Daenerys walked along the battlefield. As a child she had heard that this very island had been the home of the Children of the Forest thousands of years ago. As centuries passed, legends told of green men roaming its weirwoods, venturing to the lakeshore, seen by fishermen only to disappear in the mists.
"There are no green men here," she thought. Only red.
The corpses of the slain littered the verdant field. Blotted brown blood flowing from the soil turning the pristine waters into a rust-colored hue. So many had died, but at the very least - she sighed - the dead would rise no more.
Near the center of the God's Eye, surrounded by felled and burnt trees, were the bodies of her enemy, her love, and her last son.
The Night King was a withered husk, his skin and organs crumpled and atrophied. He did not shatter into a million fragments of sharp ice and bone like the others did. He was the first, that much she knew. Lightbringer, the flaming sword of light, protruded from his back, it's once glorious and sacred fire now all but dimmed. Directly in front of him knelt that dark-haired boy... my Jon, my Bright Sun and Falling Stars... He was the blood of the dragon, she thought and wept. And the blood of the dragon seeped through his garments, plate and tunic, the soulless blade of black ice piercing his chest. His heart.
Jon Snow. Jon Stark. Jon Targaryen. My Jon. My love. Sun. Stars. Gone. He knelt, motionless, dead. He is kneeling, Daenerys thought. It seemed a grotesque mockery, for so many of her followers gave her ill counsel, spewed venom from their mouths. That Jon had once died and thus was but an agent of the Night King. Fools! she cursed. Would singers make such a song of those malicious words upon seeing how her love looks now in the end? Kneeling...
"He kneels now - because he has never knelt to anyone in his life. He lived most of his life knowing that he was but a bastard of a Great House. But still, a bastard. And when we were young I only thought of him as such. He became Lord Commander. He protected thousands of people - no, he guarded - the realms of men without a single thought of his origin. And when he finally knew, it crushed him, so much so that he feared the thought of failure. He did not turn his back to you because of hate or envy; that people of high and low birth supported your claim mattered not. He turned his back because he felt the weight of an entire world on his shoulders. To come from such humble beginnings to what he is now - Azor Ahai reborn."
Azor Ahai dead. Daenerys continued to weep.
"He kneels now because, at the end of it all, his was the heaviest burden to bear," said Sansa.
Both women looked at the other figure close to the tragic site - Drogon - a great gash opened its neck, the fleshy underbelly of its stomach rent in a dozen places. Its eyes the color of milk and glass. My son, Daenerys thought. My last living son is gone - much like Vhagar's sacrifice against the army of the dead in Harrenhal, and Rhaegal's against the Doomherald Euron Greyjoy. Drogon had borne her, fighting off and killing three ice dragons, and, in spite of the grievous wounds, still managed to land her safely and distract the Night's King.
It was enough time for Jon to land the killing blow - but the lord of the dead is not killed so easily. Daenerys remembered the chilling look the creature gave her as it turned its head back to Jon. It smiled at me. And with that smile, as its body started to rot from Lightbringer's deadly touch, he plunged his blade into her lover's heart.
"It's been two days Khaleesi. I mean, your Grace," Missandei corrected herself. "You need to address those who survived."
"What am I to do?" Daenerys thought. So many dead. So many. Thousands. Millions. Those who lived, and those who once lived. "How many men?"
Missandei lowered her head, unable to match her stare. "Too many, your Grace. Every man of every age and build, of stature and allegiance, they're gone."
The men are all gone. The women were all that were left.
Arianne Martell and Ellaria Sand nodded at each another. The latter spoke, "Looks like it is the women who rule now, my Queen. It is the age of baaaaddd poooosaaaayyy."
Daenerys exchanged glances with Asha Greyjoy, Lady Reaper of Pyke. She remembered their special night together - perhaps, it need not be just one night...
She looked at Sansa. The Lady of Winterfell smiled full of mischief.
She could feel Missandei's tender heartbeat - so close to her.
Melisandre and Kinvara touched each others' skin and grinned.
Margaery caught her eye as well, wearing a provocative green, silk gown.
Daenerys laughed and licked her lips. No men... no problem. "The things we do for love."