The Gathering Storm
The Trident glittered under a gray dawn not with sunlight, but with steel.
The Northern banners rippled in the wind the Direwolf, the Raven, the Silver Sun.
Across the river, the Golden Faith blazed their spears burning like candles, their armor hot to the touch.
At the heart of it stood Job Snow, helm under his arm, ghost-white hair damp with mist.
Beside him, Althea Baelish, clad in frost-woven mail, her eyes the calm before ruin.
"You know what this river is called?" she asked.
"The Trident," Job replied.
"Once it crowned kings. Today, it buries them."
Behind them, horns sounded the first cry of war.
Fire on the Water
Lily's host struck first.
Flaming projectiles arced over the river, bursting in waves of liquid fire. The Trident burned.
Northern shields locked together, snow melting underfoot as archers loosed volley after volley.
The air itself became a storm of ash and ice.
Job waded forward, sword drawn Longclaw, reborn in dragonsteel, glowing faintly blue.
When fire met it, the flames hissed and died.
"Hold the line!" he roared.
The sound was thunder half command, half plea.
Althea stood on the bank, her palms raised, eyes shut. The air around her shimmered.
Frost crawled across the burning river, freezing flame to glass.
The men of the North shouted in awe and fear.
"She's not mortal," whispered one.
"No," said another. "She's hope."
But hope burns fast.
From the opposite shore, Lily rode in crimson armor, her crown forged from melted swords.
"Burn them all," she said softly.
The priests obeyed.
Fire leapt across the river, meeting ice in a collision that split the sky in two half blue, half gold.
The Fall of the Sons
Among the chaos, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater led a flanking charge across the shallow ford.
His men cut down the first Northern ranks, forcing Job to retreat toward the stone bridge.
"They'll break through!" shouted Davos.
"Then we break first," Job growled.
He charged back into the fray, cutting through flame and faith alike.
Each swing was desperate, each breath ragged until a sound stopped him.
A horn deep, ancient, not of this world.
The river surged backward.
From the frozen depths rose shadows.
Faces pale as moonlight, eyes burning blue the Children of Ice, summoned by Althea's forbidden call.
"By the Old Gods," Davos gasped. "What have you done?"
"Balanced the scales," she whispered.
The revenants tore through the southern ranks, freezing men where they stood.
But with each death, Althea staggered her power feeding on her life.
Job caught her as she faltered.
"You can't control them!"
"Neither can she," Althea said, nodding toward Lily.
And indeed fire had gone wild on the opposite shore.
Lily's priests screamed as their own flames devoured them.
Two queens, two powers both unraveling the world.
The Prophecy Revealed
As the battle raged, the sky darkened.
The wind howled like a voice.
Job looked up and saw something forming above the river a shimmer of starlight, shaped like a crown of frost and flame.
Then came a whisper not from earth or air, but from the Weirwood within him.
"Blood of ice. Blood of fire. The river remembers."
Job staggered, vision swimming.
Memories that weren't his poured through him:
A woman with silver hair screaming as fire consumed her.
A man of snow and shadow swearing vengeance.
A child born under two stars one red, one white.
He dropped to his knees.
"What are you seeing?" Althea cried, clutching his arm.
"The truth," Job gasped. "My mother was not Lynn she was hers."
Althea froze.
"Whose?"
"Lily's."
The world tilted.
The river shuddered.
And suddenly, it all made sense the pull between fire and frost, the prophecy of the Child of Balance, the reason both queens could never destroy each other.
Job was the bridge between them.
The son of ice and flame born not of love, but of war's sin.
The River Turns Red
Job rose, face pale, eyes filled with stormlight.
"If I die here, both kingdoms fall."
"Then live," Althea said fiercely. "For both."
But the river disagreed.
Lightning struck the water, splitting it open.
Lily saw him across the flames her son, her curse and screamed.
"Kill him! End the false balance!"
A flaming arrow flew straight toward Job's heart.
Althea moved before she thought, freezing time for a heartbeat.
Then the world shattered.
She fell.
The arrow pierced her shoulder instead.
Job caught her, screaming her name.
The river around them glowed silver as her blood touched it.
The Crown of the River
As she bled, the Trident began to rise the water lifting, forming a spiral of stars.
Men dropped their swords.
Even Lily stared in awe.
Althea's voice echoed through the mist.
"No more gods. No more thrones. Only dawn."
And then light.
Pure, endless, blinding.
When it faded, the battlefield was silent.
Half the army had vanished.
The rest knelt in the mud, trembling before a river that now glowed faintly with silver fire.
Job stood alone at its edge, holding her body.
"She's gone," whispered Davos.
"No," Job said, eyes distant. "She's waiting."
He looked at the river and saw her reflection smiling faintly, just beneath the surface.