Chapter Text
Prompt: any, any, IN SPACE! AU
When the seven divisions of the fleet of Westeros begin to turn on each other, the skies grow bright with their folly, spurts of flame flying between them, leaving The Riverlands scorched and blackened, limping through space, barely still flying.
From the massive, curved greatship The Wall, Jon Snow watches the battles and the darkness behind them both, and wonders where in the wide fleet his siblings have scattered, and whether any of them will ever make contact again.
On the moon of Essos named Dothraki Sea, Dany watches the fires burn above, and smiles, for they call her home at last.
Part Two: Turn Your Face into the Storm
"Get out there and fight, Dog!" the boy Admiral shrieks, his voice coming out shrill and breaking, rather than the booming commands of his dead father.
Sandor looks out the bay windows, into the firestorms and explosions taking place on the flight deck, and backs away from his fighter.
"Fuck you," he rasps out, reaching for his belt, groping for his pistol or his flask, he couldn't even say which, "and fuck your fleet, too."