Hello lovely readers!

Today, we see the 'middle' of the battle which will end next chapter.
Also, only two more chapters and an epilogue so next week, this story will be complete!

Enjoy!

Myrcella

Myrcella had stopped counting the hours when she gave the order to bring forth the barils. The defenses of Winterfell had held better than they could have hoped but now the real fight began. The barrils were positioned as she odered. One with dragonglass between two of fire. The first round hit the ground at her word. She started to count, trying to get a feeling of how long it would take for the wights to come back. Seventy counts, more than enough time for them to recharge.

She realised there was some movement around them. Arya grabbed her arm as she ran by.

"The defenses on the other side of the castle will soon fall. I'm going there. The men know." Myrcella nodded. They had put the most of their defenses on the northern gate as it would be there that the dead would attack the strongest. But it was only a matter of logic that they would also circle the castle and attack all around it trying to get in. They had seen this coming and while Myrcella and most of the commanders would remain North, Arya would hold the side with Podrick acting as a messenger between the two.

She did not give the order for the barils soon enough and some wights managed to get their hands on the edge of the wall, struggling to climb up. Myrcella and the other soldier killed them all. The Queen used her spear. It was a weird sensation, not at all like human or animal flesh. It felt harder, and also drier. The things died hissing and when the defendents took out their weapons, Myrcella realised there was no blood on them, only some black goo for some, like her uncle's sword. He made a disgusted face when he saw it. What was also disturbing was the fact that when they fell on other wights, the latter kept going, whereas a normal enemy would have died. The battle promised to be exhausting, if they could survive it.

The next two salves of barils went without incident. Then, they had another where they needed their blades again. All in all, everything went according to plan for roughly the first dozen baril throws. But after, Myrcella started to feel like the wights reappeared faster, it was not seventy counts anymore, more like thirty. She soon realised why. The archers were running out of arrow as one of them confirmed before asking was they should do.

"Grab a weapon, pray and fight with us." She replied harshly, maybe too much but she had no time for politeness and stupid, frightened question. Her order travelled in the ranks of the archers at least.

Another man, a squire judging by his age came running to her next. "The smith says there are no more barils. Five more rounds and we'll be done." He indicated. This one at least held his head high and did a pretty good job at controlling his shivers.

"Five more rounds of barils and its done!" Myrcella shouted. "Prepare to fight!" She added.

Her words were echoed around the walls. She left her place momentarily to find Ser Davos. "Ser, I think it's time for you to get to the Great Hall." The man nodded, he was no fool, he knew he would die if he tried to fight. "Get the smith, the maester, the cooks and the boys under twelve with you. All those who should not fight. Barricade yourselves and don't open for anyone who cannot talk."

"We will, my Queen." The brave man promised. "Good luck. Try not to get yourself killed, I don't know how I could bring Jon back up if you did."

She nodded. "I hope he doesn't die either." She whispered.

Jon

He was getting exhausted, but other than that, he and Rhaegal had faired pretty well until now. The same could not be said of Daenerys and Drogon. Jon knew that soon, the wounds the black dragon had sustained would be too much for him to keep flying. He could not see if Daenerys was unharmed but she had screamed earlier, it could not be a sign that all was well.

Jon himself alternated between burning the wights on the ground and attacking the dead dragon, Daenerys was solely focused on her former child. Jon did not know what to think of it. In a way, he would not have been able to deal with the field if Daenerys had not done that, but she also put herself in great danger. In his last assault, the Night King had once again dodged the sword, but Jon had managed to start a cut in the 'shoulder' of the beast. He hoped Daenerys would have seen it and finished the job or that he would have the opportunity again.

For now, he had noticed earlier a White Walker on his dead horse. The monster had already aimed at him with his ice spear – the weapon that took Viserion's life according to Daenerys – and he had missed. He had lost his weapon and that meant Jon could do something about him. First, he needed to find him again. He had tried before to burn the White Walkers with dragon flame. But, if it annoyed them, it did not kill them like the wights. So, he cleared the area using Rhaegal's fire. The wights fell and the Walker remained alone. The thing unsheathed a blade that Jon had not seen before.

Trying to convey his will to Rhaegal, he attempted something he had not done before. He rode the dragon with his head almost upside down. It was a gamble and he would have only one chance he knew. He readied his sword. How exactly it happened, he could not tell, all went so fast. One minute he was upside down on Rhaegal with his sword ready to strike the White Walker. The next, Rhaegal had gotten him back up and he felt a sharp pain in his arm. It is to his arm that he looked first, he had a big cut in his armour and he guessed it went into his skin, judging by the pain. But he could still move his sword arm so he would ignore it. Then, he allowed himself to watch the state of his opponent. He did not exist anymore. The horse had fallen and was alone.

Jon lifted his gaze back up and saw Daenerys struggling. She probably had not seen his plan, or she had had no opening. She also had gotten closer to the castle than he would have liked. Now that he had killed one of the Walkers, he could help her more. He directed Rhaegal toward the dead dragon. He wanted to attack the rider again.

Yet, the green dragon seemed to have other plans. Jon did not understand what happened but Rhaegal did not take the route he had planned. He went to much to the left. Jon started to panic not knowing what to do but to hold on to the dragon's pike and parry any blow that might come his way. He only understood what Rhaegal wanted to do when he was doing it. Using his teeth and claws, the green beast finished the work of Jon's blade. He tore the wing from the body of the dead dragon. It did not kill it, it was already dead and in fact, the torn wing did not bleed, only black goo spurred out. But the dead dragon started to fall. And with it its rider. Dead or not, a dragon could not fly with only one wing.

Myrcella

It was a never-ending wave of dead people, overflowing at the walls. Like she had lost count of the hours before, Myrcella lost count of the number of wights she killed. The bodies had started piling up and Myrcella often had to throw them into the yard to make way for other. She had seen a few of their soldiers fall to the dead already. The following hours were more of the same, she decapitated, struck at the hearts of the things, sometimes she missed and severed a limb instead of going for the chest. Eventually, she had to order the men to spread out into the yard as some wights were getting through. A few strands of hair had escaped her braid and she regularly felt the disgusting fingers of the wights yank at it before she slew them.

After a while, some wights fell to the ground with no other explanation. Maybe one of the livings had managed to kill a White Walker. It would be a good news but she had no time to confirm her guess. There were still too many wights coming their way. One of them managed to cut pretty deep at her cheek. She felt her warm blood flowing down her cheek. Yet, she did not feel the pain, she was numbed. She did not truly felt the soreness and the exhaustion from her muscles. She had become a machine, one that could kill uninterruptedly.

There was a loud shriek that had all of the livings, including Myrcella, lifting their gazes to the sky. They saw the dead dragon fall from the sky with only one wing. That meant Daenerys and Jon had managed to get rid of the dragon at least. But judging by the moving wights around her, Myrcella knew the worst was yet to come. The Night King was still alive.

As if to prove her point, the fallen soldiers who had given their lives to stop the wights overcoming Winterfell, opened their eyes. Blue eyes now. And they rose. Myrcella fought them, Ser Jaime fought them, Tormund destroyed them and so did Brienne. And it was worse than the unnamed wights. Because they had known the men, they had fought together only hours before.

"The Queen!" Someone shouted, pointing at the field down bellow. Myrcella saw from the corner of her eye that Daenerys had landed next to the Wall. Drogon looked severelly injured. Ser Jorah, Daenerys sworn sword, did something very stupid. He joined Daenerys in the field by jumping from the wall. Like it would make any difference, Daenerys already had a dragon next to her. One knight would not help her more. He would only die.

Many of them would anyway, Myrcella realised. She saw that Jon was trying to destroy as many wights as he could with the flames of Rhaegal but there were just too many. To her surprise, Ghost – who had been killing wights alongside the men – jumped after Ser Jorah and into the field.

She had no leisure to think more on the matter as a squire called her down to the yard. She left her uncle in charge. Once there, she met Arya. "The Dothrakis want to go out. From what I understand, they are better on horseback and in the field."

Myrcella looked at the Dothraki man who had been communicating with Arya apparently. "You can go out, but the gate will be closed behind you." He nodded his understanding and she gave the order. Whether they killed wights inside or outside, it did not make much of a difference now.

"I have seen several White Walkers. They are inside." Arya said. Myrcella started to panic. She had not seen it.

"Bran…" She whispered.

"I'm going to the Godswood, you coming?" Understandably, Arya was in a rush. Myrcella followed the young woman.

Ser Davos

At first, they could hear nothing from the safety of the Great Hall. So much so, that the maester kept protesting. He said that he should be out, tending to the wounded. Davos doubted there were many wounded to be treated. Outside, you were either dead or alive and the maester would only have been a burden for the fighters, they would have tried to protect him and they would have died for him. But, as was often the case, the man thought he knew better than Davos because he was highborn and Davos was not. And so, no matter the logical reasons the Hand of the King provided, the man insisted. Davos was used to these reflections but he was surprised to still hear them in such an impossible event and in the mouth of a man who was supposed to be educated.

The tension grew again when the noise started. At least, it had the effect of making the maester shut up. At first, they heard war crys, then screams started. Some were screams of pain, others were simply hisses, but most were screams of agony. From time to time, they heard roars, confirming dragons were still in the sky. Davos hoped with all his heart that his King was safe, and the Queen as well. They were the future of the North and Westeros as a whole through their future children. Davos knew that if they died, there would be a new conflict of power if humanity survived. He simply did not have the energy for that anymore.

He did not have much energy for anything anyway. Not that he would have needed it. For now, the best thing, the bravest thing he could do was remain hidden and wait. Because he knew he would be a burden outside. That is what he told some of the squires who wanted to go out. They reminded him of his sons. The ones who had died for Stannis especially. They had been so eager to go into battle and to fight for their King. They had not seen the danger, only thought of the honour and glory. But Davos had learnt throughout his years and losses, that there was no glory or honour in battle. Only blood and fear and shit. He hoped the young squires assembled in the Great Hall with him would never know a real battle.

This seemed increasingly unlikely as the sounds got closer. And the brave squires started to scream from fear when pounding started at the door.

Theon

The roars of the dragons were the worst. The screams of the men dying, even the horses, he could deal with, he was used to them. But the sounds of dragons were something else. They were haunting, and every time they got closer, he shivered more. At some point, they receded. They did not stop entirely, but there were less of them. Now that they had almost stopped, he did not know what he preferred. Because he did not know what that meant. Surely the fight in the sky had ended, but he had no way of knowing how. Was the Night King dead? Had Daenerys survived? Had Jon?

"They're coming." Bran commented behind him. Theon turned and frowned at the boy.

"What about Jon and the dragon queen?" He asked.

"They're alive, for now. They defeated Viserion." Theon released a sight. AT least he did not have to worry about a dragon attack. But Bran had said that they were coming, they could only be the White Walkers, maybe even the Night King, and he needed to be ready. He was the last line of defense for Bran and he wanted to commit to his role.

Just as he came to term with these facts, he felt a chill, or rather a freezing wind that seemed to settle on the Godswood as a mist could. The cold caused ache all the way to his bones. That was what Bran had meant by his warning probably. He adjusted his grip on his weapon even before he started seeing the blue eyes.

There were three of them. The sword-thin beings that were so white they were almost blue, Theon had never faced them himself, but he had heard the stories. The Night King, who he believed was not here yet, had killed a dragon; sworn brothers of the Night's Watch had seen their swords chattered against the ice weapons of these monsters; and they had an army of more than a hundred thousand dead people, people they had killed mostly.

The three beasts did not seem too eager to face him, they took their time walking to him. In fact, one of them detached from the others and came forward. Meanwhile, the two others looked at each other, it seemed and the smaller of the three turn away and went back from where he had arrived. Theon did not have the time to wonder when he had come.

The White Walker who had came closer engaged the fight. Quickly, it became clear to the Ironborn that he would not survive. The monster simply had too much crude force. He could barely parry the blows and had not even managed to touch the thing. Dodging was out of the question, the beast was too fast. Several minutes passed and he started to thinking of giving up, but each time Bran's face popped up in his mind and it kept him going.

Finally, he found an opening, it was not ideal but he managed to bury his dragonglass blade in the beast's thigh. Unfortunatelly, this left him opened. He saw the Queen in the North run into the Godswood as he felt the ice blade pierce through is chest. It was cold, colder than he would have thought, so cold it burnt.

"Your Grace…" He started, he wanted to tell her to run, to save herself, but he did not have the force required anymore. His world ran black.

Myrcella

Following Arya on the parapets, in the corridors and across the yards, she killed many more wights. To be fair, her goodsister did as much as her. But the matter became trickier when, at the boarder of the Godswood, close to the crypts, they encountered a White Walker. Myrcella, like Arya, readied to fight.

"Go." She heard Arya say. "If there are more I don't think Theon will be able to withstand them much longer. Go and protect my brother, please. I'll be fine."

Myrcella glanced at the dark-haired young woman, searching for a confirmation. Arya did not look towards her, but she saw the determination in her eyes and nodded her agreement. She slowly circled around the monster which did not try to stop her. If anything, it probably confirmed that there were other ones inside the Godswood. Ones that could 'take care of her' probably. She did not look back at her goodsister but heard the first clamours of the fight. Dragonglass against ice made an otherwordly sound and it was accompanied by Arya's panting and cries.

As she entered the Godswood, Myrcella saw a flash of blue entering Theon. The former ward of the Starks, one she had ignored all her life had just been killed by a White Walker, defending a boy he had grown up with. His lips moved before the light left his eyes but she did not hear what he was saying. Bran looked at the scene with indifference in his eyes, the same expression he always had since Myrcella had arrived to Winterfell with Daenerys.

Allowing no time for grief, Myrcella assessed the threat before her. There were two White Walkers for now. She planted her spear in the snow behind her and unsheathed her sword. She guessed she would have no chance to keep the monsters at a reasonable distance so the sword was better.

"Sword right to the sky." Bran shouted. Automatically, she did as he commanded and parried a blow from one of the Walkers. "Diagonal to your left." She managed to wound the thing with that. "Right foot back, sword above eyes." One of the beasts receded, but the other attacked again and though she struggled, she managed to stop the ice blade. She realised that Bran was talking to her in exactly the same way as Oberyn had when she was a child in Dorne. Maybe this was why she acted so automatically. "Spear to your left." She threw the long weapon and caught the White Walker in the chest, it exploded into ice crystals.

It only served to anger the other one who doubled down on her. Even with Bran's directions, it was getting hard to resist the intensity of the fight. She did not know for how long she fought, she just knew she needed help. The help came in the form of her husband whose dragon just landed in the Godswood. The distraction caused by the arrival of the fire-breathing beast was enough for her to decapitate her opponent who met the same fate as his companion.

Jon ran to her. "Where is Daenerys?" She asked.

"I don't know, I lost her." He panted, Myrcella grimaced. Somehow, even if the Queen had been horrible to her, she did not want her to die. "Why did they not attack Bran?"

"They're waiting for their master." Bran answered matter-of-factly and without anymore detail.

Jon looked at Myrcella. "He's coming. I saw him across the walls, he'll be there soon."

Any expectations for the outcome of the battle?

Next chapter: the end of the battle...