The Night's Torment (Game of Thrones fanfiction)

Meet Lorenzo of House Dorne. A manic man who disappeared from his homeland ages ago. Today, he walks the land North of the Wall, in search of his one true enemy.

Lorenzo of House Dorne, the now forgotten prince of the great Dornish kingdom. The man smirked as he walked through the endless field of snow and mountain. It had been a long time since anyone had called him by that name, let alone remembers who he was. All that people knew was that he traveled north and never came back.

The Dornish were always a proud people, and Lorenzo was no different. He walked with a valeryian steel sword sheathed in a gold-plated long sheath that hung off of his left hip. It was the weapon of royalty, and to Lorenzo, he pretty much was Royalty. On his right hand he bore a different kind of weapon. Over the years Lorenzo’s body had slowly began to age, and because of it, a staff was very helpful. He walked with it, limping slightly, but still moving quickly. His youth was fading, but his drive wasn’t.

The mountains of the North were treacherous, but never lonely. The right individual would find company in any place they ventured, whether deep north to the forgotten kingdoms, or towards the Night King’s realm, where no living thing ever escaped. Lorenzo smirked, he had been there, and he had escaped. In fact, he personally managed to break what appeared to be anger from the Night King. A dead man angry? Sounds impossible - but when you are fighting death with death, anything is possible.

Lorenzo walked across the snow with an ever present smile. He wore a long cape of bear fur, and golden plated armor that made him glow like a royal knight. His hair was long and black, the Dornish blood in him giving his hair long curls that went way below his shoulders. He wore a black hood that protected his head and hair from the snow.

He continued to walk until he arrived at a ledge. He took a deep breath and looked around, a smirk on his face as he savored what he saw. He turned around to see a small battalion of the dead following behind him. Terrifying, horrid creatures, but they had red eyes, not blue. Lorenzo turned and  looked across the field in front of him, the smirk in his face turned into a cocky grin.

At 420 years old, Lorenzo was ancient history, but if there was anything he knew: it was that he had one enemy, and that enemy was in front of him now. The Night King stood with a legion of undead around him. He stood still on his horse and eyed Lorenzo. He had no expression on his face, no movement of a muscle, only his blue icy eyes staring straight at Lorenzo.

The old Dornish man grinned and then laughed, “I see you’ve built quite the following.” He grinned as the Night King continued on staring forward. The creature had many names that Lorenzo had learned over the time, but the one that stuck the most was ‘Night King’. Lorenzo didn’t think it was quite fitting for such a terrible creature, but he figured it was as good as it’d get. “It’d be a shame if your legion fell here today.”

The Night King continued on eyeing Lorenzo. The White Walkers at his sides looked onwards at Lorenzo as well. It was like they were a single unit; a hivemind. The Night King dismounted from his horse and landed heavily onto the snowy floor below him. He grabbed his long ancient ice spear and gripped it tightly.

Then, the dead began to shriek. Hundreds of wights under the Night King’s control began to shriek and howl, their sounds filled the air as Lorenzo grinned and got himself ready. At once, the army of the dead ran towards Lorenzo.

“Aaah, here we go.” Lorenzo laughed maniacally as he brought his staff up and began to chant, “Dracarus Ingus Telee!” A ring of fire grew around Lorenzo and as he continued on chanting, his song filled the air, echoing for miles around them. Soon, a surge of fire erupted in front of him at the charging wights. Seconds later they all burned. The wailing of the dead once again filled the air, louder, and more dreadful than before. Lorenzo felt a rush of insanity swell over him as he used his magic against the dead. He grinned as he saw the fire, burning hundreds of wights like nothing. He turned a head and then with a flick of his wrist, his small battalion of wights launched forward. They launched themselves at the burning wights and any others they could find.

A battle of the dead underwent. The terrible carnage of the dead tearing apart the dead was very visible, and every little bit of it drew Lorenzo deeper and deeper insane. He looked up at the Night King and grinned, Lorenzo’s eyes had a dark aura about them, a look of complete vindication spread across his face. “You will fall. The Old Ones do not believe in you; you are an abomination. You were created with vile magic, and your existence is a paradox. You will burn.” Lorenzo grinned as he unsheathed his sword. Seconds later the Valeryian steel erupted in flames, the blade protected by a barrier of fire as Lorenzo eyed the Night King.

The Night King began to walk forward, he had accepted Lorenzo’s challenge. Lorenzo placed his staff on the ground and walked forward. The armies of the dead fought each other tooth and nail. Lorenzo and the Night King walked in between the carnage without fear; they were both devoted to killing each other.

Lorenzo readied himself as he came closer and closer to the Night King. He knew this creature, and he knew his speed, strength and dexterity. He would need to be ready. The Night King eyed Lorenzo silently. The creature sensed no fear in Lorenzo, only deep, dark insanity. A state of mind the dead could never comprehend. The Night King brought his spear forward and charged at Lorenzo.

A second later, the two beings clashed. Lorenzo’s sword doing nothing to penetrate the ancient weapon of the Night King. Ice and fire collided as weapon met weapon; burning steel against indestructible ice. The two parried and recoiled each other’s attacks, until Lorenzo was sent back flying a few feet from a swift kick to the chest by the Night King.

Lorenzo groaned as his back met rock and he staggered to regain his focus. The Night King then began walking towards Lorenzo, his spear ready to strike. Dozens of Lorenzo’s wights turned from fighting the dead to launching themselves at the Night King. Their red eyes a direct contrast to his blue. The Night King seemed almost frustrated as he struck down the wights. Frustration… from the dead?

Lorenzo grinned as he stood up and took a deep breath, he silently contemplated his situation, and decided he wasn’t going to survive this, but he could do some damage. He brought his Valeryian steel sword up and began to chant again, “Dracarus Ignis Rectera!” A ring of fire grew around the Night King and Lorenzo, trapping the two in single combat and burning hundreds of wights around them.

The Night King killed the last of Lorenzo’s wights before looking around. His gaze then returned to Lorenzo and he quickly began to charge. The Night King swung his spear down towards Lorenzo’s head, but Lorenzo quickly brought his sword up to parry his attack. Lorenzo recoiled the strike back before aiming to strike the Night King’s stomach in a horizontal strike. The Night King swiftly pivoted back and dodged the attack completely. He immediately brought his spear upwards in a diagonal strike from the ground up, his icy spear piercing into Lorenzo’s skin and immediately beginning to freeze his flesh.

Lorenzo staggered back in agony. How could something so cold burn so hot? Lorenzo watched as his skin began to freeze, followed by muscle, tissue, and organs beneath. He gathered his remaining drive and struck at the Night King again, but missed. The Night King didn’t reward the mistake and quickly impaled his spear into Lorenzo’s stomach.

The dead under Lorenzo’s control quickly lost all sense of direction, and almost immediately, their eyes turned from red to grey to blue. The Night King quickly took control of them without moving a muscle. He didn’t even move his gaze from Lorenzo’s corpse. The creature knelt down and placed a hand on Lorenzo’s head, before standing up and was met by Lorenzo’s dead body standing on its own. His Valeryian steel sword still in hand as the two creatures’ gaze met.

The Night King had a new white walker.