the thaw. [arya stark]

xi. deus ex machina

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

DEUS EX MACHINA
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

...ICE WAS ALL THAT SEPARATED Jon Snow and his impromptu, accidental, party of Westeros's most vicious warriors from meeting death itself — mere metres of the cracking, fragile, stuff packed tightly into some kind of shield by the fate's themselves, a situation that's security, although painfully fleeting, was quite literally keeping the small group alive.

But alas, as all whispers are bound to fade into nothingness, dusk drew ever nearer, and as the sun ambled further and further down that pale winter sky to rest — the temperature, much like the setting sun, fell — and the ice, much like their hope, froze over.

Where once the thousands of snarling, rotting, shadows of people sprawled so threateningly out in front of them could not pass, they now could — hundreds crossing the frosted lake in a series of relentless, savage, waves — and commencing a battle that alone, the party couldn't dream of winning, let alone surviving.

It was as if horror itself had stricken a personal vendetta against the party — as the very things that awoke children's sleep, terrified the night's watch for centuries, and scared country folk from forests pressed so brazenly against them; no fear, no conscience — nothing — present in their glazed eyes.

But fate would not let them slip into death's cold hands so easily — not today, and not alone —
as another, ear splitting, screech permeated the frosty air — and a verdant, emerald green dragon, in all it's fiery glory, swooped down from the heavens.

A deus ex machina, sent by the gods themselves had come to save them — it's speckled, crimson, flames reigning havoc down upon the army of the dead, thousands of wights falling victim to its fire in mere moments. The group could feel their hearts, swolen, lodge themselves in each of their throats in hope — and — as the army of the dead closed in around them, they formed a circle, fighting their hearts out with a renewed rage.