Robb
Robb Stark liked to think of himself as an enduring man. After all he had been through, it seemed only a correct conclusion.
But never before was his physical endurance tested, than it had been above the wall. There was one saving grace to his agony, though, and that was the fact that Gendry - who he discovered was Robert Baratheon's bastard, was ten times colder than he was.
Robb had grown up in the North, Winterfell was his native land and he had never spent longer than a year in the south. Gendry, on the other hand, lived and breathed Southern air since his first cry into the world. Unfortunately for the rest of them, that meant the baseborn boy never stopped complaining about it.
He blatantly ignored Tormund's guide on staying warm, which he was currently reciting to Gendry directly behind him, until he was addressed directly.
"'Tis a pity you didn't allow your pretty woman to come along," Tormund called out to Robb, who's eyes rolled up to the Heavens. "We would have made sure she was kept warm, you know."
"Watch it," Jon warned him, knowing full well that Robb's patience was consistently on the verge of breaking.
"I'd imagine my wife would have been plenty warm at my side," Robb replied, his tone steady and seemingly uncaring.
"Maybe she'd prefer a Big Bear to a Young Wolf, eh?" He jibed, catching up to walk by his side and playfully elbowing him.
"I doubt she'd want to be burned by that firecrotch," he fired back, corners of his lips lifting into a smirk as he nodded towards the mass of ginger hair atop Tormund's head. To his surprise, instead of getting angry, the wildling laughed heartily.
"What about the Dragon Queen then, eh?" He continued, walking alongside Jon and Robb.
"She won't fight alongside us unless I bend the knee," Jon sighed in defeat.
"Which isn't going to happen," Robb promptly reminded him. "She can rule over the white walkers if she wants to stay out of the Great War, because that's all that'll be left."
"You speak like the free folk," Tormund spoke with mild admiration, "we're too proud to kneel. But you know, Mance Raydar never bent the knee. How many of his people died for his pride?"
"Not a matter of pride," Robb answered, although the comment was directed at Jon. "An alliance can be made if she so pleases, but she came here to conquer seven kingdoms, not five of them. The Starks will never again bend to the will of the Targaryens or the Lannisters."
Jon stayed pointedly silent, hearing both men's side on the matter, but his lack of commentary worried Robb. The idea that he was considering it angered him, but he had hoped their bond was strong enough that Jon would come to him if he had decided to take such a path.
A while had passed, and Robb had managed to end up next to Gendry on their trek. He had only met Robert Baratheon once, but it was clear to see the similarities between the father and son. He couldn't believe he had ever believed that Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella were ever true Baratheon-born. Robb supposed he assumed they took after their mother, or that Robert's genetics weren't as strong as the Lannisters. Clearly, Gendry was proof that was incorrect.
"I only met your father once, in Winterfell," Robb started suddenly, striking up a conversation with the boy who had finally stopped complaining. "I was named after him, I believe."
"I've heard all about you, Young Wolf," Gendry chuckled to himself. "Your sister Arry never quite shut up about you. Always on about how her brother was going to avenge your father and become the one true King."
"Arry?" He repeated, in confusion.
"Arya," Gendry clarified, using her nickname out of habit. "We were together for some time after Eddard's death. We looked out for each other. Did you know she pretended to be a boy for the longest time?"
"I'm aware," Robb smirked in amusement. "And define 'together'."
"Oh, just friends," he shook his head quickly, hands in the air in defence. His reaction was a little over the top, telling Robb that perhaps their bond could have went further, one day.
"Arya's always been a little wild, one time when she was little she sheep shifted Sansa's bed, I swear she cried for a day about it," Robb broke into a grin out of amusement. He couldn't wait to see his sisters again, hoping that it would be sooner rather than later.
And now that he and Fianna were going to reside in Winterfell, it would be as if their family were whole again.
Fianna
"Every day, you come out here and you stare at Viserion," a voice broke her out of her trance, startling her enough to jump slightly. "When are you ever going to just try and touch him?"
Daenerys' tone was full of playfulness, but there was a sincerity in her voice. She wanted nothing more for Fianna than for her to embrace the obvious bond she was developing between herself and one of the dragons.
In a selfish way, she wanted it for herself too - to not be the only dragon rider in the whole world. And if Fianna were to become a true dragon rider because of her grand mother's genetics, she would surely have to accept her lineage. Perhaps then she would even accept Daenerys.
Viserion would occasionally settle himself on the cliff head, whenever Fianna was seated on the rock. Each day, she wondered what his scaly skin would feel like. How would he react if she dared to touch him?
"It doesn't make you any less of a Bua," Daenerys continued in a murmur, when she saw that her words were getting to the Northern lady.
"I'll do it if it means you stop getting on my back about it," she grumbled, hoping that she sounded uncaring enough about it, but in truth she was feeling a mixture of emotions. Primarily - excitement and nervousness. Her heart raced in her chest at the prospect of reaching out and touching the dragon, much like when she was a child and had sneaked into her fathers chambers to hold his long sword.
Daenerys bit back a smile, stepping back and allowing the brunette to march forward, toward the cream and golden coloured dragon. In her own opinion, Fianna considered him to the most majestic of all three, despite not being the largest.
Her hand began to quiver slightly the closer she got, it was as if it burned at the prospect of what it was about to touch. Fianna's steps slowed and slowed the closer she got, her nervousness starting to unevenly win over her excitement.
With a deep exhale, she shrugged off her fears, and lifted her hand up to the dragon's face. When she did, it was almost as if she lost control of her movements, and she slipped closer without even intending to.
When Fianna finally stroked the dragon's skin, he bent his large head down to her submissively, allowing her hand to roam over his snout just above his vicious teeth.
Her heart hammered in her chest, for there was no denying after this. Up until this point, it was easy for Fianna to brush off the dragon, to ignore the quarter part of herself that allowed such a bond to take place. But it was well known only Valyrian blood would enable someone to bond with a dragon, and now Viserion had chosen his rider.
Daenerys couldn't help but beam at the sight, finally following after her and approaching her side.
"I told you, you wouldn't regret it," she spoke proudly, but Fianna barely heard her. Now that contact had been initiated, she wondered what it would be like to actually mount the dragon, to soar through the skies as Daenerys did. To fly.
"This doesn't change anything," Fianna whispered, voice thick with emotion. "I'm still a Bua and a Stark first and foremost. My loyalty lies with the North."
"That's all fair and true," Daenerys agreed. "But I don't think Viserion will be willing to stray from your side if you chose to leave."
Possibilities flourished within Fianna's rapid-thinking mind, what if Viserion were to abandon Daenerys and return to the North with her? Would they even need her allegiance in the Great War if Fianna had a dragon of her own?
Daenerys smiled at her, innocent to the thoughts going on inside Fianna's head. There was only one way Fianna could truly solidify their bond, now.
"Can I... ?" She trailed off, gesturing towards Viserion with a tilt of her head. The Dragon Queen positively lit up at the suggestion, nodding eagerly.
Fianna, copying what she had seen Daenerys do occasionally when she felt the need to ride, stepped around to Viserion's side. He was much, much taller than herself, so when it came to mounting him she struggled, having to use his wing to get up and hope that it didn't hurt him. Although, he didn't even flinch as she stepped on it.
Finally, she sat upon his back, feeling taller than the world beneath her. The fact that Viserion even allowed her to do so, was proof of their bond. Fianna was a dragon rider, no matter how much she had denied it.
She gripped tightly onto the spikes in his back when he began to circle around, knowing full well he was ready to take off he cliff.
"Dany?" Fianna called out worriedly, failing to notice that she flinched a little at the use of that nickname. It had been so long since she had last heard it.
"Go, Fianna," she replied encouragingly, waving her hand off. Within seconds, Viserion had veered off the cliff's edge, soaring through the sky and heading straight for the water beneath them.
Unable to help herself, Fianna screamed in terror, never having experienced anything like it in her life. The only thing she could compare it to, perhaps, was her first time riding a horse. And even that was minuscule in comparison.
At the very last second, just as Fianna was sure he was about to plunge into the cold water beneath, he swivelled through the air, flattening out and flying directly above the water, so close she could see their mirror image beneath them.
Gradually, he began to get higher and higher, and within minutes the dragon was soaring around Dragonstone, with Fianna securely on his back. Much like her previous scream, Fianna couldn't help but scream again. This time - with exhilaration and thrill.
Robb
The closer to night, and the closer North they got, the more freezing it became and the harder it was to breathe or see. A snow storm was in full effect, blinding them from everything in the distance. It was now nearly impossible to breathe without having your mouth covered, for an icy pain would settle in your chest otherwise.
They huddled close as a group, for safety and protection. So when Jon and Tormund stopped in their tracks, so did everyone else.
"Look!" Tormund pointed, casting their gazes towards a dark shadow in the distance they could just about make out.
"What is it? A direwolf?" Robb asked curiously, suddenly wishing that he had Grey Wind at his side. But alas, his own wolf was charged with protecting his children.
"A bear," Sandor corrected, "big fucker."
A lone ranger who had accompanied them, who had previously strayed away from the group moments before, turned and began to ran back as the beast noticed the group. It charged closer and closer, prompting them to whip out their swords and weapons for defence.
For a split second, the bear disappeared from their sight within a flurry of white snow, but it wasn't gone for long. Soaring through the air, seemingly out of nowhere, it devoured the ranger instantly, until all that was left was a blood stain and distant screams of agony.
"Quick!" Robb commanded, gesturing at them all authoritatively, "get in a circle and keep an eye out!"
They immediately assembled themselves into a circle, backs to each other and swords angled forward as they prepared for the incoming fight. Robb stood in between Jon and Gendry, never lifting his eyes off of the area in front of him. For if he did, it would not only cost him his own life, but potentially others in the group as well.
Another clearly did not have the same mindset, as when the beast roared it again it was directly behind him, currently wrapping its teeth around another member of their party.
Bravely, Robb and Jon began to sprint towards the beast, just as it killed another. Thoros and Beric followed, their blades suddenly alight with a flame that emerged from nowhere.
As they were closer, Beric was first to attack the bear with his blazing sword, spreading the fire to the animal. It's eyes were spookily blue, combined with chunks of skin that were missing entirely, making it appear slightly more terrifying than it already was.
Robb swung his sword through its side with a sickening crunch, but it did not deter the mammal, who had set his sights on Thoros next. They wrestled to the ground, the Red Priest on his back with nothing but a sword in his hands to wield him off. But it wasn't long before the sword was tossed to the side within the beast's jaw, leaving Thoros open to be mauled.
"No!" Robb shouted, feeling a strong sense of protection over the man who had saved him. He rushed forward, swinging again but aiming for its neck this time. The bear howled in pain, veering to the side and detaching his teeth from Thoro's chest. Now that he was distracted, he focused on Robb, a roar rising in his throat.
Empowered by the image of Thoros, bleeding out on the ground, the former King lunged forward and shoved his sword through the bear's mouth, angling it correctly so it went straight into its skull as well. It died instantly, from his positioning or the dragonglass, he did not know.
Panting heavily from exertion, chest on fire as the icy winds hit the back of his throat, Robb dropped to his knees on the snow-covered ground and retracted the sword from its mouth. He dragged his clothes back up to cover his mouth, shoved his blade into his scabbard and redirected his attention as everyone gathered around Thoros.
Beric ripped open his clothes, revealing the damage beneath. Thoros was bleeding heavily, two large bites indented into his chest that would surely have caused too much damage for any of them to know how to fix.
Robb clambered forward until he was beside Thoros, inspecting the damage himself with a worried crease between his brows. However many mistakes the man had made in his life, he would always be thankful towards him for taking him in after the Dreadfort. For showing him who he truly was,
"He needs to get back to Eastwatch," Jorah commented, hanging back from the group. Beric and Robb shared a glance, knowing that would be damn near possible now. The walk back would be long, treacherous and entirely dangerous, never mind having to carry another man.
Beric relit his sword, and Robb guessed what was about to happen next. Reaching for the flask he knew to be in Thoros' pocket, he opened it up and angled it towards his lips.
"Here, you'll need it," he encouraged, the Red Priest not needing to be told twice as he gulped down sips of alcohol to numb the impending pain. Afterwards, handing the flask back to Robb and turning to Beric. "Go on."
The sizzle of burning skin was a sound Robb thought he'd never forget., and he couldn't help but feel an anger rising within him. He had warned them all how idiotic the plan was. And now three of the group were dead and one seriously injured.
Robb Stark would never forget the first time he saw a white walker.
It was through a gap in the mountain, which Jon and Tormund had sussed out upon noticing the horde of creatures walking beneath them. He was speechless for the first minute, watching their lazy, languid movements while walking in a single line.
Up until now, it was easy for him to not be afraid of the beings he had never actually seen. He had heard stories his entire life, from Old Nan and now Jon, but never had he truly believed until they were walking a short distance away, ready to cause chaos at any sign of life.
The term "the dead", which Jon often used to describe them, suddenly made sense. He often wondered how such dangerous beings could actually be so dangerous when they were technically dead, but now he saw them for what they were. Some were missing whole limbs, while others missed chunks of skin. Some even had their bones bared and in full show.
He barely heard the conversation between Jon and Tormund next to them, all he could see in his minds eye was his family. But a strange, distorted image of them - where they all looked like the beings below, blue eyed and all.
Jon had been the one to set up the trap, having had experience with the land beyond the wall. He drew upon his experience with the free folk as a man of the night's watch, lighting a fire that would surely catch their attention. And it did.
The group of about a dozen, give or take, stood in confusion, looking around the area they were in for the humans who obviously started the fire.
But they didn't need to look long, for the humans came to them.
They charged forward, and Robb forced himself to slip into his 'battle' mode. A state he fell into in the midst of a battle where all images of loved ones and home were pushed from his mind, all he could focus on was swinging his sword through the air and meeting someone, or something, on the other end.
They weren't explicitly difficult to fight, but aim and precision mattered so much more. A white walker wouldn't fall and scream if their limbs were severed, every hit had to have been a deadly strike.
Whatever happened next, Robb couldn't explain, for he had just killed two white walkers and set his sight on a third when they all crumbled, seemingly to their death.
The group looked around in confusion, meeting each other's eyes with shared looks of bafflement. But that moment couldn't last long, as the high pitched shrieks of a live white walker could be heard. They turned immediately and began to encircle him, as planned, for he would be the one they'd take home.
It had all gone a little too easy, for Robb's belief.
With a single punch, Tormund floored the white walker, allowing Sandor the chance to jump on top of him. As the others settled restraints upon its flailing limbs, the white walker suddenly let out a screech like no other. It penetrated their ear drums, so loud it echoed around the entire valley.
"Shut him up!" Robb grumbled, grabbing the thing's jawbone from above his head and holding it up so tight it's bony mouth was clenched closed, preventing a scream. Realising he wouldn't be able to hold it forever, he reached for a strip of cloth in his pockets and wrapped it underneath its jaw, tying a knot at the top of his skull tightly.
He smirked breathlessly in achievement, meeting Jon's eyes with a look of triumph.
"We did it," he breathed out, smirk quickly falling when he saw that Jon did not wear a similar expression, and in fact, looked rather terrified.
Slowly, he turned to the vast valley beside him, just as the sound of footfalls reached their ears. Immediately, the group froze in terror, realising that the creature was not screaming in discontent. It was calling the rest of its kind.
Scrambling for an idea, Jon looked around in panic. Robb left the white walker's side and approached him, gripping his shoulders tightly and masking his own fear. He would not let this be his last day.
"We came here because of Daenerys," he spit his words fiercely, pointing in the direction he knew would lead home. "We need to send her a raven and tell her to come, now."
Jon nodded quickly, working automatically and reaching for the nearest man, who happened to be Gendry. He knew it would be futile to tell Robb to go, he'd never have left his brother.
"Run back to Eastwatch, get a raven to Daenerys and tell her what's happened," he demanded.
"I'm not leaving you!"
"You're the youngest and the fastest, now go!" Robb interrupted, reaching for his shoulder and hauling him to the side, lighting shoving him onward.
With Gendry off, they now had to focus on saving themselves, running straight for the direction where the footfalls couldn't be heard. However, unbeknownst to the group, the valley had once contained a small lake. A lake that was now covered in a sheet of ice, crackling the second the group stepped onto it.
They stood for a minute, trying to figure out how to move, but a swift glance behind him allowed Robb to see the sheer magnitude of the incoming group. Or rather, the incoming army.
The passage in the mountains they ran through was completely black with the amount of white walkers, contrasting with the snow that covered everything else.
"Don't just stand there, keep moving!" Robb roared, turning and beginning to sprint forward again, prompting the rest to follow.
The group were already slowed with Sandor and Tormund carrying the white walker, but it became increasingly clear by the flickers of movement he saw in the corner of his eye that the white walkers were just that bit faster than them. Robb was at the front of the group, giving him a sense of responsibility over the rest.
He anxiously looked around as he ran, desperate to seek a way out. It had been so long since he was the one in charge, since he was the one to make the plans, it was a rather jarring feeling.
Upon reaching the rock that marked the centre point of the frozen lake, Robb and Jon finally noticed why the whites that had overtaken them hadn't immediately attacked. It was because they had scurried on to block all avenues of an exit, leaving them stranded in the centre of the lake with no way out.
"What the fuck do we do?!" Jon shouted, backing up onto the rock and swivelling around on the spot, cursing for the first time in a long time.
"They'll never make it over the ice, there's two many of them," Robb spoke in a slightly calmer, although still scared, voice.
Sure enough, he was right, the second they stepped closer the ice began to shatter beneath their feet, causing around a dozen to plunge into the water below. Like a chain reaction, the crack followed until it was surrounding them, in a perfect circle, preventing the whites from reaching the rock.
"They can't swim," Jon murmured in realisation, taking a deep breath now that there was no immediate danger.
Still, there were surely hundreds of walkers surrounding them, and with the icy conditions it wouldn't be long before the ice would reform.
The minutes turned to hours, and night had fallen again. The ice had yet to freeze once more, leaving them standing on the rock and practically waiting to be overwhelmed by the horde.
Robb had resorted to sitting down, his hands clutching the side of his head in horror as the severity of the situation began to settle in.
He didn't know if Gendry had made it to Eastwatch, and if they were supposed to sit and wait for Daenerys or not. He didn't know how fast dragons could travel, or if she'd arrive before the ice had refrozen - if she arrived at all.
The image of Fianna standing on the beach, watching as he sailed away was imprinted on his mind. For two days, she had begged and pleaded for him not to go, even cried when she realised he didn't see any other choice but to go.
If only he had listened to her, they could have been home now with their children, preparing for the storm and preparing to leave towards Winterfell. The idea that they would grow up without a father pained him to no extent, perhaps even hurt him more than the idea that he would never see Fianna again.
He decided that Fianna would never let Daenerys leave their message unanswered, she would enforce her hand to help. Or marched North and saved them all herself.
As night faded to morning, and ice had settled on their hair and on their beards, the cracks in the ice began to froze over completely. And there was still no sign of Daenerys, or Fianna.
Fianna
The Northern lady chuckled to herself rather audibly, reading the contents of the scroll with an amused grin on her face. Fianna's humour was enough to catch the attention of her aunt, who was seated across the table, eating her own dinner.
"What is it?" Daenerys asked interestingly, prompting Fianna to laugh again as she turned to face her.
"It's a scroll from my cousin Tiernan, I had wrote to him asking if he would like to rule over Baelfort instead of the Twins and his reply was rather... opinionated," she explained, setting down the scroll after rolling it up, her fingers skimming over the Bua paw print that sealed it.
"Why would you want him to rule over Baelfort?" She pressed, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"Robb and I will be returning to Winterfell, it feels only right. I'm offering it to Tiernan as he's the only surviving Bua left," she shrugged, a wistful undertone to her voice.
Daenerys nodded in understanding, before nodding her head, "what did he have to say?"
"He said," Fianna cleared her throat and unravelled the scroll again, "'My dearest cousin Fianna, I wonder if you grow restless at the thought of me not entirely relocating for longer than a week. To answer your offer, I will accept. The Twins are a rather dreary place, shockingly so, it's almost as if hundreds of Northerners hadn't been brutally slaughtered on this very land. I miss the Northern air and the Northern women - well, one redhead in particular springs to mind. I agree entirely with your suggestion to offer the land to Ser Brynden Tully, whilst Edmure rules over Riverrun. I do hope that when you decide to move to Winterfell, you will stay there. It's rather tiresome to upheave your entire belongings cross-country. Yours sincerely, your cousin and the only true Bua heir, Tiernan."
She was laughing again by the time she finished, once again confusing Daenerys. The blonde was rather perplexed how Fianna was not offended by his brutal words.
"It's the way in which we act around each other," Fianna explained, upon noticing how she did not laugh in return. "We have always teased each other."
"He sounds a rather interesting man, this Tiernan," Daenerys smiled softly, setting down her cutlery. "I'd love to meet him some day."
"Not a chance," Fianna shook her head, a smirk lifting up the corners of her lips. "Tiernan would take one look at you and make a crude comment, I can imagine something along the lines of 'I've got a dragon she can ride'."
Daenerys was flustered by the comment, cheeks blushing ever so lightly and bashfully casting her eyes down to her plate.
"Your grace," Tyrion interrupted, and out of habit, Fianna looked up to respond. It took her a second to realise that she was nobody's 'grace' any more. He was holding a small scroll, the seal encasing it capturing Fianna's eye.
It was one she knew well, had even received once or twice, the seal of the Night's Watch. Immediately following, it was as if a sheet of ice had been wrapped around her back. Fianna was filled with a sense of dread and panic, and despite being unaware of its contents, she knew that whatever that scroll said was nothing positive.
Daenerys' demeanour changed when she too noticed it, quickly looking towards Fianna before she took the letter into her own hands. She unravelled it roughly, all too anxious to read what was addressed to her.
It took her mere seconds to finish, and when she did, she shot up from her chair like a dragon into the sky, gesturing with her hand for Fianna to follow. Tyrion took the discarded scroll, eyes skimming over it before widening in horror. He knew instantly what the two women were prepared to do.
"Dany?" Fianna pressed, half-jogging to catch up with her. "What did it say?"
"We need to take the dragons and leave immediately," she spoke rapidly, not giving much of an explanation.
"We?" She repeated, mouth parting in shock. Surely Daenerys didn't expect her to fly Viserion? "Daenerys, tell me what happened!"
When she still refused to reply, the Northerner was left with no choice but to grab her arm and whip her around, her fierce eyes meeting icy blue ones - filled with panic.
"They're trapped above the wall, trapped by the white walkers," she finally revealed. It only took Fianna a second to think, before she too was darting off towards the cliffs, Daenerys having to be the one who would run to catch up.
"I'll ride on Drogon with you," she informed her, barely leaving room for argument.
"You can't, there won't be enough room for all of us and them to fit. You need to ride Viserion, you've done it before!" Daenerys half-pleaded, looking almost desperate.
They had reached the cliff now, the two respective dragons immediately soaring down to rest on the cliff head, where they so often did to see their riders.
"No, Daenerys!" Fianna refused, eyes wide with panic. She knew this venture was a bad idea. And now, they were arguing when they really did not have the time to. "I'm not ready! I wouldn't ride a horse into battle without being trained, nor would I swing a sword if I didn't know how to do it properly! I won't put myself and the others at risk."
"Fianna," Daenerys' eyes were wide as she gripped her shoulders, shaking her ever so slightly, "riding a dragon is not like those things. It's in your blood, it'll come naturally to you. Now, please."
Fianna wanted to fight her again, but it was pointless. Daenerys wasn't going to let her ride on Drogon with her, it was either the Viserion way or no way. And there was no way she was going to leave her husband to die.
"Stop, you two!" Tyrion had finally caught up to them, just as the two women were approaching their respective dragons. Fianna ignored the imp entirely, while Daenerys chose to respond.
"We have to do this, Tyrion."
"You can't! The most important person in the world cannot ride off to the most dangerous place in the world!" He refuted, following after her as she reached Drogon. "Fianna, for the gods sake you are a mother, don't leave your children orphaned!"
"They're not going to be orphaned they're going to have two parents, I'll see to that," Fianna argued, stepping onto Viserion's wing.
"They knew the risk when they left-"
"Because of your plan," Fianna whipped around to shot, eyes blazing with fury that had been building since Robb had left. "It was your idea to fetch one of the undead fuckers, and now you mean to leave the men behind?"
Realising it was pointless trying to convince a wife to abandon her husband for death, Tyrion turned to Daenerys.
"Daenerys, you can't win the Iron Throne if you're dead! You can't break the wheel if you're dead!"
"Fuck the Iron Throne!" Fianna roared in interruption, stepping further onto Viserion's wing until she neared his back, then mounting atop of him. She had only rode the dragon twice in her life, and could only hope it was enough.
"What would you have us do?" Daenerys asked, but Fianna tuned out their conversation.
Her blood rushed audibly in her ears, so loud that she wondered if anyone else could hear it. All that was running through her mind was the seconds upon seconds it took Daenerys to argue with Tyrion, was seconds that Robb was closer to death.
She wasn't sure she'd be able to handle losing him a second time.
Fianna saw from the corner of her eye that Daenerys was preparing to take off, and quickly she followed after her, Viserion soaring upwards into the sky and whipping air through her loose strands of hair and whistling in her ears.
She couldn't bring herself to feel the enjoyment of riding that she had felt the previous two occasions, for this time, a life was at stake. And her husband's one, at that.
Robb
It had likely been a day since they had become stranded on a frozen lake, and Robb was cold so long that he barely noticed it any more. Often he would have to move his lips, his beard having frozen up until the tiniest white icicles would form on the hairs.
He sat next to Jon, the two's shoulders pressed together in a desperate attempt for warmth. Heat seemed almost futile now - if they didn't freeze to death soon, they would certainly starve.
To distract himself, from both the cold and the gravity of the situation, Robb spent the hours reminiscing. He liked to think about the first time he saw his children, the first time they called him 'father', which in their childlike tone came across as 'fatha'. He imagined himself, seated in Fianna and his shared chambers, in front of the fire with their children in their laps. He would look upon Fianna and the two would chuckle about how they had reached his point, how glad Fianna was to have her wolfhound chase Grey Wind all those years ago.
Something told Robb their paths would have crossed none the less.
The growls of the white walker they captured had brought him out of his fantasy, brought everyone back to reality. They all stood to inspect the white, but another body laying down caught Beric's attention.
"Thoros," he murmured softly, bending down and giving the Red Priest a slight shake. Robb cast his gaze over his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh when he saw the man's eyes. They were cold, lifeless, and as dead as the creatures surrounding them.
He didn't find the point in grieving. It wouldn't be long before the rest of them, including himself, would be dead too.
"You can say it, you know," Jon voiced quietly beside him, just as Beric began to say a prayer for Thoros' soul.
"Say what?" Robb asked, voice hoarse from the cold.
"Say that you were right," Jon shook his head, gaze cast to look out amongst the enemies surrounding them. "If we had listened to you, we wouldn't be here."
Robb didn't move to deny him, nor stroke his ego, for there was truth behind his words. If they hadn't ventured north, four people would still be alive.
"Maybe you should have kept the crown," Jon suggested, getting up to stand before Robb could answer, but he wasn't intending to anyway. He pondered briefly how different the world would look if he had.
He would have left Dragonstone the first time Daenerys would ask for his fealty and his kingdom.
"We need to burn the body," Jon was saying behind him, ripping the flask of alcohol from Sandor's hands and using its remaining contents to pour onto the carcass, which was then lit by Beric's flaming sword.
Robb stood up, finally, not wanting to catch alight along with Thoros - although the prospect of heat was rather alluring.
"You always have a plan, Robb," Jon commented, rubbing his gloved hands together. "Please tell me you have one, now."
Robb looked up in confusion, surprised by his brother's comment. He fumbled with his thoughts for a minute, looking around once more at the scene that he had looked at for a day straight. Jon was right, Robb always had a plan. But his plans rarely stretched to cover a group of men stranded on an ice lake, surrounded by an army of legendary creatures.
They could try swimming under the ice, but the risk of not being able to resurface was too great. Not to mention, they'd have to shed their furs and coats to ensure they wouldn't sink - and subsequently freeze to death, walkers or not.
They could make a run for it - the creatures were somewhat dispersed, perhaps they could split past and outrun them, or hide after reaching a measurable distance away. But again, the risk was too great. For them to even attempt an escape, at least three quarters of the army would need to be wiped out.
"You killed that white back when we captured the other one, and all of them suddenly fell to the ground," Robb commented, eyebrows furrowing with interest as he regarded his brother. "Why?"
"I'm not sure," Jon shrugged. "Best guess is that he had been the one to turn the others."
"Is there any way of telling who these... shall we say, Lords are?" Robb pressed, eyes trying to discern a difference for himself.
"I don't think so," he sighed. They were interrupted by Beric approaching from behind, extinguishing his lit sword into the snow and then holding it high, angling it towards a group of walkers atop the mountain.
Robb had never really took notice of the fact this particular group of five were on horse back, while the rest travelled on foot. He wondered if that made them the superiors.
"We kill that one," Beric pointed the tip of his blade to the white in the centre of the group, who stood out amongst the rest with a sense of authority.
Robb bristled at the sight of him. He couldn't see his eyes, but he felt his gaze trained on him, something that made his skin crawl.
"He's the one who turned them all," Beric explained, and neither Jon nor Robb questioned it, knowing he was more attuned to the Lord of Light than the rest of them. "The Lord of Light didn't bring us back to watch us freeze to death."
The moment that they realised the ice had refrozen, they would likely mark as one of the worst moments of their lives.
The realisation had come about thanks to Sandor Clegane, who had found great humour in throwing rocks at the surrounding walkers and watching it break their bones without reaction. It would have been humorous in another situation, and Robb would have even laughed, but any hopes for amusement quickly shattered as the last rock to be thrown soared through the air.
It fell short of the walkers, landing on the ice a few feet in front of his target. Immediately, they tensed up anxiously, shooting to stand up and tighten their grip on their weapons.
For there was no splash of water, no crack of ice. Which could only have meant one thing. And for as dumb as they may have been, the whites didn't fail to notice it either.
Once the first walker stepped across the ice, it started a chain reaction, until one by one the front line of enemies began to disperse slowly across the ice, straight towards them.
"Oh fuck," Robb cursed under his breath, lifting his sword high and turning around to see if they were about to be surrounded on all sides - they were. Without having to be told, the group organised itself into a circle, each person with their own area to watch and defend.
Robb was the first to swing, as his target was closest to himself than the others. The dragonglass in his newly formed sword shattered the creature to pieces.
It wasn't long before he realised that he wouldn't be able to keep up with the influx of walkers, that one sword just wasn't enough.
Robb reached for his own sword, which he still carried on his back, hoping it would be strong enough for what he intended to do next. He whirled it through the air and brought the tip down to the ice sheet beneath, using enough force to break through it. Now with a hole in place, Robb reached for a large boulder that rested next to the rock, using all of his strength to knock it onto the tiny crack.
The force was enough, and the boulder fell straight through the weakened structure and spreading until a gaping hole prevented any more whites from crossing to his section. This left a solid quarter of the rock unreachable, and allowed Robb to move and help the others.
"Fall back!" Jon roared, unable to do anything but watch as Tormund was violently knocked to the ground and mounted by half a dozen walkers. Robb shook his head in frustration, and rushed forward to help, but a sudden grip on his ankle knocked him forward until he hit the ground, face first.
His tooth cut through his lower lip, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth instantly. Robb whipped around to see that, to his horror, Jon's theory that the dead couldn't swim may have been incorrect.
Three of the walkers who had fallen into the hole he created himself had emerged, gripping at his ankles and desperately trying to tug him back. He let out an angry shout, wiggling his feet until he got enough leeway to shoot his foot back and hit the walker square in the face, breaking his jaw clean off.
With one foot free, he used it to swing back around and knock the other walker back into the water. Immediately after being set free, he scrambled to his feet, realising he may have only worsened the problem instead of helping it.
Blood dropped from his mouth, soaking his chin, but he barely noticed. It was the only warm sensation he had felt in days. Himself and the group retreated back to the top of the rock, elevating themselves on a mini-mound. But it wouldn't stop them, for now, the whites merely clambered on top of each other to get up and reach their prey.
There was a split second where Robb debated letting go, letting the walkers devour him and end this prolonged death. But then he happened to look towards Jon beside him, and reminded himself why he came here at all. To protect his King. And his brother.
They met each other's eyes, unspoken words filtering through the air and carrying their shared thoughts. Jon's being "I'm sorry", and Robb's being "I know."
Almost simultaneously, they lifted their swords into the air, deciding that if they were going to go out today, they'd go out fighting until the last second. But before their blades met the walkers incoming bodies, they were interrupted.
With a roar that reached the heavens, and a saving grace that was just as almighty, the three dragons Robb had detested looking upon in Dragonstone soared through the sky above their heads, a breath of flame exhaled from their mouths and immediately ending the creatures it would have taken the men hours to kill.
Their heads tilted back, unanimous exhalations of relief. Even from Robb, who didn't fail to notice a dark haired figure sitting on top of one.
Fianna
Daenerys had made it look easy. And perhaps for her, it was. But in Fianna's case, she found the cold from their elevated height absolutely choking.
The closer North they got, the more her cheeks reddened and her nose stuffed with mucous. The icy winds that hit her ears and the back of her throat were mind numbingly painful, but Daenerys didn't appear affected. She probably wasn't, being so at one with fire.
It wasn't hard to find the group, all they had to do was look closely in on the flurry of dark figures that were all clustered together. Fianna knew she was too high up to make out individual faces, but she tried anyway.
With a firm tone and an authoritative voice, she spoke the world Daenerys had only taught her days before, praying that her pronunciation was correct.
"Dracarys."
A wave of fire unleashed from the beast beneath her, disintegrating dozens within seconds and leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. Every part of ice that the fire hit, the ice melted beneath, cool water extinguishing the flames.
Grinning through her painfully cold cheeks, she looked over at Daenerys, their two dragons circling each other for a moment before returning to blast the walkers beneath, clearing the area around the group so they could make a safe escape.
It was a different type of warfare, she realised. Fianna was accustomed to the weight of a blade in her hand, the exertion of running across the battle field and the occasional feeling of inferiority that came with her generally smaller size and stature. Something she could never increase, no matter how much she trained.
Sitting on top of Viserion, Fianna felt as if she were the strongest person for miles. She was above everyone else, and they were no match for her or her weapon.
Fianna leaned over and saw that Daenerys was lowering Drogon to the ground, likely to take the rest of the group upon his back. It made sense, for she had the largest dragon, and therefore more would fit.
Spotting a parade of walkers that were sprinting from the hills downward towards the group, she swung Viserion around and annihilated them. How she could so easily control the dragons movements, she did not know.
Fianna circled back around and kept an eye on the group mounting Drogon, however there was one distinct figure that was positioned a couple of feet away, despite the rest of the group already moving closer to Daenerys.
"Fuck," Fianna muttered, her head whipping back and forth between the direction Viserion was heading to and the one who was about to be left behind. She didn't need to have stellar vision to know who it was.
The lower she got, the more she could make out the reddish tones in the individuals hair, proving her suspicions that her husband must have been trying to become some form of a martyr by letting the others go first.
Her breathing hitched in fear, sending Viserion flying closer and closer. Robb continued to fight off the walkers around him, but the more he killed the more came, and as the others were now safely seated on Drogon - he became the prime target.
"Robb!" Jon shouted, beckoning his brother with his hand and worriedly watching as he failed to get any closer to Daenerys.
After slicing through another walker, the 'Night King' - a term Jon had used to describe him, caught his eye. He was still stood on the mountain edge, not at all phased by the fighting beneath enough to join in. For instead of joining, he had a spear in one hand, angled directly into the air and retracted backwards, ready to fire.
His gaze followed the direction in which it was aiming for, and it became immediately clear what, or who would be hit.
"Fianna!" He roared, the loudest he possibly ever had in his life. But she was too engrossed with the fact he was about to be left behind, to realise her own impending danger.
"Robb! Come on!" Beric called when he ignored Jon.
But Robb couldn't hear anything, not while he was in the middle of watching the long spear suddenly shoot through the air, hurtling towards an unsuspecting Viserion and embedding itself into the dragon's side in a fatal hit.
Fianna screamed almost as loud as Viserion, a roaring screech of pain and agony that filled the skies and surely cracked ice from its volume. Seeing that their brother was hurt, Drogon and Rhaegal followed suit, howling with worry as Viserion started to descend chaotically towards the ice.
Gripping the spikes in his back so hard her knuckles cramped, Fianna held on for dear life as he twirled through the air, spinning around and plummeting.
Robb felt as if a hole had been punched in his chest, or as if he were be one to be shot with the spear. He could barely move or think, eyes transfixed on the falling dragon - or more specifically, the brunette woman clinging onto it for dear life.
He was almost certain this would have been the last image of her he would see, and he'd have to explain to his kids one day that their mother died rescuing him.
Fianna herself could feel the dragon's agony, their emotional bond having strengthened over the previous days, solidifying it. Before, she wouldn't have cared less about dragons, and even considered them rather vicious. Now? She felt the loss as if it were her own.
The closer Viserion got, an eerie sensation filled her, where her mind cleared all at once. Almost as if she was calmed, knowing this was the end and that she was about to die. The blankness of her mind startled her, and he hurtled further, it was only within the last few feet that Fianna's grip slipped.
She landed, hard, on her left leg - and the sound that followed, which one might think was ice, was a crack vibrating through her entire body. A tell tale sign she had just broken a bone. But before she could even process the pain, the icy sheet beneath gave way once more, and all signs of daylight disappeared to plunge her into a dark abyss.
Daenerys let out a soft whimper of horror, eyes wide with terror and her lower lip quivering with unshed cries as she watched her one remaining relative and one of her children, plummet to their deaths. The expressions were similar on the rest of the group, who had all known the Lady, some even having grown fond of her.
"Fianna!" Robb let out a roar, ripping his sword through the air and dismantling another white walker, before starting to race toward the hole in the ice.
Viserion was dead, that was a guarantee. His large body had sank into the water lifelessly - and if the spear hadn't killed him, the fall would have. As much as he hated the creatures, he couldn't help but imagine how much worse the damage would have been if Fianna hadn't been on his back for the majority of the fall.
The hole she broke in the ice was a few feet from Viserion, only because she had fallen off in the last minute. At this point, sobs were ripping violently through Robb's throat, but it didn't deter him from sprinting towards her.
Jon and Daenerys were as frozen as the landscape, silently mourning the assured loss of a great woman. It would only last a second though, until Jon had began to notice the Night King happened to have a spare.
"Go! Now!" He roared at Daenerys, snapping her out of her daze as she reared on Jon with furious eyes.
"We can't leave them!"
"Look!" He shouted, pointing his finger towards the being, who was now stepping up to aim once more.
Daenerys hesitated for a split second, not taking her eyes off of the hole and begging for Fianna to resurface. But even if she had, it wouldn't matter, for if they didn't leave now they would all be dead.
Robb barely noticed the remaining winged beasts starting to depart the valley, nor could he bring himself to care. He flung himself onto the ground upon reaching the break, peering over the edge and plunging his hand into the bone-chilling icy cold water, hoping to find her close enough to drag her out.
i'm going to be absolutely SLAUGHTERED in the reviews for this chapter, so let's... break it down?
First of all this is 9000 words long. It's by far the longest chapter in the book and the longest I've ever written. I really did not want to rush this chapter at the risk of missing out plot details, so I seriously took my time, I think I must have watched that episode 3 times? I'm a bit sick of it to be honest haha. This chapter was going to be even LONGER, I was going to extend it to write about what happens next but its just far too much for one chapter.
Now me explain, let's start with fianna being a dragon rider. It was something that was increasingly obvious in the previous chapters, but I know that some people won't appreciate it, or feel it's pointless because Viserion died anyway. Which is true, but that's the POINT. Dany wouldn't listen when she said she wasn't ready, and dragonriding didnt come as easy to her as it did for Dany because she isn't fully Targaryen.
Next up - the changes to the canon. We can all agree, that although this episode was amazing, there were somethings that were just plain stupid. Take Jon being underwater for an extended period of time, but still surviving despite wearing heavy coats? Why had he even stayed behind in the first place? He waited until the last possible second to get to Daenerys. Personally, I feel it'd be more realistic to have that delay in reaching her because it's Robb and he's trying to save Fianna. The whole underwater thing will be approached as well by the way.
I have not stopped typing this weekend, so please don't be too harsh! And one more thing - the next chapter is the last chapter before hiatus. For those who didn't read before when I mentioned it, this book will be going on hiatus as we wait for season 8.
Thanks to everyone who supported me and read this book thus far!
scoob96 - completely agree on the Jon front, he was a seriously weak King in season 7. Even bent the knee and gave up the North altogether after fighting for years to secure it. Well not on my watch, Jonny boy! The first dream many chapters ago was rather symbolic of Fianna and Dany's relationship, how she kind of enforces Fianna into joining her. The Aifric dream was specific to Fianna's worries about betraying her family, who hate the Targaryens so damn much. Your message about romantic content got cut off at the end, but I don't necessarily agree there. I think, after 54 chapters and a shit tonne of development that Fianna and Robb are kinda settled. Or domesticated, for want of a better term. They love each other and are married, their relationship is woven into their interactions as the story develops because they're already together. There's no more need for the whole "forbidden romance" aspect that brought them together at the start, if you get me?
Guest - Thank you so so much! It means the world 3
Shannan - Not fire proof exactly, the dream was kind of a manifestation of her fears of accepting her grandmother's lineage and getting closer to daenerys. You predicted that Fianna would ride a dragon, indeed ;) however I gave her Viserion, because I believe Rhaegal is for Jon and Viserion is rather more suited in terms of temperament. Thanks so much for commenting xx
willow441988 - I took it in a very GRRM-esqe way ;_; but I hope you enjoy it!
starevolution1273 - So encouraging as always, thanks so much love! I hope college is going well for you! x
crystal-wolf-guardain-967 - is 9000 words more enough? ;)
padfootette - Awww thank you! I hope you have a lovely day!
-Line - you'll have to read the next chapter and find out muahaha x
babaksmiles - its always so nice when new readers find the book and tell me they binge-read it! And I can't wait to write that part either! Thank you so much, I hope you still read onwards! x
