Chapter 39: Hardhome

Ramsey Bolton POV

After returning from Winterfell, his father immediately summoned the captain of the guard of House Naaharis, as well as second in command of the Second Sons. Prendahl na Ghezn, an idiot of Ghiscari origins.

"Now that Mero and Daario Naharis are dead, their castle will need a new lord. That's why I want you to become the new one, and fight under my banners when the time comes," said his father.

"I thank you for the offer, but I must refuse it," replied the man, and then adding, "I intend to set sail for Essos before the Queen of the North calls for the heads of the Second Sons."

"Well, that is a pity. Maybe it's best to find someone who can be more loyal to us," Ramsey said, stepping forward with his hand on the knife that he carried on his back.

"I don't think it's necessary," his father said intervening. "I think Prendahl understood perfectly well to whom he should be loyal, and that running away is not good for his business."

"No. Of course not. I will return instantly to the Castle of Naaharis and prepare the Second Sons," said Prendahl in fear and with a trembling voice, leaving the room. What a disappointment thought Ramsey. He really wanted a new toy. A new Reek.

After some silence while his father was looking at the map, and placing the pawns, a beautiful silver-blonde-haired woman appeared in Ramsey's mind, and leaning against the table holding the goblet of wine, he gives voice to his desire, "I want her."

"You want who?" his father asked, looking up from the table on which the map was resting.

"Daenerys Targaryen," he said, sipping from his goblet. "I want her,"

From the moment he laid eyes on her the day he had to swear allegiance, Ramsey couldn't get her out of his mind. That fire in her eyes, the pride, the confidence. Yeah, she was the perfect woman for him. They were made to be together, and they will be. And he's gonna kill the little brat she's carrying, the son of that bastard half-wolf.

"She belongs to another man," his father said, bringing him back from his thoughts.

"My mother belonged to another, but that didn't stop you from taking her," he said.

"That's different. Daenerys Targaryen is a queen, and a pregnant woman from a powerful family," his father replied almost in a bored tone, "while you are just a bastard. Yes, of House Bolton, but still a bastard." And hearing the word "bastard" made Ramsey angry.

"As I said, I'll have her," Ramsey said, with gritted teeth, placing the goblet on the table, and clutching the edges.

"Are you going to force yourself on her?" his father asked.

"Of course not," Ramsey said, chuckling, taking the goblet back in his hand, and sipping again, tasting the wine. She was a unique woman, that need be hunted and savored, slowly, and in all her aspects.

"Forget her," replied his father, looking towards the map, and adding, "Instead, I have a task for you."

"I'm all ears," Ramsey said, finishing all the wine in the goblet.

"I want you to gather your band of bastards and pay a visit to the lords near Dreadfort, and those near Moat Cailin. Then I want you to bring their children here as prisoners until the Starks are defeated."

"I will. And then I will take Daenerys Targaryen for myself," Ramsey replied, heading for the exit, not wanting to hear anything else. After he has taken the children of the Lords, he will have to kill his father. It was time for Dreadfort to have a new Lord.

But before he could leave the room, Ramsey heard his father say, "I intend to marry again soon."

"And with whom, may I ask?" Ramsey asked, not at all happy with this news. A marriage meant a new child. A new child meant a new Bolton heir, and Ramsey didn't like that. He didn't like to share, and especially having another rival to get rid of.

After taking a sip, his father turning to him said the one name he didn't want to hear.

"Daenerys Targaryen."

"What?" Ramsey asked, thinking for a moment he heard wrong.

"I intend to marry Daenerys Targaryen," his father said seriously, and Ramsey tried to figure out if he was joking or really telling the truth, but it was impossible.

"I thought you said she was another man's wife. This is why you wouldn't help me get her," Ramsey said, trying to be indifferent, even though he was bursting with jealousy inside. "She is also pregnant."

"Of course I don't mean now. But she will soon give birth," replied her father. "And furthermore, her pregnancy is a strong indication that she is a fertile woman."

"But she's much younger than you," Ramsey said, with his hands behind his back and getting closer.

"Yes, she is. And that's good. It means she has many years ahead of her, and she'll give me lots of children. And considering her lineage, I'd say plenty of sons."

"And when do you intend to marry her?" Ramsey asked, swallowing, feeling his throat dry even though he'd just before drunk a goblet full of wine.

"Within three months from today," replied his father. "Her family will be destroyed, and through her, I will be King in the North."

"What do you mean, Father?" Ramsey asked, confusedly.

"That Daenerys is the Stark' s heir."

"So Sansa Stark..."

"Sansa Stark is a bastard," said his father, standing up from the table on which he was leaning, hands crossed. "I found out form some important source in White Harbor, where Catelyn Tully has meet with her brother. And with whom she slept again."

This was wonderful news, Ramsey thought. Even more reason to have the woman of his dreams.

"Well, Father, I guess a hug of congratulations, is the least I can do," Ramsey chuckled and spread his arms to hug him, and so did his father, saying, "thank you, son."

But as they hugged, his father whispered to him, "I know it was you who killed Domeric."

And Ramsey immediately pulled out his second knife that he had in his sleeve for precaution, to stab him, but his father blocked him, squeezing his hand, so that he dropped the knife, and then punching him in the stomach and throwing him to the ground.

"I always warned that boy to not trust you and your men, but he did it and paid the price," said his father, taking a spear that was there, in hand, and hitting him in the chest as Ramsey was about to get up, making him fall on his back again, and hitting a little bit his head.

"I've been waiting for this moment to happen for a long time. I was sure you'd want to kill me one day," said his father, hitting him again with the end part of the spear, and this hitting him on the chin. "I just had to bring up the right subject."

"It..." (coughing), "was..." (coughing), "Just a test?" Ramsey asked, struggling to breath, and tasting the blood in his mouth, from the small cut on the lower lip.

"Yes. But it doesn't matter," said his father, pointing the spear at Ramsey's neck and rising his sore chin a bit, "When I first saw you. Those eyes of yours, I thought you were a real Bolton," his father added, before hitting him again, but this time on the cheek, scratching it. "Instead, they were just the eyes of a madman."

"Everything I've done, I've done for House Bolton," Ramsey replied, swallowing hard, and crawling backwards to get away.

"Maybe. But now you will die, and you will no longer be a danger to my future legitimate children."

"Father. I'm your…son."

"You are a monster," responded his father, holding the spear with both hands, as he was getting ready to attack.

But just as his father was about to pierce him with the spear, an arrow stuck in his throat, and Ramsey saw the Lord of the Dreadfort fall to the ground on his knees, holding his neck, as blood spurted out of his mouth.

Looking towards the door, Ramsey saw that it was his trusted right-hand, Soren Snow, holding a bow, and smirking.

"Did you think that I'd let you out of my sight, Ramsey?" Soren said, laughing as he approached, and threw the knife with the foot at him from the ground.

Ramsey grabbed it, and rising slowly, approached his father, saying, "It's time…for a new Lord Bolton to arise."

When his father looked up at him with difficulty, trying to say something, unsuccessfully, causing only more blood to spill from his mouth, Ramsey stabbed him in the head with the knife, causing his father to fall to the ground.

"Find Master Wolkan and tell him to inform all North that Roose Bolton is dead. Poisoned by his enemies. And that Dreadfort has a new Lord," Ramsey said to his man, adjusting his tunic, then wiping his wounded lip, that was bleeding, he added, "Then gather the Bastard Boys. I have work for them."

Soren nodded, leaving the room.

A new age will soon be coming to the North. The age of the flayed man.

"The Wolf's reign will come to an end, and the rule of the Red King will start," Ramsey said as he approached the window overlooking the nearby lake.

Different POVs

Hardhome...

Jon and his fleet were approaching Hardhome, and in the meantime, the boats were being prepared for landing.

"It will take hours to get all those people on the ships," Arthur said as he approached him.

Jon didn't answer him. He was still angry with his Wolfsguard after they disobeyed his orders to return to Winterfell. So as not to sentence them to death, if they survived what awaited them at Hardhome, Viserys, Arthur and Benjen would leave Winterfell and the North, to never return, upon death sentence if they did.

After having prepared, with Ice on his back, Jon headed for one of the prepared boats, on which Arthur, Viserys, Benjen, Mance, and Tormund were already waiting for him.

After giving them a look, they were pulled down on the water, and started rowing towards the shore of Hardhome.

"There are at least 50,000 people here, Jon. I don't know if we're gonna make it in time to get them all on the ships," said Arthur as they got off the boat and Jon agreed with him.

But before he could respond he saw the crowd approaching and a large man with a skull on his face and bones on his body.

"Lord of the Bones," Mance greeted him.

"Mance Raider. I see you come back with your tail between your legs," said the man laughing in a powerfull voice. "But at least you come back with a kneeler king as a prisoner." He added looking towards Jon. "Why isn't he chained?"

"Because he's not our prisoner," intervened Tormund, stepping forward with a glaring look.

"Oh, no. What is it then?"

"We are allies," said Jon stepping forward, and he heard the three members of his Wolfsguards follow him with half-drawn swords. "We're here to speak to the chieftains, not to fight."

"Is that right? You and the pretty kneeler do a lot of talking, Tormund. And when you're done talking, do you get down on your knees and suck his cock—" but Tormund doesn't let him finish, that he grabs the man' staff from his hand and beats him to death with it.

Turning towards the others that were starting there, Tormund said, "Gather the elders and let's talk."

"Great way to start, don't you think?" said Viserys whispering in a joking way, and they started following Mance through the crowd, towards a large hut.

Upon entering Jon saw that there were a lot of people inside, men and women of different ages, around a fire.

Mance and Tormund were immediately greeted by those who were around the fire, who were for sure the clan leaders, but when he approached them, they immediately put themselves on the alert, taking axes and swords in their hands, ready to attack them, and a man quite advanced in age, with grey-red hair and beard, saying, "Traitor! You bring the enemy into our homes to kill us?"

"He's here to deal," Tormund said, stepping between him and the clan leaders.

"Negotiate?" asked one of them, stepping forward, and he looked like a Thenn. Shaved head, scars on it and face, ax in hand, and a tough-looking face. "I'm Lobodà, Magnar of Thenns."

Half Thenns, Jon wanted to object, but decided not.

"My name's Jon Stark. I'm the King in the North," said Jon.

"Not the North," said Loboda.

Ignoring him, Jon continued, "We're not friends. We've never been friends. We won't become friends today. And we know that you will not kneel, despite the others Free folk had already kneeled to me. But this isn't about friendship or about kneeling. This is about survival. We are all people of the north. We are all blood of the First men. Alone we die but together we can win. The Night Queen-"

"You said that the others already kneeled," interrupted him a woman with dark hair, and she was quite beautiful, "Who were they?"

"My clan," said Tormund. "He defeated Svemir the Small. And became the Magnar of the Giants."

"Are you telling me this gutless brat defeated the little demonic bastard?" the woman asked.

"Yes. And he also defeated Styr of the Thenns and..."

"So he killed my brother too?" said Loboda.

"Yes. And they knelt to him," said Mance.

"Traitors. Just like you. You lost our respect the moment you knelt down to this little bitch that came with you. The greatest army the North has ever seen cut to pieces by a southern king," said Lobodà.

"If you wouldn't have run away with your tail between your legs, leaving me alone, we wouldn't be in this situation," Mance said, in a defiant way.

"Damn you!" shouted Loboda, raising his axe to attack, but in that instant, they heard an old woman's voice shouting, "Stop!"

Coming forward through the leaders, the woman said, "the reason why I brought you here was because I saw help coming from the sea and ships carrying us to safety across the Narrow Sea."

"I have ships, but it's not across the Narrow Sea that I will take you to safety. Only south of the Wall. In my kingdom," Jon answered the woman.

"It's better than staying here and dying anyway," said the old woman, looking towards the other chiefs, who nodded, except Loboda.

"And what would you want in return for our salvation?" asked the dark-haired woman.

"That you help me protect the North from its enemies. The Great Threat from beyond the Wall and the Southern Kings," Jon said.

"Maybe we should kill you here and march into your kingdom," said Lobodà, who was making Jon lose his patience, "and maybe take a ride with your queen."

When he mentioned Daenerys, the anger lit up inside him, and he really wanted to smash his damn bald head, but taking a breath, and the cold slowly extinguished it, he said, "Yes. You could do it. But you'd be slaughtered before you even set foot past the Wall." Unleashing the chaos.

The wildlings inside the hut were ready to kill him, stepping forward with weapons in hands, his Wolfsguard stepped in front of him drawing their swords, while Mance and Tormund tried to calm him down.

And then they heard the Giant scream, which drew everyone's attention to him and silenced him.

"Fuck. This is uglier and more threatening than the others we have met before," Viserys said jokingly.

While everyone looked at the giant waiting for him to say something, but the only thing that came out was, "Magnar."

"Perhaps Mance has lost your respect, but he was right to kneel to this Southern king," said Tormund. "But while you were here hiding like rabbits or like the old Mother Mole says, waiting for the saviours to come, I, Mance and the Southern King, went beyond the wall to save our people, and he killed at least three of those damned."

"Killed? It's impossible to kill those bastards," said the woman. "We can run away and try to hide."

"No. They did it, with their steel and their glass," said Tormund, nodding to him and Jon showed them ice and the Dragonglass.

"So, with this information, you're telling us you vouch for him, Tormund?" asked the woman looking at the glass. "That once we get south of the Wall, he won't kill us?"

"Yes. And he may be young, but he knows how to lead. He didn't have to come to Hardhome, or to the other camps, but he did. He came because he needs us to protect the North. And we need him to survive the Wrath of Winter."

"I'm with Tormund. We stay here we're dead men. At least with the Southern King there's a chance of surviving," said the man with the grey-red hair and beard.

"The moment you get on his ships, they're gonna slit your throats and dump your bodies to the bottom of the Shivering Sea. They're our enemy. They have always been our enemy. And you are kneelers just like these traitors," said Lobodà, pointing first at Mance, who seems to have really lost their support, then at Tormund.

"I fucking hate Thenns," said the woman. "So be it. Tomorrow we will sail, tonight we will rest."

And Jon nodded, even though he didn't agree regarding the waiting.

After the meeting with the elders, Jon and his men were led to their tent to rest, as the night had come, and it wasn't possible to start preparing. But he knew that he would not be able to sleep tonight anyway.

The next morning, at the first lights, they began to board slowly. First the children and those who didn't know how to fight, while a handful of Wildings was on the guard walls.

Benjen was helping them into the boats, not losing sight of Jon, who was arguing with Tormund and Mance Raider in a heated debate. Meanwhile, however, his gaze was also drawn to a wildling woman, one of the so-called elders or clan leader. She was indeed very beautiful. With dark hair, not so long, beautiful dark eyes, and fleshy lips. And her breasts were also quite prosperous. Ben knew he shouldn't look at her. He shouldn't lust after her, because she could be somebody else's wife, considering she had two daughters. But it was stronger than him. He would want to know her better, and maybe more intimately.

"Look, there's slime dripping from your mouth," Benjen heard a voice say, and as he turned around he saw it was Viserys Targaryen.

Chuckling, he said, "Fuck you, kid."

"No Thank you. My other half is in Winterfell," replied Viserys smirking as he helped other people up.

"Aren't you afraid of losing your cock if you try to step forward?"

"It doesn't hurt to try," replied young Targaryen, smirking.

"Perhaps. But Dacey is not that kind of woman," Benjen said, knowing the girl's character well, and then returning his gaze to the woman, who caught him in the meantime, smirking at him.

"We have to be faster, Mance," Jon said, as he watched the people slowly get into the boats.

"The free folk are proud people, especially the Thenns. It took me 20 years to unite them all and march south. And remember that most of those who are here are warriors," replied Mance as he walked away.

"How many do you think they got on the ships," asked Arthur, who followed him like a shadow as they climbed the palisade, to get a better view of how many people were left.

"I don't know. Twenty thousand, maybe thirty thousand. But most of them are children, old men, and women who don't know how to fight," Jon answered leaning and watching them.

"Listen, Jon. Regarding what you told us on the ship, know that I am not leaving the North. I took an oath more valuable than that of the Wolfsguard. So the only way to make me leave is to kill me."

"Don't worry Arthur, that's what I'll do," Jon replied, even though the truth is he didn't even pay attention to what he said. His mind was full of concern regarding the danger of the Night Queen.

"Jon?"

"I can feel her, Arthur. I sense she is very close," Jon said as he looked toward the top of the mountain, and toward the storm that was coming.

"Was it so hard to resist her?" Arthur asked.

"Yes. She was. Beautiful and powerful. And I was nothing but a naive child who had nightmares and was warging inside the animals without knowing," Jon replied, and those memories returned.

"Don't worry about her, Jon. If she tries to hurt you or Daenerys, she'll have to go over my dead body first," said Arthur, placing his hand on his shoulder, and Jon smiled at his uncle's words. "So who set her free?"

"Brandon. Only a Stark could set her free," Jon answered, recalling Old Nan's tales regarding the defeat of the Night's King, of the Night Queen and her imprisonment in the deepest parts of the crypt, sealed with the blood of the Stark.

"Or maybe Sansa," Arthur said.

"Come on, Arthur. We both know you know who her true father is."

"Yes. But who told you about it?"

"Lord Aerys before I left. But that's enough," Jon said as he came down from the palisade. He had to find a way to speed up their getting into the boats.

Winterfell...

Daenerys was walking slowly through the hallway of Winterfell towards her father's room. She needed to see how he was feeling, since her mother never left him alone a day.

"Your Grace," Daenerys heard Daenerys calling and turning around she saw it was Master Luwin.

"A scroll has just arrived from East Watch," said the old Master, giving her the paper, and unrolling it, Daenerys began to read it.

Dear Daenerys,

I'm not sure if this scroll will reach its destination or not, but I hope it will. There's a lot of things that I need to apologize to you first and foremost because I wasn't there for you during the difficult times of your pregnancy. But I hope that with this scroll I can ease your heart of worries for a moment.

One last mission awaits me, and soon I will be back in your arms, and you in mine. Tomorrow I will leave for Hardhome with the fleet, while the Wolfsguard, Robb, the Giants with the mammoths, and the rest of the men from the Wall, apart from The Night's Watch, will march to Winterfell.

I'm looking forward to having you back in my arms my beautiful wife,

Your Forever, Jon.

When she finished reading the scroll, Daenerys burst into tears. Tears of joy, but also of sorrow because he was heading towards the most dangerous place beyond the Wall.

"Are you all right, Your Grace?" Luwin asked.

"Yes, Master Luwin. Thank you for giving me this letter," said Daenerys smiling, wiping away her tears and walking back to her father's room.

When Daenerys arrived there she heard her mother giggling from inside the room, so before opening the door, she knocked, not wanting to find her parents in compromising positions, even though she doubted that her father had the strength to please her mother in his current condition.

Hearing her mother answer, Daenerys entered, and saw her father sulking, while her mother smirked.

Chuckling and shaking her head, Daenerys approached the bed and sat on it, stroking her big belly.

"You should lie in bed, daughter, and not wander the hallways of Winterfell," said her mother.

"And you should probably stay at the Dragon keep and run the castle until Rhaegar returns," snapped Daenerys, but feeling sorry for her afterwards.

"Don't use that tone with me, young lady. You may be a queen, but I am your mother, and I have been pregnant more times than you and-"

"Enough, Mother," said Daenerys. "I'm here to talk to Father, not argue with you."

"Good! Talk. I'm leaving. I'm tired of your mood swings," said her mother, getting up and leaving the room, slamming the door.

"Daenerys," said her father in a careful voice.

"What? She started."

"You didn't behave properly."

"Yes, yes. But she didn't either," Daenerys said, only to add, even though she was joking, "Are you sure her mood isn't caused by her being pregnant?"

"No. Don't joke. She only talks because she has more experience than you. But maybe your anger wasn't directed at her, but at someone else, right?"

"I'm frustrated and so angry with him father that-" Daenerys stopped making a growl of frustration.

"I suppose you mean Jon," said her father softly, and she gave him the scroll.

After reading it, he said, " I never stop being surprised by the stupidity of that boy." And Daenerys could hear the anger in his voice.

He grabbed his stick and struggled to get out of bed, "I always told him that he should never put himself in danger and what he does. He sent the Wolfsguard away and left for that damned Hardhome accompanied only by two Wildlings and that idiot of Willys Manderly," said his father as he approached the window.

"Don't tire yourself, Father."

"I'm fine," he answered angrily. Breathing hard, caused by the effort, he added, "You will have to look for a new husband after the baby is born, because Jon Stark will not return from Hardhome. "

"Don't say that, Father," Daenerys said immediately. They had to have faith in his skills and his return. And she could never bear to marry another man, or lie with him, or let him touch her. Only Jon. And he will come back. He must.

"Daughter. You'll need a husband to protect you and your child against enemies if I or your brothers-"

"I have a husband father!" she stopped him by raising her voice, "And he's coming back home to his family. And his future child. So stop talking about those things."

"All right," his father sighed, residing, he continued, "Is Catelyn Tully back?"

"No. Not yet. But we haven't found Brandon either," replied Daenerys, though it wasn't hard to figure out where he ended up or that he was the one who set the Night Queen free.

"Well, it doesn't matter now. When Catelyn Stark finds out that Brandon is missing, she will blame us, and therefore unleash her brother's army on us," said her father, putting some water in a goblet, and then drinking it all. "Moat Cailin will hold. Maegor will hold."

"Maegor is old, father. He is now over sixty years and -"

"He could put all these green boys and their swords, that love to play at war, put in theirs place. Put a bat in his hand and he'll fight again," said her father, even though she doubted it. Not to mention his grandson Aegon, who was the heir now that his son, Baelor, was dead.

"However, it should give us time for our men, and our commanders certainly, to return, for I don't trust the present lords to lead our army. Only your brother Rhaegar will return. Or Robb Snow, who should be here in a month or so."

Daenerys nodded, resting her head on her father's shoulder, while he wrapped his arm around her, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

"You'll soon be a mother," he said, making her giggle the way he said it. "My little girl will soon have a little baby." While she kept laughing. "And to think you didn't want this the first time. You wanted your so-called beloved Daario."

"Yes. I was a naive young girl," she said, remembering when they argued so much.

"Yes, you were," her father said, starting to laugh, too. "And you're also the mother of a dragon."

"Yes," she answered, laughing. "The first in a hundred years. And in a precarious moment."

"Yes. Living dead and other strange things from ancient stories," her father said laughing. "But now go and get some rest, Dany."

She nodded, struggling to get up, and after kissing her father on the cheek she left the room.

Hardhome...

Most of the wildlings were already on the boats, but about ten thousand were still waiting, and most of them were Thenns, who were in the outside part of the camp. Then there were a hundred wildling warriors to protect the retreat.

As Jon watched in the distance, the boats slowly emptied, and then returning to pick up more from the shore, looking behind him, he saw an angry Tormund and Mance Raider coming, but at that very moment, the dogs that were still there burst out barking and a big storm came up very quickly unleashing the chaos among those who were beyond the palisade.

"Close the fuckin' gates!" shouted Tormund, and those who were there ran to the gates, starting to close them with great difficulty, because of the strong wind that was blowing, and the ones who were on the palisades, immediately descended.

As panic broke out among those who were on the shore waiting for the boats to return, they began to run into the water and try to swim and assault the returning boats.

"Jon we have to go!" shouted Arthur, though he didn't hear much because of the snowstorm that hit them before.

"The White Walkers! They're here!" shouted Jon, and at that moment they heard a scream coming from the mountain. Jon saw a crowned ice man on a dead horse, gazing down at him. The Night King. When he rises up the spear he had in his left hand, a waterfall of dead men jumped down from it.

"FUCK!" shouted Viserys, with Dark Sister in hand, who meanwhile reached him.

"We have to go Jon!" said Arthur, again and more undead men entered through the palisade charging at them.

"We must give them a chance to save themselves!" shouted Jon, grabbing Ice and the others did so, shouting, " Men of the North! With me!"

Charging towards the breach, slicing through the enemies. He had to give those who were on the shore time to get there as fast as possible.

Meanwhile, while Jon was blocking the breach, Tormund and some Wildings brought a sledge to close it. After that, Jon charged towards the others undead, not losing sight of the people who were on the beach or trying to swim.

Benjen was trying to kill as many as he could, but it was very difficult, especially since he didn't have a normal Dragonglass sword but rather two daggers. But he still did everything he could to figh, trying to never let Jon out of his sight.

"Fuck! They are more than we have fought in the past," exclaimed Viserys, running in his aid when he was in trouble, wielding his Valyrian sword and cutting a lot of enemies.

"Yes. We have to retreat!" Benjen said, slicing one of them in half, but at the same time, a White Walker, stepped forward through them in a slow motion.

"Vis!" shouted Benjen, then pointing towards the icy enemy. Viserys nodded, and Benjen saw him charging against the enemy, who managed to parry young Targaryen's attacks. It seems the enemy now knows that they have weapons to kill them. After a fierce fight, Viserys managed to destroy his opponent. And with him a dozen of undead were also destroyed. But victory was far from certain.

Looking around, Benjen saw the woman that he watched before, fight some of them fiercely, but she froze when a group of children appeared in front of her. "This is no good," Benjen said to himself, running toward her, and toward the undead children, killing one, and thus drawing their attention.

Backing away, Benjen immediately started to fight them when they charged at him, killing many but at the same time he too was injured because of their great speed, then falling to the ground on his knees.

She could feel it. The closer she got to the living camp, the more she felt his presence. But Jon Stark was his and not of the Breaker.

As she rode the dead direwolf, she looked toward young Stark, seeing him almost frozen, but she knew he was still alive because she could feel his warm blood running through his body.

As she was approaching the camp, she thought back to that place that for a brief moment called her reign, when two weeks ago she reached. The Nightfort remained as she remembered it thousands of years ago. Still dark and forever evil.

And she could feel his presence still alive within it. Deep inside it. Brandon the Fearless he was called. A man without fear and without weaknesses. Or so he told. But a naked woman's body is everyone men weakness. And even now she could feel his warm seed spilled deep inside her frozen womb and making the impossible coming true. The nigh was their rule, and they were as gods. But then came their defeat of the alliance between their enemies.

At least after her defeat, Joramun and the King of Winter buried her weapons there, and her armour too, giving her a chance to claim them again.

When she reached the camp, she was engulfed by a snowstorm and greeted by the chaos of death spread, but she had only one goal in mind. To kill Jon Stark.

And from the top of the mountain that she just reached, she was on, on the back of the dead direwolf, she saw him. Juggling enemies like no one in this world, slicing left and right, killing even two of the Breaker's lieutenants. For the Great Other, he was so magnificent. But this amazement of hers in seeing him won't stop her from the task.

So taking an icy and enchanted arrow, given to her by her master, she bowed it to the bow, and taking the aim straight to the heart.

Although they were outnumbered, and almost overwhelmed, Jon, thanks to the killing of the two White Walkers, managed to stop them for a moment, but just as he was about to head towards the boats, something powerful and cold hit him in the chest. looking down he saw that it was an ice arrow. Then he felt two more ice arrow hit his chest, making him fall to the ground.

As the ice was wrapping his heart, as the darkness took over his mind, Jon whispered the last words he never thought to say to her, and especially not to forget her name in the darkness.

"I'm sorry...D-Dany."

Meanwhile, in Winterfell...

"Jon!" screamed Daenerys the name of her beloved, waking up, and feeling a strong pain in her heart.

This meant only one thing: her Jon was in danger. Or worse. Dead.

At that moment, Ghost also came next to the bed, but no longer jumping on it, because he was big, and she had become big too.

Suddenly she felt pain in her stomach, and called her guards, "Dovoghedhi! Dacey!" Seeing them enter immediately.

"Your Grace," said Dacey, rushing toward the bed. "What is it?"

"The baby..." said Daenerys, groaning, and holding to her belly, "he's coming..." she lay on the side, "call Master Luwin."