thinks and thinks. Wondering how he might be bring the bastard down.
Before he can form a truly coherent thought, the figure lunges forward, forcing Aegon back, he just about misses the sword that comes lurching out to get him, but he can feel its coldness against his exposed skin and he shivers slightly. The figure comes forward, and this time, Aegon manages to get his sword up in time to deflect the blow, he is breathing heavily now, the cost of exerting himself in such a manner. The figure presses down with what Aegon imagines is some weight and he can feel his muscles screaming in protest, demanding something like relief. He grits his teeth, and pushes upwards, forcing himself to not scream out as his muscles groan, he forces the figure onto the back foot. Taking advantage of that, he swings once to the left, pushing the figure backwards, and then he brings the sword back to the right, hitting the figure hard on the shoulder, forcing the thing to squint. He moves quickly, a swing here, a swing there, a cut here, a parry there, and before he knows it, there is cold dust coming off of the figure, something that Aegon thinks might be blood.
The figure looks at him and smiles. "So it seems you are worthy enough. Come now boy, let us end this." the figure moves forward and with a precision and a quickness that surprises him, swings their sword once to the right, drawing blood, once to the left, making Aegon wince from pain. Again and again this happens, and soon enough Aegon is left panting heavily, his armour dented, blood seeping through wounds, but he knows that he might be coming close toward victory, he can see the dust coming off of the figure. Just one more push and perhaps he might be able to end this.
The figure comes once more, and Aegon manages to block the swing, he pushes down with all his strength and somehow forces the figure to lower his own sword, tiredness engulfs him, but he knows he cannot stop, not now, not with victory so close. Tiredly he raises his arms up, dragging the sword up with them, and in one swing he forces another slash of cold air to come off of the figure, in a second swing he forces a dent in the figure's armour, his muscles are really screaming now. A third swing sees the figure falling, a fourth swing sees the figure's sword gone, clattering and shattering into dust. A fifth swing and his sword has cut the figure's cheek, a sixth swing and the figure has more steam coming off of them. He has his sword at the figure's throat then, his arms aching, his body crying out for relief, he keeps Blackfyre pressed against the figure's throat, and then whispers. "And now his Watch has ended." He raises Blackfyre and cuts the figure in half, an ear shattering scream sounding from somewhere. He watches the figure shatter and disappear, he slumps to his knees, and as he looks around he can see people, people who weren't there before, he looks around and he sees light. The sun has risen once more, Aegon smiles, his gleaming in the sunlight.