In her short time back in King's Landing, Arya had managed to make a new friend. She'd gain the favor of a bastard from the Reach, one that was loyal to the Tyrells. He was sent to the city on behalf of Lady Olenna as a spy for Highgarden. He was at the tavern in Flea Bottom one late evening when he spotted a girl, a very curious girl and followed her back to her shack.
Arya knew she was being followed, but she was careful not to lead the man back to the shack she and Gendry were staying in. She waited in the alleyway for the man to pass by when she leaped out, holding a dagger to the man's throat.
"I mean you no harm, miss. I think we both want the same thing," the man said as he tried to pull Arya's hand from his throat.
"Talk," Arya said as she backed them both into the alleyway.
"I'm Quinn Flowers of House Tyrell. I think we both have a common interest," Quinn let out a held breath when Arya released him. She motioned for him to follow her as they made their way back to her hideaway.
She and Gendry sat listening to the man, listening to his story of the revenge that Lady Olenna sought out against Cersei and the Lannister's. Arya was convinced she could trust Quinn and took off her disguise. He smiled back at him, knowing this was one union that would prove to be fruitful.
Quinn had brought a Raven from Highgarden with him. He had learned from the Maester how to care for and control the creature. His accommodations, while not fitting for a Lord or Lady of Highgarden, were perfect for the duties which his lady had sent him on.
The small house just outside the Dragon's Gate was owned by the Tyrell's and was currently under some much-needed construction. Quinn kept his comings and goings few, traveling only under the cloak of night. Finding Arya Stark was a blessing for them Gods, one he knew Lady Olenna would rival in. Since the Lannister army had marched into Highgarden and taken control, he had to be careful what his messages back to his lady contained. As cryptically as possible, he messaged a cousin from the North was visiting and he wished to see her home. Quinn signed it, Quinn of the Wildflowers. It was a code word to let Lady Olenna know the Wildfire had been found.
Arya used her new friend to send a Raven to Jon and when she received one back, she knew it was time to put her new skills to use. Quinn was a little surprise that Sandor Clegane had made friends with the young Stark and was aiding her to bring down Cersei.
Gendry liked the plan Arya had laid out, but he knew when he saw the Lannister army marching out of King's Landing something must be happening in the North. He had this sixth sense that they shouldn't delay on leaving as well. Arya was determined to get a barrel or two of Wildfire for Jon. The North was counting on her and she would not let her family or her kinsmen down.
Quinn acquired a horse and cart and left it at the tunnel opening in Flea Bottom. Gendry wanted to go with Arya but she knew Sandor could carry the barrels all on his own. She donned her servant girl disguise again and dressed Sandor in the armor of the City Watch guard he had killed. They made their way into the tunnel and down the deep corridors that lay under the city.
It was torture waiting for Arya and Sandor to come back. Gendry sat in the front of the cart with Quinn, his father's War Hammer in his hand. Quinn tried to calm Gendry's nerves with stories of Highgarden, but his mind was locked on Arya and what could possibly go wrong.
The small torch Arya had lite was barely enough light to see through the pitch black. Sandor curse at how small and tight the passageway was, hitting his head a few times when then ceiling dipped.
"Are you sure we're going the right way, girl," Sandor asked, following the tiny girl through the darkness.
"Shh... yes, I'm sure. Qyburn has his spies everywhere, so keep your voice down," Arya had a feeling she was being watched. They had to move quickly to the Wildfire cash and take what they could.
She rounded the corner and came face to face with Maester Qyburn. She dropped her torch, letting the light extinguish. Drawing her sword, she slashed at the hand that had grasped her. It wasn't a large hand, more child sized. If she had to kill a child to get the Wildfire back to her brother, so be it.
Sandor grunted and growled as Qyburn's little assassin attacked him. Arya could feel Needle pierce through flesh, followed by a gasp and hissing. She used the darkness to her advantage; killing and wounding where she could. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head. Sandor called out to her, but the ringing in her ears muffled out the sound.
"Sandor... run," she called out as he smashed the tiny person in his hands against the stone wall. He felt along the wall, finding a small barrel and slung it up on his shoulder. He reached for Arya but she wasn't there. All he could do was run back to Gendry with the Wildfire.
The pain in the back of her head was blurring her vision. She looked up to see a mountainous man carrying her up the stone stairs and into the Red Keep. This was it, her death was at hand. Qyburn ordered Gregor Clegane to take the girl to the dungeon while he talked to the Queen.
Arya wasn't going to cry, she wasn't going to panic. She'd find a way out of this and back to the North. She hoped Sandor managed to get away and back to Gendry with the Wildfire. Part of her thought Gendry wouldn't leave without her, but she knew she could count on Sandor to do what needed to be done.
The Mountain placed her down on the dungeon floor, taking the small sword and dagger from her. He closed the cell door, locking is shut. She sprang to her feet, taking off her shoes. Inside each boot was a bladed dart, small enough to conceal and sharp enough to kill a man. She had learned much from her time in Bravos, lessons that made her the deadliest woman in King's Landing.
Sandor hurried back to Flea Bottom, the wound from his side and leg, leaving a trail of blood. He wobbled once, then regained his strength as he sat the barrel down and moved the covered to the tunnel opening. He pushed the barrel up and Gendry jumped from the cart to help him.
"Sandor... where's Arya?" Gendry asked and Sandor ignored him as he loaded the barrel on the cart.
"Get this to the North... to Jon Snow. Do as I say boy or I'll break your fucking neck. I'll get Arya and meet you at Winterfell. Go boy," Sandor pushed him back towards the cart, feeling the sting of his wounds.
"Is she... dead?" Gendry asked, feeling his heart crack in his chest. He had fallen hard for Arya; his heart had become hers in the span of time they were together. She knew him like no one else did and she looked at him and saw more than a Flea Bottom orphan.
"I don't know, but I plan on going back after her. I'll kill as many of the fuckers as I can and maybe, if I get lucky, I'll find my brother," Sandor wrapped his wounds with strips of cloth from the cart. Gendry wasn't sure what to do. His heart told him to go with Sandor and look for Arya but in his head, he could hear Arya's words.
"If I don't come back, don't go looking for me. All that matters is that you get the Wildfire to Jon. Please, Gendry... do this for me," she'd said to him before she went down the tunnel.
He let those words move him as he clutched his War Hammer and climbed on the cart. Quinn looked back at him, feeling the loss as well and pulled on the reigns. Gendry watched King's Landing get smaller and smaller as they pulled away.
Quinn smiled at him as he slapped the leather on the horses back, making the cart go faster. "I have orders from Lady Tyrell to bring the Wildfire to Highgarden, but something tells me what you say about the White Walkers are true. If the North falls, we all fall. I will go with you, see the Wildfire to Winterfell."
Gendry was grateful that Quinn was a man of honor. If this was the last thing he could do for the woman he loved, then he'd see it done. He closed his eyes and prayed to any God that would listen that he'd get to tell Arya how he truly felt.
~.~
The winter storm was relentless. It had howled and bit at the Northern army all the way to Last Hearth. Jon was beyond weary when he reached the Umber's castle. Smalljon's wife, let them in and gave them shelter and food. The Northern houses had banned together and the Battle for Winterfell had long been forgotten.
Dusk was upon them as he sat in the Great Hall of Last Hearth, drinking his wine. Word that the army of Unsullied wasn't far behind was good news. The Night King's army had grown, the dead joining his ranks daily.
They were still miles from Castle Black, at least a day's hard ride. Bran told him before he left to stay on the Kingsroad. The pass through the deep forest was faster, but Bran was certain the Kingsroad would be best.
Jon had come to trust Bran's advice and counted on his brother's intuition to get him the to the Wall quickly. Bran's gift was getting stronger and the more time he spent at the Heart Tree, the more he became the Three Eyed Raven. While the Old Magic was weak, it was not gone. While the Divine lived, the Old Magic would hold strong in the North. Bran told Jon to close his eyes and think of Careen and there he would find her.
It was those moments of solitude that Jon needed most of all. As he held his sons and kissed them goodbye, he closed his eyes and thought of Careen. He could see her sweet face and smell the Jasmine that floated from her hair. He clung to that as he gave his sons to Nan Ada, leaving them in Winterfell once more.
He was about to turn in for the night when Killian sat down beside him with a man that Samwell had brought back from Winter town. Jon looked up from his dinner and sat back in the chair.
"Your grace... this man said it was urgent he speak to you," Killian said as he motion from the man in his hooded cloak to step forward.
"Why did you not stay back in Winterfell with the others? I'm sure you're a capable farmer, but I need soldiers at the Wall," Jon said with a surly tone.
The man reached up, pulling his hood down and grinning back at the young King. "Your grace, I promised Lord Tarly I'd give my sword to you and here I am. I can tell you are a man of honor, a man of courage or you would not carry the sword of House Mormont."
Jon placed his hand on the pommel of the sword, feeling the weight of both Longclaw and Dawn on his hips. "Aye, Lord Commander Mormont was a great man... a man I thought of like a father. This sword has saved my life more than once and I hope that Ser Davos will do House Mormont and Lady Lyanna justice as he carries it into battle."
"If you'll permit it, I wish to carry my family sword into battle," he looked at Longclaw with tears misting in his eyes. Jon was taken aback by the man's emotions.
"Your family sword?" Jon asked as he rose, placing Longclaw on the table.
"I know I'm not worthy, my father told me as much before I left, but as Jeor Mormont's only son, I wish to carry his sword into battle," Jorah stared back at the King, watching as his face went pale.
"Jorah Mormont? Why didn't you say something earlier? Why did you not come to me before we left Winterfell? Your niece; Lady Lyanna was there in our company. I'm sure she would have liked to meet her uncle," Jon didn't know what to say, he was both shocked and elated.
"If I live through this battle, I will see my niece again. I serve Daenerys Targaryen and I can assure you, my word carries great weight with her. She will bring her army, her dragons and together we will stop the Night King," Jorah sounded so sure of himself, but Jon knew what lie ahead for them beyond the Wall.
"If you truly mean to serve your noble house and the North, then I will give you this sword. Longclaw should be carried by a Mormont into battle," Jon handed the sword to him and Jorah fell on one knee, feeling the pride that once swelled in his chest as a Mormont.
Ser Davos watched as Jon bestowed Longcalw to Jorah, feeling that the army of the North was becoming whole. They had to be a united front if they stood a chance to win the war. The generals of the North gathered at the Umber's table, a map of the Wildling Lands stretched out before them.
"Should we stay together and travel to Castle Black or should we splinter and go to each castle at the Wall?" Killian asked, wondering where the Night King might strike.
Jon pondered the question, wondering if he should fracture his army. His mind was deep in thought when he heard Careen's voice in his head. "His coming, my love... Castle Black is under attack."
Lady Brienne could see the bewildered look on her King's face and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Are you well, your grace?"
"It's Careen, I can feel her. She rides towards the North. It's time... the Night King attacks Castle Black," Jon gave the command to move out, sending his army into action.
As Jon mounted his horse, he felt a cold breeze blowing over his back. He looked up to see Wynter high in the sky, his bride upon the beast's scaly back.
"Jon... ride with me!" she shouted down to her husband and he dismounted his horse and waited for her to come to him. Wynter landed just feet from him, the dragon bigger than any that Daenerys commanded.
He ran to his wife as she held her hand out to him. "Wynter, it's alright. Stay calm, my friend," she spoke the to the mighty beast as Jon climbed up its side, taking Careen's hand as he sat behind her.
The contact sent vibrations through both of them. It had been far too long since they had touched each other or found comfort in each other's embrace. Careen ordered Wynter to fly and the dragon took to the sky.
It was like nothing Jon had ever felt before. Controlling Rhaegal gave him a rush, sent chills all over his body, but holding on to his winter rose and felling the winter wind all around him sent tingles from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.
"I love you," he whispered to Careen, hoping it would not be the last time he'd get to say it to her.
She turned her head slightly, giving him a too brief smile. "And I love you, Jon Snow."
The sound of the ice wall cracking echoed off the mountains. The snarls and growls of the dead mingled with the sound as the Night King and his White Walkers sat mounted on undead horses, bears and ice spiders. It was an eerie sight, one that could chill a man's heart.
"Are we too late?" Jon asked and Careen shook her head.
"No, the Wall still holds, but the sword you carry... it sings to me, Jon. It sings the song of the Old Ones, of the days that Magic ruled and Dragons were plentiful. This sword will bring the dawn," Careen's words were soft to his ears and soothed the ache that he'd felt gnawing at his heart. It was those words that gave him hope and pushed his too tired muscles to move on.
Wynter slowly descended to the courtyard of Castle Black. Jon was greeted by Eddison, Thoros and Ser Baric. They looked for the Northern army and questioned Jon how far they were behind.
"The army is a day away... maybe less if Killian and Ser Davos push them hard. The Mother of Dragon's and her army come as well, but they are two days away. She could be here with her dragons by morning, but for now it's only us," Jon looked at each man gathered around him, watching as all hope faded from their eyes.
Thoros smiled back at Beric when he saw Dawn on Jon's hip. He nodded to each of the men that marched with the Brotherhood. "We don't need to kill every wight or bring down every White Walker... we just need to kill the King. When the Night King falls, the dawn will come... this I promise you. The King in the North has brought the sword that only the Sword of the Morning can carry. Fight on, my brothers and know if you die this night... the sun shall rise again."
Careen turned to Jon, her icy pale skin and deep blue eyes, making her look like a Goddess. He placed his hand upon her cheek, feeling his pulse quicken as he leaned in to place his warm lips upon her cold ones.
The spark between them ignited a fire deep within Careen. The warmth that once filled her body returned and the Divine shined through her eyes. The deep sapphire that Jon loved so much became pure white. She looked at the world with new eyes, eyes that could see even in the blinding snow.
Her arms wrapped around Jon, pulling him to her as her lips moved over his. They kissed as if they had never kissed before, each one pouring every ounce of passion and love they had into the other. When Careen stopped, Jon pulled back to see the winter beauty before him. Her ginger hair had the look of liquid fire as the wind blew it back from her face.
"Jon," she whispered his name and he smiled back at her.
"Don't say goodbye, my love... don't," Jon held her face, trying to etch each line, each curve into his memory.
"I can feel it... feel the Old Magic and I know what I must do," she gave him one more soft kiss before she pulled away from him and mounted Wynter.
He watched as she flew out of sight, taking his heart with her.
~.~
The Unsullied pushed all night, getting to Last Hearth a few hours after the Northern army had left. Dany talked to the Umber guard, finding out the Night King had ridden to war.
She gave the command to march on when Tyrion called to her. "Your grace... we'll never make it there in time. You need to take your dragons to the Wall. Greyworm will not stop until the Unsullied have reached Castle Black. I will stay here and send a Raven back to Winterfell to send for more men. Lord Varys will look after Missandi and he will continue to send Raven's south. I can only hope the rumors we've heard of the Lannister army marching North are true."
"If your brother and his army should find their way here, send them to us immediately. Do what you can, Tyrion," she nodded to him, saying without words that she was grateful to have him in her service.
Drogon gave a great roar before he flapped his leather wings, rising into the starless sky. Rhaegal and Viserion flew behind their brother, following the only mother they ever knew.
Wynter called out to the three fire dragons as they approached. Careen smiled when she saw them, riding Wynter next to Drogon. The three dragons of the south soared with the dragon of the north, causing the Night King to take notice.
"Go," the Night King said and four of his White Walkers began to gallop towards the forest where the dragons soared overhead.
"Dracarys," Dany yelled and Drogon opened his mouth, spewing his fire over land, tree and wights. The once frozen land heated under his flame, turning the dead soldiers to ash. The White Walkers rode through the flame, showing the Dragon Queen she was no match for them.
Careen circled around the fire below, ordering Wynter to put it out. The ice dragon's breath was as cold as a thousand winters, tamping out the flames. She circled the tops of the trees as Wynter's belly drug over them and plunked a shard of ice from the branches.
With her shard, Careen flew closer to the first White Walker upon the dead looking horse. The White Walker tossed his icy spear at the her, missing as Wynter pitched to her left. Careen took aim, tossing her shard at the White Walker and piercing its chest. The icy dragonglass caused a hard shell to form over the White Walker before it cracked and shattered it into a million tiny pieces.
The Night King was not amused. The Divine was strong, stronger than he gave her credit for. She had told him the Old Magic he was made with, she would use to end him. With the icy dragonglass, she could very well do that.
He waved his hand, sending an army so massive it stretched on for miles. They wights raced forward, attacking the Wall, slowly widening the fissure. Soon the they had made a hole big enough for some to crawl through. Jon ordered the men to stand ready, wishing he had some Wildfire or dragonglass of his own.
One by one the wights made it through the crack and over the castle walls. The men inside cut them down, swords and axes swinging. They would fight on until there wasn't a man left standing.
The four dragons gave them an advantage that kept the wights at bay for now. The Night King had his White Walkers toss their weapons on the dragons, each spear barely missing. Dany command Viserion and Rhaegal back to Castle Black. Jon took this opportunity to see if his Targaryen blood would work on Rhaegal again.
He closed his eyes and he could feel the dragon, feel its heart slowly beating. "Rhaegal, come," he commanded and the dragon landed before him.
Thoros was surer than ever that Jon was the Prince that was Promised as Jon used the dragon to burn the wights that made it over the walls. Rhaegal was at his command and ignored the call of his mother. Jon released the dragon when Killian called out to him, the south wall close to catching fire.
Dany looked down over the courtyard as Rhaegal finally came to her. Jon had a pleased smile on his face and he couldn't wait to claim the dragon that no doubt was meant to be his.
A/N: Many, many thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you continue to read and enjoy. The Long Night is about to come to an end, but not the story.
