Season 8 episode 6 part 5

Brienne of Tarth

She drew back the bowstring, making sure the arrow was properly positioned. After Arya had dropped the first staircase of Wights, three more had taken their place. And that was just at one section of the battlements. She had every reason to believe that every one of Harrenhal's walls were under attack similarly. If that was true, then they were screwed.

Very screwed.

She loosed the arrow. It flee through the air, and slammed into a wight, causing him to fall - or was it a her? -, but it didn't cause a chain - reaction, as she had hoped it would. The staircase kept climbing farther and farther up the walls, closer, and closer to the top. Arya, next to her, loosed her own arrow. It missed.

Brienne drew another arrow, and notched it, aiming it… was there one wight, one wight which held up the entire staircase? One wight, which she could shoot, to bring down the whole staircase?

She aimed carefully. Arya loosed her arrow first: A miss. Brienne loosed her arrow next. It soared majestically towards a target, a cluster of wights which seemed to be holding up the majority of the staircase.

It slammed into one, which, due to the dragonglass, went limp immediately. As it fell, it pulled on another wight. And that wight pulled on to another wight. And that wight pulled on the wight next to him, and on and on, until the entire staircase of wights fall down.

Brienne whooped with delight, as did Arya. Another staircase down.

It was only then that she remembered that there were another two staircases of wights in this section of the battlements. And both of them had reached the top.

Harrenhal's Battlements

Samwell Tarly

As Samwell finally watched the Undead breach Harrenhal, Sam felt like he should have taken up on Jon's offer, to go to the dungeons along with the women and children. "Protecting them." Why hadn't he said yes?

Because he wanted to be a hero.

Because he wanted to fight, to prove that he could fight, so Edd wouldn't be able to call him -

Edd.

Edd was one of these wights now, one of these wights who was about to kill him. Edd, his best friend - apart from Jon -, his closest friend, dead. One of those wights. Why should he fight them? Why not just run?

Go back to the Dungeons. Hide there, along with the women and children. Harrenhal had been breached, for god's sake. Harrenhal was practically impregnable, so long as you had enough men to defend it. And the undead had breached it. How the hell were they supposed to fight them?

Wouldn't it be better to simply run?

Except that Harrenhal was entirely surrounded by the undead, like a rock in the middle of the ocean, barely portruding the surface, somehow providing shelter to seagulls. They were the seagulls, the defenders of Harrenhal. And the unconquerable ocean was the Army of the Dead.

Shouldn't the Seagulls fly away? Shouldn't they -

He heard something in the distance. Something strange. It sounded like… Like… Like giant seagulls.

Samwell raised hsi eyes, looking at the sky, looking for any traces of a giant seagull. The flapping of it's great wings caused a massive reverbration through the air.

Then, Samwell realised that it was no giant seagull making the noise, it was dragons. Three of them, in particular. Samwell leapt forwards, trying to catch a better view. As he watched, the smallest of the three unleashed a wall of blue flame on the second smallest one. The second smallest one - Rhaegal, that was his name - flew downwards, trying to get the smallest one off of it's tail. The largest one, Drogon, flew after them.

Then, the smallest one whirled around, and charged the biggest one. It was a whirlwind of claws, wings, and flame: Orange, and Blue. Ultimately, blue triumphed over orange, and Drogon retreated. But the smaller dragon wasn't done with his big brother, he charged again and again, and each time, Drogon hesitated at the last moment before going on the offensive against his own brother, and that cost him his victory.

Rhaegal, Jon's dragon, had slipped out of sight for a moment. He flew back up, moving slower than normal - was he injured? Rhaegal tried to sneak up on Viserion, but ultimately, it was Viserion who surprised Rhaegal. The smallest of the three whirled back, and ripped open a massive gash in Rhaegal's wings, before, with the other claw, tore open his belly. Rhaegal let loose a massive roar, one that Samwell could hear from the castle itself.

And then he fell from the sky. Drogon charged Viserion, his flame ripping open his littel brother, and then Viserion was falling from the sky. And then, something happened, and even Drogon was falling from the sky.

Jon was on Rhaegal. Jon was on Rhaegal. Jon was on Rhaegal.

Samwell froze. Another one of his friends, gone. His closest friend, his only true friend, falling from the sky two miles from him, and could do nothing about it. Or could he?

It was the dead bastards who killed him. So he would kill the dead Bastards. He would fight.

And without a thought, Samwell Tarly leapt into the growing mass of undead in Harrenhal, his twin Dragonglass blades slashing.

The frozen over God's Eye

Aegon Targeryen

He was woken up by cold air whistling past his ears. Jon turned, trying to see where he had fallen, and how he was alive: He twenty feet from a limp Rhaegal. It appeared that after Jon had fallen off Rhaegal, the dragon had managed to catch him, but dropped him again when hitting the ground.

Jon rose, his joints hurting from the fall. Jon moved towards Rhaegal. His eyes were closed. NO. Rhaegal couldn't be dead, he couldn't. Jon felt his gums, just above his teeth - there had been a time when Jon wouldn't have even dreamt of being so close to a dragon - and saw that there was a pulse.

Jon smiled. Rhaegal was simply unconscious. And Drogon would come to check on his younger brother soon -

Drogon.

Jon had seen the largest of the three dragons take one off the Night King's damned ice - spears. He though it was his dream, but it might have even impaled Daenerys on it. No. It couldn't have. How could the Night King aim through a dragon?

He couldn't have.

Jon looked around the field they were in. There weren't many undead around, because the Undead were focused on storming the castle. The icy field was perfectly flat except for the odd snowdrift every couple hundred feet. Or atleast, it had been perfectly flat except for the odd snowdrift every couple of feet. Now, the carcasses of two dragons, and one unconscious dragon littered the field, as well as red dragon blood.

The three dragon carcasses formed a rough equilateral triangle, half a mile wide, Rhaegal to the north, where his owner was from, Viserion to the west, towards the setting sun, and Drogon was to the east, where his master was from.

And, in the center of all three dragons, was a single figure, a pale - white skin, blue eyes that shone bright. He rose - falling several thousand feet didn't appear to even faze him - and surveyed his immediate surroundings.

Jon too, did the same. He wanted to kill that bastard today.

It was only then that he spotted Daenerys. She was halfway between Rhaegal and the Night King, a white ice - spear sticking out of her. She was slumped on her side, blood pooling from her. So the Night King did manage to aim at a human through a dragon.

Was she dead? No. She was the mother of dragons.

Jon moved towards Daenerys. The Night King also began to move, and Jon, in shock, saw Daenerys' hand move. She was alive. She was alive.

Jon broke into a sprint, headed straight towards Daenerys. The Night King himself moved forwards, somehow covering more distance than Jon despite being at only a brisk walk. That guy breaks the laws of physics thought Jon.

Jon ran as fast as he could, he needed to reach Daenerys before the Night King. He needed to get to her, he needed to get to -

50 feet.

40 feet.

30 feet.

The Night King stopped moving, barely ten feet away from Daenerys.

20 feet.

10 feet.

Jon kneeled over, catching his breath, before moving towards Daenrys. He felt for a pulse. None. Wait, then how did she move her arm if she had no pulse?

It was only then that Daenerys opened her eyes, her green orbs replaced by lifeless blue orbs. Jon leapt back in shock. Daenerys was dead, and the Night King had brought her back to life.

Jon gripped Longcla - Lightbringer with his hand, not unsheathing the blade, and walking back, as Daenerys, now a wight, rose, and advanced on him. He knew he would not be able to attack her.

"Fight me, you coward!" Roared Jon. "Or will you just hide behind the skirts of women?"

The Night King tilted his head slightly, his face becoming a crueler mask of Ramsay Bolto - no, Ramsay Snow, for even a house such as the Boltons didn't deserve someone like him - and the Night King raised his hand.

Even though Daenerys wasn't even facing the Night King, at his raised hand, she stopped advancing on him, and moved out of the way. The Night King drew his ice - blade, a double bladed scimitar - thing.

With ease, the Night King swung it, spinning it around in his cold hands. As the Night King moved clsoer and closer to Jon, Jon felt colder then he had ever felt since the Wall.

Jon drew Lightbringer.

The Night King froze, his pupils dilated in fear, and he glanced rapidly between Jon and the blade. In his hands, the blade glowed orange. But the legends claimed that it looked more liquid then solid. Jon had hoped that the reason why the blade wasn't responding to him was because there were no White Walkers around, he had hoped that with Others around, the blade would respond properly to him.

But it wasn't.

The Night King lunged at Jon before he was ready, a strike inhumanly fast, in Otherly fast, too, for Jon had fought two White Walkers, and neither had moved half as fast as this one.

Jon leapt backwards, barely dodging three strikes, launched in less than a second, and moved his blade in, to try and deflect it. The Night King somehow leapt right past Lightbringer, and stabbed Jon's side.

Jon swung wildly, and for the first time, their blades met.

CRRRRINGGG!

The strange sound tore at his eardrums, and Jon noted that the Night King was looking at Lightbringer fearfully. Most likely, the tales of Azor Ahai defeating the Night King were true, why else would the Night King be scared of this sword? Flaming swords couldn't be all that rare.

Jon pushed onwards, and the Night King pushed back. Gods, that man really deserves the title of night "King".

Jon's arms started to go numb from the sheer cold of being so close to such a being.

Finally, Jon couldn't even feel his own arms. The Night King pushed one last time, and Lightbringer flew from his hands. Jon stared at the Night King, staring defiantly into the dastardly being's eyes. Even if his sword was flung aside, he wanted his eyes to gauge marks out of him.

The Night King smirked as he stared right back at Jon.

Something within Jon, some deep - down buried instinct, rose, a primordial feeling of rage, a connection, like he was a part of something superior, a lifting - feeling. Some strange instinct caused him to move his hand out, and to accept the connection. It was like being around Ghost, or around Rhaegal, some superior connection.

Jon Snow, Aegon Targaryen, Azor Ahai reborn, stretched out his hand. Lightbringer flew into it.

The Night King took two steps back in shock. Jon took advantage of the moment, and swung, a strike to slice off the dastardly being's head.

Lightbringer bounced right off the Night King's neck. It rebouned, flying out of Jon's hand. Jon himself stumbled backwards in shock, he hadn't expected this. The connection he had felt with Azor Ahai was gone, having only lasted for a split - second.

The Night King raised his own blade. Jon knew he was defeated. That he was not Azor Ahai. That the blade had yielded to him for no reason.

"End it fast. Please." Begged Jon, truly wanting it to end fast. And painless.

The Night King merely smirked.

And then Jon gasped, for something had just entered his side. Jon winced, falling to one knee. He craned his neck, and turned around. His blood ran cold. Eddison Tollett was twisting a blade inside his side.

"Edd…" He had a strange sense of Deja Vu, that this had happened before.

Jon gasped in shock and pain, as another blade enterred him. Jon turned around slightly, and saw the face of Artos Tarbeck twisting the blade that had just enterred him. Jon remembered, another night, another long night, when his own men had plunged blades into him.

Jon gasped, seeing the face of Tormund Giantsbane, shoving his own dagger into him, just to the right of his heart and tears were threatening to spill out of Jon's eyes.

"Traitor" Said their dead eyes. "Traitor to the watch". Jon saw the Night King from behind Tormund Giantsbane, smirking, his cold blue eyes holding unnatural joy at watching Azor Ahai reborn dying, slain by his own comrades.

"You… Will… Never… Succeed." Grunted Jon, barely even conscious. But he swam right back to consciousness as another figure appeared, more recognizable than the rest, holding a dagger.

And Daenerys Targaryen shoved the dagger into Aegon Six Targaryen's heart, ending his watch.

Casualty counter:

Nope, I can't get myself to write any more. No casualty counter this chapter. (In any case, this chapter is barely five minutes after the last one, it doesn't even cover that much time.)

Lillian: Nope, I'm not bringing her back. And Melisandre will find that her magic doesn't work on those who have been covnerted to wights.

SV: I told you in PMs that I would post a new chapter in one hour. It's been three hours. Sorry about that.

RandomEarthian: Sorry for not replying to you last chapter, but Sansa, Bran, and Arya are still alive, the only Stark dead is Jon. The casualty counter only was about the troops on the field. In fact, it doesn't even take retainers into account: theres still a couple thousand Stark soldiers in Harrenhal, even though the castle has been breached, it's just that they were retainers, and so, didn't show up in the original counter.