Game of Thrones Season 8 2.0 - Episode 5 Part 1
Game of Thrones Season 8 2.0 - Episode 5 Part 1 game of thrones stories

azartborg 25. Swede. Anime addict. Arakawa-fanatic
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The sixth part of my reimagining of what the eight season of Game of Thrones could have been.
The final battle beckons...

Game of Thrones Season 8 2.0 - Episode 5 Part 1


It has been nearly two months.

TYRION, SANSA & c:o have formed a welcome party, waiting by the Riverrun drawbridge, looking expectantly at the approachers.

MISSANDEI is the first to break formation and run. From his end, GREY WORM does the same. They meet in a beautiful embrace.

With there already being precedent, Sansa soon follows her example, rushing to reunite with her siblings, who dismount from their respective direwolf.

GHOST and NYMERIA are each the size of a semi-large horse. Trailing behind Nymeria is her Riverlands wolf-pack. If Sansa is surprised to see the canines, she isn't showing it.

She, ARYA and JON meet in yet another embrace.

All around, the survivors of Winterfell are reuniting with their loved-ones at Riverrun. TORMUND walks up to BRIENNE with an expression we've never seen on him before.

He hugs her, the kind of warm hug that only a true friend can bestow. Brienne first looks uncomfortable, but eventually gives in and hug him back.

When their embrace ends, Tormund walks up to Podrick and ruffles his hair as though he was a particularly good dog.


The little boy has been looking over her, I see. Thanks.


Thanks... for the thanks...

The awkward tension is broken by a deafening howl. DROGON swoops down from the west, landing and allowing DAENERYS to dismount. She walks up to Sansa and the two greet each other.

Not warmly, perhaps, but the Winterfell stiffness is gone. What's the point in fighting about the independence of the North when every Northerner not dead is fled south?

Tormund crushes Jon's spine with a bear-hug.

The broken warden of the north is then greeted by Tyrion.


You're a tough bastard to kill, Snow. Thank the Gods. Come. There's wine to drink, food to eat, plans to make, and an undead army to defeat.


You seem in good spirits, Lannister. I've been struggling not to give in to despair for weeks now.


So did I. And then I saw the light, and despair fled my side.


And what light is that, pray?


The light of my wits of course, dear bastard. I re-discovered myself, and as a reunion present I gave myself a brilliant idea to end all ideas, not to mention to end this war.

But we'll have plenty of time to discuss the plans at length in there, where there's no snow but plenty of hearths.

Jon gives Sansa and Daenerys a look. They smile back at him.

There's hope.

We are not granted entrance to the war council. Next time we met Jon and Daenerys, it is in their chambers at night-time. They're taking in the gorgeous Riverlands view from the window.

Even struck by the hands of winter, this place remains beautiful.


What say you, Dany?

Will his plan work?


It will. It has to. If it fails, there will be no future for any of us.


You still have hope, then?


I've never given up hope.

Not when I lost Drogo and my son.

Not when I lost Viserion and Rhaegal.

Hope is what gives us strength to go on, Jon Snow. Whatever happens we must keep moving forwards. For each other...

(she gently takes his hand and presses it to her belly)

...and for others to come.

Jon looks at her, at first uncomprehendingly. Then realization dawns on him, and nine million emotions take hold of him simultaneously, none of them granting him ability to speak.


As I recall, you once told me that the whole "I won't bear children until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east"-thing came from an unreliable source.

JON can't fight. You can't go out there, not if you... not if we're...


Our child deserves a bright future. I intend to win it for him. And I won't let an ignorant Northerner such as yourself stop me.


(chuckles) You can't possibly know it's a boy.


You know nothing, Jon Snow.

The two embrace, and kiss, and continue their watch over the Riverlands, illuminated now by the second full moon since the fall of Winterfell.

The world can be a hopeful place, if only you're willing to see the signs.

The Army of the Dead have arrived at the inner ends of the Blackwater.

Now all they need to do is follow the river, and they may descend upon King's Landing.

CERSEI has devised a plan to ensure her survival. She will keep the King's Landing gates open and allow the White Walkers to descend upon the city, killing however many people they see fit.

With the city being the labyrinth that it is, the entire Undead Army will have entered the city long before the first few wights get anywhere near the Red Keep.

As such, Cersei can light every bit of wildfire in the city and set it ablaze, watching the undead army burn to cinders from the safety of her keep.

Yes. She will burn them all, living and dead alike.

Her rule shall prevail.

Or it would, were it not for one of the Lannister petty officers. A young man who hasn't slept in ages and is having trouble seeing straight.

A young man who is also in charge of planting wildfire by a smithy in Flea Bottom.

A young man who manages to drop the wildfire jar and have its content spill all over the smithy floor, in full sight of the entire street.

Between the destruction of the Sept of Baelor and the defeat of Stannis at the battle of Blackwater, there's not a single person in King's Landing who doesn't know what wildfire is.

They know exactly what it is the petty officer dropped. And it doesn't take them long to realize what's going on.

Around the city, more and more jars are discovered, soldiers apprehended, truths laid bare.

Within a day, the riots have begun.

Cersei is supposedly protected by the remaining Lannister forces. But they are as tired and hungry and angry as the rest of the city.

Soon enough, thousands of Lannister soldiers have joined the riots themselves.

Cersei is supposedly protected by the Golden Company. But there is only so much they can do when their enemies consist of over a million pissed-off people.

And among the ranks of the Golden Company, many are feeling that perhaps Westeros is not such an ideal work-place after all.

Cersei is supposedly protected by her Queensguard. But what are six men to do against a million?

Cersei is supposedly protected by THE MOUNTAIN and QYBURN. But now the Mountain is nowhere to be found, and Qyburn's weapon is his mind, not his hands.

So when the rioters break down the doors to the Throne Room there isn't much of a battle. The Queensguard are pinned down and beheaded on the spot. Qyburn is beaten and crucified on the wall.

And as for Cersei...

Queen Cersei Lannister, first of her name, protector of the realm, curses the rioters. She screams at them, scratches their faces as though she were a proper lioness.

She does everything she can, ultimately accomplishing nothing more than to communicate how much she loathes each and every inhabitant of King's Landing.

The rioters carry her through the Throne Room, up the staircase, up to the Iron Throne itself. They bring tables and chairs to make an improvised lift.

They ascend the lift, still carrying the screaming Cersei, who is too furious to feel the slightest tinge of fright.

She continues cursing them in every language she knows, by every God she knows, threatening them with everything she can think of. She will boil then in oil, charcoal them in wildfire.

She'll have the Mountain rape them to death. She'll have Jaime bring her their heads. Jaime...


Jaime. Jaime. Jaime. Jaime. Jai...

She is tossed up in the air, and goes down on the Iron Throne, impaled on its hundred blades.

As her blood colours it crimson, as her eyes close forever, the last thought on her mind is her twin. And her children. She failed them. She failed them all.

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