Author's note: Thank you so much for your patience. This is a long chapter but battle scenes…oh battle scenes. The holidays got the better of me as did a bout of strep throat. Excuses over. I hope you enjoy.

My Dearest Brienne,

Though it's been but a fortnight, so much has happened. To explain it all would take more messages than a murder of ravens could carry. All of this I will save for when I return to you. I do not know when I will be able to send word again. The battle shall be upon us soon. Pray for our souls.

Forever,

Jaime

Brienne clutched the letter to her chest. As much as she had longed for word from Jaime, her heart was now filled with dread. She had to call on all the faith she possessed and believe that life would win, but she wasn't foolish enough to think there would not be tremendous losses. They must win, she thought. They must find a way to beat the Nights King and his army.

After a few moments, she dried her tears and placed the letter in their desk drawer with the others. She decided to write to her father and pour out her heart to him of everything she was experiencing. She wanted to go home. With Euron Greyjoy somewhere in the Narrow Sea, it was impossible, so words on parchment would have to suffice for now.

Within the hour, she would sup with Sansa and Podrick and put on her bravest face. She was sure they too had received word that the battle was near. Sansa would have worries of her own, but at least she had Pod there to support her and give her comfort. Brienne was accustomed to the harsh realities of life, and over time she'd learned to rely on herself to make it through. Only now, those days alone were so far behind her, she hoped the resolve to withstand the pain and worry was still there.

With her letter finished, she washed and dressed for supper. She chose Jaime's favorite gown. It was deep blue. The trim embroidered with silver thread in curls like that of waves, that washed down around her neckline and flowed onward to where the gown brushed the floor. She combed and swept her hair back behind her ears, and even wore a silver hair clip Sansa had given her. After one long last look in the mirror, she took a deep breath and turned for the chamber door.

~:~:~:~

In Winterfell, the fires raged on. The trenches surrounding the castle burned bright green as they had for weeks, and the new ones that Jaime had ordered, burned as well. From the edges of the Wolfswood west of Winterfell, the trenches spread north for a league and eastward, until they turned south again in a semi-circle. It was as if a wall of fire had replaced the wall of ice that once guarded the south. They had their forces to hold back the dead army and two dragons to fight the undead Viserion, but would it be enough?

Wagons carefully transported the wild fire to keep the flames lit. As soon as new batches were made, they were carried carefully away to fuel the fires; some of which reached heights of a hundred feet. Their swirling green towers of light reached into the night sky, causing the white dressing on distant trees to sparkle like emeralds. The intense heat caused the ground to run wet with mud for half a hundred feet both north and south of the flame. No man living could get within half a mile of them. The pots of wildfire had to be catapulted to the trenches. Jaime had been very busy at his work, as had the soldiers, who now doubled as carpenters and builders.

Inside the castle, the counsel of generals gathered for their final meeting. The room was silent but for small, low discussions that swiftly hushed as King Aegon stepped to his seat at the head of the long table and spoke. "My Lords, we have made every preparation. We know what kills them and how. We do not, nor will we have their numbers, but we are well supplied, and our armies are ready."

"The battle plans are in place your Grace," said Ser Davos. "There's nothing left for us to do but fight."

"I'll ride out tonight and check in with all of our battalions. We have the Unsullied stationed just below the northern mud lines, the Dothraki spread out on the perimeter of the castle and all our other banners on the southeast fields. We've still wagon loads of wildfire for each catapult and more dragon glass arrows than I could count," Jaime said.

"That leaves the Nights King and Wight Walkers your Grace," said Jorah Mormont. "We've seen them walk through fire before."

"Not wildfire we haven't. Not that I'm saying he can't or won't but those screaming corpses will burn, we've seen that too," Ser Davos said.

"We have wildfire, dragon glass and Valyrian steel. We also have Drogon and Rhaegal. We are more than ready," Daenerys said, rising to her feet. "And we have the Scorpions and Valyrian steel harpoons. I suggest we all sup well and get some sleep. The dead neither eat nor sleep so this may be our last opportunity for both." Daenerys glanced about the room and then turned to King Aegon.

"I expect very little sleep, but Bran will keep us informed via the ravens. As at the wall, the horn will be our call to arms. May the Gods have our backs." Aegon nodded to excuse them and they headed off to their duties.

Jaime followed through and mounted his horse to assess the battalions as he'd planned. He met with Grey Worm and they rode together. His intension was to begin at the northern mud line below the great ring of wildfire, but they'd only traveled about half way when the horn sounded. Like the Night's Watch, one blast was to herald arriving brothers. Two, was to warn of an attack and three, was for Wight Walkers. Jaime and Grey Worm paused waiting for a second blast, but it didn't come.

"Who could it be?" Grey Worm turned to Jaime and asked.

"You know about as much as I do. Keep going and muster your men. I'll head back to find out." Jaime pulled his steed around by the reins and galloped off. A gallop soon became a charge until within minutes, the banners came into view in the glowing green firelight surrounding the front gate of Winterfell. They appeared brown, no red. They were Lannister banners.

"Dear God," he muttered aloud, "But why only one blast? Surely they're coming to fight."

As he approached, he could see the crossbows pointed from the turrets at the arriving soldiers below. He surmised there were perhaps two thousand, maybe three. Closer and closer still he rode until he'd pulled his horse back into no more than a trot. He was at last within ear shot of the exchange between the Dothraki commander, and the Lannister commander.

"We've come from Riverrun!" the Lannister commander shouted as he dismounted. "We're here to join the fight! We ask to speak with Ser Jaime!"

"Lannister soldiers are enemy of our queen. We should kill you now," Qhono shouted.

"Qhono, wait!" Jaime cried out as his horse cantered up to them. By Jaime's reckoning, there were close to five hundred on horseback and the rest on foot. They appeared weak, tired and starving. "Cersei wouldn't have sent these men here." Jaime dismounted and stepped to the Lannister commander. "Is that you, Ser Daven?"

"It is my Lord," Daven Lannister answered and bowed.

Jaime leaned back and away from his kinsman and studied him for a moment. He'd not laid eyes on Daven since the siege at Riverrun. The man appeared to have aged considerably on the journey. "Why are you here?" Jaime was suspect and glanced sideways at the man.

"We fight for you my Lord, not the Queen. She's lost all sense of anything."

"What do you mean?" Jaime was intrigued.

"We received word from King's Landing that you'd left to fight in the North. To…fight the dead. We didn't believe it at first, but word kept coming that this dead army was real."

"So, we still have allies in Kings Landing then?" Jaime asked.

"Not anymore. The Golden Company arrived over a month ago. After the Queen's brief internment at the loss of her babe, she took that Greyjoy monster into the Red Keep. He ordered the leader of the Golden Company, a…Harry Strickland, as Lord Commander of her armies. He ordered all regiments south to capture any castle and house and hold them and to slaughter anyone who stood in their way."

"My question was why are you here?" Jaime asked again.

"Many of us my Lord…they burned our homes, our families, the children ser. They burned everything in their paths and what they didn't burn they pillaged. You were, and are, our only Lord Commander. As soon as word came of their craven acts, I gathered up our army and headed north," Ser Daven said, lowering his head.

Jaime stepped forward and placed his left hand on his kinsman's shoulder. "The dead will be upon us soon. I'll see you're all armed properly and fed as well."

"There were three years of provisions at Riverrun my Lord. We carried most of it with us, but we rationed much of it on our journey in case you were in need here at Winterfell."

"Feed your men and horses. They'll need every ounce of strength for this fight and make camp anywhere in the fields. Your orders will be to burn any living man who falls to the dead whenever possible, but to kill as many of those things as you can. Those are the only orders you'll need." Jaime turned to Qhono and said, "See that these men are armed with dragon glass. I'll inform King Aegon of their arrival."

Qhono nodded and his men backed off into their positions. He called out in Dothraki to his men to retrieve as much dragon glass as there was available to arm the Lannister soldiers. Jaime led his horse through the gates and headed off to find Aegon.

Upon arriving at Aegon's solar, he overheard voices coming from inside the room and noticed Tyrion, waiting in the shadows.

"Well, hello brother. Are you here for an audience with the King as well?" Tyrion asked, coming into the light of the torch on the wall next to the door.

"I am indeed. Our forces have just grown by over two thousand men—Lannister soldiers from the Riverlands. Cousin Daven received word that Cersei, having taken Euron into her loving arms, has lost her bloody mind and they chose to come and join us."

"Lost her bloody mind? I'd assumed that was a birth defect. However, the additional forces are all too welcome. I'm certain we have you to thank for that," Tyrion snickered over a grin.

They both fell quiet as the voices grew louder behind the door. Tyrion looked up at Jaime's bewildered expression and raised an eyebrow. "They've quite the tumultuous relationship."

Jaime started to speak, and Tyrion hushed him, placing a finger to his lips as Jaime winced and whispered, "I don't think we should be listening to any of this."

From behind the door, the discussion was nearly un-muffled. The words "The child" had come up several times as well as "It's too dangerous," and "what if you're killed?" Jaime imagined a similar discussion he'd had and all it did was ignite memories of Brienne and his worry for her and their child. Every moment of his days, were now spent fending off memories and thoughts of them.

"Clearly the Stark's didn't concern themselves with eavesdroppers. Either that, or Lord Ned and Lady Catelyn never argued loudly. That can be the only explanation as to their thin chamber doors," Tyrion whispered back.

"This is ridiculous," Jaime scoffed.

"The Targaryen's are a fiery bunch I'd say," Tyrion commented.

"I've waited long enough," Jaime said, and knocked hard on the door.

Suddenly there was silence. The door pulled open. "Good evening my Lady," Aegon said as Queen Daenerys swept between Jaime and Tyrion and out of sight. "Pardon my Lords."

"May we?" Tyrion asked, waving his hand towards the room.

"Of course,"Aegon answered, welcoming them in.

Jaime relayed everything Ser Daven had shared. Aegon was grateful but Jaime had no time for thanks or gratitude. He excused himself and headed off again to take his ride to assess their battlements before he could at last lay down his head for the night.

It had taken him until midnight to again reach the castle gates. Drogon and Rhaegal circled the castle above him. He watched, no longer with amazement but with a sense of gratitude in knowing these marvelous beasts were on their fighting side.

Exhausted and hungry, he dismounted and headed to the great hall. Aegon had ordered food be readily available at all hours due to their state of alert. Jaime filled a large mug with ale and carried it to a lone seat at one of the long, heavy wood tables that filled the hall. Within moments, a plate of hot rabbit stew and a loaf of fresh bread was placed in front of him. He couldn't eat it fast enough. He hadn't eaten since he'd broken his fast twelve hours before.

The next thing he knew, a young serving boy was nudging him on the shoulder. He'd fallen asleep at his meal and nearly dipped his head into his empty bowl of stew. "Milord, I'd leave you to sleep but I need the bowl. More men are comin' in to eat," the lad said.

Jaime rubbed at his eyes and swallowed down the rest of his ale. "Sorry, lad," he groaned, and pushed himself to his feet.

Jaime didn't know how long he'd been abed, but when the horn's blast came three times, he shot up and scrambled to put on his armor. The shouts of cries throughout the castle came from every direction. He joined them as he raced through the stone corridors until he reached the courtyard.

"Ser Jaime!" he heard Aegon call out, running to catch up with him. "Bran has sighted the army of the dead no more than a mile north."

Jaime raced shoulder to shoulder with Aegon to where their horses awaited them, readied and held at the harness by squires. "Arm yourselves lads," Jaime told them as he and Aegon mounted and charged out through the castle gates.

"I'm going north to the mud line. We'll hit them with the archers from the platforms first," Jaime said to Aegon as they stopped their horses aside each other, just outside the gates.

"I'm going to meet Daenerys and the dragons. I'll see you at the victory feast when the sun rises, Ser Jaime," Aegon said, nodded, and rode off towards the eastern fields.

Jaime's eyes searched the landscape. It was covered as far as the eye could see with regiments of every color. It appeared even more banner men had arrived during the night. His chest swelled with cold breath as snow began to fall. He pulled his hood up over head and wrapped his red scarf about his face until only his eyes shown. Suddenly, those eyes caught a glimpse of a lone rider on a black horse, galloping through the snow towards him. It only took a moment for him to discern it was a woman.

"My Lady, you shouldn't be here!" he called out as she approached him. To Jaime, the night grew eerily quiet. Despite the thousands of soldiers surrounding them, he could almost hear the snow as it pinged softly against his armor as she approached him.

"I am here to help you win this war," the woman said, pulling back her hood to reveal two large dark eyes and skin the color of milk. Her hair was deep red and matched her gown, which draped around her beneath her cloak and clung to her horse.

"Who are you?" Jaime shouted.

"She's the Red Witch!" Jaime heard a voice come from behind him. He turned in his saddle to find Ser Davos, riding to his side. "You're a dead woman when the King sees ye!"

"Good. Otherwise, I'll have made this journey for nothing."

"I'll leave you to sort this out," Jaime said to Davos, and rode off to the northern mudline to find Grey Worm.

~:~:~:~

"Ser Jaime, you should go back," Grey Worm shouted upon seeing Jaime arrive. He slowed his horse and leapt to the muddy ground with a splat.

"I don't know what's worse the snow or this mud," Jaime muttered, approaching Grey Worm.

"At least we do not freeze to death," Grey Worm replied. "You should go back. I am commander of the Unsullied. I will keep the fire lit."

"I have complete faith in you and your men. I'm making one final round of our troops and then I'll go and join my men."

"Your men?"

"Yes. The army that approached was my battalion from the Riverlands. They came to fight with us."

"More soldiers is good. Go to them, Ser Jaime. There is no more time. Look," Grey Worm said and pointed north. Jaime's eyes widened in both awe and fear, as clouds of what appeared to be an ice fog began breaking through the trees.

Jaime raced to his mount and rode up to Grey Worm. "Remember, archers first with dragon glass. Do not engage them hand to hand unless you have no other choice."

"I assure you, we have no desire to get that close," said Grey Worm.

Jaime pulled his horse around and headed back towards the castle. Behind him, he could already hear the screams of the undead and he looked back over his shoulder. His face alit in green light, the terror he'd felt at the dragon pit at the sight of one of those things magnified as he watched. Hundreds of orange fireballs launched into the sky, mixing into the green flame pillars. He turned in his saddle and leaned forward, shouting at his horse, "Yah! Go boy!" as the big white stallion raced back towards Winterfell. The speed of the horse gave him the sensation of flying, as if the animal's hooves weren't even touching the ground.

"Qhono! Ready your men! The dead are at the northern wild fire trenches!" Jaime shouted and then sprinted through the open gate. "Where's the King?" he shouted at the first soldier he saw.

"He's in the field milord. He's riding north with the Brotherhood and that Red Woman."

Jaime turned and sped off to gather the Lannister army and follow King Aegon. Ser Daven and his troops were already assembled and at the ready. Jaime led them off into the night, headed for the northern mudline. Suddenly, he heard the screech and roar of Drogon above them. He felt a sense of relief. With every pound of Drogon's great wings, hope of victory grew within him.

Close behind Drogon, Rhaegal flew until he swooped low over the field before them and landed in the snow. Suddenly, from Jaime's left, out of the night he saw a horse speeding towards the great beast and stop. Jaime pulled back on the reins of his horse and waved to slow his troops as well to wait for the dragon to rise again into the sky. They watched silently as the man dismounted his horse and ran to Rhaegal. Without hesitation, Jaime gave his horse a kick and galloped towards the huge animal to get a better look.

"Get back!" he heard a voice call out. He knew the voice was Aegon.

Jaime slowed his horse to a stop and watched as Aegon climbed frantically up the huge wing of the beast and climbed onto its back as if he'd done it a hundred times before. Aegon leaned into Rhaegal, and the animal rose onto its back legs and flapped its enormous wings until it rose again into the air and flew off.

Giving the signal to continue, Jaime led the charge towards the battle. The ground shook beneath the snow as hundreds of horses joined them, flanking them from the east. Jaime knew it was Qhono and the Dothraki by the screams and shouts of the riders. Side by side the two great forces flooded the field, charging forward toward the battle. Snow picked up from the ground in chunks and slabs of white, flinging it into the air around them as they thundered on. The heat from the fires liquefied the snow at the mud line, churning the ground to mush beneath their horse's hooves, now covering them in the thick muck.

The Unsullied archers stood on the raised platforms behind the battlefield, loading their bows with their fire tipped arrows and launching them in unison into the night sky. Their targets screeched and screamed with every volley, but they did not stop coming unless the fire took hold and pulled them to the ground. Hundreds and then thousands of them were swallowed up in the trenches and incinerated almost immediately, and yet still they came. Jaime could see them moving along outside of the fire lines heading towards the eastern perimeter of the wild fire.

"This way!" he shouted to his men as he wheeled the horse around in the mud. It lost its footing and slid in the slick brown puddles and went down on one knee, snapping its leg instantly. The horse whinnied and squealed in pain as Jaime flew from his saddle to the ground. He landed flat on his back and the horse rolled onto his right leg. He kicked at the wounded animal trying to push it off, but the effort was futile. Suddenly, he felt himself being taken up under the arms, as four Dothraki riders pulled the horse through the slick mud while the two men who'd taken hold of him, freed him and raised him to his feet.

As quickly as they'd released him, they were back on their horses and at the charge, leaving Jaime alone and on foot. He drew his sword and tried to run but his leg was numb and cramped in pain. He cried out, dragging it as he struggled to catch up to the fight.

"Commander!" he heard a man call out, and he turned in the direction of the voice. "Take my mount!" The soldier shouted, leaping from his horse before it had even come to a full stop. He handed off the reins to Jaime and with a running start, flung himself onto the back of a coal black stallion, ridden by a fellow cavalryman.

Jaime struggled to mount the beast. It was spooked and pulling away due to the fires and the dancing dragons above. He snatched off his cloak and tossed it over the animals face, covering its eyes. A few heartbeats later, the horse calmed and Jaime sprang up into the saddle, whipping off the cloak and tossing it away.

"Yah!" he shouted as the horse reared up and then gathered itself beneath him. He pulled it around again and again. The smoke and ash from the fires were being pressed low to the ground by the icy fog, making it nearly impossible to see. Then the sound pierced his eardrums like the squeal and howl of a dying animal. His eyes shot up. There above him out of the icy clouds appeared a pale, ragged and craven monster. Torn flesh hung from its belly to its throat and yet, ice blue fire sprayed like boiling icicles from its gaping jaws.

Jaime's eyes watered. He coughed and spat out the smell and taste yet again, of burning flesh of both the living and the dead. He spurred the horse on with a hard kick and galloped in the direction he'd sent his men. The horse sped up. Closer and louder—their shouts and screams ringing in his ears put grave and bloody images in his smoke blinded mind. He wanted to call them to retreat but in the chaos, he knew his voice would not be heard. Fight! Just fight! He thought, crashing headlong into the melee.

He wrapped the reins tightly around his golden hand and drew his sword with the other. The ground was littered with bones and the broken bodies of the Others. He rode hard, swinging his sword into packs of Wights, laying them down hard with Valyrian steel. There were also dozens of Lannister soldiers laid low. We have to burn them, he thought, and sped off until he spotted a burning torch, swinging in the distance and raced towards it.

One of the Lannister soldiers was using it to fight off the Wights, beating them and setting them ablaze. As the man swung again, Jaime sheathed his sword and rode up, snatching the torch from the man's hand. "Here!" Jaime said, pulling his dragon glass dagger from his belt and tossing it to the man as he rode away, setting the dead men afire as he went.

Drogon and Daenerys appeared overhead, low and fast. Jaime spun westward and his eyes followed them as they turned north. Drogon was pursuing the pale undead, Viserion. Following his brother nose to tail was Rhaegal and Aegon. There was no time to pause at even this surreal spectacle. He still had to fight the battle on Earth and set fire to the dead. He continued on until he felt as if his arm was tearing free of his body.

Daylight was breaking. The gray icy fog and smoke began to turn white and when Jaime turned towards the trees, he could see between them and beyond from the white ground to the sky. The green fires still glowed in the distance yet as the night's frost began to lift, he saw the Others heading away, marching northward from the battle. He heard Drogon's great screech in the distance growing closer as the world went quiet otherwise.

He dismounted and stood. The mud and snow and blood covered the soles of his boots up to his insteps. The horse's ragged breath blew hot, freezing in clouds about its head. Jaime lumbered, pulling the exhausted animal behind him by the reins, following Drogon as he coasted overhead into an empty space on the field before him and landed.

His steps quickened as he saw Aegon, holding Daenerys in his arms as he tried to descend Drogon's wing. Jaime slipped in the mud and fell and then pushed himself back to his feet, now running towards them.