Ash settled over the stones like dirty snow — heavy, dead. King’s Landing was gone. Reduced to ruin and smoke. And Daenerys walked through it as if it were her throne room.

She spoke to Jon about victory. About destiny. About how everything she had suffered for had finally led to this moment. Her voice held no doubt — only the certainty of someone who believed herself right.

You stood to the side. The Queen in the North. The one who had met this woman before — and never trusted her.

When they kissed, you saw it. The shift. Jon’s hand. The dagger. The choice.

You didn’t think. You moved.

The blade sank into his back.

Jon froze, as if his body needed a moment to understand what had happened. His breath hitched, his knees gave way, and he collapsed onto the ash-covered stone.

Your brother.

You stood over him, gasping, unable to move. Your hands trembled. Your mind was empty — no justification, no reason. Only the truth of what you had done.

You killed him. And in doing so, you saved her.

The silence was deafening.

Daenerys turned toward you. Her face had gone pale, her eyes wide — not with triumph, but with shock. And understanding.

You stared at one another through smoke and falling ash. Two women standing on opposite sides of fire. One who had burned a city. And one who had just killed her brother.

Neither of you spoke.