The surprises were yet to end, however. As it happened, the arrival of Jaime Lannister and Dickon Tarly were not the strangest affairs of that day. Theon Greyjoy also arrived in a similar fashion and mindset as Jaime had, reaffirming his allegiance to Queen Daenerys despite Robb's bellow of outrage whereby he nearly killed the man on the spot. Jon managed to get between them and hold his brother back, where although bleeding from a freshly broken nose, Theon explained his wished to repay the debt he owed by fighting for Winterfell, to make up for all he had done. Rhaena was not so inclined to spare Theon's life as she had Jaime's, but this was a decision to be made between Robb and Daenerys. Eventually the agreement was settled that Theon would fight, and if he survived, then he would face justice for his actions. Theon did not argue or protest, but graciously accepted the decision even whilst knowing that no matter the outcome of the battle, he would die. The only question remained as to the manner of death, whether by the undead or by Robb's own hand. Rhaena did not care at all which it might be, and so thrust all thought or care for Theon Greyjoy from his mind. At least he was repentant.
As the day progressed, the unexpected occurrences continued. From Winter Town the news came of another army marching towards them, crimson in colour and flying numerous banners and sigils. For a short while, everyone believed that perhaps Cersei Lannister had changed her mind, however when the leader of the army arrived at Winterfell's courtyard, it was none other than Randyll Tarly. He glowered darkly, but stoutly proclaimed that he would not allow his sons to fight the undead without him beside them. He had called the banners of The Reach and had brought all who answered north with him. The numbers were not as grand as the Lannister army, but it was more than they had expected. Despite Lord Randyll's apparent hatred for wildlings, foreigners and traitors, he announced that he was willing to set aside his pride for the sake of preserving the kingdom against the common enemy. When Sam heard that not only his brother, but his father were both at Winterfell, he near enough fainted. Rhaena glimpsed him when he came to face his father and brother, stuttering and bashful, but Dickon had embraced him tightly and clasped his hand upon his older brother's back. Lord Randyll had shared no such affection, but Rhaena overheard him begrudgingly acknowledge that perhaps Samwell was not as hopeless a man as he had believed. Smiling to herself, Rhaena left them as Sam rather sheepishly returned the sword Heartsbane to his father, who managed to maintain his composure and did not grow angry with his son for stealing it. Instead, he passed it on to Dickon, to carry it into battle against the undead.
After the arrival of Randyll Tarly and his men came Tormund as well as all that remained of his wildlings and the Night's Watch, a sparse few. They brought the news of Last Hearth and how everyone there had been turned into more soldiers for the Night King, meaning that now there was no one else to call upon. The last to arrive were the Dornish led by Trystane Martell, outfitted for battle with his men who had sailed from their southern lands, though now they shivered rather violently as they struggled against the cold. Rhaena greeted Trystane warmly and with a kiss to both his cheeks before swinging a thick furred cloak around his shoulders, giving orders for his men to be properly outfitted with cloaks and weapons. With the last of their allies now arrived, a council was convened in order to outlay the battle plan. Knowing the White Walkers the best of them all, Jon took the lead as all the commanders gathered before him in the library, looking to a map of Winterfell which detailed the positions of their armies. "They're coming." He announced simply as everyone listened, feeling the weight of reality beginning to press upon them. "We have dragonglass and Valyrian steel, but there are too many of them. Far too many. Our enemy doesn't tire. Doesn't stop. Doesn't feel. We can't beat them in a straight fight."
"So, what can we do?" Jaime questioned, determined not to allow such hopeless chatter to dampen his spirits.
"The Night King made them all. They follow his command. If he falls…" The suggestion hung in the air between them as Rhaena imagined thrusting the tip of her sword through the Night King's chest and watching him turn to shattered ice before her. It was perhaps this alone which drove her at this point, to take revenge upon the Night King slaughtering Viserion as if he were nothing more than a suckling pig. "Getting to him may be our best chance." Although the possibility was a tempting one, Jaime reasoned that if this was the case then it was highly unlikely that the Night King would ever put himself into such a vulnerable position.
"Yes, he will." All eyes turned to Bran who sat in his wheeled chair by the hearth, Rhaena beside him who also blinked at him in confusion. "He'll come for me. He's tried before, many times, with many Three-Eyed Ravens." No one fully understood what Bran meant, nor how he could know such a thing, but no one doubted him. All Sam asked was what it was the Night King wanted, for until now, no one truly knew. "An endless night. He wants to erase this world, and I am its memory." The truth forced a chill into the air which clung to each and every person in the room, threatening them with the weight of what will happen should they fail in the impossible task which lay before them. Not only death, but complete obliteration from all memory and existence. Sam gaped openly.
"That's what death is, isn't it? Forgetting. Being forgotten. If we forget where we've been and what we've done, we're not men anymore. Just animals." He turned back to Bran, perhaps understanding more than anyone else in the room what it would mean should the Night King reach Bran. "Your memories don't come from books. Your stories aren't just stories. If I wanted to erase the world of men, I'd start with you." This fact caused Rhaena to shudder as she reached out her hand and placed it firmly upon Bran's arm. He more than anyone was in danger of the Night King, which meant that should the army of the undead claim victory, he would die along with all remnants of history which even in books had long since been forgotten or unmade.
"How will he find you?" Responding to Tyrion's question, Bran drew back the sleeve of his right arm and showed everyone the mark upon his flesh, appearing like angry red bruises in the shape of a hand.
"His mark is on me. He always knows where I am." His brothers glanced to one another, Robb breathing deeply before deciding that they would place Bran in the crypt, the last line of defence where he would be safest from the undead. "No. We need to lure him into the open before his army destroys us all. I'll wait for him in the Godswood."
"Bran…" Rhaena started but a quick shake of his head told her not to try arguing with him. She bit down on her lip and instead, bowed her head heavily as her heart pulsed forcefully in her chest. It was only when Rhaena felt Bran place his hand upon hers did she lift her head and look at him, finding his eyes were already settled upon her. He said nothing, but it seemed to Rhaena that he understood her worry for him and his touch was telling her not to be afraid for his safety. She could not help herself, but all the same it was a comfort to know that he acknowledged her fears.
"You want us to use you as bait?" Sansa spoke incredulously as Arya agreed that they could not leave him alone in the godswood, not to simply sit there and await either the Night King should they fail or an ally should they succeed.
"He won't be." Theon spoke up, much to everyone's surprise. "I'll stay with him. With the Ironborn." Not expecting such a valiant offer, Theon then looked to Bran with a deep sincerity. "I took this castle from you. Let me defend you now." After a moment of consideration, Bran nodded his head in acceptance. Rhaena was not so certain of Theon being chosen to be Bran's last line of defence. Although he might desire to redeem himself, his Ironborn had no such conflict of conscience to keep them anchored to their post. The moment they saw the Night King, Rhaena was certain that they would flee. She would just have to make certain she killed him before he had the chance to find Bran.
"We'll hold off the rest of them for as long as we can." Ser Davos announced, Tyrion also speaking as the rest of the battle plan was explained to those yet to hear the full account.
"When the time comes, Ser Davos and I will be on the walls, to give you the signal to light the trench." But to this Daenerys immediately corrected Tyrion, informing him that Ser Davos was quite capable of wielding a torch by himself and that Tyrion would be down in the crypts where it was safe. "Your Grace, I have fought before, I can do it again. Alongside the men and women risking their lives."
"There are thousands of them and only one of you. You can't fight as well as they can, but you can think better than any of them. You're here because of your mind. If we survive, I'll need it." Looking at Tyrion, Rhaena understood his disappointment. It was true he had proven himself in battle before, but when everything was at risk, it appeared Daenerys would take no chances with those who served her. Since Tyrion was her Hand, she needed to be certain that he would live through the battle should it end in their favour, thus could not risk him dying upon the battlefield. Her tone had been harsh, but her words were wise. Despite the uncomfortable air Daenerys had made with her forthright command, Ser Davos continued, noting that the presence of the dragons would give an edge in the field they would not otherwise have.
"If they're in the field, they're not protecting Bran. We need to be near him. Not too near, or the Night King won't come. But close enough to pursue him when he does." Jon reasoned as Rhaena nodded her head in agreement.
"Drogon and Rhaegal can destroy scores of wights at a time effortlessly. It is Viserion that concerns me most of all. He will no longer answer to us if he is under the command of the Night King. Not only will we need Drogon and Rhaegal to protect Bran, but also to defeat Viserion." The words caught in her throat and Rhaena had to press her eyes closed for a moment in order to harden herself to what needed to be done. "If Viserion comes for you, then take shelter. Do not waste arrows and spears upon him. We do not even know if fire will have any effect in taking him down…we shall keep him distracted, Daenerys and I. In truth, I expect the Night King will ride Viserion into battle himself. He is the greatest weapon the Night King now possesses. He will use Viserion as he needs. If we can take both Viserion and the Night King together, then perhaps we can finish this battle before it truly begins." Most nodded their heads in agreement to Rhaena's words, who remained seated beside Bran who had allowed his hand to continue resting atop hers. She drew comfort from him when she felt him squeeze her fingers at the mention of Viserion, taking a deep breath as she then shared a silent moment of remorse with her sister. Only they truly knew what it meant to lose Viserion, and how greatly it pained them to know that they would now have to fight against him. Turning herself to look upon Bran once again, Arya asked if he thought dragonfire would stop the Night King.
"I don't know. No one's ever tried." But soon they will, and then they will know, Rhaena vowed to herself. Silence followed, heavy and wrought with trepidation until finally, Tormund voiced the words which everyone was thinking.
"We're all going to die." He then looked to Brienne, a glazed and admiring glint in his eye. "But at least we die together." With no more to say, Jon suggested that everyone get their rest. Everyone departed one by one, and Rhaena rose too. She leaned down in order to kiss Bran's head before letting him go, leaving the library in order to see to her armour and her weapons one final time before making the rounds to say her goodbyes to those she would not see until after the battle, or indeed never again. She found Sansa with Lady and embraced her, kissing her cheek and listened to her quiet sobs.
"I promise I will protect you Sansa. No matter the cost." Managing a shaky laugh, Sansa drew herself back in order to look at Rhaena with love and tenderness. They had endured everything together and here they now stood. Sansa returned to her home and her family, and Rhaena a princess and heir to her sister's throne. They had started with nothing, now they had everything. Tonight, the battle would follow to defend everything they had fought so hard to take back from those who would have destroyed them.
"I know." Nodding her head, Sansa felt strangely at ease despite the fact that the armies of the undead were marching upon them. "I have always known, no matter what happened, I knew that I could trust you, Rhae. I trust you now. I know you will protect me. Protect all of us." Reaching out her hand, Sansa brushed at Rhaena's hair as the two smiled at one another and rested their brows against the other, taking in the other's presence. "Just promise me that the cost will not be your life." Chuckling softly, Rhaena gave Sansa her word. Looking to Lady, Rhaena stroked the direwolf's head affectionately, telling her to look after Sansa and the others in the crypts. Gazing up with bright eyes, Lady licked at Rhaena's cheek until she had laughed. They parted in order to proceed with their own goodbyes and farewells, Rhaena seeing to it that the last of the women and children who were unable to fight were well provisioned before then simply wandering about the castle. Her mind drifted in memory, of the numerous times she had walked these same halls in the past and ran her hand against the grey stone, noting the parts which were blackened from where they had been scorched by fire in the past. Despite everything, Winterfell still stood. Gods be good, it would continue to stand.
Hearing footsteps echo as they approached her, Rhaena turned in order to see Robb, slowly moving towards where she stood with her hand pressed against the wall. Their eyes met and a brief exchange passed between them, communicating everything through nothing other than their eyes. Inhaling deeply, Rhaena released her hand from the wall and turned as Robb strode forwards, and the moment he reached her caught her up into his arms as he branded her lips with his. If this was to be their last night, then Robb was adamant he would leave this world with no regrets. Their embrace was intimate and tender, expressing all that might have been left unsaid between them until all was spent. After they lay in one another's arms, brows pressed together and resting for the few hours of peace which remained to them. Rhaena even dreamed. A pleasant dream of rolling grass hills and cascading skies, an imagine of freedom and beauty. She would have happily remained asleep and dreaming for many hours more, however when the horn call roared to announce the arrival of the enemy, Rhaena opened her eyes as she felt Robb's arms tense around her, breathing deeply until their eyes met with expressions of dread.
The dead had come.