The Silence After Fire
The war was over and yet, the world did not rejoice.
The fields where thousands had fallen were still smoldering. The air smelled of charred steel and ghosts.
Job stood among the ruins, his sword buried in the earth, watching the smoke drift like lost souls. His armor hung heavy, streaked with ash. Every step he took crunched bone and frost together the sound of what victory costs.
Behind him, the Northern host waited for command. No songs, no cheers. Only silence.
Then a voice soft, breaking through the still air.
"You shouldn't be standing."
He turned. Althea approached slowly, her cloak trailing ash. Her hair, once black, shimmered white at the edges, her eyes brighter than dawn and colder than ice.
"You shouldn't be alive," Job said.
"Neither should you."
They looked at each other and for the first time since the war began, neither spoke of battle. Only of what was left between them.
She reached for his hand, but before their fingers met, the air flickered like heat from invisible fire. The world trembled for an instant.
"They're watching," she whispered. "The Dreaming Ones. They want me back."
Job's grip tightened. "Then they'll have to drag you through my corpse."
A faint smile touched her lips. "They might."
The Burned Throne
King's Landing was nothing but ruin.
Lily's fire-dragon was gone, but the city still burned with aftershocks of its death. Entire districts glowed faintly red at night, as if embers of divine wrath still smoldered beneath the stones.
In the Red Keep, what remained of the Iron Throne was a heap of molten metal, fused with the bones of those who had served too close.
Lily herself sat on what remained the jagged edge of steel that had once been power. Her eyes were ringed with crimson, her crown cracked.
Qyburn approached cautiously.
"Your Grace the Northern banners fly over the Riverlands. They say the Wolf King and his Witch Queen march south."
Lily didn't answer. She was staring at the melted steel and seeing, perhaps, her own reflection burning within it.
"The gods have chosen their pawns," she murmured. "Then let them play."
Her fingers brushed her temple. Blood shimmered there glowing faintly. A sigil burned beneath her skin a lion devouring the sun.
"They think I am broken," she whispered. "Let them see what becomes of fire when it learns to freeze."
The Oath of Winter
That night, beneath a sky of falling ash, Job called his captains.
The council gathered in the ruins of an old sept, where the stained glass still glowed faintly with the memory of saints.
"We march no further south," he said. "Not until we bury our dead."
Davos nodded. "And when we do?"
Job looked toward the horizon. "We face the Queen of Ashes."
But Althea stepped forward, her tone quiet but absolute.
"No. You face her, and you lose yourself. That's how the curse works."
The room stilled.
"Then what do you suggest?" Jon asked.
She looked at him the firelight painting her face half-shadow.
"That we bind it. You, me, and the realm itself. Oaths stronger than any god's design."
Job frowned. "You mean a blood pact?"
"No," she whispered. "Something older."
She drew a small blade from her belt black as obsidian, humming faintly.
"The Weirwoods listen still. If we swear before them, even the Dreaming Ones cannot unmake it."
Job hesitated. "And what do we swear?"
"That our love won't break the world even if it kills us."
The Night of Binding
They went into the forest alone.
The trees whispered as they passed, snow drifting like ashes on their cloaks.
At the heart of the woods stood a single Weirwood old, gnarled, its red leaves curled like bloodied hands.
Job drew his knife. Althea raised hers.
"Say the words," she murmured.
He swallowed. "Before gods and ghosts, before fire and frost, I swear this My soul is yours, my strength is yours. If the gods would take you, they'll take me first."
Althea's breath trembled. "And I swear this If my curse should devour the world, I will turn it upon myself before it touches you."
They pressed their palms together. Blood met blood and the Weirwood shuddered.
For a heartbeat, the forest glowed white. The snow rose, swirling around them like light reborn.
Then silence.
Job exhaled. "It's done."
"No," she said softly. "It's only begun."
Dreams of the Dead
That night, Althea didn't sleep.
In her dreams, she stood before a hall of mirrors, each one showing a different version of herself a child, a queen, a corpse, a god.
From the reflection stepped a woman crowned in shadow and silver.
Her face was identical to Althea's, but her eyes burned gold.
"You've broken the old laws," the reflection said.
"The Dreaming Ones do not forgive defiance."
Althea lifted her chin. "Then they can come for me."
"They will. Through the one you love."
The reflection smiled and shattered like glass.
Althea woke with a cry, frost on her lips and fire in her veins.
The Council Divided
By dawn, word had spread. Some among the Northern lords whispered that the Queen of Shadows had cursed their king. Others said she was their only salvation.
Tormund was blunt.
"If she can kill a dragon made of fire, she can kill anything."
Davos frowned. "Or doom us all trying."
Job silenced them with a glance. "She saved this realm. That's all that matters."
But even as he said it, a part of him felt the weight of the dream her scream echoing through the dark.
Something had changed in her. Something the gods themselves couldn't touch and that frightened him more than any army.
The Dawn Oath
At sunrise, the first snow fell again.
Job and Althea stood side by side at the riverbank, the water black and silent.
"Do you ever wish we'd never met?" he asked quietly.
She smiled faintly. "Sometimes. Then I remember that fate doesn't ask for wishes. It asks for sacrifices."
He looked at her truly looked. The woman who had walked through death, who had burned and frozen and still stood beside him.
"If I must die to keep this world standing," he said, "then let it be by your hand."
Her eyes softened. "And if I must become a monster to save you, then may the gods forgive me for not hesitating."
The river froze solid between them ice spreading in perfect symmetry.
Their breath mingled. Their oaths were sealed.
The Lion's Return
Far away, in the ruins of the Red Keep, a sound stirred.
Chains broke. A faint roar trembled through the stone.
Lily stood beneath the moonlight, blood streaking her face, her eyes glowing with the color of molten gold.
"The gods have abandoned me," she whispered. "Good."
The sigil beneath her skin burned brighter.
"Then I'll become one."
And in the distance far north of the ruins Althea froze mid-breath. Her hand went to her heart.
"She's alive."
Job's hand tightened around his sword. "Then the war's not done."