Sister's Keeper

Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones

A/N: I won't be covering everyone's POV. I am more focused on Alysanne, Jorah's, Daenerys, Ser Barristan, and Jon's with a few miscellaneous characters. I can assume that all the other characters that were not shown basically had the same plot in the show. So please, do not write a post about "What happens to character A?" or "Wait, Character B is not being used." My focus is on the Targaryens and their trusted allies. This is not a Stark bashing. I love the Starks, but this story is Targaryen perception. What do you think? Will the ending be the same as the TV show? Place your bets and pray.


Chapter 84: The Long Night

Quaithe's POV

Quaithe watched from the beam observing the courtyard being prepared for battle. Seeing the soldiers inside the keep prepare for battle. She observed everyone, countless futures, knowing the truth. She witnesses important people and obedient men who wanted to live. The Unsullied marching through to take their position at the front of the gate. The women, children, and elderly who were not able to evacuate are being escorted to the Great Hall, where all the windows and doors were barricaded. She saw Lady Mormont telling her men to get the gate ready. She could hear Lord Randyll Tarly and Dickon shouting orders to the archers to man their position. It was organized chaos, one filled with fear.

She continued to watch through her mask, until her brown eyes landed on Brandon Stark, who was being pushed by Theon with Lady Alys Karstark escorting him to the Godswood. Both of them stared at each other. The Three-Eyed Raven and Shadowbinder have seen many possible futures. In all of them, there shall be bloodshed and death. None of them could tell the living the truth about the future, for if they did, it would never happen. Bran nodded to Quaithe, who nodded back. Never have they spoken, yet their all-seeing eyes communicated for them.

"It's best you head inside," Lord Randyll told Quaithe.

"I shall stay until the time is right," Quaithe assured him.

Lord Randyll scowled, still finding this mysterious woman an outcast despite the fact she was not Unsullied or Dothraki. She holds no physical attributes as a threat. But from what he heard, she was a Shadowbinder, and they are bad news. His eyes then fell upon his son Samwell, rushing through the grounds nervous with a short sword and dagger, each made of obsidian. He hadn't had a word with Samwell, didn't want to other than retrieving his Valyrian sword. Seeing Samwell didn't have it pissed him off. He shall confront the Queen about his son's crimes and bring justice.

"You have lost an opportunity," Quaithe murmured.

Lord Randyll looked at her, confused, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You have torn the bond by pride, never seeing the potential in your eldest son," she murmured.

"He's no Tarly; he's not even a man," he scoffed.

"There is more to a man than a warrior," she said. "An arrow can be lethal, but the sharpness is not for the kill. But a keen eye. If it weren't for your son, none of us would have learned about the dragon glass. If it wasn't for your son, this gathering most likely would never happen."

Lord Randyll was about to challenge her, but Quaithe stared deep into his eyes, piercing him in his place. "Your chance for redemption is tonight and never tomorrow."

With nothing else to say, Quaithe walked away to find a better place to observe the battle. She glanced over the battlement, seeing that Melisandre had managed to escape and went to give the spell to help in their advantage. Both here to observe fire and ice fight in different forms and ways in this battle.

She found a spot with Lady Sansa and Arya. She stood behind them, watching over the battlefield. It was total darkness—the Wolfswood disappearing in a dark mass of nothing. The only light they could see were the torches on top of the fortifications, and fire pits to give some visual aid for the calvary and soldiers. Silence had engulfed Winterfell. The three women couldn't hear anything. The air was cold that they can see one's breath.

Suddenly there was a dragon roar. They looked up to see the dragons flying over the Castle, heading to the mountain to wait. Quaithe can see where this battle will go. A better solution than she first saw it when arriving at Winterfell. From the Wolfswood, there was the trench, then a fortification, follow by a trench again. There was the calvary, followed by the next fortification being manned by the forces where the trebuchets and catapults were. Lastly, the final trench before the Winterfell being the city's defense.

All they need was time.

.o0o.

Jorah's POV

Jorah sat on his horse on the west side of the calvary line; the Dothraki were there while on the east side was the Knights of the Vale and the Fiery Hand. Jorah observed up ahead towards the dark mass of the unknown. His heart was pacing; it has been a long time since he was in a battle like this. This was not like Robert's Rebellion at the Tridents. Or the siege of Pyke. No, his opponents were mortal men. Now he was facing death once more as he did beyond the Wall. He glanced up, seeing the dragons flying by. Drogon was almost camouflaging into the night sky, Rhaegal slightly there, while Viserion was visible.

His hand rested on his heart, where the necklace was still there. Jorah intended to return the pearl pendant to Alysanne. However, with everything that was going on, he kept forgetting until now. Now he has to make sure to survive in order to return it to Alysanne. So many thoughts were stirring in his head. After this battle, there will be another battle in King's Landing. It truly depends on their numbers and will the Dragon Sisters have an interest in their conquest. A thought about the Veil slithers into his mind. He thought about a simple life. Alysanne and he, owning a trading company in Braavos with their son. A dream that could have been true if it weren't for this fated battle.

Jorah took a deep breath.

A whimper caught his attention as Jorah stared at his left, seeing Ghost. The white direwolf nodded to him before looking ahead. Jorah sighed as he did the same again. They will finally know when the attack will happen once the torches from the first fortification go out and the trebuchets and catapults launch. The field was on fire from the countless pits; in the end, Jorah asked himself, is it enough.

Silence.

Horses were snorting.

The wind whistling.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Jorah stared at his left, seeing a lone rider coming in. Once the rider was close, it was the unnamed shadowbinder who has been accompanying Quaithe. Jorah couldn't remember her name as the shadowbinder came closer. She stopped in front of him and removed her mask, revealing to be Melisandre. He had not met her personally, but her description told all.

Melisandre stared at the Dothraki, "Do you speak their tongue?"

Jorah nodded.

"Tell them to lift their swords," Melisandre said.

Jorah stared at her with caution before telling the men to raise their arakhs into the air. Qhono, Aggo, and Kovarro were confused at first but were the first to raise their arakhs. Melisandre came over in front of the three as she grasped onto Kovarro's arakh. She began chanting in High Valyrian, praying to the Lord of Light to ignite their weapons. To give all of the blades fire. Immediately, like a spark, the arakh was consumed in fire. A wave of fire consumed the entire cavalry and the Fiery Hand. Everyone was shocked, never seeing this before. The Dothraki cheered in excitement, bellowing they have the upper hand. On the west side, the Fiery hand had raised their blades, and theirs too was on fire.

Everyone watched in amazement. Seeing magic being performed before them. Quaithe nodded, knowing the magic is strong tonight.

Jorah nodded to Melisandre in gratitude for her assistance. Melisandre nodded as she led her horse as the men open the gate to the second fortification where the soldiers waited. She crossed, as the doors shut behind her. She passed crossing paths with Grey Worm delivering a message.

"Valar Morghulis."

"Valar Dohaeris," Grey Worm replied.

Ser Davos watched from above seething with anger to realize Melisandre has been here in Winterfell all this time. She had remained silent, hiding behind a mask and scarf. Only Quaithe had spoken for her on her behalf. Ser Davos could never forgive what Melisandre did to House Baratheon, more important to Shireen. Yet, he told the men to open the gate and let her in as he went down to confront her.

Both have met in the middle as Ser Davos glared at her.

Melisandre merely smiled as if greeting an old friend, "There's no need to execute me, Ser Davos. I'll be dead before the dawn."

Ser Davos biting back his pride, nodded leading the way.

As Melisandre walked up the ramp, she stared at Quaithe, who nodded in approval.

.o0o.

Alysanne's POV

The dragons landed on the nearest mountain watching over the battlefield. King Snow, Daenerys, and I observed, seeing the Dothraki and Fiery Hands weapons were on fire. Basically, the legend of Azor Ahai reborn once again in the mass numbers of warriors. The air has grown colder, so cold we could see our breaths and the chill numbing any skin exposed. I removed the visor off my helmet to see better and glanced at my companions.

"Will this work?" Daenerys whispered.

"It's better than what I saw years ago," I replied.

Daenerys nodded, slightly relieved. However, the nightmare I had in Meereen is about to come true as I could see the heart tree surrounded by the fires of the castle walls. And standing next to me was King Snow, the man who held my brother's face. I pray to the Seven that the dream those years ago doesn't come true. That I died falling to my death. Unless my training is leading up to it.

Aim for the heart

That is was Visenya and Bran keep telling me.

Aim for the heart.

"How many do you think are down there?" Daenerys whispered.

"More or less than us," King Snow whispered.

We continued to watch and wait. All we could hear was the Dothraki battle cry waiting for the attack, waiting for the ultimate battle—a battle for the living and the dead.

As we watch, I noticed some movement in the darkness. It was like staring at black water during a late night out in the ocean. A rippling effect of small waves. I gestured this to King Snow and Daenerys, who observed this, seeing several of the torches nears the Wolfswood being knocked down. This gave the signal to the volunteers who maintained the first fortification. Winterfell received the notice and shouted orders to the Unsullied to fire the trebuchets and catapults to throw the burning projectiles. From above, we saw a dozen projectiles fly across into the darkness, crashing onto the enemy. A distant shriek could be heard. Over and over the projectiles were fired into the darkness.

My breathing became ragged, nerves dancing as we watch fire consume and the projectiles crushing the wights. We can see where they are, through the sections where the projectiles strike, before being extinguished. Until spotting gigantic mass that the flames revealed. There was something massive down there — an enormous tall creature. My eyes widened and turned to King Snow. He did not mention giants!

Daenerys saw this as she was about to leave for Drogon, but King Snow stopped her, "Wait."

"You never mentioned giants," she growled.

"Trust me," King Snow pleaded.

We heard a soft echoing of a bang, the first trench that was filled with dragon glass and now illuminated was currently filled with wights, piling up that they were stepping over their fallen, reaching over the first fortification. The giants, two as it seems, grabbed their clubs and began banging on it. The Unsullied continued to fire the projectiles getting as much as they could. The moment they run out of projectiles was the moment the first fortification came down.

I inhale sharply, knowing it will be the calvary's turn to go. My heart was racing, knowing Jorah was down there. I desperately tried to think positively. Knowing Jorah had encountered the wights before barely two months ago. But it doesn't stop the fact the man I love is down there.

.o0o.

Jorah's POV

Jorah saw the first fortification fall. The Tarly archers started firing the arrows with obsidian tips.

The Dothraki and calvary waited until the wights cross the second trench; they do not attack. They could hear the shrieks and screams of the wights falling into the trenches being impaled by the chevals. The cheval de frisa masked in the darkness, only to be filled and the spikes of the trenches.

The first and second defenses were now down. Jorah nodded to the Dothraki to start the charge. On the other side, the Knights of the Vale and the Fiery Hand charged as well. Arrows were flying over to the sky; every part of the field has been calculated that the calvary wouldn't get struck by an arrow.

Jorah looked to his tight, seeing Kovarro and Aggo, men who have been by the Dragon Sisters side since the beginning then looked to his other shoulder where Ghost ran beside him. He could hear the screaming of battle cries all around. He held onto Heartsbane tightly, no longer feeling the weight of the sword. The adrenaline was rushing through his veins, burning hot that the frozen chill and wind hardly bother him.

Closer the calvary charged, seeing through the masses of darkness precipitating to burning decay flesh crawling over the trench. A thousand being trampled by countless dead souls with blue eyes. Almost like a nocturnal animal in the night. There still wasn't enough light from the small firepits. So, praying to the old gods, Jorah swung Heartsbane into the night, making contact with a wight's head, decapitating it.

All around swords, arakhs, and spears conquered the wights in their wake. They had the advantage, despite the first fortification coming down, and the first trench filled, it had slowed the wights that allowed the calvary to have the advantage. The flaming arakhs gave them the advantage. The wights screaming and shrieking the moment the flames come into contact.

Jorah panted, seeing Ghost thrashing and dismembering his prey when all of a sudden, the air grew colder. All the warmth from the adrenaline seemed to vanish despite the fear and energy Jorah felt. From the limited lighting the burning wights gave, the air suddenly became stagnant like water that turned stale. Dense, the air became to the point it was impossible to see one's breath. Cold as ice and compact, that the fires on the burning were dwelling.

Suddenly, a gust of wind howled through the field. One that was compared to a hurricane, almost knocking Jorah off his horse. He steadies his steed, pulling on the reins until spotting the flaming arakhs were going out. Realizing the Dothraki were at a disadvantage since their arakhs are made out of standard steel, not Valyrian or obsidian. Cursing, he had no choice but to give the order for the men to retreat.

They needed the light, and the fire was dying on the calvary field.

Knowing it is every man for himself, Jorah continued his order to retreat, as he galloped back to Winterfell. Those who heard or realized the situation followed suit. They need to get through the second fortification before they close the gate.

Jorah slashes and hacked his way through the wights. He struggled to breathe from the cold air. He glanced over his shoulder, spotting Aggo being picked up by a giant and tore in half. His eyes widen in bewilderment, seeing a comrade die in such a way. He forced himself to look ahead, rushing back to the third part of the field as he crossed the open gate where the Unsullied and united people of Westeros were.

As he crossed through, he spotted Ser Barristan.

However, his horse was still on the run, unable to stop.

.o0o.

Alysanne's POV

At first, the calvary had the advantage. We watched as the wights were being held back. They could barely make a quarter of the way through the calvary field. The Dothraki and Knights of the Vale trampling down and burring their corps with ease. Based on the echoing cries from the enemy, it should have been enough to summon the Night King.

However, he did not come.

Not yet.

Until the air grew cold that we could not see our breath. Despite the amount of furs and wools we wore, up on the mountain ridge, the air became dense and crisp at the same time. All of that changed when an unexpected wind that came from the north washed over, flooding the calvary.

We could barely see the exact details. I wanted to use a dragon spell to connect my sight to Viserion to see what is going on. However, I needed to be careful with dragon magic, for it was draining. So, Daenerys, King Snow, and I stared down below, watching the burning arakhs singed into nothingness. Comparing it to a flame on a match, burning away till nothing remains.

Basically, we had watched the end of the Dothraki.

My heart dropped, clenching on the Targaryen Sword's pommel.

Jorah, I thought in fear.

My eyes water, except the arctic air, prevented the tears from falling.

Focus on the plan, Visenya barked in my head.

Daenerys snapped out of it and turned to leave. King Snow stopped her, grabbing her arm.

"The Night King is coming," he said.

Daenerys yanked her arm away, "The dead are already here."

"Daenerys," King Snow pleaded.

"Let her go," I told him. "She needs to separate the wights from the men."

Daenerys nodded, appreciating it, even though she was trying to be strong.

King Snow was about to argue, when Daenerys cut him off, "No. We will not listen to you just because you are our nephew."

King Snow tensed when Daenerys said that. Daenerys eyes widen as she glanced at me. I stood there, thankful for my helmet to mask the majority of my face. Nephew. So, my speculation was correct, Jon Snow is Rhaegar's son as I could see the fearful expression Rhaegar held in the Veil on Jon's face. So much needed to be talked about, but now is not the time to argue.

"Alys- "Daenerys started.

"Now's not the time, go," I told her.

Daenerys hesitated and nodded as she ran over to Drogon and immediately flew down onto the battlefield. By this point, the archers have stopped firing the arrows what remaining calvary men have crossed the fortification and locked the gates, or made it around it. In the end, the last fortification and Drogon are keeping the enemy away from the living.

"Your Grace," Jon spoke out.

I did not respond as I continue to look at him.

"Alysanne…" he stopped himself. "You must understand…"

"I had my suspicions you were of blood," I said.

His eyes widen.

"The moment you entered the throne room, I thought I was staring at my brother," I continued turning around to watch the battle.

"Alysanne," he whispered.

"We will talk about it later," I ended the conversation. "Let's focus on the Great War."

Jon only nodded as he stared onto the battlefield.

.o0o.

The Battlefield.

Ser Barristan's POV

Ser Barristan stood beside the Reach and Stormlanders on the east side. The gate for the fortification was open, only to be closed immediately. Ser Barristan watched in how many of the Dothraki came barging in with terror in their eyes. Some even run in on foot. The barricade doors forced to be shut as everyone stood there, listening to the deathly cries of the fallen being trampled by the enemy.

And then silence.

A god-awful feeling as Death grazed over in the wind. The chills taking form as frost crept on the warriors' armor. The gambesons and furs, barely keeping anyone warm as they stared at the previous line of defense. The fire illuminating from the torches while on the other side was darkness.

Silence.

Utter silence.

And then it happened:

Bang.

A loud thud was coming from the massive barricade. Follow by another thud, and another, building up to an orchestrated of pounding on the fortification. Within the pounding, there were the indistinctive sounds, practically animistic, if not demonic. Over and over, until the wood of the fortification started to yield, waving like a tree bending to the wind.

Ser Barristan knew what was about to happen as he stared at Ser Gareth. The Stormlander nodded as they drew their weapons. Dark Sister somehow warmed Ser Barristan's hands, feeling the dragon's fire bringing life into his veins. There was one fear, Ser Barristan the Bold despised. And that was dying an uneventful life. He has fought in many wars, serving many Targaryens over his years. It all started from a joust against Prince Duncan Targaryen, next to the War of the Ninepenny Kings, then the Usurpers Rebellion, and lastly, the Greyjoy Rebellion. Where he spent nearly eighteen years of his life watching life fade away. The jousting did not settle his need to fight for a cause. As the years passed, Barristan did not want to die in his bed. Until he searched for the Dragon Sisters, they brought purpose back into his life.

Barristan will always remember Alysanne as the little girl trapped inside the tower. All alone with her brother, unless her niece came to visit. A girl born on a day of execution. A life from death. Now, she flies above, breaking the traditions society has made along with Daenerys. Over the handful of years, Ser Barristan saw the girls as his own daughters. And he was willing to fight and protect his daughters.

"Brace yourselves!" Ser Barristan ordered.

"Swords ready!" Ser Gareth added. "Shields up!"

Ser Barristan glanced over to the Unsullied, hearing Grey Worm, telling his men to get into position. They were the next line of defense. It was their turn to fight for the living.

Bang.

Bang.

Crack!

The gates that the fortifications had collapsed, as a surge of wights charged in. The massive numbers of wights piled on that they climbed over the fortification as well. Shield and sword in hand, Ser Barristan was ready for the attack. A swarm of wasp charging in for the kill. Not even five seconds, the dead charged in rapidly and desperate to kill. With a swing of Dark Sister, the sword sliced through a wight with ease. The monster giving a crystalize shriek before falling to the ground. Having no time to marvel at the kill, he continues slashing and fighting.

Overwhelmed and swarmed by the enemy.

The wights continued onward, wrapping themselves around the living and straight forward. The center was going straight through knives, daggers, swords, and skeletal hands trammeling over the Unsullied to reach the main gate. The Unsullied stood their ground, their shields having an obsidian spike center penetrating those who dare ram themselves in for death. If not, the spears with dragon glass tips stabbing the leapers and chargers. The Unsullied held their ground. If one of the Cut Brothers falls, another rush in to take his place.

They were trained for this type of battle and prepared to fight the Dothraki. Now it was time to put their training to the test—eight-thousand men guarding Winterfell. Despite the fact, they were mistreated by the Northerners. They believe everyone deserved to live and protect the innocent. By Queen Alysanne's command, they were chosen to save the living. So, standing tall, facing the countless wights, they will protect the living.

The fortification had limited the number of Wights from bargaining into that of a tsunami wave. However, the more that came barging through the gates and climbing over never stopped them. The mortals managed, but they knew it would never end on this night. Time seemed to vanish, as death surrounds you. The cries of the fallen and the demonic screeching from the wights filled the air.

Ser Barristan continued to fight. Blocking the wights while fighting his way through them. Dark Sister was illuminating in the rare torches that provided light. The Damascus was rippling like flames, cutting down each wight. Each and every single impact brought the wights down like dragon glass. Only it took slightly longer than obsidian did when penetrating the dead.

Over and over, the wights surrounded him. All were wanting to kill Ser Barristan the Bold. However, by his given nickname, he did not yield. Tiredness lingers, the need to rest stirred him, but the adrenaline kept Barristan awake. Suddenly a wight with a war hammer came up. He was massive, a Thenn rampaging over to strike the knight down. Ser Barristan brought his shield up, and the Dead Thenn hit on it. The impact vibrated the shield and into Ser Barristan's arm, almost knocking him down. The knight tried to strike again, yet the Dead Thenn had more mobility struck again, knocking Ser Barristan down.

Still keeping the shield up, Ser Barristan tried to get up, yet the Dead Thenn kept banding on it. Over and over, denting the massive shield. It won't be long before the shield gives in and shatter the knight's arm. Just about for the final strike, the Dead Thenn shrieked collapsing to the ground. Ser Barristan glanced over his shield to see it was Ser Jorah on his horse had returned back to battle. Ser Barristan nodded in thanks before getting up.

That was when Drogon flew over and breathed fired on their side near the fortification, decreasing the number of wights on their side. Both men watched amazed, seeing dragon fire so close, destroying their enemy. Daenerys had Drogon turned around, and on the enemy, the line began to burn the Wights. Over and over again, working hard to limit their forces.

.o0o.

Alysanne's POV

Now's the time, Visenya whispered. He is near.

As a vision clouded my eyes to see where he was. Up in the sky, hidden amongst the cloud, was the Night King and the Ice Dragon. The Ice Dragon was massive, larger than Drogon. Even though made of ice, its wings flapped in the sky, cracking over and over and over again. A swarm of ravens surrounded him, as the Night King ignored the blackbirds and focused down below waving his hands.

The vision then changed back to the ground on the forest line. On decaying horses, there were the Wight Walkers. They stood there, watching the battle being unfolded. They were seeing Drogon flying over, incinerating their army. They express with no care or interest. Waiting. They were waiting for the Night King.

A thought accrued by the chain of command. Let alone, Jon mentioning the White Walkers were the generals the Night King made himself from the discarded sons of Craster. If the Night King technically adopted the orphan sons to be his own, then there should be an instinct to protect them. There is one way to find out.

Nodding to myself, I made my way over to Viserion.

"Where are you going," Jon asked.

"He's here," I told him.

"And how do you know that?" Jon asked.

"Because I had a vision," I answered. "He's not going to join the battle. He's hiding in the sky. We have to draw him out."

Jon nodded as we rushed to our dragons. I made sure to secure the harness to Viserion's saddled before taking off to the sky. The air was much colder than it was on the ground. Yet, the dragons continued onward, heading towards north towards the Wolfswood, flying over the wights waiting for the kills. They stood there lifeless, staring ahead. Jon had Rhaegal breathe fire, destroying the wights on the way. I did the same the Viserion; our souls entwined as he breathed fire on the dead.

We soon reached the forest line where the White Walkers waited. Scowling at them, I held onto Viserion's spikes and yelled, "Dracarys!" Viserion pulled his head back, taking a deep breath to melt the generals when a gust of wind blew over. It almost knocked Viserion down, yet he held on. I looked up to see a storm rushing in. A tempest, no, a blizzard storming its wave engulfing the battlefield.

I held onto Viserion tightly, the clouds consuming us as snow and hail wrapped around. The White Walkers were vanishing in grey and darkness. I glanced around, seeing Jon and Rhaegal had disappeared as well. Cursing, I tried to keep control, focusing on finding the Night King. If we can destroy him, then the battle will be done.

I have to do this.

I have to destroy the Night King.

The past five years of my training has been about this war.

So, with a deep breath, I whispered the dragon spell, "Skulblakas ven,"

Pressure could be felt around my eyes as my sight sharpens. Only I did not see Viserion's neck and head. No, I was staring through Viserion's eyes. Seeing the world as he saw it. We were entirely in sync as we tried to find the Night King in this storm.

.o0o.

Jorah's POV

After saving Ser Barristan, and seeing Daenerys coming down on Drogon incinerating the enemy, Jorah and the remaining cavalry fought against the forces. At first, it was a struggle with everyone moving, telling the dead and the wildling apart. Fortunately, the wights had glowing blue eyes, making it easier to tell them apart. So, in the charge, Jorah swung Heartsbane destroying wights in his wake.

He saw one in a small opening and charged his horse to kill it. Heartsbane swung down with ease and decapitated the wight, hearing a brief shriek for a second before the body fell to the ground. Jorah continued onward when all of a sudden, another rider collided into him. The impact thrust his horsed down, knocking him over. Jorah ignored the ache, forced himself up quickly with Heartsbane in hand.

That was when he noticed the sky was getting darker as snow fell from the sky. He looked up, seeing a supernatural storm barging in, engulfing everyone in a dense fog, unable to see ten feet in front of him. Snarls and growls surrounded Jorah, men and women shrieking from losing their sight they had before.

Unable to yield, Ser Jorah continued to fight. In the chaos, he was with Ser Barristan, Ser Gareth, and other knights forming a circle to protect themselves while slashing the enemy to bits. Although Jorah glanced up, there were flashes of fire, resembling lighting up ahead. Seeing one, has Jorah assume it was Daenerys, blindly having Drogon burning the dead on the enemy line.

However, he could not see Viserion or Rhaegal. Jon and Alysanne? For a moment, he heard another dragon roar, before the storm brushed over. Are the two now in the sky searching for the Night King or are they still in the mountains, waiting for him. Jorah was hoping for the latter. Thankful for the dragons to keep his love safe.

He had to live and fight for the living. There was so much to live for. His friends, his family, his lover. All his cynic behavior was gone. There was so much to live for, and he will not die here.

Soon everyone was pulling back. The blizzard was against them, and it was wise to get back on the other side of the last trench to separate them from the wights—a moment to breathe and regroup. Jorah shouted in Dothraki for the Blood riders to retreat. Everyone ran, fleeing back to Winterfell. Countless warriors were running back.

Jorah looked overseeing the Unsullied remained in the phalanx. He wonders how the Masters could strip away fear and have them emotionlessly fight straight on. Yet the Unsullied grunted, slowly, they stepped back as each row followed the command to retreat except for the first four rows. The ones who volunteer to operate the front line. Jorah wished he could be brave to face death so quickly.

Now's not the time to hold back, as he ran across the draw bridge with Ser Barristan, manning it as they got the men to run over with one of three bridges. The soldiers of the Reach, Stormlanders, and Dothraki ran across, getting to their places.

Once everyone on the east side made it in. Ser Barristan and Jorah grabbed the rope, giving a yanked hard with all their might, collapsing the bridge, transfiguring it to a chevals in the trench.

.o0o.

Alysanne's POV

Ignoring the weight from the spell, I continue to watch through Viserion's vision to search for the Night King. In the vast sky of dark grey, we could make out the trees and mountains. I had Viserion fly higher, so he wouldn't collide into them. Jon was still missing yet; I can faintly hear Rhaegal's snarls and grunts.

A loud noise of crashing caught my attention. Viserion tried to grasp where it was coming from. When all of a sudden, a dark mass collided into us. It snapped me out of the spell, my sight returning to my body. In a daze, I saw the dragon of the same size, realizing it was Rhaegal. Jon was still on him, holding on tightly. We were both blinded. We managed to recover from the impact and reconnected with the dragons.

"We need to go higher," I yelled.

Sadly, my voice died in the wind, unable to reach Jon. Relying on the dragons' senses, we stayed together, holding on while searching for the Night King. Looking down, the trees were bowing to the wind. All around was like a hurricane. Impossible to see clearly. All our senses were drowning in the cold. The hail was rattling my armor and wind whistling in my ear that I could barely hear.

All my senses were gone, all except feeling cold.

Another gale of wind-tossed us around, and once more, I lost sight of Jon.

Cursing, I ordered Viserion to go higher.

"Alysanne!" was a faint sound of Jon.

However, the winds and snow made it impossible to see where he was.

.o0o.

Winterfell

"Open the gate!" Lyanna ordered as the men shouted for entrance.

The Men from Bear Island rushed in lifting the barricade and opening the doors to allow the men in. Lyanna stepped on a wagon, getting out of the way seeing men storming in for sanctuary. Escarping the harsh winds from the blizzard. She could see Lady Brienne, Ser Jamie, Ser Barristan, and Jorah stepping to the side, yelling and pushing the men to get inside. The wounded limping their way, being dragged inside. The injured were rushed to the Small Hall, where a medical center has been set up.

Meanwhile...

Grey Worm stared ahead; the first battle row was gone, trampled by the wights. The Unsullied were in charge of protecting the main gate on the north side.

"Protect the retreat!" Grey Worm ordered. "Stand your ground!"

The Unsullied grunted in response, keeping their spears and shields up. The Unsullied watched as the Suicide Lines were trampled down, and the dead pushing them backward. They manned the line, spears out. Those who were behind the front line drew their short obsidian swords, and tabbed between the gaps over and under the shields, getting every wight that crawled or leaped over.

Upon the battlement of Winterfell, Ser Davos stood there with Quaithe, Lord Randyll, and Dickon watching the living retreat. At the same time, the Unsullied continued to stand guard. Lord Randyll, kept having his archers fire the arrows aiding the Unsullied the best they could. Dickon remained standing there, observing all the chaos that is happening right now. That was when Dickon saw one of the dragon's fly overhead and landed on one of the towers. It was not black or gold, but the green one.

Jon had no choice but to retreat from the Wolfswood. Rhaegal perched himself on one of the towers as he looked around, seeing the retreat at hand. Off in the distance, Daenerys still had Drogon casting fire on the enemy side of the battlefield, blindly burning them. Jon was pleased by Daenerys's commitment, and hopes she stays safe. He had so many thoughts about what had been said on the mountain. Jon felt like an idiot for telling Daenerys about his parentage. He should have waited until after the battle to tell her, or better yet not at all. When Daenerys in her rage blurted out his secret, Alysanne remained calm. As if she already knew. Jon shook his head; he needed to focus on the battle.

Back at the ground, The Unsullied were being pushed back. The retreat was still going, yet the Unsullied can't hold them back for much longer. They were soon reaching the chevals de fise, and if they pushed forward, they would be impaled. Having no choice, Grey Worm started ordering each row from the back to retreat. It wasn't long before his row, retreated back. He stared ahead, seeing ten rows of his men were still up ahead. When it comes to five, he has no choice but to collapse the bridge.

Grey Worm was Unsullied. He was trained not to feel. However, the men were his brothers. He has trained and fought alongside his brothers since he was five years old. Now, as their leader with his hands on the rope, he has to sever the ties and let his brothers fight to the death.

He looked up at the wall and yelled, "Light the trench! Light the trench!"

Ser Davos and Dickon heard him as they grabbed the torches and started waving them in the air to get Daenerys' attention.

Grey Worm panted, watching his brothers being pushed back or killed on the front line. He continued to yell, "Light the trench." However, Daenerys was now coming over. She was still lost in the storm, blinding the enemy from behind. Having no choice, and praying to the Lady of Spears, for she forgives, Grey Worm, yanked the rope, collapsing the bridge to become a cheval. The spikes decorated with shards of obsidian sticking out.

Ser Davos and Dickon continued to wave the torches.

The battlefield had disappeared in the blizzard.

"She can't see us," Ser Davos noted, tossing the torches down and walked over to the ledge ordering the men to light the trenches.

Several men grabbed the torches and rushed out to light the trenches. Over dozens of wight had made it over and tackled them down, stabbing them repeatedly.

"Fire burning arrows!" Lord Randyll ordered, as the Tarly force, fired arrows that were on fire.

The moment the arrows struck the spikes, the blizzard winds would extinguish them like a candle. The last fortification came tumbling down, and a swarm of Wights rushed in, tackling the remaining Unsullied. Grey Worm panted, removing his helmet, seeing many men trying to light the trench. It was failing until Grey Worm turned around to see Melisandre standing there waiting. She nodded at him.

Knowing this woman ignited the Dothraki arakhs, there is a chance she could do the same. So, gathering his men, Grey Worm had the Unsullied get into formation to the entrance towards the trench. They guarded as Melisandre rushed over and kneels at the trench, chanting in high Valyrian to light the trench. Over and over, she prayed to the Lord of Light to illuminate the trench.

Meanwhile, Jon noticed Daenerys was still lost on the battlefield. He assumed she couldn't see the torches from her distance. Realizing this part of the plan was compromised, Jon got Rhaegal back in the air and started to breathe fire onto the trench.

The moment Rhaegal flames made contact with the trench and Melisandre's chanting for the last time, a gulf of fire consumed the trench. The flames swam to that of a flood, swirling all around Winterfell. The fires reaching high into the sky, with tendril sticking out burning wights were who were near. Both dragon fire and the Lord of Light's power burning the enemy away.

The soldiers who stood outside of Winterfell watched seeing the Wights stopped, stepping away from the flames. A moment later, they stood there, watching the living with those icy blue eyes.

"Archers, fire!" Lord Randyll ordered.

All around the northside of Winterfell, the Tarly forces fired many rounds of arrows. Even with the burning trench, they still had the opportunity to eliminate the wights as they stood.

Ser Barristan and Jorah watched this amazed, seeing the fires serving them once again. Jorah panted as he started at the sky, having a better view of Daenerys and Drogon, still burning the enemy. At the same time, Rhaegal returned back to the tower. However, Alysanne was still missing. Fearful, wondering where she was, he went back inside Winterfell and search for the one person who may know.

Quaithe was coming down the steps when Jorah spotted her. He rushed over, a hand on her arm, and led her into the stable. Quaithe was quite calmed even though her arm will bruise later on.

"Jorah the Andal," she murmured.

"Where is Alysanne?" Jorah roughly demanded.

Not testing him, Quaithe gazed into his eyes, using her clairvoyant abilities to see where Alysanne was. Jorah watched her with panicked, praying that no harm has come to Alysanne. After a moment, Quaithe blinked a few times and looked at him.

"She is lost in the storm," Quaithe said. "Being pursued as we speak."

Jorah's eyes widen, she was out in the storm being chased by the Night King.

"Does she know?" he asked.

"She can sense him, but he will not attack her, not yet." Quaithe answered. "You must be ready for when the time comes to look for her."

"What do you mean?" he asked again.

"When the moment comes, she will be lost, afraid, and fading. You must always be there when it happens." Quaithe answered in riddles. "I must go."

Jorah assumed she meant the Great Hall, where the women and children were or the Small Hall that was being used as the infirmary. However, that is not what she meant. Jorah escorted her, yet she made her way to a small abandoned room. There on the ground was wax runes and the Obsidian candle in the middle.

"What are you planning?" Jorah asked.

"I am a Shadowbinder, Jorah the Andal," she replied calmly. "And tonight, there are many shadows I can use."

She had her back to him as she knelt on the runes and placed her hand over the candle. She started to sing another language, it was not Valyrian, although it sounded older, much ancient than western civilization. The intense atmosphere of death turns solemn, as the Asshai'i began to sing the ancient language. It reminded Jorah of Miri Maz Duur, however, that which was not a pure Asshai'i. Quaithe, born from the borders of Asshai and trained in the practice of Shadow binding, was considered the purest of the Asshai'i as her magical manipulated all-around before her shadow rushed out of the room.

Whatever dark magic Quaithe was doing, Jorah knew it is to aid the living. The room had no window, with a few candles lit. Wanting to protect the woman, he closed the door and shoved decorative wardrobe to block it.

Jorah took a deep breath and returned to the battle.

.o0o.

Back outside, the living on the wall observed the wights. The archers continued to shoot arrows, eliminating as many wights as possible. Until Ser Davos and Arya spotted a few were walking into the fire. The wights simply stepped forward, falling in and died by the burning flames. Not a shriek or screaming released from their rotten lips.

Ser Davos had a bad feeling about it and looked at Ser Barristan, who has joined them and Lord

Randyll noticed this as well. This was not good. The wights that were falling in were piling up, creating several walkways for the Army of the Undead to step forward.

"Man the walls!" Ser Davos ordered.

The men who were outside the battlement got into formation. Meanwhile, the archers continued to fire the arrows. All around, the order to "Man the walls!" echoed throughout Winterfell. Lady Lyanna even passed around the order telling the soldiers to man the wall. As the living inside Winterfell took up position on the wall, the ones outside started to attack the wights that began to storm in. The soldiers limited the numbers from the small openings, slashing and stabbing with their swords and other weapons.

Back on top, Dickon ordered the men to pour the pitch. The black oily substance was poured along the walls, making them slippery to climb. Other parts soaked in flammable oil, as men with torches wait to light them.

Jorah, who heard this, saw Sam standing there confused. He rushed over, grabbing Sam, "Get out there! Get moving!"

They rushed into position, for when the arrows run out, it will be another fight.

.o0o.

Alysanne's POV

I can sense him following us. The Night King was on our trail, and yet he was not attacking. The sounds of the Ice Dragons winds echoing out through the wind. I thought it was best to keep them away from Winterfell. To lead them through the mountain gorge and attack from above. At first, it worked; the Night King followed in the curvy gorges.

They continued to follow as the mountains suffocated the space around us. Taking this as my opportunity, I had Viserion swooped up to the sky, flipping around them and yelled Dracarys! Viserion inhaled and blew fire at them. The ice dragon shriek as his tale caught fire before crashing into a mountain.

Not risking it, I had Viserion make another fire attack. Blindly we soar down leaving a trail of fire over the crash site, before going back into the air. We hover over them, watching waiting to see what will happen. Wondering if the Ice Dragon has been defeated, separating it from the Night King.

Once the smoke was cleared, the Ice Dragon laid there still. Although I remained cautious, never knowing if it is actually dead. Never trust an animal at first glance. Viserion hovered over, his nostrils flaring sniffing for life. The Ice Dragon remained still. It was difficult to see if it was breathing or where the Night King was.

Just to be sure, I was about to say, "Dracarys."

When all of a sudden, the Ice Dragon snapped its head and blew blue fire. The attack startled us that Viserion on instinct tried to dodge it. A roar echoed out as the Ice Dragon took the sky, heading back to Winterfell. I cursed, chasing after it, spotting the Night King on his back.

In the chase, I could feel my throat was dry. An indication Viserion was not ready to go for another round of fire. I cursed as we continued to chase after them. It was a mere minute when arriving at Winterfell, seeing all of the battlefield defenses have been demolished except for the last trench, and Daenerys attempts to burn the wights on the battlefield.

The Ice Dragon hovered over Winterfell.

I was confused until it went back into the storm with Rhaegal right after him. Cursing once more,

I followed after them.

.o0o.

Winterfell

The archers ran out of arrows. There were no more leaving the living to man the wall. Lord Randyll orders the soldiers to relieve the archers, who scurry to make their way to their next position of throwing projectiles on the battlement's towers. Jorah, with Sam, rushed to one of the posts, looking over the soldiers, see the ground men being surrounded or ignored entirely.

The wights practically ignored the foot soldiers and headed straight on towards Winterfell's city battlement. They piled on top of each other, creating a hill, climbing over each decaying body to get closer to the top. Areas were oil was spilled were ignited, burning certain spots. Areas covered in pitch, became slippery, that the wights were slipping down. Except, several weak spots don't have pitch or burning oil.

"Hold the wall!" the generals yelled.

Jorah held Heartsbane stood ready at the battlement, staring down at the embrasures. Minutes go by, as the wights crawled their way in through the embrasures. Jorah swung Heartsbane killing the wight and knocking it down. Everyone was at each embrasure using their Valyrian swords or obsidian weapons to take the wights down. At first, it seemed easy, until the numbers were piling up.

It wasn't long when there was a breach, wights already getting on the battlement. Jorah stabbed one in the head, yanking Heartsbane back and looked around, seeing wights on his side of the wall. He cursed, fighting his way through until spotting Sam being tackled by a couple of wights. Jorah rushed over and slashed the two creatures in the back, destroying it. Sam panted, nodding his thanks to Jorah. They turned around, seeing Grey Worm with his shield up. They were being pushed down into the courtyard.

The two breached areas were swarmed by wights, climbing up and dropping into the courtyard. The men fought, the smoke and stormbound making their vision challenging to see. Already the men were tired, yet they continue on fighting.

.o0o.

Lyanna's POV

The wights were jumping from the battlement filling the courtyard. Lyanna's guard surrounded her, trying to keep their Lady safe. There was a pounding on the main gate, louder than the usual wights. It only took several poundings before the massive door burst open, and a rotten giant crawled in.

The giant being as tall as the battlement came in. It got up, running towards them, swinging his mace all around, crushing every soldier in sight. Lyanna gasped, trying to get away, only to be smacked across the courtyard. She roughly landed on hay, banging her head on a wagon during impact. She groaned; her head was spinning as blood seeped from her forehead, her ribs hurting.

She leaned up, holding her side, seeing the giant making his way towards here. Kicking the chevals aside and stomping on her men like bugs. Needing to save her men, she forced herself up, panting through the pain, and drew her obsidian hatchet. Lyanna gave a battle scream, charging towards the giant. All she needed to do it get the dragon glass to stab through the rotten flesh to kill it.

The giant heard her, turning around grabbing the Lady of Bear Island his grip was tight, adding pressure to her armor to crack. Lyanna gasped, only having one arm free as she started at the giant's decaying face. This was it; this was her end. She tried to think of a way to stop it before he crushed her to death or worse eat her.

"Hey!" shouted a voice.

The giant looked down, Lyanna did as well, seeing Jorah standing there with Grey Worm and Sam. They've surrounded the giant with their weapons trying to defeat the monster to let Lyanna go. The giant lifted his leg, trying to stomp on them. Grey Worm noticed Sam was about to be stomped, lunged over pushing the man away. Jorah took the moment of distraction, and swung Heartsbane at the giant's calves, slicing through leather and furs before cutting through flesh. However, since the giant wight had a better constitution than to that of a human wight, he did not die immediately. He only collapsed onto one knee.

Lyanna being able to grab her obsidian dagger, took hold of it and stabbed the giant in the eye. The giant gave a deafening shriek before disintegrating on the ground. Lyanna cried as she fell, crashing onto the ground. Jorah rushed over to her seeing if she was alive. She was, however, severely injured. Knowing she wouldn't survive on this battlefield, Jorah apologized and picked her up. Grey Worm and several Unsullied saw this, as they cover him, to take the lady somewhere safe.

Except the gate was open, and dozens of wights barged into the courtyard. They could not outrun them. The Unsullied drew their weapons, circling around the nobles. When out of nowhere, a dark slender entity slithers around the wights holding two obsidian daggers. It swirled around the wights, stabbing them in an instant. It stopped for a moment, facing them. A shadow of a woman wearing a mask. Before slithering back into battle, manding the gate. The wights were trying to stop it, yet their blade only went through them.

Lyanna looked at her cousin, who was baffled, before nodding as if he knew who the shadow figure was. Not risking the opportunity to escape, they headed towards the castle. They got inside the castle, as the Unsullied took hold of Lyanna and promised to protect her. Jorah nodded as he and Grey Worm rushed back outside into battle.

.o0o.

Alysanne's POV

Jon and I continued to chase after the Night King. He was leading the Ice Dragon high in the sky, deep inside the blizzard. I held onto Viserion tightly, cautious in where the enemy was taking us. The moment we were about to reach him, we broke through the clouds, and he was gone.

My eyes widen, for the Night King was right in front of us. I examined our surroundings as if we were in the eye of the storm, yet the clouds were surrounding us and below us as well. There was the moon giving us lighter than it had ever before. It makes me wonder if the first Long Night was never dark, to begin with. No, the first Long Night that lasted a generation, was actually a blizzard so dense that it blocked out the sun and day.

Jon realized this as well as he glanced around, checking our surroundings. Somewhere in the clouds was the Night King, and we were in the open.

Shit, it's a trap, I thought, then yelled. "Jon!"

A growl could be heard below us as the blue fire came in our direction. The dragons tried to dodge the assault. The Night King appeared, the Ice Dragon opening his mouth and continues to breathe frozen fire chasing after me. Viserion swooped down, attempting to avoid the massive beast. No matter where Viserion went, the Ice Dragon was right behind us, having a better continuation to hold his frozen fire. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing how close the blue flames were—feeling the air becoming colder that it was difficult to breathe. Out of impulse, soared up and made a sharp turn escaping its chase.

However, that means the Ice Dragon turned its attention toward Rhaegal. Rhaegal made a sharp turn, costing him his flight falling a bit before recovering while the Ice Dragon disappeared into the clouds. I panted, staring at Jon, who was a hundred feet away—barely making out his silhouette from the waxing moon. Making out what appeared to be a nod, Jon had Rhaegal dive back into the clouds. I had Viserion follow him.

At first, we thought he was leading us to another location, until realizing he was heading back to Winterfell. Desperately, we rushed after him, except the moment we reach the city, the Ice Dragon breathed fire, destroying a part of the battlement and buildings. The result of the destruction allowed more wights to enter the city.

We took this distraction as we pinched around Winterfell and attacked the Ice Dragon on both sides. Rhaegal was the first to collide with the beast, sinking his talons in. A shriek could be heard, as I can barely see Rhaegal trying to bite the Ice Dragon's neck. A second later, Viserion attacked getting its other side. Viserion was trying to bite its wing. All three dragon's spiraling around, biting and slashing from one another. The dragons were roaring and shrieking. Rhaegal and Viserion had the upper hand, outnumbering it. That is until, the Ice Dragon, slashed at Rhaegal's chest, and turned its head biting towards Jon.

Viserion was still locked on the beast's wing, unable to help. Luckily, Rhaegal maneuvers his neck, and bit into the Ice Dragon's upper neck near his head. It immobilizes the opponent. I could barely make out what was happening. The world was spinning as I try to make Viserion break the wing so the enemy would crash.

Suddenly there was a burst of blue fire going everywhere. Blinding Viserion so he had no choice but to let go. Viserion caught his bearings as we looked down, seeing both Ice Dragon and Rhaegal were falling into a heated battle. Blue fire blowing everywhere, as the Ice Dragon tried to get Rhaegal's neck and Jon. I got Viserion to go after them, yet the distance was too far. I fear we won't make it.

When out of nowhere, Drogon appeared attacking the Ice Dragon, separating the two. Rhaegal fell, and Drogon shoved the Ice Dragon away. It shrieks, disappearing into the clouds. Using the Dragon sight spell, I saw for a moment, the Night King falling.

.o0o.

Jon's POV

Jon held onto Rhaegal for dear life. Through the dragon spell that connected him to Rhaegal, he could feel the green dragon in utter agony. His chest and neck were aching, that it was hard to breathe. Unable to handle it, Jon disconnected from the spell, separating their souls. He was able to breathe, except the rapture of separation caused Rhaegal to lose focus and crash. The dragon tried to land correctly, but the speed they were falling at, was a rough landing, crashing into the snow, running to slow down, before the utter exhaustion took Rhaegal down.

Jon was tossed off into the air falling beside Rhaegal. He groaned as he landed roughly on the ground. He tried to breathe, but just like being bucked off a horse, the shock knocked the wind out of him. Ignoring the pain, he got up and drew Longclaw. The Ice Dragon was gone. He glances at Rhaegal, seeing his dragon was out for the count as he felt Rhaegal's pain through his own.

Taking a moment, Jon stood at a distance, observing the possible defeat of the Night King. He was unsure if dragon fire can defeat the Night King. Back on the expedition, dragon fire can burn a wight, so it is possible it can destroy the Night King. As Bran confirmed, the Night was once a mortal man. He was once of flesh and blood. Now made of ice and decayed flesh, along with the dragon's fire making it impossible to survive. Except with Rhaegal out of the count, Jon hopes the Dragon Sisters hurry.

There was also a backup plan. Jon had Longclaw. He had defeated two White Walkers with Longclaw. Shattered them both completely. Therefore, Jon rushed to find the Night King. He ran, holding his side, heading straight for Winterfell. The moment he got there, he caught sight of the Night King standing center of the battlefield. Above him were Viserion and Drogon. The Night King was staring at Drogon, not at all afraid.

Both dragons took a deep breath, their masters giving the command and breathed fire on the Night King. The enemy vanished within the flames. Jon limped his way over to get a better view. He was about fifty feet away from the swirling fire tornado the dragons were creating—both adding all their might to put an end to the enemy.

By the time the dragons ran out of breath, they had continued to hover over, watching the fire burn everything in its path. Jon watched, waiting, praying to the old gods and the new, that this plan works out. All the years of fighting the Army of the Dead is finally coming to an end. All his friends who died on the Wall, those who perished in the expedition, to now at Winterfell can finally rest in peace. They have finally won.

That is until a gust of wind howl over, extinguishing the flames. What should have been a charred body or even ash wasn't there. Instead, the Night King stood there, staring at Daenerys's direction. His frozen lips were turning into a deviant smile.

All three Dragon Riders stared at him in shock.

Fire cannot burn a dragon.

And it cannot defeat the Night King.


I know, I am cruel. But I have to stop it there.

The spell Alysanne used is from Eragon the Move.

Be prepared for part two.

Thanks for reading and please leave a review!