Season 8 Episode 6 Part 6: The Long Night

Harrenhal's Walls

Samwell Tarly

Four wights came at him, all of them unrecognizable. In sheer fury, Samwell swung his twin dragonglass blades, ripping through all four like they were nothing. His face was beaded with sweat, and he swung wildly, wilder than a wild animal.

Another four wights came at him. Sam dodged the first one's strike, ducking under its arm, while simultaneously slashing its exposed armpit. The second and third came at him simultaneously, and Samwell had the common sense to duck backwards. But only for a moment, because Samwell Tarly wasn't a coward. He lunged forwards, stabbing both wights. However, he forgot all about the third and last one. The third wight stabbed him in his side, the blade entering from behind, and exiting from his front - which meant that the blade was very long, for only then would it be able to exit through Samwell.

But Sam was strong. He was called Sam the Slayer for a reason. Sam whirled around, and sliced open the last wight's stomach. Sam moved forwards, not even feeling the blade buried in his side. He lunged at another group of wights, eight strong.

The first one fell instantly, the second one lasted a grand total of four seconds, the third one actually managed to get a hit on Samwell. It wasn't a deep wound, and Sam barely even noticed it. The fourth one lunged at him, and Sam somehow dodged. He swung both dragonglass blades, killing the fifth and sixth, before twisting around, and killing the fourth. The seventh, and eighth lunged at him, but stood less chance than a roasted pig against Sam's mouth.

Samwell moved back, to get a grip on his surroundings. Each of Harrenhal Battlements were under serious attack, and four had already been breached. Four breaches.

It had taken Pyke one breach to fall. It had taken King's Landing only one breach to fall, although the walls were blown apart anyways. It took Moat Cailin only one breach to fall. It took Riverrun only one breach to fall.

Harrenhal had been breached four times.

Wait. Even as Samwell watched, the soldiers on another battlement fell to the constant onslaught of the dead.

Harrenhal had been breached again.

The Kingspyre Tower

Jaime Lannister

After four attempted attempts at his own life, Jaime had literally flung every weapon he had off the tower, in case he would be tempted to take his own life again. He regretted the decision he made within two seconds of it, for now he was unarmed save for a battle map, and model soldiers.

Pathetic. Like the battle map and model soldiers had been useful at all to him. Harrenhal had been breached several times. Jaime reached out, towards the window, and tried to count the breaches.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Six breaches. Wait. Seven. He had one hundred thousand troops, plus another twelve thousand loyal retainers. Barely twelve thousand of the troops remained, and half as many retainers. And the fortress they were guarding had been breached seven times.

What was he the Lord Commander of now? Fifteen thousand of his men had sworn themselves to the Night's Watch - and their watches had already ended -. He barely had any men alive. Wouldn't any self - respecting commander simply end himself, so as to avoid the humiliation?

There was a time when Jaime had cut straight through Robb Stark's Honor Guard, simply to try and kill the Stark and to hopefully end the war. And now, he was contemplating suicide whilst being trapped in a tower literally after having flung off his own weapons?

No. He wouldn't even Think about suicide. He was superior to that.

Jaime made the mistake of glancing out of the window. Wights were swarming everywhere.

Jaime moved back.

There had been a time when he would have leapt off the tower, and into the wights, simply to kill as many wights as possible. And now, he was -

BOOOM!

Blue flames tore through the Widow's tower. Two dragons ripped through the Widow's Tower, and Jaime was suddenly reminded of the fact that the Kingspyre tower was identical to the Widow's Tower, although in slightly more disrepair. What was happening there could, just as well, happen over -

BOOOM!

Cracks spread throughout the Widow's Tower. Jaime Lannister's mouth gaped open in shock as Drogon and Viserion destroyed a tower barely a hundred feet shy of being as tall as the wall.

The tower tilted to the side, cracks spider webbing across the tower. For a moment, it seemed as if, like an oddly balanced toy, it would come back to its normal position, and then, it cracked more, the cracking sound was more than audible to Jaime. And then, the Widow's Tower collapsed in on itself, a massive dust - cloud settling over one - fifth of Harrenhal.

And then the dragons moved on to the next of the five towers.

The Frozen Over God's Eye

Bronn

This was a strange afterlife, Bronn mused: he had assumed that the Undead wouldn't exist in the afterlife, but here, they existed. Plus, the afterlife was frozen over, as well. Very strange. It appeared that the Eternal Winter affected the gods too. So the afterlife was a frozen over lake. Quite strange. Oh. Wait.

It wasn't a heaven, it was hell. A cold hell.

Reven shook him.

"Milord. Bronn. Please, Bronn, stay. Don't die."

"Mmft… " Muttered Bronn, moving to a sitting position. It appeared he wasn't in hell, or heaven. He was still on Planatos.

"What… What Happened?" Asked Bronn, dazed.

"Wights happened. You took a sword to your side and nearly died. I am no Maester, but you won't last long with that wound." That was blunt. Thought Bronn, before looking down, to the aforementioned wound. It was a deep sword cut, and, by the looks of it, the sword had been twisted whilst inside of him.

"Damn. How am I still alive?"

"You fell on the ice, and that temporarily sealed the wound." Bronn tried to get up. As soon as he moved to a sitting position, all of his blood rushed to his legs, and his wound reopened. Gods, that looks nasty.

"Alright. Now what do we do?" Asked Bronn.

"That's what I was about to ask you, milord."

Bronn clutched his wound, now freely bleeding. Bronn surveyed his surroundings completely, and recognized the Trebuchet he had leapt off of, to investigate what was happening. That was the last thing he remembered. They were in a curved depression in the ground, almost a cave, which allowed them to be unseen by the thousands of wights.

They had to do something. They had to fight the Army of the Dead, and in a way that meant they would actually contribute to something.

They had to do something. But what? It was only then that Bronn noticed the pots strewn everywhere, and the abandoned caravan. Only ten feet from the cave, was a pot, dropping a green liquid.

Bronn knew what to do.

The Kingspyre Tower

Jaime Lannister.

The Kingslayer was to die on the Kingspyre tower, in the same way that the Kingspyre had earned its name. Had this been some other occasion, Jaime would have laughed at this cruel twist of fate. But now, as the two dragons moved towards the Kingspyre, Jaime knew that if the dragons waited any longer, his pants would wetten.

"Please." He murmured, well aware that nobody would hear him. The Night King didn't even see him. He rode the largest dragon, Drogon. Viserion flew behind him. Both of them unleashed blue flames on the tower Jaime was on, the Kingspyre, and it shook so much Jaime was sure that it would fall.

But the Kingspyre tower had taken dragons before, and it could take them again, at least for a few seconds. Jaime fell, and slammed against the side of the tower. Rocks and bricks flew everywhere.

"So this is how I die. Falling off the Kingspyre tower of Harrenhal before being burnt to a crisp by dragons."

The Night King looked straight at him, mounted on his dragon. Drogon, Daenerys' dragon, stared directly at him, and opened its mouth, wide, flames started coming out, he was dying, he was gonna die -

The dragon whirled to the side. Both dragons stopped blowing fire, and whirled out towards the God's Eye.

What the -?

And then Jaime tilted his head, and saw, three miles out, a flaming arrow fly into the air. But it wasn't the fact that it was flaming that scared two fully grown dragons. It was the fact that the arrows were glowing green.

Both Drogon and Viserion flew out, away from Harrenhal, headed towards the poor soul who shot a wildfyre arrow straight up into the air.

Jaime leaned back, and sighed. He had just been saved. Saved from burning to death in the same spot as Harren the Black, by the same thing.

Jaime reached over for the wineskin, before realizing it was empty. Jaime rose again, and looked around unsteadily. This was when he needed Cersei. Her golden curls, her luscious curves, her kissable lips, her thighs -

But that was a time long since past. He shouldn't be thinking about Cersei. But he was going to die anyways. So why not think about her one last time?

Jaime thought about her, jumping on top of him, him inside of her, he hoped he could see her, one last time. It was only then that he noticed the other person.

Jaime stared into Cersei's gorgeously shortened hair. She looked so beautiful.

"Cersei?" He whispered, rising, staring into her. It truly was her.

Cersei turned to him, staring at him with her blue eyes. She looked so gorgeous!

He moved towards her. She moved towards him.

"It's… It's truly you." He said. She moved towards him, pushing him to the wall, right next to the window.

He barely even felt the blade she shoved into his stomach.

Jaime stared into her face. She looked so kissable. She stabbed him again. He wanted to do nothing more than to kiss her.

"The things we do for love." He whispered.

And Jaime Lannister shoved Cersei Lannister off the Kingspyre Tower, just as he had shoved Bran off the Broken Tower all those years ago.

The Frozen over God's Eye

Bronn

Reven launched another wildfyre arrow into the sky. They had somehow managed to reach the caravan. They were kneeling in the shadow of one of the caravans. Bronn had a piece of flint on him, and the wood of the wagons was dry enough to make a small fire. But Bronn needed to make sure that the fire didn't catch, for they were surrounded by wildfyre on all sides.

Forty thousand pots of Wildfyre had been brought here. Forty thousand pots of wildfyre. If this wildfyre had been able to reach Harrenhal, the dead would have been burned to death well before they came to the castle.

Their catapults would keep launching into the dead, stopping the Army of the Dead. The dragons would fly close to the castle, where dragonkiller scorpions, foraged from King's Landing, would keep any dragons at bay. Harrenhal would never fall.

But the wildfyre hadn't reached the Fortress. It was out here.

"I see them!" Roared Reven, besides him. Bronn was nearly hidden by the wagon.

"Not so loud!" Whisper - screamed Bronn. Reven launched another wildfyre arrow into the air. "There's two dragons here, they're circling the convoy!"

Bronn winced as he tried to see, and his wound opened up again. The only way it wouldn't bleed was if he lied down on the ice, with his wound directly on top of the cold ice.

Bronn heard a thump. The Night King had leapt off of his dragon five hundred feet in the air.

"AAARGH!" Yelled Reven. Bronn turned around, hidden by the ice: The Night King had just stabbed Reven with his ice - sword.

Bronn rubbed the flint against the other rock, making sure the sparks dripped into the wood.

The Night King turned, hearing the sound of the sparks.

Bronn rubbed harder. The flame somehow caught.

The Night King lifted the cart with one hand. He stared at Bronn.

Bronn held up the flaming wooden fragment. The Night King raised his sword, to bring it down on Bronn's head.

Bronn moved as fast as he could, to the closest pot.

Bronn shoved the wooden fragment into the wildfyre, with a triumphant yell.

But nobody heard the triumphant yell, because the sound of Forty Thousand Pots of Wildfyre dwarfed the sound that any human could possibly produce.

This chapter's casualty counter will be at the start of next chapter.

Lillian: I'm sorry about that, could you please keep reading? pretty please?