It was the endgame for them all.
The dead just kept on coming in endless waves, shrieking, shaking, slaughtering, shivering, shells of things that were their allies merely minutes ago, now turned to the side of the Night King, their eyes a shade of icy blue that omitted all light and warmth and reflected the cold reality of the long winter. Those that remained fought on to prevent this, to prevent the long winter reaching south, to prevent all of their own ends, to prevent the inevitable.
But it was no good.
Gendry's arms felt like barrels of ale, no matter how many times he swung with his mace and cracked another undead head open, it was no good. All it took was a second for him to catch his breath, to regain some stamina and around three of the undead had thrown themselves upon him. He felt the wind get knocked out of him as he hit the frozen ground, there was pain and ripping sound, then he heard nothing but buzzing and looking up he could see why, one of the night king's servants had his ear in his mouth.
He attempted to raise his mace once again, but bodies were stockpiling on him now, making it impossible to breathe, making it impossible to move, they were chewing away at his arms, ripping off all the flesh and muscle, he could feel himself fading, the only bit of warmth he could feel in this cold night was the blood that was soaking through his clothing.
"...Arya..." he thought to himself, the last thoughts on his mind being that with the encounter of the northern girl the previous night.
They could have had something, if they survived this.
He had to laugh.
He was enough of a cynic to know that was never going to happen.
But he continued to dream of his lady, as the life was torn from Robert Baratheon's bastard son and like thousands of others he perished there in the freezing night, death didn't discriminate, it came for all.
"NO!"
Despite the limited visibility of this battle, Davos Seaworth clearly saw the fate that had befallen young Gendry, the old man however fought on for his own life, barely able to stop and grieve as the dead kept on coming. His allies around him were falling one by one, none of them fell with grace. They died screaming under an increasing pile of bodies, others turned tale and ran inside Winterfell's castle. Only delaying the inevitable by a few minutes. His breath was heavy, his arms were numb and yet he continued his fight until he realised he was alone and surrounded on all sides.
The onion knight, facing all of them alone, a few swipes and slashes and he could hold them off.
But that was all.
This was folly.
It was suicide.
Something within him snapped, he turned tale and followed the other retreating soldiers and northmen into the castle, deciding to make his last stand there. He turned behind him and saw the burly figure of Brienne of Tarth in the dark night, she fought side by side with a man who must have been Jamie Lannister. The pair were an impressive duo, but eventually he watched as Jamie (who only had one hand) was snagged to the ground, Brienne screamed, by some means she dragged him back to his feet, but the pair of them were flattened against the stone wall of Winterfell.
A pain near his ankle.
Jumping, Davos realised he'd stopped and stared for too long, a wight had grabbed his ankle and bitten down into his flesh, wincing in pain he brought his sword down and impaled the vile thing before he retreated, blindly limping through the fog, sweat coating his brow, wood creaking beneath his feet, as Winterfell crumbled around him, he saw a door ahead, the attempted to force it open but it didn't budge, he ran to the next one and stopped when he heard something grunting and fighting in front of him.
He squinted ahead to see it was none other than Jon Snow himself, the king of north, bloodied, blackened and weary was bellowing as he struck down wights that approached from every side. As he did a crashing ahead caught all their attention, Davos caught a glimpse of scaly tail before there was more shrill screaming. The freezing night was plummeted into an unnatural blue light and then the heat came. The unbearable, searing heat as blue flames tore through wood and stone alike, setting everything ablaze.
Fire and Blood indeed.
Smoke was making him cough, he couldn't see anything but the door in front of him, the walkway he was on was lighting up and the fire was spreading fast.
"JON!" He screamed at the top of his lungs on instinct.
Despite the chaos of the battle, his cry must have reached the king, because he whipped his head around, as Davos forced the door open, without either of them exchanging another word they both ran inside as the older knight slammed the door shut behind him, narrowly avoiding death by the flames of the dragon outside.
Where else was there to go?
Missandei had never felt so out of place, so scared in her entire life. Serving for the slave master in Astapor had become routine for her despite the horrors she witnessed. The slave army of the Unsullied always gave her comfort for some reason. She knew now, that despite the horrors she witnessed at a young age that the city was more than safe from Dothraki hordes or other invaders, with the unsullied around. She had fallen for Grey Worm and longed for that security and protection now yet she knew it would never come.
She knew he'd perished.
She was right of course, Grey Worm had remained standing in Winterfell's courtyard long after the other unsullied had fallen, fighting onwards against the tsunami of dead bodies that built up. But the Night King was cruel and had saved his best for last, as the commanders of the undead army came further forward on their rotting horses, so had the other horrors. Undead bears, birds, hares or any other animal, then came the giants and then climbing over the walls, gigantic ice spiders, that the commanders were riding as if they were horses.
Grey Worm was stunned but continued to fight onwards, but a fresh batch of screams struck fear into him as the spiders began to claim their first victims, bears ripped people apart, the birds swopped in and pecked away viciously at the struggling fighters and the giants crushed squealing victims in their hands. However, unlike little Lady Mormont who had managed to kill one before she met her fate. The giants that came into Winterfell now faced no such opposition. Grey Worm found himself in the dark all of a sudden and looked up to see a white haired giant of a man about to fall on him.
Unbeknownst to him, that man was once a loyal stableboy here in Winterfell.
Grey Worm was able to lift his spear in time to place through the undead Hodor's skull. But the giant still fell on top of him and his shield did little to prevent the sheer weight of Hodor from crushing and breaking several of his bones. Pinned in place and screaming in agony, with his weapon useless in his crushed hand. All Grey Worm could do was watch as hell descended upon him, an ice spider noticed him as the undead started to rip him apart, he felt it's sharp legs burrow under his flesh.
It was hell itself.
Black night, spiders, bears, people, even a dragon all undead and blue, a cascade of monsters ripping him to shreds, it was the ultimate horrific end for such a loyal soldier. But he didn't want to see that in his final moments he closed his eyes and swallowed his fear and remembered the day Daenerys Targaryen had set him free, the day he'd seen Missandei washing herself, the day they had made love...
He was not going to die in fear, that was not the way of the unsullied.
He died, having lived a life after all.
Missandei meanwhile could only watch as more undead Starks burst from the crypts and began to slaughter innocent women and children and the men too ill or sickly to fight back, it was a sickening spectacle and she only felt herself running when the undead came for her. But where was she to go? These crypts ended somewhere, she'd be trapped and slaughtered just like everyone else. How she wished now that she could go to beaches, where herself and Grey Worm belonged, that was their plan. Not to die in this cold and miserable place where they were unwelcome, but to die together at an old age, at peace while Daenerys sat on the Iron Throne and ruled peacefully, that was the happy ending she'd dreamed about.
But she knew it was never meant to be.
The dead were closing in now, she found herself at a dead end, with a mother cradling a small boy who was crying openly, she faintly recognised the woman as Gilly and her son Sam. She wondered if Samwell Tarley up there was still fighting, she highly doubted it, if Grey Worm was dead so was everyone else and they'd all soon be joining their fallen friends and lovers. She sighed and tried to keep her fear contained, she knew Grey Worm would go to the grave with bravery and she was going to follow in his example.
Daenerys.
She wished her rightful queen was here, with her dragon and the sense of purpose and belonging she brought to the former slave girl. Both Daenerys and Grey Worm made her feel safe, like she had a purpose. Both had risen from nothing to become powerful in their own right. Grey Worm leading the unsullied and Daenerys went from a Khal's widow to the powerful queen she was today.
She held her breath, the dead were seconds away.
She was going to be like them.
"GO! NOW!" She exclaimed to the terrified pair, as she lunged at the dead, with no weapon at all, they turned their attention to her as she felt the pain engulf her instantly. The dead swarmed her ripping her flesh to shreds, she screamed to the high heavens above but out of the corner of what was left of her eyes, she saw the woman and boy narrowly escape. They'd probably die a few minutes later as well, but Missandei had brought them a few minutes maybe they could still survive by some miracle.
She was going to join Grey Worm at the beach very soon.
She was saddened she couldn't see her rightful queen take the throne, but if Daenerys had taught her anything it was that miracles could be achieved. Maybe she had truly achieved something by saving these two lives.
"Thank you for taking me into your service, Daenerys Targaryen" was her last thought, before the long night consumed her.
Tormund had known nothing but a life beyond the walls, as a life as one of the free folk, the winter was always cold and harsh but he'd grown used to it, but this long night was worse than anything he could possibly imagine. Even for someone like him he knew death was coming when the bears and giants came, the spiders and the dragon, he wanted to fight but even he knew the odds were impossible. In a few mad seconds, he simply wanted to be away from here, fucking something somewhere, or going back to the days where he ran with the free folk...
But he banished those thoughts from his head instantly.
"What the fuck am I thinking?"
Fear, he'd hardly ever known fear and the option here was simple, he was going to die in battle.
No time for thinking, or getting mopey about the past, he'd go out on one last wave of adrenaline serving the king of the north. That little, fucking, pecker Jon Snow.
He charged forward slaughtering more undead and directly approaching one of the giants, Tormund was so caught up in bloodlust he didn't realise what had actually happened all that he knew was that the giant was soon dead and he didn't have a left arm. But he didn't feel the pain, not initially anyway, or he simply didn't care. Blood spurted from his missing limb as more undead swarmed him, but Tormund using his remaining arm to cut through them all, he looked around saw no one and nothing other than the fat shit Samwell Tarley barely able to keep himself alive as he was being swarmed.
"FIGHT! SERVE YOUR BLOODY CROW KING!" Tormund roared at him, clearing the dead from around the sweat drenched man, Sam looked at him in awe, before Tormund was off once again, a bear approached him, Tormund lifted his axe and realised the thing had clawed his face, his eye rolled down his face. Blood was caked in his beard and three large gashes that extended from forehead down to his chin were blinding him and drawing more dead towards him.
He simply smiled a blood-red smile and ran onwards, he caught a lock of blonde hair.
He wanted to die next to his beauty, the woman he'd knight a thousand times over.
He got there just in time, because an ice spider had just crawled over the wall behind them and prepared to strike her from behind. Tormund jumped up with agility he never knew a large man like himself had, his axe rested in the things head. The bastard riding the spider was thrown from the thing, as the withering thing fell to the ground in a heap. Brienne and the Lannister with her moving out of the way just in time as the spider flattened more of the undead approaching.
But it was no good, more of them were approaching, five or six of them were climbing over the walls converging on them, the blue dragon fire was the only way any of them could see anything. Tormund ran up to them, fighting away, giving the pair of them space, he saw that Tarly had managed to crawl over to them and the exhausted looking Podrick Payne was feebly using his sword and axe to keep the dead at bay.
"COME ON, FIGHT!" He bellowed at their pathetic attempts, another giant darkened the night even more, before Tormund had slain it, or at least he thought he had, he was aware of a spear sticking out of his chest and Brienne's sword in it's heart. Before it fell to the ground, Tormund looked at Brienne the beauty and then down at his wound, he should have been dead in those moments, but he remained standing.
"By all the fucking Gods, I want her babies" was all he thought to himself in those moments as they locked eyes.
Then he felt his limbs freeze, he was shutting down... dying. But he wasn't going to fall standing around like this, with a final roar he charged towards the undead, Brienne screamed and Tormund felt his heart soar in those final moments.
"She did have a soft spot for me then"
and then in a blaze of glory against impossible odds, Tormund Gianstbane met his end.
"So you've come"
Davos Seaworth and Jon Snow, panting heavily and running onwards had soon found themselves in the presence of a calm looking Melisandre, the red woman hardly seemed surprised at their presence, Davos didn't say anything but merely looked at the ground.
"Don't be so shy Ser Davos" Melisandre told him bluntly "My death is imminent, there's no need for anymore bad blood, not in these last moments".
Davos didn't speak but nodded to show he acknowledged her.
"It's over" Jon began helplessly, his voice broken "The night king can't be slain, Dany tried and...!"
"Calm yourself" Melisandre said simply, however from behind them the loud shrieks of wights could be heard.
"I left the hound back there, but he's still fighting and surviving, as will you" Melisandre informed them "As for me, every mistake I've made was to serve Azor Ahai who I initially thought that was Stannis Baratheon. But I was mistaken, I apologise to the pair of you, for my error".
"That's..." Jon began.
"Not going to bring them back, I understand" Melisandre said "But we have no time for sympathies now, the dead will be upon us at any minute, I must fulfil my destiny as you fulfil yours, Azor Ahai".
Jon looked shocked.
"You'll be the one to summon light-bringer to end this long night" Melisandre said "You know the tale of Azor Ahai, you know what is required, how you must kill the one you love in order to summon the sword".
Jon paled.
"Daenerys!" he exclaimed in horror.
The red woman simply gave him a knowing smile.
"Go to Bran" was all she said "Everything has led to this moment, I will die here to give you time as the Lord of Light instructed me too, there's no time to hesitate Jon Snow, go, now! and Ser Davos go and protect him, right till the end".
From helplessness, a new determination had lit on his face, as the king of the north nodded and Ser Davos muttered "Thank you, my lady" and with that they retreated, just as they ran down the corridor, the dead came from behind the red woman, she simply smiled, her purpose had been fulfilled. Her faith had been rewarded in the end, despite it being tested on numerous occasions. She had directed Azor Ahai to his final fate just as the Lord of Light had instructed her too, to end the dark night, she was free of her duty and long life as of now.
Without a word she took of her necklace and as an old woman she walked right into the horde of undead.
This is how it ended then?
For Jorah Mormont, at least he died by the side of his love, the queen Daenerys, he'd seen her use her dragon to kill people but now here she was on the ground the first time wielding a sword and despite her inexperience, she was managing to hold her own and managed to kill the majority of the undead running towards them. Whichever one's she missed, Jorah took out on his own, constantly watching her and his own back, as she slayed another one he heard a rotting breath by his ear and knew it would be too late to deal with it before it fatally injured him.
However before the fatal blow he found himself face to face Daenerys, who was now watching his back. Her arm was outstretched, the wight behind Jorah fell to the ground in a heap.
He couldn't have loved her more in those moments.
He knew she'd never love him back in that way, he knew it was unhealthy for him. But he couldn't stop himself, like he had told her, he had always loved her and would continue to do so. Even if he had to watch her marry the king in the north, or anyone else for that matter he'd never stop serving her. He felt like his place was by her side, as her oldest and most trusted advisor who'd been with her right from the very start and now they'd die together here, on this burning battlefield in the middle of a harsh winter surrounded by the hordes of wights, giants, undead animals and even ice spiders. Some were advancing towards them...
Daenerys held her breath, Jorah knew that it was sign of fear.
"Don't be afraid my queen" Jorah said "It will be over soon".
They faced each other for a moment.
"You'll stay with me?" she asked, in those moments the strong queen was gone, replaced by the sacred child Jorah had first met all those years ago.
"Always" he replied.
Daenerys nodded and lifted her sword, the pair of them ready to meet their ends, when everyone else had left her, her dragons, the king in the north, her dothraki, her armies in Meereen, her unsullied, when there was nothing and nobody else left to defend her, he'd be there. Right from the start he'd been there and when everything else had failed, before the queen was slain, her last line of defence, her last, true knight, would be the shamed old Mormont from bear island.
and nothing in those moments could make Jorah beam with more pride.
The Godswood was almost blocked off completely as hordes of the night kings finest commanders were defending the place, as the night king himself prepared to deal with the three eyed raven of Bran Stark. Jon looked at the situation helplessly, Ser Davos was already fighting off the horde behind him.
"JON! GO!" He bellowed.
"But...!"
"THERE'S NO TIME!" The old knight had exclaimed and despite the wall of wights protecting their king, Jon knew he'd have to fight against all odds or they'd have no odds at all. So with a scream he charged forward his sword in hand, the wights noticed him and the commanders didn't even bother to move at his pathetic attempt at breaking through their ranks...
But then a white blur shot up beside him.
"GHOST!"
The direwolf, blood coated it's white fur, lunged directly at one of the commanders, as Jon cut his way through the first wave of wights, as Ghost clawed and bit at the commanders and any undead that attempted to harm it. As they did that a sudden wave of crows descended from the sky and with a viscous nature unknown to crows began the assault on everything undead.
This was his window of opportunity, he had to take it.
While everyone was distracted, he slipped through the gaps and into the Godswood, he heard Ghost's dying cry behind him as the direwolf was ripped in half, but he couldn't stop and grieve, he couldn't stop for anything.
It was now or never.
It was over.
Theon Greyjoy lay dead at the feet of the night king, in those very last moments he'd done everything in his power to protect Bran, but that didn't matter to the night king, now Theon was gone nothing stood between them. Bran calmly looked up at the night king's cruel eyes, as the king pulled the dagger from his back preparing to end the life of the three eyed raven. Bran had warged while Theon was defending him and had called upon hundreds of ravens and crows to attack this army, this wouldn't stop the night king however and despite the assault occurring behind him, distracting his guards, not a single bird attempted to protect Bran or the attack the night king.
"Exactly as I intended" Bran thought to himself, he'd seen what was going to happen next and the birds were needed not as something to save him.
But to provide a crucial distraction at the right moment.
Because with the guards distracted, Arya Stark was able to run through them all, as fast as her legs would carry her, she screamed and jumped at the night king...
Who turned around and grabbed her by the throat, her dagger fell but she caught it in her other hand and attempted to stab the night king, however if dragonfire couldn't destroy the king, there was no way a simple dagger would either, even one made from dragonglass didn't affect the king like the other wights. The weapon merely froze and shattered in Arya's hand leaving her stunned.
But Bran knew only one weapon could kill the night king.
He thought this just as the king used his free hand to plunge his dagger into Bran's heart, he didn't react, he didn't feel any pain, even as Arya screamed "NO!"
Jon Snow saw it as well, lunging into action and seeing his beloved sister held by the neck by the night king and saw the knife in Bran's heart, he ran forward, sword raised ready to strike the night king...
But then he realized something.
He was Azor Ahai.
Melisandre, Ghost and so many others had given their lives so he could get to this point and he was going to waste everything, waste the fate of the whole world just to let his emotions get in the way so he could angrily strike the night king. As he was running he knew what he had to do to summon light-bringer, the Lord of Light had brought him back for a reason. So many people and their fates connected with the Lord of Light had led to this very moment, he felt a tear fall from his eye as he charged towards the Weirwood tree.
"You have to kill the one you love"
The night king turned just in time to see Jon place his sword through Arya's heart.
Arya gasped, as she did Jon removed his sword which was covered in her blood. The night king simply dropped the dying stark to the ground, before he removed the dagger from Bran's heart and turned on Jon.
Just as his sword lit up the entire knight, With a heat that made the night king recoil.
Light-Bringer.
With a roar Azor Ahai clashed raised his sword against the night king, Bran and a dying Arya watched In awe, as did Davos Seaworth who'd broken through the distracted ranks and stopped at the tree's to watch the battle, as light-bringer crashed against the night king's sword.
Fire crashed against ice, the war between the night and the dawn, the light against the dark, the clashing of the swords made the beat of a epic battle as both the night king and Azor Ahai fought with every ounce of strength they had to slay the other.
This was it.
The Song of Ice and Fire.
The battle was a duel to behold, until finally, the fire in Azor Ahai's strike's shattered the night king's sword and he raised his sword one final time...
The night king used the shattered remnants of his sword to strike the exposed chest of Azor Ahai.
In one swift move, Azor Ahai had a sword through his chest and the night king had his head cut off, as he did he burst into shards of ice and dust and like that the entire army he had behind him met the same fate as did the those outside Winterfell, those on the walls. All giants, wights, spiders and other animals that had been brought back all collapsed into dust, within 10 seconds it was all over, the day had been won, the long night had ended as through the snow and impossible fog cleared and the first rays of the sun illuminated the clear sky.
"It has been done" Bran said faintly, blood leaking from his mouth "and this is how the long night came to end, thank you for all your sacrifices, house stark"
Jon fell to the floor, just as Bran went limp in his wheelchair, as dead as could be. The Three eyed raven leaving him, his purpose in this life had been fulfilled.
"Jon..." came a weak voice from his right, he saw it was Arya who was calling him, without a word the dying Stark held onto her brother's hand.
"Is it over?" she asked "You needed to stab me, didn't you? Is... is..."
"Winter came but we've won..." Jon said, realising how weak his voice was "...we won in Fire and blood".
He felt himself smile there, he could see Arya shared his smile.
"Today, I have to say yes... to the God of death..." Arya muttered "But... we'll be together, won't we?"
"Yes" Jon said, thinking of everyone, his real parents, Ned and even Catelyn, Rob, Bran, Rickon, Theon, Master Luwin, Old Nan, Hodor, Jory, Grenn, Pip, Jeor Mormont, Ygritte, everyone who'd perished in this battle, they'd all be there as well.
"We won't be alone" were his final words, before he felt the God of death take him, moments later Arya followed him. She felt sad about leaving Sansa as the only surviving Stark, but she was strong and cleverest person Arya knew. If it was left to anyone to inherent Winterfell, Sansa would be the best choice by far, so with that in mind, Arya Stark could finally be at peace as she died besides her brother.
It was over.
In the crypts, Sansa, Tyrion, Varys, Gilly and little Sam along with a few others breathed a sigh of relief when the dead were reduced to nothing but dust.
In Winterfell, Brienne, Jamie, Sam and Podrick watched as the dead faded, exhausted, bloodied and injured the four survivors simply gazed at each other and some other lucky and weary survivors, unable to believe that it was all over.
The Hound was up to his arse in wights minutes ago, now he wondered in the empty corridors in disbelief he was still alive.
Daenerys and Jorah stood there in the snowfield, exhausted and in disbelief, Daenerys simply embraced her loyal knight, as he held onto her, still stunned. However before he could get too comfortable Drogon, with the dead turned to ashes, collapsed next to his mother. Roaring in agony at the wounds over his body, becoming aware of this, Daenerys disengaged herself from Jorah and ran over to her injured dragon, the only one left in the world, as Rhaegal had been slain earlier into the battle. Named after her brother and Jon's real father...
She thought of him in those moments, was he safe? Did it make it out alive?
Unknown to her however...
The Song of Ice and Fire had already been sang.
A/N: Thanks for reading, don't know whether to keep this as a one-shot or carry on, as it works nicely either way. Anyway if you liked it leave a review, I'll answer your reviews through PM's as I like to go into detail.
