It took little time for Rhaena to ready herself into her army, shouldering her dragonebone bow, her quiver of dragonglass arrows, securing her sword to her belt and the horn she used to communicate with the dragons. Varys had truly outfitted her well. With her hair braided back and coiled with silver, Rhaena entered the tumultuous fray as the armies rallied to their positions. There was little time to move, and so when her eyes fell upon Tyrion within the courtyard, she strode directly to him. All words were lost upon her as she knelt herself down in order to be of equal height to him, opening and closing her mouth but she floundered, for there were not the right words to express to Tyrion all she wanted to say. He understood. Tyrion had always understood her. Perhaps between them, no words were necessary. Taking her into his arms, Tyrion embraced Rhaena with all her might, breathing her in deeply as he felt her arms grasp onto him tightly. It tore at his heartstrings to know that he would be retreating into the safety of the crypts whilst Rhaena would remain to fight. He wanted to fight beside her. To live or die at her side. As his dearest and most treasured friend, Tyrion could think of no better ending than to die fighting for the living with Rhaena beside him. Yet his queen had given him her orders and he could not disobey, so instead all he could do was bid farewell.
Their embrace lasted seemingly forever, wrapped in one another's arms until Rhaena had no choice but to release him first, drawing away in order to manage a smile and place a kiss upon his brow. "Wait for me." She managed to whisper, her eyes dancing prettily with firelight as Tyrion stroked back a lock of hair which had fallen free, tucking it behind her ear. His voice failed him as tears gathered, choking upon his emotions as he nodded fervently. Smiling to him once more, Rhaena closed her eyes, and this time pressed a kiss to Tyrion's lips. Chaste and full of love, Tyrion felt his heart swell, as if Rhaena was filling him with courage and faith, an unspoken promise to see one another soon passing through them. Clasping his head and pressing her forehead to his, Rhaena then tore herself away in order to stride away and go to where her sister, Jon and their dragons awaited her. As she passed through the gates and made her way towards where Tempest had been saddled ready for her amongst several other horses, Rhaena was just about to reach for the reins when someone reached out and touched at her hand lightly, drawing her eye to see Dickon Tarly. She blinked at him.
"I wish you well, my lady." He spoke to her sincerely, taking Rhaena by surprise. Eventually, however, she smiled and tilted her head as she regarded Tarly, armed with the heirloom sword of his House.
"And I you, Dickon Tarly." Glancing off to where she noticed his father already mounted and conversing quickly with Ser Jorah, Rhaena then returned her attention back to Dickon. "Where is your horse?"
"I shall find one, my lady. I only wanted to offer you my assistance and to take this opportunity to say farewell…and thank you for what you did for us." Resting his hand upon Tempest's neck, Dickon stood proudly before Rhaena, seizing the only opportunity he would have to speak to the dragon princess and express what he wished. "My father is a proud man, and he will never admit that he is grateful to you, but I know that he is. You saved our lives and then you returned our freedom to us. I assure you, my lady, we are deeply grateful." Nodding her head in understanding, Rhaena reached up her hand in order to clasp Dickon's shoulder securely in an expression of brotherhood and friendship. Considering for a few moments, Rhaena then stepped away from Tempest and told Dickon to ride him into battle. Shocked by the offer, Dickon attempted to protest but Rhaena would hear none of it, selecting another horse from those that had been saddled and readied for other riders. Baffled, Dickon hastened to steady the stirrup and help Rhaena rise up in order to settle into the saddle, staring at her in disbelief until she laughed.
"You had best close that mouth, Tarly, else you might find stray arrows using it for a target." Teasing him lightly, Dickon clamped his mouth shut as Rhaena wheeled her horse about. "Tempest is swift and courageous. He will carry you well. Be mindful though, I love that courser. Take care of him for me." Putting her heels to the horse, Rhaena then flew forwards in order to chase after Ser Jorah, passing Randyll Tarly as she did so. She caught a glance, and even received a stiff nod of acknowledgment from the lord as she passed. Smirking despite the heaviness of the situation, Rhaena counted herself fortunate indeed. Riding up to Ser Jorah, Rhaena wished him fortune in the battle and ensured that he was well outfitted. He bore his own sword of dragonglass, a fine looking weapon and so Rhaena nodded her head in satisfaction as he then bowed to her, calling her 'princess' and giving her his farewell. With no further reason to remain, Rhaena spurred her horse forwards and raced all the way to the ridge where Rhaegal called to her when he heard her approach. The horse would only go so close to the dragons before it shied and screamed fearfully, and even Rhaena's reassurances and her magic could not persuade it to get any closer. So then she dismounted and slapped the beast's hindquarter, sending it racing away to where she prayed it would at least live through the night. She walked the rest of the way.
Rhaegal immediately moved towards her and lowered his head, chittering softly in greeting as Rhaena lifted her arms in order to take his great head within her grasp, embracing him firmly before then going to join her sister and Jon. The air was wrought with tension. She stood beside Jon, the three of them watching where they could see all of Winterfell, though the darkness stole a great deal of their army from sight, and it was impossible to see the wights at all. Still, Rhaena knew they were there. The air grew colder by the minute and soon enough her exhales caused clouds of white to breathe away from her, heralding the arrival of the enemy and the cold, endless night they brought with them. Moving her hand, Rhaena found Jon's fingers and the moment they brushed against him, Jon entwined their hands together and gave her a comforting squeeze. It was not so terrible with Jon and Daenerys with her, Rhaena thought, especially with Drogon and Rhaegal behind them too. The painful part was the waiting and the watching, as well as the knowing. Knowing that the enemy was upon them, knowing that Bran now waited in the godswood where he was vulnerable and in great peril. It tore at Rhaena's insides and she wondered how anyone could bear it.
For a long while nothing occurred, the entire world seemingly holding its breath until, quite unexpectedly, the Dothraki army suddenly burst with bright standards of flame encasing their weapons, causing Rhaena to blink and start as she sensed a touch of magic flowing upon the air. She was not to complain, however. Any edge they might be given against the enemy was a godsend. The cheers and undulations of the Dothraki pierced the air, causing Rhaena to marvel at their fearlessness and mourn the fact that very soon, that courage would be torn to shreds. No one who saw the undead could ever remain truly fearless, unless they had utterly lost their minds. On that count, Rhaena considered herself quite sane, and so despite the fact that she was a dragon, there was a tinge of fear within her as she watched the surge of Dothraki led by Ser Jorah Mormont, accompanied by Ghost, Nymeria and Grey Wind, charge forth into the darkness in order to break the first wave of the enemy. It was like watching a sea of flame rush forwards, gleaming in the darkness as comets of fire were hurled from the trebuchets behind the Dothraki lines. It was a valiant first assault, but as the flaming sea gradually diminished until the final torch was extinguished, the slim remnant of hopefulness swiftly died.
From their high vantage point, all that could be seen returning from the tens of thousands of Dothraki were a sparse handful, and most only riderless horses. Of the army Daenerys had won at Vaes Dothrak, most had been vanquished in a single moment. Glancing to her sister, Rhaena saw the deep set of horror upon her sister's features, shocked to have lost so many so quickly. She turned aside in outrage and began to stride towards Drogon though Jon sought to stop her, reminding her that the Night King was coming. Without heeding his words, Daenerys tore her arm free as she glowered at Jon sharply. "The dead are already here." Seeing that there was no other choice, Jon looked back to Rhaena. Now she turned their hands over and this time squeezed his fingers, drawing closer in order to kiss his cheek.
"For the North." She whispered to him before all at once she let go and strode towards Rhaegal, calling to him in confident High Valyrian. Recognising her tone, Rhaegal lowered himself down so that she might more easily climb onto his back but before following her sister into the sky, Rhaena stretched out her hand to Jon. He paused only for a moment, turning his eye to the godswood where Bran lay in wait, before turning and striding forwards. Grasping hold of her hand once he had climbed high enough, Rhaena brought him up to sit behind her as she then clicked her tongue and touched at Rhaegal's neck, calling to him to take flight. Quickly grasping hold of her waist, Jon gripped on as tightly as he dared as Rhaegal flung himself into the air and beat with his colossal wings in order to follow after his brother and mother. Looking down upon the ground, Rhaena's heart swiftly dropped to the pit of her stomach. The hoards of the undead had already made contact with their front lines on both flanks as well as the centre. They were barely holding. "Whatever happens, do not let go of me!" Shouting over the snap of the wind, Rhaena then released her voice into a roar as she clamped her hand down upon Rhaegal's neck and felt her magic flow. Coming alive in his mind as he felt the presence of his rider, Rhaegal answered her roar with his own and leaned into a steep dive. Waiting until the last possible moment, Rhaena then bellowed. "DRACARYS!" Bright columns of dragonfire flashed into life and slammed against the ranks of the undead as Rhaena veered Rhaegal to follow the line across the broadside of the army, keeping close to the castle as not to vanish into the darkness where they could not see.
Rhaegal and Drogon's fire brought light for their armies to see, though perhaps it would have been kinder to let them fight an invisible enemy rather than show them the horrors of the wights. All the same, they burned swiftly, and as Rhaena flew for another pass, this time Jon added his voice to hers as they shouted for Rhaegal to release his wrath upon the enemy which would otherwise kill them all. It brought a little respite to their ranks, thinning down the wights who now had to pass through fire in order to reach them, allowing them to reorder their lines and fight them as they trickled through. Banking past the ramparts, Rhaena caught a glimpse of Sansa and Arya watching the battle unfold. Sending up a silent prayer, she had Rhaegal continue to burn as many of the undead as he could. The more they burned, the less their army had to fight. With Jon acting as her second pair of eyes, Rhaena felt his hand suddenly clamp down upon her shoulder in order to draw her attention to where he then pointed into the distance. The snow strewn ground seemed an icy blue from the dim light of darkness, but Rhaena was able to make out the shadowy shapes of more undead. The White Walkers.
Needing no further encouragement, Rhaena yelled for Rhaegal to dive for their enemy as Daenerys and Drogon did the same. Flattening herself against her neck as Jon leaned down to avoid being torn back by the wind, they flew at the White Walkers with the full intention of setting them aflame. They had almost reached them, Rhaena timing their descent in her head but before they could reach the enemy, a sudden burst of powerful winds and icy streams struck them. They were strong enough to throw both dragons off course and misalign their flight, screeching in surprise as they struggled and struck at the air in order to fight for balance as Rhaena cried out and Jon flung himself over her, shielding her from the onslaught as both clung to Rhaegal with all the strength they possessed. Dimly in the back of her mind, Rhaena thought that perhaps wearing a harness whilst riding Rhaegal might not be a terrible idea. Still struggling against the wind, Rhaena encouraged Rhaegal to fly higher, thinking to try and fly above the stray snowstorm so that they might retrieve their bearings. Rhaegal fought valiantly, straining against the tumultuous winds even as they flew blind, their entire world soon nothing other than grey, black and white. Breathing deeply, Rhaena lifted her head just as a huge shadow appeared before them. They all cried out as Rhaegal almost collided with Drogon, both dragons striking quickly at the air and twisting their bodies in order to avoid one another and keep their riders from falling, screeching all the while. "We can't fight these winds!" Rhaena was barely able to hear Jon's words even as he shouted directly into her ear. She understood enough, however, nodding her head to signal that she heard him and quickly reached out to touch at Rhaegal's neck, silently instructing him to fly with the wind rather than against it.
Forcing them to change their flight path, Rhaegal wheeled around and stretched his wings, allowing the wind to carry him whilst arching his neck to fly a little higher, testing the currents as they continued to pulse and twist sporadically, changing direction upon every whim. It was only because of Rhaegal's experience that they remained aloft at all, taking them back to the battle where he once again bellowed a stream of fire upon the undead as their armies retreated back into the safety of Winterfell's walls, too overrun to stay beyond the gates. From their vantage point, it looked like utter devastation. Even with two dragons breathing fire and burning scores of undead at a time, it still was not enough. The trenches were soon lit, one of their last lines of defences to hold back the wights as Rhaena guided Rhaegal to make another pass, burning through the enemy so that the Unsullied could continue to hold their ground and protect the retreat of the Northerners and Randyll's men.
Still with no sign of Viserion or the Night King, all Rhaena could do was continue to fly Rhaegal over the undead army and burn as many of their number as possible, endless as they seemed. They continued to press against Winterfell, even sacrificing bodies in order to build a bridge across the trench flames so that they could continue to give chase, so Rhaena reinforced the fires with Rhaegal to give her allies just a little more time to recuperate and organise themselves in preparation for the next wave. Rhaena was not naïve. She knew they could not keep them out forever, which meant that they had to find and kill the Night King as soon as possible. Searching the skies for any sign of the true enemy, Rhaena finally caught sight of them. The breath hitched in her throat as Jon also spotted them, gripping onto Rhaena tightly as Rhaegal also seemed to sense his brother. Viserion hovered, striking the air with torn and tattered wings whilst bearing the Night King upon his back. Rage flooded through Rhaena then, seeing this as an insult and desecration to Viserion's memory. The only other person to ride upon his back had been herself, and only because he had permitted it. This so called king had taken hold of Viserion's mind and warped it to his will and used Viserion as if he were nothing more than a common packhorse. A snarl rippled from Rhaena's throat, echoed through Rhaegal. Gripping onto him tightly, Rhaegal surged forwards at Rhaena's direction and together, they flew at Viserion.
The Night King turned his head, looking at the approaching dragon with the two riders upon its back before direction his own dragon mount aside, summoning a cold and callous wind to bring forth a veil of clouds to shield them from sight, forcing the living to give chase. Daenerys was swift on their tail, Drogon roaring sharply as they fought against the cascading winds in pursuit of Viserion until finally they broke through, rising higher and higher until they were so high in the air that they no longer heard the sound of battle. Were it not for the howling sound of the wind, Rhaena would find their present place quite beautiful. Silken clouds were illuminated with moonlight, draping across the sky in a world seemingly utterly apart from the one below them on land, where death and fire reigned. Here it was peaceful and soft, allowing Rhaena a brief moment to breathe. The tranquillity ended abruptly when a torrent of ice-blue fire billowed from below them. Rhaegal barely managed to throw himself aside from the path of his dead brother's flames, screeching in warning to Drogon who swiftly answered to avoid being caught by the flames. Rhaena was unable to see whether or not Drogon and Daenerys managed to avoid being struck for Rhaegal had been thrown off balance, spinning out of control as he struggled to righten himself whilst tumbling. Crying out to him, Rhaena encouraged Rhaegal to straighten himself and open his wings wide enough to give them lift, and the moment he did so they could open their eyes and see which way they were facing. With a thunderous cry Rhaegal struck the air and twisted himself, rising higher once more as Viserion vanished with the Night King back into the cloud bank below them.
Gasping for breath, Rhaena looked over her shoulder in order to see Jon and ensure that he was alright. His hands rested loosely upon her hips, dragging the breath back into his lungs as they both recovered from their hectic flight. With a solemn nod, Rhaena then looked to her sister to see her condition. She looked a little shaken, but was still situated firmly upon Drogon's back, so Rhaena took comfort from that knowledge. They waited a few moments before diving after Viserion through the clouds but when they emerged through the underbelly, Viserion was utterly out of sight. Cursing under her breath, Rhaena unleashed anger and frustration upon the undead, Rhaegal bellowing thick plumes of flames upon them where the heat and smoke continued to rise, polluting the clouds overhead. Just as Rhaena began to look where their fire might be needed most, Viserion reappeared and in a heartbeat, had utterly demolished part of Winterfell's towers and a huge part of the wall, leaving it vulnerable to invasion from the undead. Staring in blank horror, Rhaena clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. The moment was fleeting, and then the rage took hold once again.
Steering Rhaegal directly for Viserion and the Night King, Rhaena sent him forwards with everything he had, and when they collided, Rhaena felt the force of the impact ripple through her entire body. When the aftermath of their collision settled, Rhaena grasped hold of Rhaegal as he screeched and clawed at Viserion, whose eyes were now bright and luminous as gleaming sapphires. It pained her to see him this way, his once beautiful cream and gold body now tinged with wintery blue and frost. It hurt further to have to fight against him, but Rhaena told herself that this was no longer the Viserion she knew. Viserion was dead. This was merely an undead creature that looked like him. Instead, she turned her focus and hatred towards the rider upon his back. As they tumbled and fell, dragon scraping and snapping against dragon, Rhaena's eyes met those of the Night King. Fury burst through her as fire crackled into life across her body, causing Jon to cry out in alarm but continue to cling onto her as Rhaena seethed, violet eyes burning against those of cold, unfeeling blue. They stared at one another, and despite her loathing and the screaming rage of her blood, Rhaena felt a strange sense that the Night King was looked at her with curiosity. It did not matter.
Turning her attention back to Rhaegal, Rhaena shouted to him over the roaring wind as they continued to descend rapidly from the skies, dragons grappling furiously at one another. When Viserion opened his maw in order to clamp down upon Rhaegal's neck, however, Rhaena bellowed and loosened an arrow upon Viserion, directing the dragonglass arrowhead directly into one of his eyes before he could take a firm grip upon Rhaegal. The arrow pierced but did not drive deep enough to kill him. Rhaena was uncertain if a single arrow was even enough to kill an undead dragon, but still her goal was achieved. Viserion screamed and released Rhaegal as Jon bellowed in her ear, telling her to have Rhaegal let go. Knowing that Rhaegal was hurt, she agreed. Calling to him in High Valyrian, Rhaena directed Rhaegal to let go of Viserion and disengage, fuelling him with magic so that she could be understood. Rhaegal did as he was bid, but not before taking a final swipe at Viserion's underbelly with his claws which raked through the dead flesh. Rhaena's stomach twisted at the sight, but her main attention was focused upon the Night King with his arm raised aloft, holding a giant icicle spear in his grasp. Flashes of Viserion tumbling from the sky with bursts of fire and blood billowing from his neck cascaded through Rhaena's mind, causing her to scream for Rhaegal to get away. It was terrible enough to lose Viserion, Rhaena did not know what she would do if she lost Rhaegal. Sensing his rider's surmounting terror, Rhaegal twisted himself away just as his brother, Drogon, appeared from nowhere and struck at Viserion.
Distracted by Rhaegal's assault, the Night King was unprepared for Drogon and his giant claws which effortless engulfed Viserion and knocked his rider from his perch. Sucking in a deep breath as Rhaegal continued to descend, Rhaena saw the Night King disappear through a cloud of smoke. She did not have time to think on it, however, as Rhaegal was now too injured to fly. Spreading his wings, he attempted to land but was still flying too quickly, forcing him to meet the ground running. The impact slammed against Rhaena and Jon, both of whom were steadily losing their grip as Rhaegal collapsed with a crash with enough force to shake the earth. Rhaena felt Jon be ripped away from her, screaming his name as she clung with all her might against Rhaegal's neck as the snow burst like giant waves against his massive form, sliding to an eventual stop where gradually, everything settled. Struggling for breath, Rhaena gradually uncurled herself from Rhaegal, awkwardly strewn across him. Panic surged through her and Rhaena scrambled to get down, dropping herself into the snow which had formed a mounded drift, meaning that her landing was soft. Rolling forwards, Rhaena struggled to get to Rhaegal's head, shouting his name before falling to her knees beside him with her hand pressing to his face.
She listened and could hear his light, shallow breaths. It was something at least. As a strangled cry tore from her throat, Rhaena searched for Jon, scanning her surroundings and quickly finding him staggering to his own feet from where he had been thrown. The snow had also cushioned his fall. They were alive. It was a start, at least. Returning her attention back to Rhaegal, Rhaena forced herself back to her feet even as they trembled from the aftershock of the impact and dragged her way to Rhaegal's chest, trying to look upon his injuries. There was nothing she could do for him, no magic to close his wounds, so all she could do was offer him a little of her strength, and prayed that he was far enough away from the battle that the undead would not bother him. The last thing Rhaena wished to do was leave him, but as she turned and blinked against the sudden bright burst of dragonfire as it bloomed before her, she knew that she could not stop fighting. The war against death still raged, and as Rhaena made her way to Jon's side to where he had approached the plume of fire released by Drogon, saw the figure of the Night King remain untouched by even a single blaze or ember. A cold, horrified dread swept through her. Dragonfire could not kill him.
Standing beside Jon as they watched Drogon bank away as the Night King threw his last remaining ice javelin at the dragon, Rhaena found herself seeking out Jon's hand. He quickly grasped hold of hers, squeezing so tightly at one another that they might have broken one another's fingers. They were afraid. How could they not be? They had witnessed the greatest threat to all living beings escape unscathed from a force they knew to be so destructive it could raze cities to the ground. The Night King was unstoppable. What hope had they of destroying him? Yet they had to try. For all the people they had lost, and all those who still lived. They would either find a way to kill their enemy…or die trying. So when the Night King turned aside and began to make his way towards Winterfell's godswood, towards Bran, both Rhaena and Jon took after him, drawing their swords after releasing one another's hand. Whitefyre and Longclaw gleamed brightly as the reflection of flames danced upon the mottled blades, the dragon and the wolf charging after their greatest enemy in order to end everything once and for all. He heard them coming, listening to the sound their boots made against the charred earth and cinders, the ash and remnants of burnt bones and bodies. It thrummed deeply through the earth with each step they took, side by side as they pursued him. Turning, the Night King spared only a glace to the male that charged him, focusing primarily upon the female. The spirit of her lifeblood was stronger than any other the Night King had ever seen before. It burned within her like wildfire, like dragonfire, bright and cascading and so vibrant against the cold darkness of his world. He wanted nothing more than to snuff it out.
But first, the Three-Eyed Raven. First to erase all memory from this living world, and then he would be free to pursue those that lived. So instead of choosing to face them, the Night King simply spread his hands with a knowing expression, calling upon the depths of winter and death to summon those who had been slain to rise up and fight for him, to obey his command and walk with him through the endless night. Jon faltered a step but Rhaena did not, continuing to streak ahead even as all around her feet, pairs of soulless blue eyes opened, blinking into existence. She ignored them, reasoning that the sooner she killed the Night King, then the quicker his followers would all die. Sprinting with everything she had, Rhaena pushed aside the panic at the sight of the fallen sitting upright, silent and macabre as they rose from death. Rhaena did not even managed to reach the Night King before the path to him was cut off by the rising dead. She would have charged through them too, were it not for Jon seizing hold of her arm where he had managed to reach her and drag her back, staggering as they were surrounded on all sides. With the Night King smirking seemingly in satisfaction, he turned aside and walked away. "Fuck!" Rhaena managed to gasp as the wights focused upon them, starting to move closer. "Come back here you coward! You fucker! Come face me yourself!" But her threats went unanswered, and so Rhaena had no other choice but to focus on the enemy before her. "Stay close to me, Jon." Turning his head as they pressed their backs against one another, Rhaena took several deep breaths, drawing her focus inward until all at once, her body burst into flame.
Dancing outwards, Rhaena exhaled a breath as she linked her arm through Jon's, pulling him around with her as she created a flaming circle around them as her violet and gold flames jumped from one wight to the next, causing them to screech horrifically and retreat back in natural fear. Thrusting out her hand, Rhaena created a cyclone of fire to push through the thinnest cluster of the undead, catching them all alight where they shrieked and writhed as their bodies burned, chasing away death's touch upon them so that when they fell, they fell for good and did not stir again. The warmth of Rhaena's fire and magic flowed through Jon, raising his spirits and strength as Rhaena then charged with a slash of her gleaming blade, slicing a wight in two as she began to cut her way free. She had told Jon to stay close to her, but in a momentary decision, he did not follow. By the time Rhaena had freed herself from the encirclement of the undead, she realised too late that Jon was not wither her, panting heavily as she turned back and saw him still trapped. "Jon!"
"Go!" He bellowed back at her, slicing his sword and cutting through the enemy as they managed to break through the flames Rhaena had created as a protective boundary. "Go Rhae! Save Bran!" Even as she hesitated, a sudden eruption of fire exploded from behind him and Drogon's impressive form rushed into view as he expelled his inferno upon the wights, giving Jon a chance to break free. Having no time to hesitate further, Rhaena turned and sprinted after the Night King in order to head him off at the godswood, hoping she could reach Bran before he did. Not once did Rhaena break her pace as she bolted through the courtyard of Winterfell where the massacre of allies and undead blanketed the ground. It was impossible to tread anywhere without stepping on something that had once been human or alive. The screams of the terrified and the dying filled her ears as Rhaena gasped for air. What tormented her most of all was the fact that she could not stop to help anyone, not even those she knew well. The most she could do was fling a fistful of fire in their direction and set alight to their opponents as she flew in a stream of silver, flashing across their vision before she was gone. The only moments she allowed herself to take pause was to listen to where the enemy lay. They were all around her, but in order to reach Bran, Rhaena needed the quickest and easiest path. If she became waylaid by too many undead then she would never reach Bran in time, and that thought terrified Rhaena more than anything.