Sansa:
Winter is coming
The sound of her father's voice rattled in her head as she stared into the darkness ahead of her.
Why was she up here? She wasn't a fighter, wasn't really good for much really except for making sure her people were taken care of.
In truth she didn't want to appear as the weak Stark sister, she must live up to her Stark name and be there for the North always.
She glanced at her sister, who seemed awfully composed in this terrifying circumstance.
She wished she could have been there for her sister, she wished she could have seen her grow up.
Arya is no longer that pretty, feisty little girl anymore.
She was a warrior, a fighter.
Sansa would never understand what Arya went through, but the least she could do was be by her side in these dark times, just like they were children again. Comforting each other after their nightmares.
This wasn't a nightmare though, it was real.
The horns blared repetitively drowning out her thoughts as she watched Arya turn towards her.
"Head down to the Crypts"
That was the most panicked she has ever seen Arya after she had come back to her. Come back to her family.
"I'm not leaving you!"
She watched as Arya scoffed, pulling out a dragon glass dagger and handed it to her.
"What will you do out here? It's dangerous, take this and leave. Now!"
"But I don't know how to use it."
Arya couldn't help but let a laugh slip.
"See, this is why you can't be out here, if trouble comes, stick em with the pointy end"
And with that Sansa was off, trekking down to the crypts praying for her family's safety.
So the battle begins.
Arya:
She had longed for this, she could taste death on the tip of her tongue.
She watched as the Dothraki army got swallowed up by the dead, watched on as she heard screams of many valiant soldiers die by the hands of the dead, watched as some of her acquaintances die.
Thankfully she managed to save the hound with one of her arrows.
Thankfully? No no she wasn't thankful, she just wanted a strong warrior to fight for the living, that's all.
Her ears pricked up and she spun around, seeing Davos run towards her with a group of dead men chasing him.
This was her time.
She grasped the spear Gendry made for her and skilfully took down the dead as Davos watched in awe.
Gasping, breathing, struggling.
She didn't know she could feel like this again.
There were too many, even for her, the only thing that kept her going was her determination to protect Davos.
"ARYA! THERE IS A CLEAR PATH THIS WAY, LET'S HEAD INSIDE AND RECOVER"
She could barely hear Davos over her beating heart.
One after another, death after death.
She nodded at him to go without her, this was her element. And she would die fighting, not hiding.
A new swarm of dead rushed towards her, tackling her to the ground.
Her brain was rattling in her head with pain, had she slammed it too many times?
Her muscles were aching, lungs restricting and eyes closing.
She felt as though she was drowning, drowning in her sorrows.
Must. Keep. Fighting.
She could hear someone calling out to her but she couldn't see who it was.
Her eye sight was smothered by darkness but she felt her lungs lift in liberation as someone grasped onto her waist and dragged her inside.
Tormund:
Yes. Yeeeees.
This is what he lived for.
The swing of a sword, the crushing of bones, the bloodshed.
As much as he knew he should be scared and worried. He didn't.
He felt Alive.
His laughed echoed throughout the early morning breeze and he dug his weapon even further into these fuckers' heads.
He could do this all day.
The only thing that pinched his mind and made his butchering not as exciting was his worry for one person.
One Woman.
Where was the big woman?
As many people as he took down, one after another all he could think of was that gorgeous blonde hair, those deadly eyes, those well shaped muscular thighs.
He had another reason to fight now, not just for relief, not just for the wildlings.
For her.
Oh he can picture how sexy she looks fighting right now. Tearing people's skulls from their bodies, crushing their bones with one giant swing. That battle cry she lets out.
Oh yeah, that's enough to make him never stop fighting for all of eternity.
A yelp snapped him out of his thoughts.
He swung around to see Ghost, Jon's dire wolf being attacked by several members of the dead.
As fierce as ghost was, there was no way he would be able to take them all down.
Tormund ran over to ghost lifting his sword.
"COME HERE YOU FUCKERS HAHAAAAA"
He took down a few of them and grasped ghost with his right hand, pulling him behind him.
He noticed Ghost had lost his left ear, poor thing.
Tormund lifted his right arm again, ready to strike down havoc onto the remaining of the dead.
He froze, he felt something sharp and cold on his chest. A feeling he has never known.
He looked down, an ice sword decorated with his blood was in him. Right through him.
He slightly turned his head to see one of them white walker bastards, the culprit of his pain staring directly at him.
"Huh, you think this will kill me you fucker!"
He tried desperately to swing his sword in the direction of the walker but it did not reach.
The walker extracted his sword, turning to leave Tormund to die via the pawns of the dead army.
But he shattered.
Tormund didn't see how, only saw the section of the dead that was attacking him and Ghost fall with him.
Ghost licked the side of Tormund's face, in gratitude and sorrow.
"Heh, it's okay little wolf, I been waiting for this a long time."
"Yes but you will not be leaving today, the lord of light does not wish this"
Beric stood before him, tightening his grip on the dragon glass dagger that ended the white walker that did this to him.
"Oh, has your lord of light summoned you to save a poor wildling like me? Ha, I have never been much for gods and witchery."
Beric bent his knee to rest beside him, he placed a hand over Tormunds heart and placed the dragon glass dagger above it.
"What the fuck are you doing? If this is the way your lord has taught you to save people here in the South, bad news, that kills people" Tormund made direct eye contact with Beric and laughed, how could penetrating your heart save you? This mad fucker.
Beric only sighed as he put more pressure onto Tormund.
"This may hurt a little"
He pushed the dagger into his heart and Tormund screamed, struggling to silence it.
His skin turned pale decorated with blotches of grey as he fell limp.
Sam:
Gilly and Sam. That was the only thing on his mind.
He knew he couldn't fight, people questioned him on why he wasn't down in the crypts.
The mad things you do for love, for family.
He must have looked pathetic to everyone, not as though anyone was really paying attention anyway.
He couldn't even swing a sword properly let alone finish someone with it.
But he tried, he desperately tired. He lost Ed and he had the potential to lose Gilly and little Sam too if he didn't try.
And his child, his true blood child that rested inside Gilly's stomach down in the crypts.
He was growing his family by the minute, he couldn't not fight to protect them.
He was overwhelmed with the amount of body's that flood his vision. Both half rotten and fresh.
He didn't know where to begin, only knew that if he stood around for any longer, he would die.
Glancing towards an entrance in Winterfell, he noticed a group of dead walking inside, heading down a stair case.
Down to the crypts.
His feet moved before he knew what he was doing.
His family was in danger, his sole purpose for living this torturous life could be taken away from him in a matter of seconds.
His family was his reason for living.
And his family will be the death of him.
Hello! I am rewriting season 8 episode 3-6 in a way I want it to go, I have already planned everything- including a different death for Cersei and who I want to sit on the Iron throne, it will be interesting to see if who I pick will end up on the throne. I am enjoying this season but somethings are a bit disappointing. This is an opening of many things to come. I hope you enjoy! Please Review! J
