A/N: I Know, I know. It's been a very long time since I updated. I had no time to write, and I'm trying to focus on my original stories now... Also, watching the final season didn't help my motivation either for many other reasons.

But I always feel the commitment to finish what I have started. Love you all! Hope you'll enjoy this chapter.

It doesn't matter how well the movies show them, how well written and edited are the scenes and how they are shot, war meetings are like watching paint dry.

They start interesting enough. All of the big names gather around a big table with a huge map. They say things that sound important, and look up to the rulers for the commands and answers. but in between the talks and declarations, there's nothing. Nothing for me, anyway.

I've never planned wars before-only small operations. When I look at Jon and Daenerys, I can't see myself a leader like them. They say their words with no doubt. Never second guessing themselves. Always looking at the bigger picture.

I was looking at the flames reflecting from Jaime's golden hand. I tried to keep myself awake after a long night of guarding the queen's door. She felt some contractions last night, but at the end didn't went into labor. It was tense.

Jaime looked back at me, catching my eyes with his, and I looked away, moving my tired stare to a Stark banner, hanging behind Jon Snow. He was listening to a knight of the Vale.

"Maybe you should get some rest, Andie." Missandei whispered in my ear.

"I should," I whispered back, "But after last night… I want to make sure she's ok." My eyes moved to Daenerys who sat across the table from Jon. Her hands placed on her swollen belly. It's going to happen soon, and the Army of the Dead is still somewhere out there, waiting. For what? I don't know. I don't care.

"Your Grace," Jorah said, "I still think we can try and kill the Night King himself. Like we saw, when you kill a Walker the wightes he turned are falling. The Night King is the right one to assume to create all of the undead. Maybe even the rest of the White Walkers."

Jon nodded and pressed his lips. "The Night King is unreachable by sword. The last time I saw him he was riding on the back of…" He shot a short glance to Daenerys, "The Ice Dragon, north of Winterfell. He's accompanied by his generals if he's not flying up in the sky. Maybe an arrow… but how will we find him?"

I started to feel restless and shifted my wight from one foot to another. It was like someone told me that it was my mission. I have a long range weapon. The kind that is precise, and kills efficiently. Stronger than an arrow. Safer than a sword. Faster than anything a medieval world can offer.

My eyes met Jon's dark ones before I opened my mouth. He looked like he was begging me to shut up.

Like always, it didn't work.

"We can find him. We have good trackers and scouts… but how precise is an arrow in a long distance? How far away from the target can you be to get a clear shot?" Daenerys turned to look at me, knowing, like everyone else in this room, where I was going. "You all know I have weapons that world has never seen, you know how good I am-"

"A talented, well trained bowman can hit a target far enough, with a good backup and support." Jon said with a slight growl in his voice, like an older wolf threatening a puppy to stop being stupid. Then he turned to the rest of the room and resumed the talk.

Bloody hell he's not going to let me do anything, would he?

"Who wrote that song?" Daenerys asked me out of the blue. She had her swollen feet massaged by a maid. I stood at the corner of the large room, my eyes locked on the window. It was pretty large, and even though it had glass and everything, someone very determind could break in.

"John Lennon."

"Oh," I could hear the smile in her voice, "Another Jon."

"It's a pretty common name."

"Was he rewarded for this song? Did people listen, and created this world he sang about?" My eyes moved to her, "How did it go? 'Nothing to kill or die for'. I've never had that kind of peace."

I pressed my lips. "He was and still is a very famous, loved musician and writer. Also, he was murdered."

"Murdered?" Daenerys looked surprised. "What for?"

"Just by a madman. He… he was crazy. Unbaked. Cookoo. Lost his marbles."

"A man's life taken for insanity…" she seemed to think about it a little. "My father was mad, I've been told. How many lives were lost for men's madness?"

I didn't answer. I didn't want to keep talking about crazy people killing other people. My mind was somewhere else-it was somewhere between snow-covered hills, stalking and waiting for the Night King. With the bullets I have left, I would probably be able to make a clear shot. And at the back of my mid, those thoughts I was hushing, the negative feeling about the wedding, were getting louder. But denial, in times like the, is a useful tool. I shouldn't think about this.

I support Jon, right? Whatever and whomever he choses.

Later that day, at dinner, I watched Jon walk around soldiers and advisors. He tried to look well and upbeat, I believe, to keep the morals up. He even drank ale and had a laugh with Tormund, a rare thing to see lately. Jon is not a smiley face.

I drank my fair share of ale and wine as well. As much as I tried to be happy for Jon and Dany, my heart sank after the wedding and I had to fill the space left with alcohol.

Also, the whole thing about being under the threat of a cruel death floated in my mind.

A tall blond sat in front of me with a goblet full of wine. Jaime looked half drunk, and tired. "You said something about killing the Night King the other day," he slurred, "and your King didn't like that. He just shut you up, didn't he? I think he's the only person who can."

"Thanks, Jaime. I really needed to hear that." I said. "Do you have anymore information I already know you can tell me?"

"Well, I know you really like the King. A very loyal subject."

"I'm not a subject, I'm an advisor. And a friend, mostly. And the Queen's bodyguard, I guess."

"I think," Jaime said, "That you and I can sneak out of this bloody grey castle and take that Night King before any more damage will happen." I looked at him, a bit surprised. He continued talking, "Of course, your King said no, and you have to watch our beloved Dragon Queen. Maybe it's not such a good plan after all… also, my sword skills are nothing with my left hand." He was about to pick up his goblet but I took it from him. I took a huge gulp of wine as Jaime stared at me with owe. I am drunk. I am arrogant. I can't handle the thought of war anymore. I can't bare watching Jon being with someone else.

"Let's do this. Let's do this tonight."

I almost shook out of fear when I waited for Jaime in the courtyard. The scenes from the first time I encountered the wights came up the my mind. The death of Sandor and Pod and so many others. How does the White Walkers look like? Who does the Night King looks like?

Jaime met me near the armory, and we walked to the northern gate. The guards gave us suspicious looks, but opened it for us.

"What does he look like?" I asked as we walked to the Unsullied tents. I really did hope they won't notice us.

"Who?" Jaime asked, and I could hear how nervous he was in his voice.

"The Night King."

"I never saw him." Jaime said as we walked into the darkness, "But I suppose he's ugly, with blue eyes."

"Good. Now I know who to aim my guns at."

We stopped walking a few feet after crossing the Unsullied camp. The vast snow desert was silent, and dark. The stars and moon were hidden behind the clouds, and the forest was like a border that marked the place where everything started to be black.

Is it a bad idea? am I and Jaime both stupid to even try?

My fears sank in. The fear of death, of freezing, of being a brainless zombie. The fear of never seeing my friends again-Dakota and Sean, Zee and Mika and Karen. Not seeing Jon again, disappointing him. Causing him more sorrow and heartache.

We were two drunken assholes, thinking they can save the world.

I looked at Jaime and I felt like we both felt the same. but as I opened my mouth to speak, I heard footsteps coming behind us.

"Who are you?" the voice and the accent of an Unsullied soldier asked. I turned around to look at three soldiers and pressed my lips together. So that's how our little mission ended, before it even began.

"Are you out of your minds?!"

I hate feeling like a child. Jon was furious. I felt more than guilty, letting him down again and again and again. I just looked down at my feet, unable to look at him.

"Yes, we are, actually." Jaime said in his sassy voice, "We were out of our minds, because we are waiting here in the castle to be slaughtered when we have her." He gestured with his golden hand at me, "A great fighter. I saw what she can do with those weapons, and she's the best chance we have in defeating the Night King."

"How exactly did you think only the both of you could find him while still being alive and breathing?"Jon asked, not taking Jaime's snarky voice.

"Well, we were about to turn back when logic hit us."

I didn't pay attention to the rest of the people in the room. I know Davos was there, maybe Arya too. But Jon was so angry his presence shadowed the rest. Then he caught my glance with his eyes. "Leave us," he said, and my heart started racing again.

When it was only me and Jon the the room, he didn't speak. I felt like he waited for me to talk, but I had nothing to say.

I looked at him, scared and ashamed, and sorry for being such a kid. I wanted to do this, I truely have. For a few hours, I believed it was possible.

"Jon, I-"

"Why?" He interrupted, "Why are you so, so stubborn?" Jon didn't sound as furious as before. He sounded tired. "Why won't you listen to me? Why are you trying to risk your life time after time, when all I want is you to be safe?"

I looked up to meet his eyes again, and my lower lip quivered. "Jon, I am so, so sorry." My voice was small, "I wasn't thinking. All I wanted was to end this war. Stop it from happening. I… I only…"

"And I want you to use your head." He said, "I can't afford losing you." I felt a tear rolling down my cheek. He sighed and came closer, wiping it away with his thumb. "You kept me safe in a world I didn't know, remember? i've told you that already. You said you will listen."

"I have." I said, trying to keep myself together. It started to be too much. I wanted to go home. I wanted to feel home. And Jon being so close yet so fucking far away was terrible for me. I thought the wedding will make my feelings disappear, but it only gave me an excuse to deny them even farther.

"Then please, listen." Jon almost whispered as he cupped my face in his palms, "Listen to me, Andie."

That's it. That's fucking it. The moment where my brain stopped working, when it was too fucking much.

Without thinking, I had my hands in his hair and pulled him in for a long kiss.

Because I needed home. I needed to feel like I belonged somewhere, anywhere. I needed to be touched, and loved, and just be. And in this dumb, irrational, probably regretful moment, I felt all that. Because he tasted like a forest and ice and fire and home. And he was the only one here that knew me, knew my world, inside and out.

Feeling him lean in was even better. It was something between and dance and a duel. It reminded me of the night back home where we camped and he tried to teach me how to swordfight. We got closer and closer. Who's going to draw back first and deal with the consequences? The embarrassment?

His hands went down to my lower back, and I could feel them even through all of the layers of clothing.

You're doing something wrong, girl. My brain came back to life.

Shut up, brain. The selfish devil on my shoulder said.

The only thing that stopped us, thank the gods, was a loud knock on the door. At first we didn't really hear it, as my fingers got more entangled in his soft hair, and his hot lips were really busy with mine, but when the knock was too loud to ignore we parted, almost in a frightened jump, because I was still trying to grasp my denial, even after this, and we both knew it was wrong, very, very wrong. And he actually kissed me back, for some reason. I always thought he loved Daenerys more than anything. This whole thing, it's my fault, isn't it?

"Come in," Jon called and we both avoided each other's eyes.

Some servants came in a rush ,"Your Grace." one breathed out, "The queen is giving birth."

I didn't look at Jon when we both almost ran down the halls to Daenerys quarters. In this situation, it was so easy to avoid each other.

As he ran through the doors, I stayed outside with the guards. I don't belong there. And now, the guilt I feel will be a hundred times worse after seeing the baby.

I had a long time to think as well. Now that I sobered up, I knew this is something that will never happen again. Nope. It's too uncool. I'll be back to denial as fast as a goddamn cheetah.

After three, maybe four hours waiting, the doors flung open and a maid stepped outside with rosy cheeks and a huge smile. "A baby girl!" she proclaimed. "The queen has given birth to a healthy princess!"

The people who gathered in the hallway cheered loudly. Someone shouted they should drink whatever wine was left in the castle. Someone else said they should make the queen a feast only for her to eat, so she can have her strength back.

Then the voices died out when Jon stepped outside the room, smiling, but exhausted. "Please, my lords. my ladies. We are flattered by your love, but please, our Queen needs a rest more than anyth-"

The sound that stopped Jon was something no one wanted to hear. It was sharp and clear, and badly timed. Everyone froze in their place, as the sound of the horns declaring the enemy's armies are surrounding the castle sliced through the air.

My eyes jumped to Jon, almost like an instinct, and I saw him giving me the same look back. He nodded, and I nodded back.

I ran into Daenerys room as chaos erupted, knowing that maybe that short exchange of looks will be our last, and that bittersweet regretful kiss we shared will be the last memory of us together.