Hello!

I'm so sorry, I forgot yesterday, my bad...
We will see the beginning of the battle today. It will last a couple of chapters.

Enjoy!

Jaime

The dead will be there in the morning. The last survivor of Last Hearth had been adament about this. He was certain. At least until Myrcella – his new Queen – pointed out that there would be no morning. The Long Night was at their door, she had declared.

Jaime had known many battles, served more monarchs than most and yet, for this one, he felt different. He was always excited before a battle, the adrenaline rushing into his veins and the anticipation building up. But not today, not for this battle. He felt nothing at the moment. Maybe that was the reason why he was sitting in front of a fire with Brienne, the red-haired wildling and Ser Davos, staring into the void in front of him. Ser Davos had brought wine though Jaime had never seen the man drink before. He did not protest and accepted the wine. After all, most of them could be dead by the time the sun came up again, if it ever did. Jaime found he would have enjoyed his brother's company in these last hours. His japes might have helped him relax, he doubted he still could relax but it would have been nice to try. But Tyrion was not there. He was safe, for now…

"Do you think we can survive?" Brienne's voice did not tremble, that did not make her emotions less true.

"We could." Davos said but then, he laughed at his own words. "I mean, if anyone could survive it's us. Look! I am in no way a fighter, I know nothing of wars and yet, I have survived the Blackwater and the Battle of the Bastards. Ser Jaime, you were a hero of the siege of Pyke and, after you lost a hand, you survived a dragon attack in the Reach."

"I lost many men and all our supplies in the Reach." Jaime reminded him. "Not to mention I lost the Battle of the Whispering Woods."

"But you're here, you survived." Davos pointed out. "Ser Brienne here survived. She beat the Hound and protected Lady Sansa against the Boltons. She also protected you," he designated Jaime "in hostile territory."

"I did, but I'm no Ser." She told him looking to the ground.

"Why not?" The wildling intervened, frowning. It was clear he lusted after the great wench.

"I am not a man. Women can't be knights." She smiled at him sadly.

"That's absurd." The man declared.

"And false. All you need to be a knight is to be knighted by another knight. It is not written anywhere that you should be a man." Jaime intervened. In fact, Brienne never thought of that. Her eyes widened and her brows touched her hair. He motioned for her to get on one knee and eventually she did. Jaime unsheathed his sword. "In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. Do you vow to always protect the weak and defend the innocent?"

"I do." This time, the woman's voice trembled.

"Then, rise, Ser Brienne, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms." As she got back on her feet, Ser Davos started clapping frantically quickly followed by the wildling man. "You're the first female knight I believe."

"She will be the greatest female knight!" The wildling grinned widly at her which made her roll her eyes. She was more aware of the people around her now, Jaime realised. When they had first met, she would never have noticed a man lusting after her.

They resumed their silent drinking until a dark-haired boy – maybe he was a man, but he acted as a boy – named Podrick who had acted as Brienne's squire for the last few years came running in the room. "They're here." He declared with fear.

Myrcella

She was laying in bed, her head resting on her husband's arm. She did care about the northern man who had turned out to be the last of the Targaryen's heirs. Their marriage was not perfect but it would still pain her to lose him, and there was a great chance of that in the next hours. If anything, Jon and her had a physical chemistry as Tyene would have put it, the last hours had proved that. She missed the Dornish woman, she missed all of the Sand Snakes really and her daughter and Prince Doran as well. She truly hoped she would survive the Long Night. She had so many reasons to leave, she thought her mind drifting to her last moon blood which never came. She could not die and neither could Jon. She did not want the same fate for all of her children.

"Your Graces." A voice called through the door. "They're here."

Myrcella felt her heart race. Mechanically, she got up to dress in her newly made northern armour. She had insisted with the smith that hers and Jon's new armour had both the Targaryen three-headed dragon and the Stark direwolf embossed in it. Other than that, they had no embelishment, it was steel doubled with leather, like the rest of the army. She wore her woolen tunic and ringmail underneath. On her way out, she grabbed the dragonglass longsword and spear Arya's friend had made for her. Before leaving the room, she turned one last time to look at Jon and Ghost. The great direwolf had been sleeping peacefully at the foot of their bed. Now, he looked battle ready. Her husband was dressed as well and about to head out. They would probably not see each other until the end of the battle. Myrcella would be on the walls with Ghost and Jon would be in the air, on Rhaegal's back with Daenerys.

Jon closed the distance between them and pressed a kiss on her lips. "Please come back."

"Only if you do." She answered.

Walking out into the yard, the dispair of the situation started to sink in for the young Queen. The faces of the soldiers only made it worse. They were shivering with fear as they bowed to their Queen. Myrcella forced herself to ignore her own frighteness as she climbed to the Wall. Her uncle Jaime was already there talking to Tormund.

"Where are they?" She asked.

"At the limit of the forest. No White Walker has been spotted yet, only wights." Her uncle answered. "Are you sure you want to be here?" His face showed concern.

"Don't be stupid. The northerners will follow me, or Brienne and Arya but they don't trust you. I have to be here." She did not look at him, she did not want to see her father worried.

"The little Queen knows how to fight! She'll be as safe as we are." The wildling leader nodded to himself as he took Myrcella's defense.

Myrcella turned to a squire. "Go tell King Jon and Queen Daenerys that the White Walkers have not yet arrived." The boy ran away to do his duty.

She heard the wights before she saw them. They made an awful noise like an agonizing growl mixed with the bark of a vicious dog. They were not very fast, even Myrcella could outrun them, but they were many. She saw them very clearly despite the darkness, like a black mass against the snow.

She waited for the last minute before ordering the men to light the firewall. When she did, the Seven Hells revealed themselves before her. She had never seen a wight before. They were monstrous things, even more so in groups. They were made of bones and flesh but could not be alive, some with torn limbs or open wounds where the bones showed or again, entrails hanging from their bellies. She saw some men render their last meal over the walls but she remained strong, watching as the creatures crashed against the fire wall and died, for good this time. It held, for now, but soon, she knew, the bodies would pile up high enough for the others to climb upon it.

Jon

"No White Walker yet." Jon looked at Daenerys after the squire whispered Myrcella's message in his ear.

"So we wait?" She asked for confirmation. They were standing in the Godswood with the dragons, Theon and Bran. Jon had decided they should wait until the White Walkers showed themselves, or the walls fell. No need to endanger their best weapons before it was absolutely necessary.

"We wait." He confirmed and turned to the squire. "Please tell my wife that if the White Walkers appear she is to blow three times in the horn, if it's a dragon, only two." The boy nodded and ran back out.

"I hate waiting." Daenerys commented, taping her foot against the frozen ground.

"I know." Jon did not like the smalltalk before battle. He prefered to be left alone so that he can focus. Daenerys seemed to take the hint as she did not say anything more. They all waited in silence. Not for too long, well, maybe a couple of hours, but it was not too long for a battle such as this. Two blows. Jon waited for a third but after a minute, it was clear it would not come. "I think Viserion arrived…" He said sadly to Daenerys as they both walked to the dragons.

"Daenerys." Bran called from behind. "It will be mercy for your child, a dragon is not a slave, alive or dead." He said cryptically. Jon was not sure what he meant but the dragon queen nodded.

They took to the skies above the battle field. Jon risked a glance down. The fire wall would soon be breached but they still had the pits after that. Probably a couple more hours before the walls are truly in danger. Maybe more once Arya orders her archers to start shooting flaming arrows which they had agreed would only happen once the fire wall fell.

For now, Jon needed to focus on the task at hand, keeping the dead dragon and its rider away from the castle and, with a little luck, kill its rider. Though he guessed it would not be that simple. Viserion appeared before them. The cream and gold dragon had lost its golden shine. Its eyes had turned blue like the wights' and the gaping wound in its neck had not closed. They could see the blue flames starting to build up in it.

Daenerys, ever headstrong, rushed toward her fallen dragon. The blue and orange flames mixed together and the dragons clashed but with no great result. The Night King on his dead mount chose to rise upward. Jon imitated him, getting into the storm clouds as he did not wish to be surprised by an attack from above, he had read about the Dance of the Dragons before. When he emerged from the never-ending black cloud, he just had the time to glance at the ice dragon plunging back down. He could only chase after it and hope Daenerys was prepared. He was in the cloud still when he heard Drogon's roar. He unsheathed his sword and prepared for the impact. When he saw the dead dragon, he slashed across, using Rhaegal's speed and aiming for the rider. He missed him but not the dragon. He cut further into the dragon's flank, starting at the preexisting wound, but the Night King dodged most of it.

Immediately after, Jon went back to the relative safety of the cloud. He only got the time to see that Drogon was still flying and Daenerys looked unharmed. Once in the cloud, he tried to steady his breath without much success. Soon, he saw a blue glow in front of him.

"Dracarys." He ordered and prepared for the impact that would surely follow.

Theon

He was left alone with Bran in the Godswood. He did not know how to act and talk around the boy anymore so he said nothing and shivered in silence both from cold and fear. He was surprised when Bran broke the quiet. He rarely talked these days and when he did, he sounded cryptic and old. He had been when he had announced he would stay and play bait in the Godswood. He had been when he had explained that he, as the memory of the world or something, was the true target of the Night King.

"You've done well, Theon. Lord Eddard would be proud, you're a true Stark now." He said to Theon who, as usual, was puzzled by the fact the boy did not address his father as such anymore.

"I doubt he would be proud. I've done terrible things Bran, you know it as well as I do." He gulped thinking of his short dominion over Winterfell, he would carry his shame until the grave.

"You have, and you have paid for it. And now you are doing what's right for the pack." Bran never looked at him when he talked.

"A right deed cannot erase a bad one, nor the other way around." Lord Stark had taught them that.

"No, but you have suffered for your bad deeds. Justice was served, now, only the good remains." Bran fell silent again.

Theon started to think he would die there. Why else would Bran talk to him as if he was trying to appease his soul. He squeezed the pommel of his dragon glass sword. He would die fighting, for what was right, for the Starks. That was all he ever wanted he realised now. To be a member of their pack and die for them. He had almost done so for Sansa when they were prisoners of Ramsay and now he would do for Bran. Maybe the weird boy, who was so different from the one he had grown up with, was right. Maybe he could let go of his guilt and shame, maybe he was a good man now. Though he still doubted it. He was a better man than he had been when he left Winterfell the first time, that much he could concede. And a better man than the one who had come back to the castle of his childhood with a bunch of savage raiders, of that, he was certain.

Myrcella

The fire wall fell shortly after they had seen the two dragons go into battle but after a few anxious minutes it had become clear that the pits were doing their job. Arya had also started releasing flaming arrows so they still had a few hours of relative tranquility. She could resume watching the dragons fight with Ghost who stood by her side, snout turned to the sky.

Shortly after the first clash, her husband had disappeared and she had felt her heart tighten as she waited for him to emerge from the dark, unnatural clouds that had now reached Winterfell. He did as the Queen's dragon was wounded by the dead one. It looked to be only superficial thanks to Daenerys quick response. Then, Jon attacked with his sword and inflicted a similar wound on the dead dragon which obviously probably did not care. Rhaegal and the Night King went into the clouds once more. Myrcella started to panic again when she saw the blue and orange flashes in the dark storm.

Daenerys must have seen the same thing as she too went up. Soon, the orange light was greater than the blue. Though that probably did not mean much. She barely heard the beginning of a commotion around her, she was entirely focused on the sky. Jon was the first to reemerge. There was some blood dripping from Rhaegal but nothing too serious and his rider looked whole. He flew further away from the castle and started to throw fire at the ground. Maybe there was another White Walker there. A few moments later, Daenerys and the Night King came out as well. Their dragons looked in a worse shape than Rhaegal but they continued fighting as Jon laid fire to the ground below.

"Your Grace," Ser Davos got her attention back to the fields immediately before them. "They went through the first pit. Should we start bringing the barrels?" Myrcella frowned, she was sure her husband's Hand knew of the plan, so why was he asking her. Then, she saw him glance anxiously to the sky. He was trying to distract her from her husband's battle.

She smiled a little. Ser Davos was indeed a good man, maybe not a warrior, but he knew how people worked better than most. He was one of the smartest persons she knew. "No, Ser Davos. We will wait for them to have filled the second line of pits." She nodded her thanks and focused again on her own battle.

Arya's arrows were doing damage, it was true that the flow was not as fast as it had been in the beginning. But it would not be enough, they had maybe killed a few thousand wights, if they were lucky. There were a hundred times more to come. And eventually, they would run out of arrows, both flaming and dragonglass. Not to mention, the things were at the last line of passive defense they had. Soon, they would defeat it as well and then, Myrcella and her men would have to defend themselves. First with the barils and then with their blades.

Secretly, she had hoped they would not even have to fight… She had hoped that Jon and Daenerys would kill the Night King before its servants swarmed over the walls and Winterfell and that it would make all of the things stopped. It seemed less and less likely with each passing minute. She should have known better. The Night King was not any simple knight or even dragonrider. She should have known but for a moment she had chose to trust in her girlhood fantasy of a knight in shining armour saving her from her fate. The world was not a song, she thought as she tightened her grip on her weapons.

Sansa

She woke up and it was still dark outside. She tried to get back to sleep but could not, after a few minutes, she gave up. She got up, put on her woolen gown and her furred cloak, laced her boots and decided to walk out in the halls of the ruin that was Moat Cailin. She and Tyrion were the only ones who had personal quarters. All the others were crammed into rooms which housed six, eight sometimes ten people at a time. Soon, when she started walking with her candle, she realised she was not the only one who was awake in the night. Many disoriented people wandered the walls. Sansa stumbled upon one of her handmaidens.

"My Lady, almost everyone is awake, but the sun has not yet risen." Well, of course, Sansa wondered how she could have been so dumb not to figure out immediately.

"Yes, Sera, order everyone brought to the great hall, I will address the issue." She herself walked there while her handmaiden did her duty. The room started to fill and with the people came the frightened whispers that, all added together, made for a frightful roar.

"You have summoned us, my Lady." Tyrion seemed a little annoyed as he walked to her.

"Yes, I thought it better to address the issue before the panic sinks in." Sansa replied flatly, barely looking at her former husband. Ser Barristan and Missandei joined them as well but they did not say anything. Sera nodded at her when all the folks had been assembled. "Gentlemen, ladies." She found no better way to call them. "I know you're scared. As many of you have seen, the sun had not risen this morning, but it is morning nonetheless. I fear soon, many of us will lose the notion of time. Therefore, from now on, you will all be permitted to go to sleep whenever you feel tired, but you must go back to your duties as soon as you wake up. This is all I ask of you, do your duties as well as you do them usually." A clamour started to grow, one soldier who had accompanied them was the loudest.

"What about the guards? What about the watch, my Lady?" He was right, they needed to know where were their shifts.

"The shifts will last four brazeros. At the beginning of a shift a brazero will be lit, when it dies out another will be lit and so on until the fourth. When the fourth is consumed, the next shift will start." She explained and the man nodded his approval.

A little boy, he could not have been older than ten namedays walked forth. He was frightened, his trembling limbs said so, but he still had the courage to come talk to his lady. "What is happening?"

"I believe the Long Night has begun." Sansa knew it would do no good to hide the truth, but still she hated the cries and frightened murmur that followed her announcement.

What do you think of the plan and the way the battle starts?

Next chapter: the heart of the battle.