[Chapter Size: 2700 Words.]
Third Person POV.
The Wall.
...
...
A mug slammed hard against the table set out under the open sky as Tormund shouted, laughing and looking at the men while snow fell from the heavens.
The war had ended in just a few hours, with a single engagement fought on two fronts.
While the troops were already celebrating at Castle Black and getting everything organized. Daemon carved through the Army of the Dead in the west alongside his men. He quickly destroyed most of the White Walkers, killing around six of them with Dawnbreaker, while the remaining four were defeated by the lords of Westeros wielding Valyrian steel swords.
He did everything he could to leave as many White Walkers as possible for his allies, since they too would need glory. Glory they would tell their children about, and later, their children's children.
Even the free folk displayed their trophies as they shouted and celebrated. Some of them, such as Tormund, Mance, Ygritte, Karsi, and others, had also personally slaughtered White Walkers by joining together against the creatures.
Nearly four hundred thousand people took part in that celebration. Even with three hundred thousand warriors and soldiers gathered at the Wall, more than one hundred thousand men had come from every corner of Westeros and Essos to join or assist in the war effort, even without taking part directly in the fighting.
Thus, Daemon quickly ordered a large portion of the stockpiles that had been prepared to sustain a year-long campaign to be emptied and organized a massive feast for everyone.
After four moons trapped at the Wall, the war had ended in a single day. The men exclaimed in celebration, shouted, and reminisced about everything they had done during the battles fought on both fronts.
Some claimed they had personally killed a White Walker, while others pointed out that not even experienced lords and knights could defeat one alone, needing to fight them in groups.
Those same soldiers making such claims did not even possess Valyrian steel swords, since dragonglass was far too fragile to directly withstand the White Walkers' ice swords and spears. That exposed many of those stories as blatant lies, turning them into the butt of jokes.
The lords gathered with the knights from each region to confirm who had truly managed to kill a White Walker. Some had indeed lied, of course, especially when men from different kingdoms began pointing fingers at one another or questioning those who claimed to have accomplished such a feat.
In any case, Daemon had already expected that chaos, with men seeking recognition for their achievements in the war, some trying to invent accomplishments that had never existed. That was why he had ordered his commanders to carefully memorize everything that had happened on the battlefield. Even the observers who had remained atop the Wall had been instructed to record every event in books as quickly as possible.
The war had not been won without casualties. They had lost around twenty-two thousand soldiers, and some lords had fallen. Even so, the number was relatively low compared to what could have happened, since the preparations at the Wall had helped immensely with its equipment, traps, and explosions.
They lost more men while facing the hordes during the retreat of the dead and, above all, on the western coast, where they had to confront the enemy directly, since they had used the sea some distance away from the Wall.
Even so, that night became a great celebration for everyone. There would be time to mourn the dead later. For now, they needed to celebrate, because everyone had realized the immense danger they had faced.
If those dead had crossed the Wall and entered the Seven Kingdoms, they would certainly have brought disaster. Although the victory had been swift and even relatively easy, that had only happened because they had prepared well for all of this.
If they had been caught by surprise by an army of that size invading the North, and especially if Daemon had not brought one hundred and eighty thousand free folk south of the Wall, those same one hundred and eighty thousand people could have become part of the Army of the Dead.
Even Mors Umber, someone who had once been sentenced to the Wall by Daemon because of the hatred he harbored for the free folk, had to admit, by the end of that day, that everything Daemon had done had drastically reduced the growth of the monsters' army.
The entire realm would have been doomed if not for that.
In any case, food and drink had been made available everywhere, occupying several thousand square meters with tents and torches. Even the free folk's town in the Gift quickly received the news and celebrated. Daemon also released supplies so they could eat and drink as much as they wished, while many men returned to their families to celebrate with them.
The bonfires seemed endless to anyone looking down from atop the Wall. People shouted, laughed, and drank. Even the men who remained on watch atop the Wall drank a little alcohol, though not much, and received roasted meat brought up to them, since they still remained on guard above the Wall.
Soft footsteps approached a man who was looking north from atop the Wall beneath the gentle wind. A female figure, wrapped in a cloak, walked over to her husband, who remained gazing toward the nighttime horizon.
"They're all waiting downstairs," Daenerys said, approaching him as she tried to endure the cold.
Daemon looked at her with a faint smile. "You never get used to this, do you?" he asked, noticing that she was still bothered by the freezing wind blowing atop the Wall.
"How could I?" she replied.
Daemon then cast a cold resistance spell on his wife, making her relax almost immediately.
"It's one thing to fly on a dragon, where all the heat from its body keeps you warm, even in the middle of a snowstorm. It's another to stand up here wearing nothing but heavy coats. I've never been very resistant to the cold."
She had truly never enjoyed living north of the Wall. And even now, things seemed worse, with winter having already arrived and them standing atop a seven-hundred-foot-high Wall exposed to the night's cold front. It was obvious that the cold and the wind up there bothered her greatly.
Daemon turned his gaze to the north.
"I know... I'm only here because I wanted to look a little longer," he said.
His wife simply remained by his side. Behind them, several guards discreetly escorted them, while everyone waited for the king in the great hall of Castle Black.
"What do you think?" Daemon asked the dragon beside him.
Odahviing, who had not moved throughout the entire war, remained silent for a moment. He had not needed to do anything because it was not his role to interfere in that battle.
"I think most of them were completely destroyed. He won't attack again. Not like this. After losing practically his entire army, all he has left now is a single dragon and perhaps a few other dead hidden away, but nothing truly significant," Odahviing said.
Daemon sighed.
"Do you think he's hiding?" Daenerys asked, already aware of that concern. After all, Daemon had begun a more serious conversation now that the war had finally come to an end.
Daemon had not seen the Night King anywhere, not even the dragon he had claimed through Euron.
"Yes. He's hiding," Odahviing replied. "He probably realized that his campaign against the living was doomed from the very beginning. Ever since the Dovahkiin brought the free folk south of the Wall and managed to unite Westeros, he certainly understood that he would have no way of conquering the Wall in time. Perhaps he watched from afar the enormous number of men waiting for him and only sent his army because you forced him to act. Judging by the outcome of the battle, if he had known it would end like this, he would have hidden all of his dead to use them another time."
"But instead, he used the dead to test us, only to have them destroyed." A childish voice came from beside them.
Leaf was also watching the north, standing between Daemon and Odahviing. She had fulfilled her role of providing information throughout those four moons, sharing everything she knew with the men while remaining under the protection of northern soldiers. After all, there were already fanatics claiming that Daemon was a demon and that he himself had created the Army of the Dead. The Children of the Forest were also regarded as a threat by many, being called abominations.
Of course, none of them had been touched. Their guards drove away anyone who approached with ill intentions. In some cases, they even had to cut off the heads of fools who refused to obey the king's orders, believing they were somehow serving the Seven.
"If I were him," Daemon said, "I would have analyzed the situation more carefully. Knowing that my enemy was capable of simply annihilating my army, I would have divided my dead. I would hide many of them beneath the deepest snows of the far north and leave them there, even if their bodies decayed over the course of hundreds of years. I would wait until an enemy as powerful as I had been dead for a very long time, and only then would I begin another campaign, when no one was expecting it." That was Daemon's opinion.
But even if it had come to that, he would have strengthened his own family to the point where it would be ready to face that war at any time over the centuries or even millennia.
His family would have dragons in abundance and members capable of wielding enough magic to deal with those monsters, even if none of them were as powerful as he was.
"Then he'll never attack us..." Leaf murmured.
"Most likely, that's exactly what will happen. He's hiding. If I were in his place, after losing so much and being unable to deal with an enemy like us... I would hide the dragon and try to wait several hundred or even thousands of years before attacking the world of the living again," Daemon replied calmly.
Even as he said that, the truth was that he wasn't too worried about it.
"And what are you going to do?" Daenerys asked.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm going after him tomorrow," Daemon said.
Daenerys looked concerned, but at the same time, she knew her husband was right. This had to be brought to an end once and for all.
Daemon let out a small laugh when he saw the serious expressions on both Leaf and his wife. Odahviing didn't even seem to care.
"But let's leave that for later. Leaf, how about joining us for the feast?" he asked as he wrapped an arm around the queen's waist.
"We do not share your customs, King. I appreciate the invitation, but I'll be gathering with my sisters. I won't be taking part in your feast," she replied.
Daemon nodded. The couple then made their way with their escort toward the lift.
When they reached the interior of Castle Black, everyone was already eating and drinking. As soon as the king's presence was noticed, all the principal nobles of Westeros turned their attention toward him.
Daemon's arrival caused the entire hall to erupt in celebration.
He greeted those present as he walked beside his wife, taking his seat at the high table alongside the Lord Commander, Lord Stark, Robb, Lord Tully, Lord Baratheon, and Mance.
In the central chair, Daemon took his place. Daenerys sat to his right as queen, while Aemon occupied the seat to his left as a member of the royal family.
Daemon settled into his seat, but soon rose to his feet again.
Everyone was waiting for him. They were waiting for the king's final words regarding the war against the dead, a war that had lasted only a single day.
"My lords, my friends... I see you're celebrating like men who have just faced monsters from ancient legends, fantasies, and old books!"
Some laughed, others raised their mugs, and many simply nodded in acknowledgment.
"I thank all of you for leading your men into battle today. It was a relatively simple battle, but one that changed the fate of Westeros."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"If it was simple, it was because we prepared ourselves. It took months of preparation to destroy our enemy on this single day."
"Today, we are victorious."
"We have brought the Second Long Night to an end."
"Just as it happened in the Age of Heroes, it was men like you, standing before me, who prevented the destruction of the world."
"May each of your names be remembered in this new age as the names of those who faced the Army of the Dead, defeated the White Walkers, and prevented the coming of the Second Long Night."
Daemon emphasized those final words more solemnly than usual.
Those words greatly swelled the pride of everyone present. How could they not? They were more than satisfied to have taken part in that battle.
Daemon could clearly see the auras around him shifting once again, becoming more and more favorable toward him.
Daemon raised his hand as he drew the radiant sword from his storage space, the blade appearing in his hand in a single instantaneous motion.
"Here stand many men who defeated White Walkers. Therefore, tonight shall be a night of celebration. There is nothing more that needs to be said."
"You are the heroes of the realms."
"So drink and celebrate our victory!"
Daemon's shout made everyone immediately rise to their feet, raising their mugs and cheering in unison.
Daemon put the sword away and returned to his seat.
"Simple words, yet direct and eloquent, with a touch of beauty, my king," Maester Aemon said in a low voice.
Daemon lightly patted his shoulder and smiled. "Thank you, Uncle."
"Speaking of which..." Daemon picked up one of the candles from the table and brought it closer without yet pouring himself a drink. He then took a Valyrian steel dagger from his inventory.
"There's something I wanted to show the two of you. Something a red priestess told me a few days ago, saying she had seen it in one of her visions." He held the dagger over the candle's flame, slowly heating the blade.
Daenerys and Aemon, whose eyesight was no longer good, did not understand what he was doing.
However, when Daemon removed the dagger from the flame, words in High Valyrian appeared engraved upon the blade.
"'From my blood shall come the Prince That Was Promised, and his will be the song of ice and fire...'" Daenerys murmured as Daemon showed the dagger to her first.
"This dagger belonged to Aegon the Conqueror and was passed down from king to king. I took it from Littlefinger when I killed him back then, but I had no idea it held such symbolic value for our House. Was it coincidence, or fate..." Daemon said with satisfaction as he examined the blade.
Daenerys looked at him with a smile.
"It seems the story that you're the Prince That Was Promised wasn't wrong."
It was obvious. The red priests and many others who believed in the prophecy of the Prince That Was Promised pointed to Daemon as that man. After all, it had been he who organized the entire war against the dead and led Westeros to victory.
And he was a Stark, a Targaryen. He was the union of ice and fire for the first time in this world.
"Well... This will certainly help me with a speech tomorrow. I still need to go beyond the Wall to face the Night King," Daemon said.
Daenerys sighed, torn between concern and pride.
"Just promise me you won't leave our son without a father, Daemon. That you won't leave me without a husband."
"Of course." Daemon simply nodded before kissing her on the lips.
The kiss was intense enough to make Daenerys blush, drawing a few smiles from those present. Many were already saying that the king enjoyed publicly showing his love for the queen.
"Anyway..." Daemon said, raising his mug once more.
"This night is for celebrating."
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