Season 8 Episode 5 part 3: Winter is coming, Fire and Blood.

Harrenhal

Jaime Lannister

Jaime stared out of the window of the Kingspyre tower, staring at the assembled troops. THeir thirty - five thousand infantry was arrayed in a rough circle surrounding Harrenhal. Their seventy thousand cavalry, mainly Dothraki Screamers, were closer to Harrenhal, as they were supposed to be their reserve forces, a fire - brigade, to shore up any holes in the line. The eastern portion of the Line was held by the Golden Infantry, arrayed in a semicircle, with their flanks stretching back. The northern section was guarded by the Valemen, the Northmen, and the Company of the Rose. Between the Golden Company and the Northerners, were the peasant Spearmen.

Jaime hoped that putting the easily broken troops in between two not - so easily broken forces would bolster the peasant's morale, causing them to be able to hold the line better. The western portion of the line was held by the Lannister troops, while the southern portion, the place where the hardest attack was expected, because that was where the Night King was coming from, was held by their best troops: the Unsullied.

Jaime had been tempted to command the Dothraki to dismount and fight, adding an extra sixty thousand infantry to their ranks, but he knew that the Dothraki, born in the saddle, were lackluster infantry fighters, and that they would be easily demoralized by the lack of their steeds.

Continuing to look out over the mass of soldiers, he glanced over the Golden Company, and thought about the leader of the company. Artos Tarbeck was a man who had every right to hate Jaime, because of the Rains of Castamere, but Artos recognized that it was Jaime's father who had done that sin, and not him.

A page entered the strategy room. Jaime turned to the page, giving him a command: "Have the Bolton and the Company of the Rose secure the Valemen's left flank, and to intermix with the Northmen." The page hurried off.

The northmen didn't have nearly enough men to be a viable fighting force, so Jaime had suggested that they assimilate into the Valemen. They had refused, citing the fact that they were of the north, and would not intermix with the south. That had put him in a quandary, at least until he remembered about the Company of the Rose. They were northmen, they had fled the North when the last King in the North knelt. The Winterfell soldiers had readily assimilated their men into the Company of the Rose.

The problem, of course, were the peasant spearmen, they -

"Milord." It was a page, and Jaime recognized him as the one who he had sent to the Widow's Tower, the tallest of Harrenhal's five towers, to scout out the Army of the Dead.

"Yes?" Asked Jaime.

"The scouts on the Widow's tower report seeing the Army of the Dead."

"Which side?" Aksed Jaime, hoping it wasn't the north, the Valemen and the Peasant spearmen would easily break.

"East, North, and West."

"Not the south?" Asked Jaime.

"No." That meant that their best troops would be out of the fight, and the others would be slogging it out, while the Unsullied simply stayed there.

On the other hand, he couldn't even remove the Unsullied from their positions, because they guarded a third of the line. What if the Night King's forces were only a few hours late? They would arrive at one - thirds of the line completely empty, a path straight into Harrenhal.

And, where in the seven hells were the dragons? It had been hours since they had been last sighted.

The God's Eye

Jon Snow

Let's get one thing straight: Falling off a dragon, HURTS. It fucking hurts.

Jon fell, head - over heel, right into a deep snowdrift, which was likely the only reason he survived. Jon tried to get up, but found every spot of his body aching from the tumble.

Finally, he simply decided to lay in the ground. He heard a growl, and looked up, to see Drogon, and Daenerys.

"Jon, I'm so sorry! I couldn't see when we came below that cloud, and -" Daenerys broke into sobs. Jon took her outstretched hand, and rose. He looked around, surveying the scene. There were hundreds of Wights surrounding them, into whom Drogon was blowing fire, while Rhaegal struggled to get up.

Jon took two steps forward, and immediately keeled over, falling through the snowdrift. He slowly got up, stretching his weight over the snow, while cursing to himself: didn't I learn at least this much from my time at the wall?

"Are you okay, Jon?" Jon turned to Dany, seeing her gorgeous figure… Now is not the time! And she's my aunt, for the sake of the seven!

"Yes. let's go."

Making sure to carefully spread his weight throughout the snow, he made his way over to Rhaegal. The large beast had just managed to get himself to his feet. Rhaegal growled at him, and Daenerys leapt backwards.

It took Jon a few seconds to realize that Rhaegal had growled at Daenerys, not him. The dragon advanced towards her, crossing the distance between them and the dragon in a few steps.

The sudden heat from dragonfire startled Jon, Drogon was blowing fire into the legions of the dead.

Rhaegal towered over Daenerys now.

"STOP!" Yell Jon, coming between Rhaegal and Daenerys.

"She's fine, she - she's your mother!" Yelled Jon, as if the dragon spoke the common tongue.

At his shouted words, Rhaegal seemed to calm down. Jon led Daenerys towards Rhaegal. All the while, Daenerys was staring at him like he'd grown a second head.

Rhaegal took off shakily, clearly hurt from his fall. Drogon followed, the larger dragon taking his place at the front.

"You're a Targaryen." Said Daenerys.

Jon said nothing.

"Jon, I said something."

"It's Aegon. Aegon - six - Targaryen, child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark."

"And Rightful heir to the Iron Throne."

"Well -"

"Am I wrong?"

"No, but I don't want your throne."

"Everyone wants something."

"I have had enough of high positions. I never ask for the positions, they're given to me. Lord Commander of the Night's watch, King In The North - You have no idea how glad I was to have gotten rid of that last title. Seriously, every time I get rid of a title, they give me a bigger one." Jon knew he had a point there. He had never himself deliberately wanted one of those positions, they were given to him.

Rhaegal flew a bit lower, to avoid the deadly cloud, but not too low, lest they fall into the Army of the Dead. The wights didn't even seem to care that two massive dragons were flying above them. It was most unnatural.

Jon just hoped that the Night King wouldn't see them.

Harrenhal

Jaime

"Have Tarbeck take his fourth legion, and orient it away from his other legions, they will break first." Said Jaime, commanding the page, who ran off, to give his orders.

The army of the Dead was only a few minutes away from contact, at least the northern portion of it. The southern portion was yet to be sighted.

Jaime scanned the mass of men, looking for any weaknesses the Army of the Dead might exploit. The only one he could find was the Peasant spearmen. Those men would break easily.

"Hey, messenger!" Called Jaime. The boy came back, and Jaime was reminded, again, of how young he was.

"Yes, Milord?"

"Tell Patil to take the Golden Company, and array it behind the Peasant spearmen, so they don't break as fast, and if they do, there are more men behind them who can hold the line."

The messenger ran off with his message. Jaime looked out of the Kingspyre, again, looking to the south, where both of their dragons had flown off to.

He saw two black specks in the distance.

The specks grew larger, until Jaime recognized them as the two dragons. The smaller one moved slower than the bigger one, so it was likely hurt. The two dragons circled around Harrenhal twice, before landing atop the Kingspyre tower. Jaime moved towards them, and saw the Dragon Queen literally shove Jon off the dragon. The only reason he didn't fall to his death was him: Jaime instinctively grabbed Jon's hand right as he tipped over the edge of the dragon.

"Dracarys."

He heard the voice form behind him, waited for the release of death, plllease, let it be painless, be painless -

Nothing happened. Jon grabbed Jaime's golden hand with his other hand, and Jaime pulled him onto the tower. Both of them lay back from the effort.

"Dracarys."

Nothing happened, again.

"DRACARYS!" Rhaegal simply refused to blow fire.

Jon looked up.

"You would kill your own nephew, who has sworn not to usurp your throne?"

Jaime looked between the two of them in shock.

"Are you truly any better than your father?" Demanded Jon.

"You… You are Daenerys' nephew." Said Jaime, his voice failing him.

"Yes. Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name, son of Rhaegar and Lyanna Targaryen, who wed each other." Said Jon, getting to his feet.

Daenerys got down from Rhaegal.

"And a usurper. What better are you, than that fat excuse of a king?" Demanded Daenerys.

"I. Don't. Want. The. Iron. Throne!" Roared Jon.

"Then what do you want? Me dead, for the revenge of -"

Daenerys speaking had been a ruse. She withdrew a dagger from the folds of her dress, and lunged at Jon. Jaime shoved his golden hand into her face, causing her to fall backwards, off the tower -

Jon grabbed Daenerys' hand, and hoisted her back.

"Does this prove that I don't want you dead? That I don't want your throne? That I loved you? That I care for you?"

Daenerys looked straight at Jon for several long seconds, before collapsing into his arms.

"I'm so sorry, Jon, I, I -"

"It's Aegon." Said another man, who just arrived at the tower. Jaime recognized him to be that Green Man who had come with Jon - Aegon - from the Isle of Faces.

"And you are?" Asked Jaime.

"Ser Duncan the Tall."

So, we have the beginning of the end, an assassination attempt, Dany finding out about Jon's parentage, Jaime finding out about Jon's heritage, Jaime finding out about Ser Duncan the Tall, and more, is that enough for one chapter? I hope so. The next episode, Episode six, The Long Night, will have the final battle.

SV: Sorry for the cliffhanger this chapter, and last chapter, but the next one will come out soon.

Lillian 81: No, the blue - eyes part is later, not now.