"So you say it's best to speak to him in Valyrian?" Jon asked Dany as he stood beside her and their two dragons on the battlefield. The sun had just made its appearance in the sky, and the morning air felt colder than usual.

"We've been through this already Jon," she grabbed his hand. "You know the basics, and I told you that the bond between a dragon and its rider goes beyond words. It's a feeling."

Jon sighed as he rested his free hand on Rhaegal's wing. The dragon named after his father; he couldn't deny that he was uniquely connected to the creature. He hoped that all the time he spent working tirelessly with him would pay off, and that if he needed to ride him he would come to his call. Although he could carry out enough damage on the battlefield with Longclaw in his grasp, knowing that the Night King rode Viserion he needed to make sure that he would be able to come to his wife's aid with Rhaegal if she needed them.

His gaze shifted to the armies that stood in formation before them; thousands and thousands of men, and some women as well, who had come to fight in the war against the dead. Some of them had known war; having held weapons in their hands from the tender age of five, while others only learned how to carry a shield in the last week. He looked at the Unsullied and Dothraki, foreigners from lands and places across the sea that he had never heard of, and he was amazed at how they stood fiercely without fear in their eyes, completely ready to risk their blood to fight for hers. Dany was the Queen they chose. She had inspired them all, and today he would fight so that she could live to inspire more.

He pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her waist as she leaned back into his touch, holding her hands above his. He could feel the small swell of her belly, and he took a moment to remember what it felt like, to have her in his arms and his child resting beneath his palm. There was only one thing he was sure of; he needed to keep them alive.

"Your grace," Tyrion's voice shook him out of his trance. "My brother is at the front, he says everything is ready now."

"Good," Dany said, breaking away from Jon's clasp but still keeping his hand in hers. She wasn't ready to let go just yet. "I hope you're not planning on going to the front."

"Last time I was at the front of a battle I was trampled on by hundreds of men," he said with a smile.

"I should make my way now," Jon said, the words torn from his throat with such reluctance.

Dany swallowed deeply and closed her eyes, and Jon could see the tears that slid from their corners. "I'll see you soon, okay?" she said softly as she opened them back up to meet his gaze.

He nodded and he leaned closer to plant a tender kiss on her lips. He couldn't care less if anyone was watching.

As she watched him go to the front, she felt someone else come to her side.

"I almost feel bad for the walker who would come up against you," she said once the young wolf stood close enough.

"Thank you. Although I must admit… you that are the true hero of this war. You brought all these men to the North and you're riding your dragon… despite your condition."

Dany turned to face her, at a loss for words.

"The keep is east to the Wolfswood," Arya continued. "Remember this. The forest is vast, and you can lose yourself in it if needs be."

Before she could answer, a sound that was all too familiar to her pierced the air. The time had come.

Dany felt her heart sink to her feet as she heard Drogon and Rhaegal cry back, as if trying to communicate with the brother they thought was gone. It's not him, she told herself. Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor, and this thing is a slave to the night king. He isn't your Viserion.

"Be careful Daenerys," Tyrion told her as he watched her mount Drogon.

She looked her Hand in the eyes. "You too, my friend."

There was no sign of Viserion as she flew higher into the sky. Could she have imagined his cries? No… Drogon and Rhaegal heard it to. Or perhaps they all imagined it. She watched from above as the dark horde of the dead crested over the hill. They emerged from all sides, their numbers seemingly larger than before. She circled the area, trying to stay as high as she could, but she couldn't see the Night King. Could all of this be a trap? It was possible. But she could not diverge from the original plan.

As the dead marched closer, she flew lower until she was close enough to see their armies and all the catapults they had lined in arrangement for an aerial attack. She observed the scene below her, the men that drew their weapons; the dragon glass, the Valyrian swords, the flaming spears and the Arakhs. The flags marked with the sigils of the houses Targaryen and Stark that were scattered across the field. It was truly a sight to behold. They may not have enough numbers, but their armies were strong and they would not go down easily.

The moment the dead were close enough, she launched their first line of defense. The line of barrels filled with oil that they had strategically placed across the field was lit, and it was so that Dany had broken the stalemate. She watched the dead fall to the ground as they burned away, but the ones behind simply crawled over them and continued on to clash with the living.

"Nock!"

Jon could hear Jaime Lannister yelling as he rode his horse up and down the lines. The archers lit the tips of their arrows on fire, aiming towards the sky.

"Draw!"

They pulled back, gazes fixed ahead as they waited for the final command.

"Loose!"

Thousands of arrows lit the dim horizon above, and he watched as the ground turned red; ice melting from the beacons of fire. But the dead kept coming.

"Shields up!" Jon shouted and the men collided, the first row covering their lower halves, the second the upper halves and the third protected their heads. The dead bodies smashed into the blockade, running straight into the swords and spears that peaked through the gaps.

It lasted only a while, before their numbers grew too much and they couldn't hold any longer. The dead scuttled over each other, falling in between the shields and attacking the living. Their screams and cries filled the air as the opposing forces finally clashed, and soon it became hard to distinguish the two.

"Get to the walkers!" Jon yelled as he plunged a dragonglass blade into the neck of a wight. All those who held Valyrian steel weapons were tasked with fighting the walkers, and the remaining fighters knew to make way for them to do so.

He could see Daenerys and Drogon, disappearing into the clouds and coming out again to add fire to the grounds. Gods keep her safe, he prayed silently. He feared for his sister as well although he knew he didn't need to. She fought beside him and he watched as she spun in a circle and taking out several wights in a single motion. She didn't require his prayers.

Soon the Dothraki and the other soldiers on horseback came in from both sides, trampling on the moving skeletons with their horses and shooting them down with their dragonglass arrow heads. The Unsullied held their positions in tight circle formations and R'hollor's army launched fire on the dead with their pointed spears.

Ghost never leaves Jon's side as he tried to make his way to the closest walker, protecting him at every angle with ears pricked all the way forward and eyes as red as the fire that filled the sky. Jon could see Brienne also moving towards a walker to the far right of the field, and she had Tormund in front of her swinging his axe in one hand and slashing through with his dragonglass blade in the other.

At the far left of the field where the Hound and Berric fought, he could see a half decomposed mammoth barreling through the men and swinging its colossal tusks at any who cross its path. Burning arrows were launched at the beast but it made no difference, it continued to move forward, stepping on the men like they were ants. As if to Jon's will, Rhaegal suddenly came to their aid, making an appearance from behind the clouds and flying downwards to light the mammoth up in flames.

"Jon!" Arya called from behind him. He curved to the side to avoid a rusted blade and pulled himself back, using the momentum to stab the bottom of the wight's jaw. "Keep forward!"

He looked to her, mouthing his thanks, and he continued to tear through the wights that came his way. At the edge of the sky, Jon caught a glimpse of what could have been Viserion, but he couldn't be too sure. The thing moved fast and he had to keep his eyes forward as he slashed his blade through another wight's torso. He looked to the sky again, to see if Dany took notice but now he couldn't see her either.

Jon heard the sound of shattering glass and turned his head to see that Brienne had managed to attack the Walker, her Valyrian blade plunged straight into its chest and hundreds of wights turned to dust with it. Soon Arya had done the same, managing to slash his father's dagger straight across a Walker's neck, and he watched as more wights shattered and fell to the ground. He could no longer see Jaime but his voice could still be heard as he continued to shout commands and run down the lines, telling the men to target the wights around the walkers. But there were still too many of them, and Jon couldn't ignore the thoughts at the back of his mind. Where was the Night King? And where was Dany?

Finally, he made an appearance. The Night King wasn't subtle about it but he kept away from the heat of the battle. Behind him the ice shattered, sending sharp glass everywhere around him, for he truly controlled the winter. Dany surveyed him from afar, large wings sprung from his back, frayed and thin. As she flew closer, her eyes widened at the scene of the undead dragon; his features still so familiar it rent her heart to see him.

"Viserion," she whispered in remorse.

Dany flew with Drogon, so far into the distance; the battlefield was left out of her vision. The Night King continued forward, not turning to face her. She couldn't understand what he was trying to do, but she was unable stop herself from following them. Her hatred and wrath grew towards the King of the Dead who dared to take Viserion away from her; who stripped the world of one of its only lasting wonders. He made a slave out of her child, an abomination, a monster who wouldn't think twice before killing its own mother. Oh, and he would pay. He would learn what happens to those who evoke the dragon's fury. She was her father's daughter after all.

She secured her grip on Drogon, and flew straight towards them with such force and magnificent speed, it forces the Night King to turn his head to meet her gaze. His eyes were cold and emotionless as he turned Viserion around to face them, and with no hesitation the undead dragon spit its blue flames directly at its mother and brother. It was such an unfamiliar sight to her; she needed a moment before she could strike back.

"Dracarys."

And for the first time ever, red and orange collided with the unnatural blue in a battle between fire and ice.

After killing a second walker, Jon's attention was stolen away by the sudden outburst of color in the sky. It was so far away but he could still see the orange flames encountering the blue and he watched as everyone around him lifted their heads to behold the exceptional display.

"Stay focused Jon," he could hear Arya from beside him.

She was handling herself better than most. They had been fighting for some time now. Many had died and those who still lived grew tired, Jon could see it in the way Jorah's movements became disordered, and how Gendry's breathing grew labored and strained as he swung his war hammer. He watched his sister and even Brienne in the distance; the two fought fiercely, not losing stamina for one moment, and he realized what a shame it was that not all women were given the opportunity to learn how to fight. He would change that, if he ever became King.

"Why aren't they fighting here?" Jorah spoke in between breaths, looking to the sky. "She should be leading him towards the scorpion."

Before he could reply, the sound of a dragon's cries filled the air and Jon got an intense feeling of fear and dread as Rhaegal flew towards him. Even Ghost began to howl at the sky. Something's wrong, he knew it.

Rhaegal burned away the wights that surrounded them and he landed himself on the ground, spreading his wing out for his rider. Arya looked at Jon, and he could see the fear in her eyes as she knew what he was about to do.

"I have to go," he told her. He could care less about the Northern men who stopped to watch him as he mounted Rhaegal, completely baffled by the sight of a Stark, a man they had once called King in the North, riding a dragon so naturally like it wasn't his first time. They didn't know what it meant, and perhaps they never would.

"Sōves," Jon whispered, and just like that he was lifted into the sky. "Come on boy," he spoke in English now. "Let's go to your mother."

Dany had to keep Drogon moving. Rising, falling, twisting and hiding in the grey clouds that had concealed the sun. She would come out when only she was ready to strike, and immediately go back into the shelter of the shadows. Viserion was stronger and faster now, and she could not stay still, not even for a moment. But she was getting tired, from screaming commands and holding on to Drogon with all her might as he continued to take sharp turns in and around the clouds. She prayed that the child she carried within her would hold on too.

Suddenly, she heard the screams of a third dragon, and she turned her head to find Jon and Rhaegal riding her way. If only Rhaegar were alive to see this. Jon came to her side, leveling Rhaegal with Drogon and looking at her with a forbidding resolve; he would not let her fight alone. She had a passing, absurd thought that this must be how it was when the dragons last danced in rebellion against one another.

And then they attack. Two brothers against one. Fire against ice. Jon and Dany worked together as well as they had planned. Drogon and Rhaegal were constantly switching positions, attacking and hiding, and one was never without the other. They tried to steer the fight closer to the battlefield where the scorpion could be in their view, but it was difficult, as the Night King seemingly wanted to keep moving forward and away from Winterfell. It was as if he sent his forces to the battlefield to distract the living while he continued on, tasked with his own personal mission.

Out of a sudden, Drogon made a downward dive that Dany was unprepared for. As she tried to recover her balance, she saw a spear move across the horizon and fall to the ground. She then watched as a group of walkers emerged from within the forest beneath them, completely separate and hidden from the battle that was occurring to their right. They dragged a cart that was filled with spears similar to the one used to take down Viserion many months ago.

She was right… this was a trap.

"Dany! We need to fly back!" Jon screamed.

But it was too late.

One of the spears found its way into Drogon's left wing and Dany found herself grabbing onto him with all the strength she had as her dragon fell from the sky. Drogon let out a shriek that was so loud and powerful, she was shocked it hadn't shattered the earth open. Immediately, the Night King flew Viserion back into the forest, while Rhaegal cried alongside his brother, diving down in a desperate attempt to save them from the fall.

Jon could see Drogon trying to flap his right wing, but it came to no avail, and all he could do was pray that Dany would stay holding on to him as he hits the ground. Rhaegal flew downwards with immeasurable strength and velocity but he would never make it in time.

He could only watch as she fell off Drogon when there was still a reasonable amount of air that separated the dragon from the ground. The dragon's large body dropped with a loud thud, and horror beyond measure consumed Jon, leaving him breathless as he landed only a few seconds later, a few seconds too late. He called out her name, again and again as he tried to find the spot where she had landed amidst the dust and the slush that rose from the ground as Drogon fell.

And then he saw her, lying on the snow, broken. If ever there was a scene so horrid and against nature it was that of a Queen who freed cities and broken chains fallen. Jon rushed towards her, and upon seeing her blood seep through her white and grey furs he froze, unable to breathe, or swallow, or move.

"Jon," she said his name, her voice was faint but it brought him back to life. He kneeled to the ground, taking her head in his lap and fighting back the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

"Don't speak," he whispered. "You need to save your strength."

Her lips were blue and her skin was so pale, almost as white as the snow that she lay in. She placed her hand on her abdomen, and he could see her eyes brim with tears as she feared the worst.

He placed his hand over hers. "The blood is coming from your back, Dany. You'll be fine. Our child will be fine."

Whether he said that to comfort her or to comfort himself he didn't know.

He picked her up from the ground and shuddered at the feel of her warm blood on his skin, knowing that the wound was open and still flowing. He carried her onto Rhaegal, and she remained in his arms as they flew back to the castle. He wasn't going to let them die today.

A/N:Wooo, there it is. Longest chapter yet and my first ever attempt at writing a battle scene.. I hope you guys enjoyed it. I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as I can, don't want to leave ya'll hanging for too long lol.

As always thank you to everyone who has supported this story and left reviews, and I apologize to those who told me that my previous chapter made them cry haha :D

Stay tuned for more!