Stannis, to his credit, had agreed. After he changed his trousers.
The Night King shattered. Every Walker within a mile shattered with him. The wights fell like puppets with cut strings, and the long winter died with a sigh. Jon found him sitting on a broken piece of the Wall, looking out at the sunrise. Dawn had finally come. The snow was already melting.
The Others came not as a trickle but as a tide. A hundred thousand dead marched on the Gift, led by White Walkers on dead horses, their swords of ice glittering in the blue-black dark. The Night’s Watch broke. The wildlings broke. Even the dragons Daenerys had finally brought north—Viserion and Rhaegar, for Drogon had been lost at sea—faltered, their flames guttering against the cold sorcery of the Night King.
Stannis, to his credit, had agreed. After he changed his trousers.
The Night King shattered. Every Walker within a mile shattered with him. The wights fell like puppets with cut strings, and the long winter died with a sigh. Jon found him sitting on a broken piece of the Wall, looking out at the sunrise. Dawn had finally come. The snow was already melting.
The Others came not as a trickle but as a tide. A hundred thousand dead marched on the Gift, led by White Walkers on dead horses, their swords of ice glittering in the blue-black dark. The Night’s Watch broke. The wildlings broke. Even the dragons Daenerys had finally brought north—Viserion and Rhaegar, for Drogon had been lost at sea—faltered, their flames guttering against the cold sorcery of the Night King.