(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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Emily stared at Leo and asked curiously.
"You trust me with that kind of authority?"
He didn't hesitate and spoke he knew she wanted to hear those words from his mouth.
"I married you, didn't I?"
That finally broke her composure.
Emily laughed properly this time, resting her forehead against his. Then she whispered.
-Fufu
"…You're rewriting what Death means, Turning it into a cycle instead of a wall."
Leo wrapped an arm around her waist as he spoke in low voice in her ears.
"Death isn't the enemy, Forgetting is."
She closed her eyes, absorbing that. Emily said at last.
"…Very well, I'll allow your bridge."
Then, with a sharp grin on his face.
-Grin
"But I'm naming the festival."
Leo raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? What could it be my lady death suggests."
She smiled, eyes glowing like candlelight in a crypt.
-Chuckle
"Let the mortals call it The Night of Returning Souls."
She leaned down and kissed him, sealing the decision.
Their quiet, intimate moment shattered with a very deliberate cough.
"…Ahem."
Leo and Emily both froze. Slowly—far too slowly—Leo turned his head.
"...."
"...."
Standing beside the bed, arms crossed, was Rhaenyra Targaryen, wearing a grin so sharp it could cut Valyrian steel. Rhaenyra said sweetly.
-Grin
"Oh, don't stop on my account, Please. Continue discussing bridges between life and death. Very normal morning conversation."
Leo blinked acting surprised since she decided to reveal she was awake.
"…How long have you been awake there?"
Rhaenyra tilted her head, pretending to think. As she replied.
"Long enough to hear you casually plan a festival where the dead walk back into the world, And long enough to realize my lover is apparently married to Death itself."
Her eyes slid toward Emily—still draped over Leo, goth dress immaculate, expression unreadable.
Rhaenyra's grin widened. Then she added.
"Honestly, I told myself I wouldn't be surprised anymore. Dragons? Gods? World-changing wars? Fine."
She gestured vaguely at Emily.
"But this? This is new."
She laughed thinking how crazy her brains complains to her.
Emily raised an eyebrow, clearly amused rather than offended. She spoke calmly.
"So, you must be the dragon princess."
Rhaenyra studied her openly now—no fear, only fascination.
"And you, are… Death."
Emily smiled, slow and elegant with amusement.
"Correct."
There was a brief silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Then Rhaenyra let out a low whistle.
-Whistle
"Well. That explains the confidence."
Leo rubbed his face with one hand.
"Rhaenyra— Oh, I'm not angry,"
She interrupted quickly, waving him off.
"Surprised? Yes. Confused? Absolutely."
Her eyes flicked down toward the other side of the bed.
"But mostly—Amused. Why there a extra helpless lady at the hands of this beast."
She leaned forward slightly.
At that moment, the blanket on Leo's other side shifted.
Auburn hair spilled free as Alicent Hightower slowly sat up, blinking.
"…Why do I feel like I've missed something catastrophic?"
Alicent asked sleepily.
Rhaenyra burst out laughing. She said brightly.
-Haha
"Oh, nothing major, Just found out Leo is married to Death, planning an inter-realm festival, and casually rewriting the laws of existence before breakfast."
Alicent froze. She looked at Leo. Then at Emily. Then back at Leo.
"...."
"…Of course he is,"
She muttered, rubbing her temples.
Emily chuckled, clearly enjoying herself now. She spoke to Alicent.
-Chuckle
"You're the other one, of the noble lady."
Alicent straightened instinctively.
"I—yes. I am."
"Relax, If I disapproved, you'd already know.""
Emily said kindly. That did not make Alicent relax.
Leo cleared his throat.
"In my defense—"
Rhaenyra cut him off again, stepping closer and planting a hand on the bed.
"I don't care that you're married to Death, Since you already have many wives."
She said bluntly.
Leo opened his mouth. Then closed it.
"…Fair."
Rhaenyra smirked, satisfied, then glanced at Emily again—this time with genuine curiosity. She said softer.
-Smirk
"So, this bridge. This festival. The dead coming back…"
Her grin faded into something thoughtful as she started thinking what will happen when the dead started showing up.
After the banter...
With a soft hum of authority passing between them,
Leo extended his will—and the pathway of Death opened for Emily.
The world folded inward.
Emily stepped into the Death Realm of this world… and immediately frowned.
It was a void.
Endless, gray-black space where countless souls drifted like dust motes in still air—no thought, no awareness, no structure.
Not suffering… but not living either.
"...."
"...."
"...."
A stagnant waiting room abandoned by purpose.
"…So this is what they left behind,"
Emily murmured, disgust lacing her tone.
She raised one pale hand.
The realm responded.
Black stone formed beneath her feet.
Pillars rose. Distance gained meaning.
Above, a dim sky took shape—neither day nor night, but something between.
The drifting souls slowed, gently pulled into faint currents.
Emily's eyes glowed. She said to herself.
"Order first, Then meaning."
She rewrote the rules.
Souls began to descend toward newly formed planes—fields of labor, halls of memory, paths of reflection.
No torture. No blind punishment.
Work that mattered. Guidance. Service.
"Karma, Not as a chain—but as progress."
She whispered in low ethereal voice which echoed through the realm.
Those who helped other souls earned light.
Those who resisted stagnated.
Those who truly repented… ascended toward the bridge yet to be built.
Somewhere far above, the Death Realm finally breathed.
Satisfied—for now—Emily turned, already planning festivals, gates, and ledgers.
Back on Leo side,
Leo stood beside Aemma, both of them gazing down at a massive floating construct of light—the Great Border Map.
Rivers, mountains, forests, cliffs—all rendered in precise detail.
Before them, Riboku stood calmly, hands clasped behind his back, eyes sharp and calculating.
"This wall, must not merely block armies. It must discourage intent."
Riboku said, gesturing,
He shifted the map. The terrain changed. Then he continued.
"Here, we use the natural choke points—mountain ridges and ravines. We do not flatten them. We exaggerate them."
A mountain range deepened, its slopes sharpening unnaturally.
"Wind currents here,"
Riboku added, redirecting invisible lines,
"will destabilize airborne units. Dragons will struggle to maintain altitude. Smaller flyers will be shredded."
Leo nodded slowly impressed by the plan.
-Nod
"And sieges?"
Riboku's lips curved faintly.
"There will be no sieges."
He tapped another section.
"Volcanic ash—rich in minerals—can be mixed with stone to form layers that absorb heat and dull vibrations. Reinforced with Valyrian steel threading, the wall becomes… alive to intrusion."
Aemma tilted her head, intrigued.
"So attacks should be very strong to even crack a little."
"Precisely, An enemy pressing forward only hastens their exhaustion."
Riboku replied proud of his idea.
Leo folded his arms, impressed. Then asked
"And the cost?"
Riboku met his gaze firmly with a light in it like he was upto something very exciting.
"High. But temporary."
Leo smiled then gave his approval.
"Good. I don't want cheap security."
The map expanded further—revealing gate zones, false passes, and kill corridors hidden beneath forests and snowfields. Then Riboku concluded,
"This border, will not announce itself as a weapon."
He paused for a second then said with a serious face.
"It will be remembered as a mistake by those who challenge it."
Leo let out a low chuckle.
-Chuckle
"Perfect."
Aemma stepped closer to him, resting her hand against his arm. She said softly.
"Two realms reshaped like this, Life and death… both reorganized around you."
Leo glanced at her, expression calm. Then explained.
"I'm not building walls to rule, I'm building them so no one ever has to beg for peace again."
Aemma smiled—proud, fierce, and utterly certain.
"...."
After Five Months...
Five months after the war's end, ravens flew from Eldoria to every keep, hall, and holdfast across the North and the allied lands.
When the scrolls arrived, many lords felt their hearts tighten.
For months, the Crown had been silent. Too silent.
They had received the news from Eldoria.
But when the seals were broken and the words read, confusion replaced fear.
It was not a call to arms. It was an announcement. Proclamation from Eldoria
By the will of King Leo Morningstar
On the coming full moon, a sacred observance shall be held across all allied lands:
The Night of Returning Souls
On this night alone, the boundary between the living world and the realm of Death shall soften—but not break.
The departed, who have earned the right through their lives and deeds, may return for a short while to walk among the living.
They shall speak. They shall embrace. They shall remember.
At dawn, they will depart peacefully.
Edicts of the Night
From sunset to sunrise, no artificial light shall be used.
Only candles, lantern flames, and hearth fire may burn.
Doors and windows may remain open if the household wishes.
No soul shall enter where it is not welcomed.
No weapons are to be raised. No oaths sworn. No crimes committed in the presence of the dead.
This night is for remembrance, not fear.
Those who mock, exploit, or attempt to bind returning souls shall be judged—not by the living, but by Death itself.
At the bottom of the scroll, a final line was written—not in threat, but in certainty.
Death is not your enemy. Forgetting is.
— Leo Morningstar
Across the North, silence followed.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Candles were counted. Old names were whispered. Graves were cleaned for the first time in years.
In Winterfell...
Rickon Stark stared at the parchment long after finishing it, his expression unreadable.
"...."
In White Harbor, merchants quietly ordered wax by the barrel.
In small villages, common folk wept openly—some in hope, some in terror, many in disbelief.
Could it truly be possible? Could mothers see sons lost to winter? Could husbands hear their wives' laughter again? Could words left unsaid finally be spoken?
Not everyone welcomed the news.
Some septons called it heresy.
Some maesters muttered of dangerous precedent. Some lords feared unrest.
But fear was drowned out by something far older and stronger.
Longing. As the full moon approached, one truth became unavoidable:
Whether they believed or not… Whether they feared it or not…
On the Night of Returning Souls, the world would remember its dead.
As dusk bled into night, the last rays of the sun vanished beyond the horizon—and candles flared to life across the allied lands.
One by one. In keeps and cottages, in ports and farming villages, on castle walls and quiet graveyards.
No torches. No mage-lights.
Only trembling flames and held breath. Then it began.
A strange, silver-gray fog rolled in from nowhere, drifting low along cobblestone streets, curling through fields, slipping beneath doors and over battlements.
It was not cold. It did not choke. It carried no scent of rot or decay.
It felt… gentle.
At first, people panicked.
Mothers pulled children close.
Guards tightened grips on spears—then remembered the edict and lowered them.
Some prayed. Others wept in fear.
And then—Shapes began to form within the mist.
Not monsters. Not wraiths. People.
A young soldier stepped out near a baker's shop in White Harbor, his armor cracked and familiar.
The baker's wife dropped her tray as she recognized him—her son, lost three winters ago to raiders.
-Clang
"...."
She covered her mouth, unable to breathe.
"Mother?"
The boy asked softly.
The tray shattered. She ran.
Across the North and Eldoria's allied lands, it happened again and again.
A gray-haired husband appeared at a hearth, smiling awkwardly as if unsure he was welcome.
A little girl who had died of fever stood beside her brother's bed, giggling when he screamed and then cried.
An old lord walked into his hall, bowed respectfully to his successor, and simply said,
"You did well."
Fear cracked. Then it shattered.
Streets filled with laughter and sobbing in equal measure.
People embraced shadows that felt warm.
They shared food—though the dead could enjoy the food as they eat, savoring memory rather than taste.
Stories poured out, fast and desperate, as if time itself were fragile.
In one village, a widow sat with her late wife beneath a candlelit tree, fingers entwined, no words needed.
In another, a father knelt before his son and finally said the apology that had haunted him for years.
Even the dead seemed changed.
Those who appeared did not linger aimlessly.
They moved with purpose—drawn only to those who remembered them, who welcomed them.
Houses that kept doors closed saw no visitors, and the fog passed them by without judgment.
Above it all, unseen by mortals, a bridge of dim gold light shimmered faintly—anchored between realms.
And at its threshold, Emily watched.
Her expression was unreadable at first—ancient, solemn—but slowly, as she observed reunion after reunion, her lips curved into something softer. She murmured like a strict teacher.
"They're behaving, No greed. No possession. No refusal to return."
Death itself was… satisfied.
Eldoria...
Far away, in Eldoria, Leo stood on a balcony overlooking a city glowing only by candlelight.
Griffins perched silently. Dragons rested, unusually calm. Even the shadows seemed respectful tonight.
He felt it—not power, not worship.
Relief. This was not chaos. This was not blasphemy.
This was closure.
As the night deepened, bells rang softly—not to mark danger, but time.
The dead began to feel it then, a gentle pull, like a tide turning.
Goodbyes were said.
Some brief. Some unbearably long.
But there was no screaming. No resistance.
Only promises.
"I'll see you again,"
Whispered a child to his father.
"Yes, When you're ready."
The dead replied, smiling.
As the final candle burned low and the first hint of dawn brushed the sky, the fog thinned.
Figures faded—not torn away, but guided.
By sunrise, the streets were empty again.
But the world was not the same.
Graves felt lighter. Homes felt warmer. And for the first time in generations, people spoke of Death not as a terror—
—but as a keeper of promises.
And far beyond mortal sight, the bridge dimmed… waiting patiently for the next Night of Returning Souls.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N)I hope you guys are enjoying the story.
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