I've mentioned House of the Dragon a few times in authors notes since its announcement, and I will do so again. Personally I think the armour and costumes that have been shown in set pictures look absolutely incredible! The Targaryen soldier armour is something that I actually want to buy myself! After the disappointment of Season 8, it's nice to be excited about a show in this universe again.

On to this story however, and some housekeeping… I've borrowed Jon's speech from the show. While as said above I didn't think that Season 8 wasn't perfect by any stretch of imagination, I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it up until halfway through Episode 4 when they left Winterfell. My two favourite moments however were the knighting of Brienne and Jon's speech about the dead. That speech was just too good, and I could never do justice to try and adapt my own, so I've used it here.

I own nothing except the OC's. All of the recognisable characters and places from the books or show belong to George R R Martin or HBO.

Tyrion Lannister had been inside for the entire battle gripping the last thing his Father had ever gifted him in the golden gilded axe. To ignore the constant bickering of the Mormont duo, Tyrion allowed his thoughts to wander all over the place during the battle, and they went to his eldest brother who had gifted him the armour he was wearing, to his nephew that was somewhere out there fighting for his life with the rest of Tyrion's family. Finally his thoughts had ended on his wife, the Lady of Storm's End and the question of if they would have a future together with both of them seemingly embroiled in impending doom.

The fighting was getting noisier and even the usually stoic and stern Unsullied inside the room were growing nervous. Tyrion could feel his nerves creeping in on him too, and so he placed his axe down on the map table and poured himself some wine. He ignored the judgemental look from the elder Mormont's face and downed it, pouring some more. "Lighten up, Mormont. I don't want to die sober." Tyrion looked around and realised that the room was emptier than when he had fallen into his thoughtful trance. The Mormont girl was gone with a handful of Northmen. "Where's the girl?"

"Fighting." Bran said calmly. "Doing her part." Tyrion was stood still, not sure how to respond to that when he just nodded and picked up his axe again. He didn't even get a chance to speak when from outside an audible twang flew towards their ears from the doorway, and everyone grew cautious. "It is time." Bran said.

"Time for what?" Tyrion asked. Nobody answered him the first time however, so he repeated the question. "Time for what?"

"The end." Jorah said darkly. He turned to the Stark cripple. "Are you sure?" Bran just nodded, and so Jorah unsheathed his blade and walked over to the door, unbolting it and swinging it open, before one of the Northern guards pushed the wheelchair that seated the Stark to the doorway.

Tyrion could just about see out. He noticed bodies everywhere on the ground, but the closest one too them was standing up shakily, and even from his terrible angle Tyrion could see Jon Snow in his black and red coloured Northern armour.

"Bran…" Jon gasped, and Tyrion thought that he sounded winded.

"It's ok, Jon." The Stark responded. "This has to happen." Bran's head shifted slightly, and Tyrion then saw the scariest being that he had ever seen, and inside his mind snorted at the image of his Father shitting himself at facing this creature. "It is me you want, it is me you branded."

Then everything happened in a blur. The Night King started to walk towards Bran and Jon Snow cried out in objection, and in a move that felt like it happened in slow motion, Jon Snow managed to impale his blade within the Night King's heart.

Tyrion had to shield his eyes as the Night King shattered into shards of ice, and when he looked up again afterwards he could see into the distance as thousands upon thousands of bodies just dropped, with a few other ice explosions occurring at the same time. The dwarf let out a huge sigh of relief and just dropped the axe in his hands.

Speechless, he could only watch as Jon got back to his feet after the destructive blast and rushed to Bran, sliding to his knees in front of the cripples wheelchair. "You're alright?" He asked, panting.

"I am." Bran said in his now constant monotone. "You are now truly the Prince that was Promised."

That along with his prior dragon riding caught Tyrion's attention, but he could barely comprehend it all when a loud thud sounded as Drogon landed nearby, with Daenerys dismounting her mount and almost running towards them. "I saw the wights all drop… is it?"

"It's over." Jon said, still panting. "We've won."

Dany grinned and caught Jon in a firm hug, releasing him quickly. Jorah Mormont, however, knew exactly how to bring the tone down as he stared out past the icy shards before them. "But at what cost?"

Tyrion saw what he was looking at, the body of Lyanna Mormont. He felt a pain in his chest as he looked at the child's body and he pushed past everyone to walk out of the room, leaving Jon and Daenerys discussing what would happen next. He stopped by the Mormont girl's body and closed his eyes for a moment, when he heard more noise. The survivors were traipsing back in, carrying either injured or dead companions. One of those survivors he noticed being illuminated by flames was Ser Lyle Crakehall, carrying an extremely golden body over his shoulder. Tyrion's eyes widened as he realised who it was, and he moved as fast as his legs could carry him over towards the Crakehall.

Lyle dropped Loren down in a rare space of snowy ground, and carefully removed the Lannister's helmet. He noticed Tyrion getting closer and said. "He's alive, I think."

"What happened?" Tyrion asked.

Lyle looked out into the distance, and Tyrion followed his gaze towards the breach in the walls and the dead dragon. "He fought that monster one on one, thing smacked him one on the head." He kicked the helmet so it rolled slightly, and Tyrion could see a fist sized dent. "He needs rest. I need to go and help gather more bodies."

Tyrion shook his head sadly as he looked down at his peacefully unconscious nephew. "I will stay with him."

"Probably best." Lyle said solemnly. "But… you should know."

Tyrion looked up at the large man as he fumbled on what to say. "Know what?"

Lyle closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The beast kept coming for Loren even when I was carrying him away. Ser Jaime saw that and stood between us."

Tyrion immediately understood. He had seen the Night King fight with Jon. "He wouldn't stop fighting to keep the Night King from Loren until he couldn't anymore." He whispered, as the ache in his heart grew.

"He died a hero." Lyle said firmly. "I need to go and retrieve him and the swords."

Tyrion nodded, falling to his knees beside Loren. "Go." Was all he said, as he placed his left hand on Loren's chest and could only hold himself together until Lyle was in the distance before he openly started to weep.

Once everybody was aware that they would need to burn all the bodies, Jon went to help the survivors gather both the injured and the dead. The sheer extent of the devastation on the ground made him feel incredibly guilty about being for the most part safe in the air, but the amount of people that came up to him and thanked him for the air support made him feel slightly better.

As he stepped out into the battlefield beyond the wooden wall, he noticed movement in the distance. As he stepped over fallen wights and Westerlanders, he moved towards it and saw a man just a couple of years younger than he was with a sigil on his chest, a quartered coat of arms showing House Frey, House Lannister, House Frey again and House Darry's sigils. He knew this personal sigil well, having spoken to his sister about it.

"Help…" The young man said weakly. "My leg…"

Jon looked at the leg in question and noticed that his breaches were torn and stained red, and there were bite and claw marks leading down to noticeable bone. "You'll lose that." He nodded coldly.

"Please… My Lord." Tywin Frey gasped. "Help…"

Jon knelt down, gripping Tywin Frey's doublet tightly. "Is that what my sister said as you forced yourself upon her as she was chained to the bed?" He growled angrily.

Tywin Frey looked up at Jon horrified. "Please… I only did what I was told too…"

Jon couldn't even pity him. "She was a child, and you raped her."

"Please." Tywin Frey pleaded again, tears in his eyes. "Arya…"

Jon didn't let him say any more. As soon as her name came out of Tywin Frey's mouth he slipped a Dragonglass dagger up through the underside of his chin and listened to the gargles of blood as the Frey choked to death. Jon pulled the weapon out just as smoothly, wiping it on Tywin Frey's armour before picking up a dead Lannister soldier nearby and turning around, letting the coughing and spluttering Frey lose his life alone.

As Loren awoke he quickly realised that he was back inside his tent. His armour had been stripped off and he was tightly wrapped in thick furs that even in the cold winter air made him warm. His head was pounding on the right side and his left leg felt warmer than the rest of his body, though as he shifter and his legs rubbed together he felt a jolting pain.

"Careful." He heard the voice of Tyrion Lannister at his side, though it sounded quitter than his uncle usually was. Loren turned his head to the left and noticed his Uncle at his desk, writing on Loren's own parchment. "The Maester said you must stay where you are until he comes back to see you and can speak to you himself."

Loren sighed, but he still pushed himself backwards to try and sit upright, wincing at the movement making his head ache more. "How long…"

"Not long, a few hours. Look, you haven't even missed the dawn returning." Tyrion turned around and pointed to the slim gap in the tent faps where a bright orange light was attempting to stream in. "Stay still, Loren. I will fetch the Maester." The dwarf placed the quill down and jumped to the ground, walking out of the tent and causing a bright orange light to enter Loren's eyes. He didn't even wince away, relishing the sunlight on his face.

Loren looked around him. He noticed his armour was hung up on a mannequin, dented and ripped still from the battle. He then saw how bad the rip in his leg had been and winced again as his thighs touched once more. Standing up against the armour were two scabbards with swords that he would recognise anywhere, Red Rain and Pride. Seeing Pride though made Loren remember the sight of Jaime disappearing through the fog, an ice sword through his chest.

Thankfully, not too long after the first tear fell down his cheek the tent opened up again, and Tyrion re-entered the tent with a rotund, blonde Maester. "This is Maester Theomore." Tyrion explained.

"I serve the New Castle in White Harbour, My Lord." Theomore explained. "But I hailed from Lannisport before I forged my chain."

Loren nodded. "I can see our family in you, Maester." He said hoarsely.

"As I can see our families stubbornness in you, My Lord." Theomore smirked. "You should be lying down."

Loren shook his head. "Thousands of my men are dead, I cannot be an invalid while the living are mourning, I should be with them."

Theomore sighed but nodded all the same. "Then let me strap you up as best I can." He began to explain. "Your left thigh, it is frostbitten. Not so disastrously that we must take it, but a small area has begun to blister. I have prepared a bandage and a poultice to help the skin recover as quickly as possible, but it will take months." Loren nodded, allowing the Maester to unfurl his furs and he awkwardly shifted so that his breeches could be lowered, ignoring the silence as the Maester wrapped up his blistered thigh. "Change these once a day My Lord, ideally in a morning. I have left my instructions with Lord Tyrion."

"And I shall see you return to Casterly Rock with it." Tyrion said firmly.

Loren nodded again, but the pain in his head came back. "My head… the Night King gave it a tremendous thump." He explained, pointing to the painful area.

The Maester pulled Loren's breeches back up and moved up his body, gently resting his hand on the right side of Loren's head. "I have something that may ease the swelling." He reached into his satchel and pulled out a bottle. "Again, I don't have a lot of this, and I have many others to treat."

"You will treat Lord Lannister as thoroughly as you are able to, Maester." Tyrion almost growled, the title emphasised.

Maester Theomore gulped. "As you say, My Lord." And he uncorked the bottle and poured a thick yellow substance onto a cloth, rubbing it into Loren's head. "Give that a few minutes and the pain should numb for a while. I will concoct something more permanent when I can."

"Thank you, Maester. I'm sure you have other patients." Loren said. "But before you go, if you could help me up?"

"My Lord, you shouldn't be walking unaided." The Maester explained.

"He won't be." Tyrion told him. "That leg looked nasty, and one of your soldiers is a fine carver from Kayce. He spent the last hours carving you this." He pulled out a cane with a handle that had been whittled into the obvious Lannister Lion.

The Maester didn't look happy, but he helped Loren up anyway and allowed him to try out the cane. When Loren found a rhythm that he could live with, Theomore tutted. "Very well. If I may be excused, My Lord?"

"Thank you, Maester." Loren said honestly. The Maester just bowed and exited the tent, allowing Loren to move over to grab some more respectable clothes and a large fur cloak to put over the top of them. He felt embarrassed at having Tyrion tie his boots up, but while the dwarf did that for him, he could see what Tyrion was writing.

"A Factual telling of the Death of King Robert and all the Wars that followed." Loren read. "The title could use some work."

Tyrion scoffed. "These things need to be remembered for the generations that follow us. How better to do that than a book." He got back to his feet, dusting himself off. "I will want to speak to you about some of the facts."

Loren looked through the gap in the tent and could see people moving towards the North in droves. "Perhaps another time." He muttered, and he picked up the cane and began to limp out of his tent, following the crowds.

Everyone had been busy. Thousands upon thousands of bodies were laid out on mass pyres, while the survivors gathered along one side of the scene. He very quickly noticed his banner flying on one end and limped over, greeting and thanking everyone he passed, noting the relief on the Westerlanders faces and the distain on some of the other countrymen. As he got to the front he was very happy to see a battered and bruised Ser Kevan Lannister stood with Lyle Crakehall, who's arm was in a sling.

"My Lord." Kevan whispered, a smile on his face. "I am truly pleased to see you up."

"I couldn't miss this." Loren told him. He looked at the nearest pyre and saw both Jaime and Daven Lannister laying there, with the bodies of Lord Damon Marbrand and Lambert on the same pyre. Loren didn't wait for permission to walk towards it. He stopped firstly by Damon Marbrand, and he lay a hand on the old man's chest. "I'm sorry My Lord, I should have never sent you forward first." Then he stopped by Daven, the man that he had played with as a child, who he had sparred with when he was first given a wooden sword and the man who was an uncle to his child. Loren grimaced and snapped his eyes shut, stopping the tears in the need to appear strong. "You shall never be forgotten, brother." Loren whispered angrily. "Never." Next to Daven, Jaime lay. His face looked peaceful, and Loren realised that he honestly couldn't remember the last time that it had looked like that. "You were my idol as a child." Loren explained. "The golden Lion of the Kingsguard, the hero of Pyke. The pride of Casterly Rock. Thank you for all that you did for us, Uncle. You sacrificed yourself for me to live, and I will try my utmost to repay you for that by being as good a Lord of the West as I can be."

The hardest body to look at was Lambert's. His head had been reattached with ugly thread and his left hand was gone from the elbow now. Loren's tears dropped freely at the sight of the red head. He thought on their first meeting, where Lambert's late Father had come to Casterly Rock to petition for some hunting rights, and the boys had just hit it off so well that Tywin Lannister had allowed Lambert to foster at the Rock.

Loren felt an arm on his shoulder, and he wiped away his tears to see Lord Eldrick Sarsfield. "Come on Lor." Eldrick whispered. "It's time to set them free."

Loren nodded, and he took one last look at Lambert, pressing his free hand onto the Turnberry's chest. "Your children will want for nothing." Loren promised. "I will treat them as my own, in memory of you my friend." He sighed and let Eldrick drag him back to the line where torches had been lit in preparation.

From the centre of the huge line of survivors, Jon Snow stepped forwards. Loren looked over at the dark-haired man and listened, as he spoke loudly so that all could hear. "We're here to say goodbye to our brothers and sisters. To our fathers and mothers. To our friends. Our fellow men and women who set aside their differences to fight together and die together so that others might live. Everyone in this world owes them a debt that can never be repaid. It is our duty and our honour to keep them alive in memory for those who come after us and those who come after them for as long as men draw breath. They were the shields that guarded the realms of men. And we shall never see their like again."

Loren felt another tear fall down his face as he looked firmly at the pyre with those he cared about most. While he didn't move, he noticed Kevan at the side of him step forwards with a torch in hand, along with a whole host of others, all going to separate pyres. Once everybody was in place, Daenerys Targaryen was the first one to light a pyre, and one by one the flames began to burn the wood and kindling, and the bodies of all those that had died to defend the living were engulfed in flames.

They didn't linger in the North for long after the flames of the pyres had died down. An embarrassed Loren had to deal with riding back down South in a wagon, but with the return of daylight came the melting of the snows and a faster travel time, so it only took around three weeks until those that were due to descend on King's Landing arrived back at Harrenhal to be greeted by Olyvar Frey. Tyrion quickly excused himself to go and see his wife while the other nobles were taken to decent rooms. After living in a tent for what had seemed like ages, Loren didn't need convincing to sleep in a bed and he didn't wake up for almost half a day.

By the time he had gotten redressed and had some food inside him, he made his way into the war chambers of the Kingspyre Tower, where all of the Lords Paramount had been requested to gather to discuss their plans. Loren was the last to enter on account of his cane and limp, and so he observed the distasteful stare from part of the room. Lord Bryce Caron was filling in for Tyrion and the Stormlands, and Loren clearly noted how the occupation of Nightsong hadn't been forgotten. The newly appointed Lord of Bear Island Jorah Mormont and Lord Yohn Royce also didn't look overly pleased to see Loren.

"Ah, Lord Lannister." Daenerys greeted. "Thank you for joining us, I apologise for not thinking of your injury when I had us meet here…"

Loren shook his head as he sank gratefully into a chair. "This is the best place to begin our plans, Your Grace. I should have left earlier."

"Now that we are all here." Lord Royce muttered. "Shall we begin?"

"In a moment." The Queen stated. "Firstly, with the… unfortunate destruction of House Frey of the Twins, the Riverlands is in need of new leadership. I have discussed things with a few of the Lords of the region and have managed to get them to agree to swear fealty to Lord Olyvar Frey of Harrenhal. Under my reign, the lands of Harrenhal shall once again be a part of the Riverlands, and all Lords and Ladies shall look to the Lord of this castle as their Lord Paramount." She smiled at Olyvar Frey, who just looked awkward. "Congratulations, Lord Olyvar."

"I hope I can serve you well in the role, Your Grace." The Frey bowed.

"You will." Daenerys was sure. "Though the current borders with the Westerlands shall hold." Loren was pleased with that, he was expecting the land that his Father and Grandfather had taken to be lost with reparations. "Now, what is the state of our force?"

Loren had lost over half of his men in the fight against the dead, a steep number but a loss that was mostly matched by both Dorne and the Reach as the three countries on the front lines had born the majority of the damage. With all the numbers totalled up and injuries taken into account it left Daenerys with over 80,000 men ready and able to assault the Red Keep.

"More than enough." Loras Tyrell smirked, though in his eyes the pain of losing half of his own men was showing.

"Become overconfident at your own peril." Lord Caron stated coldly. "King's Landing is built to withstand hundreds of thousands."

"But that is reliant on the people being behind their monarch." Loren explained. "The people are not behind Cersei, and she will not care how many of them die so long as she takes us with her."

"We have 8 different forces, each of different sizes." Jon explained, standing up and looking at the map of King's Landing that was spread out on the table. "If Cersei has every single man of the Crownlands inside King's Landing ready to fight, we outnumber her four times."

"Assault all the gates at once." Loren told them. "When Stannis Baratheon assaulted King's Landing it was a struggle enough to keep him at bay when he was attacking just one of the gates. If we spread our men around the entire city and all assault it at once, we will overpower any defences."

"I will have Lord Redwyne lead a blockade." Loras explained.

"Lord Grafton will join him." Lord Royce added.

The door then slammed open, and after seeing the look of delight on Daenerys' face Loren swivelled around to see Yara Greyjoy in full battle armour. "As will the Iron Islands."

"Lady Greyjoy." Daenerys smirked. "I am pleased to see you."

"The Islands are yours, Your Grace." Yara stated, bowing her head before grabbing a chair and joining them at the table. "The Iron Fleet are docked in the Bay of Crabs awaiting orders."

Daenerys nodded. "Lord Tyrell, send a raven to your captains and have them sail to Blackwater Bay. Together with the Iron Fleet we will squeeze King's Landing in from both land and sea." She turned to Lord Royce. "You will have overall command of the land army. I want all gates to be assaulted with the necessary strength."

"It will be done, Your Grace." Lord Royce bowed.

"How long will we need?" Daenerys asked.

Loras cleared his throat. "I have enough supplies on their way to Harrenhal to feed us for three months already, with more being prepared as and when we need it."

"We should wait for those supplies." Olyvar nodded. "You are all eating me dry here, I won't have enough to feed everyone for the march."

"When will they get here, Lord Tyrell?" Daenerys asked.

"Four days." He guessed. "Barring delays."

Yohn pulled out a map of the South. "I will send knights of the Vale towards the Gold Road and have them join your escorts." He explained.

"Very well." Daenerys clapped happily. "We shall meet again in two days to finalise the assault plans. Lady Greyjoy, if you could join me. I wish to hear all about your adventures in the Iron Islands." She requested with a smirk.

A smirk which Yara reciprocated. "As My Queen commands." She pushed her chair back and held the door open for the Targaryen, who duly walked through it.

Loren sighed, knowing that the walk down would be painful for him. He noticed Jon quickly escape too, closely followed by Loras. Then fled Edric Dayne, Bryce Caron, Jorah Mormont and Olyvar Frey, leaving just Lord Royce and Loren alone in the room. The famous old Valeman was now stood up and frowned down at the Lannister. "You finalised the plans for the battle against the dead, didn't you boy?"

Making the displeasure at the disrespect known on his face, Loren nodded curtly. "I learnt strategy from the best." He bit back.

Yohn nodded. "Very well." He handed Loren some parchment filled with numbers. "Here is what we have, help me place them so we can take King's Landing with as little bloodshed as possible."

Jon made his way out of the meeting to go and pray at the Godswood. Guilt was eating up at him despite knowing that his actions after the battle had protected Arya forever, he still felt dirty at killing a defenceless man.

Once he arrived at the 20-acre Godswood Jon made a direct line for the Weirwood, noticing once again the carved marks defacing tree. Jon sunk to his knees before it and closed his eyes, whispering to the Old Gods in his mind. He hadn't been praying for long when he heard rustling in the distance. His hand immediately fell to his sword pommel, but the noise stopped. Jon rose to his feet and turned around, seeing only a sheepish Loras Tyrell.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to disturb you My Lord." Loras explained. "I just have a question for you."

"One that couldn't wait until later?" Jon asked, an eyebrow raised.

Loras shook his head. "I want you to marry my sister, if I wait longer then you might find yourself betrothed elsewhere."

Jon looked at the Reachman like he was a fool. "I'm but a bastard." Jon scoffed, feeling made fun of. He walked away from the Weirwood tree and pushed past Loras.

"But you're not, are you Aegon." Loras called to his back, and Jon quickly swivelled around and grabbed the Lord of the Reach by the throat, slamming him against the Weirwood tree. Loras tried to grab at Jon's right hand to free his throat, but Jon's grip was strong.

"Say that name again, and I'll gut you where you stand." Jon snarled. "How do you know about that?"

"I… overheard." Loras croaked. Jon closed his eyes in frustration before he let Loras go, noticing how the Tyrell Lord dropped to his knees and began to cough and take in air. "More people are suspecting. How can a bastard from the North fly a dragon? But you're not a bastard, Jon. You're the true heir to the Iron Throne."

"Daenerys is our Queen, mine and yours." Jon raised his voice warningly.

Loras nodded, holding his hands out in a surrender as he rose to his feet again. "But she refused you, and she is also barren, or did I hear wrong? Which makes you and your future line the next Kings of the Seven Kingdom's." He rubbed his throat to try and alleviate the pain. "Margaery is your best option of a strong rule when it comes to your turn, Jon."

Jon swore under his breath. "I don't want this." He snarled.

"But it is happening, sometime in the future." Loras explained. "You won't marry one of your cousins, you're too noble for that. Margaery is the best available option as a wife and the people already love her from her union with Tommen."

It was all too much for Jon, but the points that the Tyrell was making made sense. "We have a battle to prepare for." Jon said firmly. "We will talk after that."

Loras nodded his head. "Think about it. With Margaery comes the Reach, and peace for as long as you rule."

Without saying any more, Jon stormed out of the Godswood angrily, leaving Lord Loras stood in the Godswood with a slight smirk on his face.

I came close to doing the first scene from Jon's POV, but then as it came to it I thought that Tyrion would have both seen the end and would have more of an emotional reaction to the Lannister injuries and casualties, obviously.

Jon gets to show his dark side a bit… I've included them a lot for a Lannister story, but the relationship between Jon and Arya hasn't been included too much in the story, so having Jon murder her sisters abuser on the battlefield was something I really wanted to include. Especially as no one will miss a Frey…

The main scene for me here is the 'Farewell' scene. I've given a brief overview of Loren's injuries sustained by the wight that clawed his legs and the Night King mainly, and then I wanted to show his emotions over losing some really important people in his life. Damon Marbrand he obviously sent out ahead to try and protect Melisandre, Daven Lannister is Cerenna's older brother, Lambert was his best friend and Jaime his hero as a child.

The type of Frostbite that Loren has apparently takes a few months to heal, so he has been subjected to a cane and a wagon for travel and won't be participating in any fights any time soon, which will give me an interesting challenge in the next couple of chapters, but I wanted to show that even the best warriors wouldn't come up against the Night King and the dead truly unscathed.

Jorah Mormont being the new Lord of Bear Island will be an unpopular one for the North, but Daenerys is now Queen, and he is the only Mormont left. I have an endgame plan that will suit all parties, however.

And lastly, Loras was the one to overhear Jon and Dany a few chapters back! Well done to Jason Kreuger Myers for guessing that!

Updated numbers of fighting men (not including the injured):

North/Wildlings – 10,000

Riverlands – 11,000

Vale – 22,000

Westerlands – 13,000

Reach – 30,000

Stormlands – 8,000

Dorne – 12,000

Daenerys/Narrow Sea Islands – 7,000

Dorne, the West and the Reach took the brunt of the damage, but everyone lost a lot. 113,000 survivors from 205,000 that went up to fight.

Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed this sad chapter as much as possible.

Next Time: The surviving might of Westeros comes for Cersei…

Reviews:

Zyruss Villarreal: The Night King is a formidable opponent that carved through hundreds and was getting closer to his ultimate goal. Jaime did well to parry him a number of times.

Tohka123: Thank you!

ChadThunderCock 666: Don't read it then?

narutofan978: I need to choose between that or continuing my Targaryen story, but it's fully planned, and the first two chapters of the Arryn sequel are already written.

Hail King Cerion: I still think my favourite Long Night is in United in Fury, the 12,500-word monster chapter, but this one was definitely very fun.

Vwchick: Some people might think that Jaime and Cersei need to die together a bit like the show tried to do, but in this story his arc was completely separate from his sisters so dying for Loren I think made a lot of sense.

Jason Kreuger Myers: I'm glad somebody mentioned Lambert! Yes, This chapter is a little bit of a break from the fighting but next chapter we jump right into the war for the Iron Throne…