Notes: This is my first Game of Thrones fanfic, and I'm super excited to work with it but it's difficult! There are so many characters and plot-lines it can be overwhelming but I'm trying my best. First chapter is a little crummy, but I promise it gets better. One note, the only o.g. character (for now) is called Clara. She's Sansa's daughter (about one and a half years old), but more will be explained as you go on. Enjoy!
Chapter 1: Picking up the Pieces
Silence fell upon Winterfell. Arya had driven her knife into the Night King, and the battle was over. Slowly the living began emerging from their hiding spots. Viserion sunk to the ground, and Jon stood up in relief when he realized they had been saved. In the crypts, the bodies of those "revived" crumpled into dust. Sansa looked to Tyrion, and removed her hand from her daughter's mouth. Clara took a deep breath and nuzzled her face into Sansa's neck, whimpering softly. Sansa rubbed small circles on her back to comfort her, and kissed the top of her head. They were safe.
Daenerys stood in the middle of the quad, breathing a sigh of relief until she turned just in time to catch Jorah as he fell. She lowered him to the ground slowly, and let out a cry of anguish as he choked up blood.
"No, Ser Jorah, it will be okay. There are maester's here. Surely Sam can save you again, I'll find him, you just need to…"
Tears rolled down her face as he tried to speak,
"Khalessi, it's okay," He murmured.
She held him as he slowly drifted to sleep, and cried sobs deeper than she thought possible when he closed his eyes for the last time. She stayed with him, resting her head on his chest, until Jon came over to her.
"Oh Dany, I'm so sorry. But you need to come inside, you're wounded, you need to be seen by a maester," he said, offering his hand to her.
Three of the Unsullied offered to carry Jorah to a respectable place until the funeral. She nodded slowly, walking alongside Jon and taking one more longing backwards glance at the man who had loved her more than anyone.
Inside, healthy soldiers were already moving the dead to piles outside and bringing in injured soldiers and citizens who needed care. There weren't many left.
"I want to help Jon, let me do something," Dany pleaded.
"Daenerys, you need help. Your face, it's bleeding."
"I'll be okay, these are our people, they need us," She said as she escaped his gentle grip and walked over to the dining hall where help was being set up.
She was grabbing bandages and clean water to set up stations, just as she had done in Meereen after freeing the slaves. Jon went on to help the others outside, knowing there was no way to talk her out of her plan. She wanted distraction, no: she needed it. She stayed to help for hours until she began to feel dizzy. She caught the edge of the table, and slowly slid to the floor. The last thing she saw before she passed out was Sam's worried face looking down at her.