Hey!

So, it's almost the end... and the battle finishes here.

I hope you like it.
Enjoy!

Myrcella

They were ready, ready to jump on anything that would come their way and threaten Bran. Too ready maybe in fact, as the first being to enter the Godswood after Jon was Ghost. They almost attacked him. The big direwolf had lost an ear somehow but he still had his big red eyes, no trace of blue. But soon, the great animal started to snarl and growl. The Night King appeared with five of his White Walker and a few wights. The wights she could deal with but it was chaos anyway.

She felt the scraches of their claw-like nails on her cheeks and everytime she killed one, two more came. For some reason, Rhaegal flew away. Eventually, after countless kills, she fell on something that was not a wight. It was a White Walker. The fight was ugly. Myrcella did not have much proper form anymore, she fought with all she had though. From the glances she could catch from her surroundings, she saw that Jon was in the same situation, battling a White Walker with wights all around him. He looked to be less struggling than she was but maybe it was just her humility speaking. She slit the throat of the White Walker with queer luck, actually, she did not even know how she had done it, but the thing was dead.

The fight however, was about to get worse. From nowhere, a snow storm started. Myrcella did not see Jon anymore. She did not see anything further than a few feet away. And the attacks of the wights resumed. This time, she sustained a cut on her arm. Weird, since she wore armour there, she realised it was no common blade that had struck her from the burning sensation in her wound. She turned just in time to parry the blow of another White Walker. One of the wights took the opportunity to yank at her hair. This time, she was pretty sure she had lost a patch of it. In all honesty, this fight felt like more of the same. More cuts, more blows parried, more loss of energy for her already exhausted muscles. But she told herself she had to keep going. She felt the end come when she fell backwards. She put her sword up to try and guard herself. But just as the monster was about to struck the final blow, he exploded to reveal Arya behind him.

"I killed another one at the gate, how many others?" She asked with urgency.

"The Night King, and two more, Jon was fighting one when I last saw him." Myrcella replied, trying to catch her breath and rising back to her feet. She had a bleeding wound on her thigh, she realised. Actually, the storm started to clear out. Arya might have killed the Walker responsible for the storm, or maybe their King wanted a clear view for his finale.

Jon was still battling the same White Walker and a couple of wights. Arya rushed towards him but Jon was quicker. He killed the White Walker by cutting it in two with his valyrian steel sword. The wights fell immediately. Arya stopped running and the two siblings looked at each other. It is probably why they did not see the other threat. The Night King came from the last of the mist to Jon's side and was about to end him.

"Jon, to your left!" Myrcella shouted. Jon looked in the direction she had indicated but Arya turned to her goodsister. Her eyes widened.

"Myrcella watch out!" She screamed. Myrcella turned to her own left side and put her arm in the air to stop the blow. Obviously, it did not. She could not describe the pain of her flesh ripping from her arm, strips of skin or tissue were taken out from the shoulder.

It should not have mattered really, this pain. She should have died in the next seconds with a second blow. But the second blow never came as Arya's dagger – the one which had been Littlefinger's once – sunk into the monster's flesh and pierced the other way.

The pain and loss of blood made it hard for her to focus and the fog had settled again, so she did not know if Jon saw her, nor how he faired in his own fight. In a way, it was a good thing. He needed to be focused, no need to be worried over her. But she also would have liked to see him one more time.

Arya was over her, and she was crying. "Please Myrcella, stay with me! Don't die, you can't die. Jon needs you. The North needs you."

Arya's voice was fading and her vision was blurred. She barely saw her goodsister again. But she saw the fog lifting, later, there was a commossion around her, but she did not know what was happening anymore. She knew nothing.

Jon

The fog lifted as soon as Longclaw pierced through the armour of the Night King. The terrifying being that had tormented his nights and his days for the last five years was no more. He checked on Bran first, he did not even had a scratch, but his eyes were fixated on something on the ground behind Jon. The King in the North turned on his heels and looked at his sister squatting over a body, Myrcella's body.

There was a lot of blood on the floor under her as he walked closer letting his sword fall to the ground in a great ringing of steel. He knelt beside his sister. Myrcella's left arm was torn out from the elbow. She also had superficial cuts on her right arm and thigh along with scratches on her face and skull. Her eyes were still open, but it was clear she was loosing conciousness. Jon's heart was beating way too fast. He had no idea what to do and looked to Arya in panic for guidance.

"You get her to your rooms, last I checked, this part was not destroyed. Don't light the hearth, she must remain cold until the wounds are sawn shut. I'll get the maester." Arya announced giving his wife's good hand over to him.

"What about the dead?" He caught his little sister by the wrist.

"You killed the dead when you killed the Night King." She ran off. He had no idea how she could be so sure of that but he decided to trust her anyway. Carefully, he gathered Myrcella in his arms. Once he had a good hold, with the last of his strength, he ran to the keep.

Indeed, he crossed no dead people's path and no White Walker's. The bodies sure were there to testify of the horror, but it was as if the threat had never existed.

"Stay with me Myrcella." He whispered frantically. "We need to have children, you said it was our duty. And you have to go to Dorne, you have to see your little girl, please stay with me." His wife's eyes battered, but she was clearly struggling. She needed a maester fast.

Maester Wolken threw him out as soon as he arrived. He said he could not do his work properly if he had a stressed husband behind him. So began the agony of waiting. While he stood there in the corridor, various people made their reports. He heard none of them, Ser Davos who had joined him heard them and thanked the soldiers for him. Jon was not in a state to function normally. He had just lived through the worst battle in history, it had probably lasted the span of several days, but it was so much easier compared to this. Compared to staying out of his wife's door, not knowing if she would live or die. He was partially aware that Daenerys arrived at some point, which meant she had not died at least, but again, he let Davos handle her.

He refused to eat, sleep or say anything until finally the maester came out. Daenerys, Ser Davos and himself jumped on him awaiting the news.

"I have done everything I could, if we can prevent further infection, I think she'll live. But I cannot tell you when she'll wake up." He gave them the ghost of a smile and Jon let out a little bit of the breath he had been holding. "Good thinking getting her to remain cold, your Grace. It slowed her heart rate and probably saved her life."

"It was my sister's idea." He croaked. "Can I?…" The man allowed them entry.

Sansa

She had slept three times more during the Long Night, so she could only guess it lasted between three and four days. When the first rays of sun, she took the decision immediately to go back to Winterfell, not waiting for a raven. If the sun rose, then it could only mean the Night King was defeated and it was safe to go back.

She saw devastation upon arrival and the minds of the people had not been spared. They were traumatized. Winterfell was half destroyed. The glass garden was a pile of metal and broken glass, the armoury was no more and the north wall had been destroyed. Thankfully, the Great Hall and the family quarters were still standing.

As for the people… Arya only had a few scratches and superficial cuts, as did Daenerys. But the dragon queen's dragon, Drogon was lingering between life and death from its many wounds, the Queen spent most of her time with it. Ser Jorah Mormont had died protecting his cousin Lyanna in the last hour of the battle, she learnt from the young lady. Daenerys had sent him to help elsewhere when Drogon had proved vigourous enough to protect her still. It probably got both the man and the dragon killed. Brienne had a few broken ribs and cuts and bruises, so did Tormund who still lusted after Sansa's sworn sword even after they had lived through the worst battle in history.

Sansa was very sad to learn that Theon had died protecting Bran. She was also touched by the death of Podrick, Brienne's squire whom she had grown close to. Ser Jaime was not dead, but he told Tyrion he wished he was apparently, the wights had broken his legs into so many pieces that he would never walk again according to the maester. Grey Worm, Missandei's lover also got a broken leg, though it was less severe.

The worst really was Myrcella. As soon as she set foot in Winterfell, she was told that the Queen in the North was out of danger but had not woken yet. It had been two weeks, the reparations had already begun. Jon had been at her side day and night, so she knew where to find her brother at least.

Sansa Stark had gotten strong in the last years. She thought her tears had dried up while she was a prisoner of the Red Keep, but she weeped with Jon for the young girl laying in bed. Her left arm below the elbow was gone. She had half-healed cuts all over her face and hair and she was pale, so pale.

She held Jon close to her as he cried. "What am I going to do if she does not wake up?" He sobbed on her shoulder. She patted his back for lack of anything to say. She did not know. What would they all do without Myrcella?

Myrcella

It hurt. Everything hurt but mostly her left arm. Myrcella slowly opened her eyes and tried to get up but failed. A man with dark hair rushed in her eyesight.

"Easy…" He said touching her as if she was going to break. She recognised her husband's voice. "I don't think you should sit just yet."

"What happened?" She croaked, talking heart, her throat was so dry.

"You remember the Long Night." She nodded, flashes came back of the battle and she immediately looked at her left arm to discover that it had been severed from the elbow down. "I'm sorry, the maester was able to save your shoulder but… You lost a lot of blood. I thought I'd lost you." He was crying she realised.

"How… how long?" She asked with aprehension.

"It's been almost a month… you started waking up three days ago." Again, she nodded. A month, so much must have happened, dead buried and reconstruction started.

"Who died?" She looked at his sorrowful face directly for the first time.

"Ser Jorah Mormont, Theon, Podrick, Edd…" He started.

"The Commander from the Night's Watch?" She asked, he nodded his confirmation. "I'm sorry… What about my uncles?"

"They're alive but…" He hesitated.

"But what?" Myrcella felt her heart racing.

"Ser Jaime, his legs were badly broken, he will never walk again… Daenerys had a wheeled chair, one like Bran's, made for him." He explained.

"Daenerys?"

"I think she was shaken by all the events here." Jon confessed. It would make sense. "Drogon was badly injured. We thought he would die… Turns out he won't but he cannot fly as well as he used to." Myrcella nodded, that indeed must have been hard for the Queen. "I'll go tell the maester you're awake and then I can maybe find your uncles so that you can talk… Maybe some food also."

"Thank you, I'd like that." She tried to smile. Jon got up but using her good arm she stopped him. "Jon? Will you come back? With my uncles?" His eyes widened slightly.

"Of course." He kissed her forehead before leaving.

She stared at the ceiling and tried to sit up once more. She felt pathetic doing so, she struggle until Maester Wolken arrived. The maester helped her sit, her head turned a little but she managed to do so without emptying her stomach.

"You frightened us, your Grace." The older man said. "But with that much rest, your wounds are almost healed. I would still advise you to keep a low pace for the following months, no walking outside of your room unassisted and no more than one hour of standing per day."

Myrcella nodded. She wanted to ask him if she was pregnant, remembering her questions before the battle, but she kept her mouth shut. She was not ready for the answer yet. As the maester was leaving, advicing her once more to eat something as soon as possible, her uncles and goodsisters arrived with Jon. Sansa and Tyrion were first and crowded her with talks of relief and how much she had worried them. She even forgot for a minute her grievances with Tyrion. Arya, pushed Jaime's wheeled chair. It was strange, seeing the warrior he had been this way. Even more so than when he had lost his hand. But she thought he would look more defeated than he was.

"Uncle…" She called though that was not how she wanted to address him. "I'm sorry…" She said.

He chuckled lightly. "Always thinking of others. Don't worry, I completed my purpose in life. I have nothing to complain about." Somehow, that did not comfort Myrcella.

"You wouldn't…" She started but changer her course mid-sentence. "What will you do now?"

"I haven't thought about that yet…" He said after thinking about it for some time.

Myrcella looked at Jon with pleading eyes, he nodded slightly. "You could stay with us." She turned back to her her uncle. He smiled and nodded.

Daenerys visited later, but she did not say much and stayed for a very little time. Mostly, she wished Myrcella a quick recovery and good health. Later that day, Myrcella laid in bed, her head on Jon's chest.

"What has been decided with Daenerys?" She asked hoping he would understand her underlying question.

"Nothing yet, we were waiting for you to wake up…" That surprised her. She had not realised she was so important to them.

"Do you think she can still rule?" She was curious.

"With the right people around and the right system in place, I think so…" He sighed. "To be honest, I have no wish to leave the North right now. I have an idea of how things could go, but it would probably be better if we waited until you are rested a little more." Myrcella lowered her gaze. She understood why Jon would wish to stay here, but she wanted to be closer to Arianne. "Once winter is over we should go to Dorne." It was as if he had read her mind.

"I'd like that." She said softly.

"I have a question Myrcella." He seemed unsure. "Ser Jaime and you…" He was struggling to get his interrogations out. So she put him out of his misery.

"The rumours are true." She felt him nod behind her. "Is that a problem my Lord?" She asked anxiously.

"I would be a hypocrit if I said it was. My family's history is rigged with incest. And you are a perfect wife. I could never hold your birth against you…" He kissed the crown of her head.

Ser Davos

Lady Sansa was organising the feast to celebrate the Dawn, at long last… But Davos had more troubling matters to attend to. He was stuck in a solar with Lord Tyrion, King Jon, Queen Myrcella and Queen Daenerys. There to decide the future of the Seven Kingdoms.

Daenerys was the first to talk. "I am aware that my actions have caused much damage to the Seven Kingdoms and made it hard for anyone really to trust you." She started, her voice trembling. For the first time, Davos thought of the dragon queen as brave. It was not an easy thing to recognise one's mistakes. "I also understand better your reserves due to my father's madness." She recognised. "Therefore, my Hand has come up with a solution that I think might be acceptable."

"Daenerys will be Queen of the Six Kingdoms of the South. But she will be under a sort of light regency. I, as her Hand, will send regular reports North to King Jon, including the state of mind of her Grace." Tyrion Lannister explained.

Davos frowned. Why should Daenerys be Queen of anything? "Excuse me, but why keep her Grace as Queen of the South?"

"We need to stay in the North to repair it, Ser Davos." Queen Myrcella intervened. "Not to mention, the people of King's Landing, including my brother, have accepted her as their Queen. We would have a hard time overthrowing her without conflict." She paused and her gaze hardened and settled on her uncle from her chair. "Though, my uncle has not exactly proved trustworthy in the last months… We will need two reports. One from you and one from Tommen. Any change of the Hand of the Queen must also be accepted by us. And Rhaegal will remain here." Daenerys lifted her head quickly at this condition. "Jon is his rider, he has no place in King's Landing."

"Myrcella…" Lord Tyrion started.

"You have no power of negociation in that Uncle… I suggest you avoid making any more mistake." Her tone was icy. Lord Tyrion conceded his defeat with a nod.

Thus was the fate of the Realm decided. Daenerys, Tyrion and what was left of their army – mostly unsullieds, since most of the Dothrakis had died in the field – would leave right after the feast. Winter was still there and Winterfell simply could not host that many people.

Well, I hope you liked the end of the battle. It was always my intention that Myrcella would not come out of the battle whole...

Next chapter: the livings celebrate and the Southerners leave the North.