Daenerys

Despite the danger that was coming for the world, Daenerys didn't let that stop her from enjoying her time in Winterfell and her bath. While Jon was currently organizing a few of the commanders before they would depart and all the kept her from joining him was the lack of clothes that fit. Her belly increased in its swell enough that her current wardrobe was too tight. Sansa was kind enough to begin working on something new for her and resize her other clothes. Missandei ran her hands through Daenerys's platinum hair, always feeling smoother than silk. The length of it was growing at a fine rate that she could soon be able to return to her old style, but she was enjoying what she had done. All four of her rings were resting on a table in front of the pillow that held her crown, but she had recently decided that it was time for one more for breaking the witch's curse.

Daenerys held the red egg in the steaming water up against her belly while Missandei did her work. She wondered what kind of dragon would hatch from inside. Would it be ferocious and powerful like Drogon, or timid and quiet like Lyarras? Whatever kind it would be, it would belong to her child after her sons since they would take Ygris and Lyarras.

She suddenly came to the realization of how casually she was thinking of the future. It made her happy that she did without any worry of anything in the way of it, but also concerned. She couldn't let anything get in her way of attaining that possibility, and she wouldn't. Not Cersei, not the Night King, no one.

Wanting to get out of the thoughts of what will be, Daenerys wanted to focus on the things that currently are. "Missandei, how have you taken your time here in the North?"

"It's an interesting place, your grace. Not as extravagant as the cities in Essos, but more peaceful. I just wish I could see it when there isn't an army outside the walls and everyone isn't working because their lives depend on it."

Daenerys only had a few days to see what that was like when she first arrived in Winterfell. It felt like what the world would be if she could make it that way. "You will see it, I promise you."

"I'm just glad to back with Grey Worm, even as little as the time we have is. He's off drilling with the soldiers using their new spears." The spears they have are be the best in the world against the dead. Dragonglass heads attached to ironwood shafts. The wood was as strong as iron and was perfect for crafting. Only foresters of Ironwrath knew how to lumber the wood.

"I've seen you spend time with one of the Wildli-…Freefolk." Jon had asked her to try and start showing respect to them for who they are instead of what others made them to be. "Care to explain why that is?"

"His name is Cullug. He's a warg and he speaks the language of the giants, or the Old Tongue as it's called. I've asked him to teach it to me. I've only learned a few phrases though. Some of them are not… the best of words to say in conversation. But if I'm to learn, I must know all of what the language is."

Daenerys lifted the egg out of the water and handed it to Missandei. The water evaporated before it could drip to the ground, yet the egg didn't feel hot at all. She placed it on an orange pillow in-between where the crowns were and retrieved a robe for Daenerys. It was all she could wear until Sansa was done.

"Though I must say," Missandei said as Daenerys rose from the water and stepped out of the tub, "watching his eyes turn into that white nothing when he connects with his owl scares me a little."

"I understand what you mean." Daenerys guided her arms into the sleeves of the rode and gently tied it around her. "Whenever I see Jon or Bran in that state, it's like their soul has left them completely and their nothing but a living shell." She placed a hand over her belly, thinking of when her son shared his visions with her. "But powers like that will be essential to winning the wars."

"It seems everything these days are for winning the wars to come. When all is won, what do use them for?"

Daenerys turned to face Missandei, giving her a comforting smile. "We rebuild what was lost in all of our chaos. And then when that's done, we keep on building, for our children, and their children, and for all who will walk the earth when we are far gone from it. After that, we can only leave what we've already given." In the end it was all about legacy. Daenerys couldn't help but wonder what hers would be. A conqueror like Aegon or a savior like she wanted to be.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Missandei walked over to it and checked to see who it was. "Lady Sansa," Missandei opened the door fully and Sansa entered, carrying with her Daenerys's new dress.

"Your grace," Sansa said, "I hope you like what I've made." Sansa laid the dress on the bed so it was in full view of the three of them. It was hooded and the main color was a dark grey with the red Targaryen dragon flying in a dance around the torso. On the left side of it was an outline of a white direwolf, as if it was a ghost. The cuffs, hood, and collar were lined with black fur and the sleeves had a stitching of red in the pattern of dragon scales. And most importantly it would fit Daenerys comfortably for now.

"It's absolutely beautiful." Daenerys commented as she felt the texture of the sleeves. "I can't thank you enough for this."

"The other seamstresses finished the rest of your gowns. You could say that this is a belated wedding gift from me to you, and I've heard whispers from others that it will only be one of many."

"One of many?" Daenerys inquired. Sansa merely smiled at he before leaving the room and Daenerys in wondering of what she was planning. Daenerys turned and looked at Missandei. "Do you know if someone is planning something?"

Missandei just smiled at her. "I know nothing, your grace."

Daenerys rolled her eyes and undid the strap around her robe, preparing to dress into her new gown.

Outside of Winterfell, Jon was waiting nearby the dragons as Daenerys and Missandei, escorted by Ser Jorah, trudged to them in the snow. Jon turned around when she got the attention of the drasgons and he looked amazed at her. He walked up to her and without warning kissed her. "Sorry," he said as he leaned back to look at her, "but too beautiful to resist."

Daenerys slapped him in his shoulder. "No amount of flattery in the world will win me over."

"Then it's a good thing I married you." They too of them shared a laugh together before Jon took Daenerys's hand and walked with her to Drogon.

"Your grace," Jorah said, "are you sure you don't want me to accompany you? There may be those among the builders who are still loyal to Cersei."

"He has a point," Jon said, "we may only be gone for a day, but a lot can happen between now and when we return. There may be those die hardily loyal to Cersei and think of doing something incredibly stupid."

It wasn't false that even though the realms were united, they were still looking at each other as the other's enemy. "If it helps extinguish any danger you feel will befall upon us, then you'll ride with Jon."

"Thank you, your grace." Jorah gave a slight bow to Missandei as the three of them departed from her presence and into that of the dragons. Drogon stirred a little bit before lowering his body as close to the ground as possible. Both Jon and Jorah had to assist her onto his back. By the time she got on top of her dragon, Daenerys felt out of breath.

"Jon, I don't think I'll be fit enough to ride after the war with the dead." Not only would she be unable to fly, but getting onto Drogon itself would be impossible.

"I don't think you will either. We'll talk about what to do when we get to the Wall." Daenerys waited for Jon and Jorah to get onto Rhaegal's back. She decided to let Jon do the honors of taking them to the skies. He wasn't fluent in High Valyrian, but she had taught him enough to command the dragons without warging. "Valahd!" All four of the dragons rustled in their places before Rhaegal shot off the ground first, followed by Drogon but much slower. Ygris and Lyarras followed closely behind as Winterfell and the entire camp below them began to shrink. They all banked around the lands below them before changing their course to the north, to Castle Black.

The ride was six hours until the Wall was barely visiable. The only thing that made it noticeable was the small darkened gathering of builders camped two miles away from it. AS they all got closer, Daenerys became marveled at the great structure. She had seen it in visions before, but seeing it in person gave it an entirely different gravity of presence.

The dragons circled around in the air as the soared above the encampment of fifty thousand men. Jorah was the only one to dismount when they landed and before they were going to do what they came here for, Jon had to have a few words with his uncle. She and Drogon were just close enough to listen in on the quick conversation.

"Anything to report?" Jon asked.

"We've had some of the wargs that came with us scouting a hundred miles north from the air." Benjen told him. "There's no sign of the dead approaching yet. But when they come into sight, we'll blow one blast. When the storm that follows can seen from here, two blasts. And when the leave the edge of the Haunted Forest, three blasts. Bran's been keeping his vision on the army itself and he'll inform us when we're running out of time."

"Are the men ready?"

"As they'll ever be."

"Then let's bring down the Wall." Benjen stepped away from Rhaegal before the dragons took to the skies again. The four of them took a quick lap next to the towering ice before gathering next to one another and hovering in front of the Wall.

Daenerys couldn't help but feel nervous about this. The Wall was the only thing that kept the dead from marching south for thousands of years. Even though it was useless to have now that the Night King had Viserion, there was still a feeling of protection that resonated from the Wall. She shook her head, ridding her mind of doubtful thought and looked over to Jon, nodding at him that she was ready.

Even from where she was, she could see his eyes turn the shade of white like the clouds above and the eyes of the dragons did the same for a brief moment. Drogon's body began to gather heat beneath her and all four of the dragons unleashed their fury upon the Wall.

When the dragonfire impacted with the ice, there was a brief gust that erupted, powerful enough that Daenerys had to tighten her grip on Drogon until it passed. Large pieces of ice began to crumble and fall down to the ground. Some of the pieces fell hard onto Castle Black and began to destroy the structure. Ygris and Lyarras suddenly ceased and parted from Drogon and Rhaegal. They began to resume breathing fire at the Wall, but in blasts as the made passes at the lower parts of it.

The Wall began to deeply crack and sounded like an avalanche as larger pieces of ice broke off. The earth beneath was beginning to quake as if the ground itself was about to crack open and swallow the world whole. It didn't take long for Drogon and Rhaegal's fire to burst through to the other side of the Wall and when it did, the top began to cave in and more of it followed. The two of them changed their positions and targetsto keep the Wall falling into itself, but hopefully not too much. Finally, glaciers of ice crumbled and crashed to the ground, completely destroying Castle Black and exploding into a noise so loud it could be heard around the world.

This was when the dragons all stopped and let the Wall do the work for them. The collapsing region above Castle Black casued a domino effect and continued to bring down everything at both sides. White clouds of frost, snow, and ice formed at the ground where the ice collapsed and shattered.

The collapse finally came to a stop and a gap nearly a mile and a half wide was made. Jon came out of his estranged state and all of the dragons departed from over the wreckage to return to the camp. When they landed, it was clearly visible that the shockwaves were powerful enough to cause a bit of destruction in the camp. Some of the tents where knocked down, many of the men were climbing out of the snow after falling in, and even a few wagons had broken.

After Jon and Daenerys both dismounted, Benjen and Jorah both approached them. "Despite the chaos that just occurred," Benjen said, "that was amazing to witness."

Jorah nodded with him. "Hundreds of years of work, all gone in a few minutes."

"And now, a month's worth of work, all for just one night." Benjen looked out to the wreckage one last time. "I'll see to it that we're ready to begin work within an hour. If you need me, we'll have a few tents down there to oversee the plans if anything changes." Benjen turned his head and looked at an empty space. "What?" Daenerys became confused. Maybe he thought he heard something. "Then you'd better quit wasting your time here and spend it with the girl, nephew. Now go."

"I beg your pardon," Daenerys said, "but who were you talking to?"

"Bran." Benjen stated.

Daenerys sighed and shook her head to the ground. "That's all I need to hear." There were too many things to try and understand all of the powers that were in the presence in the armies. Most of them being from the North.

"We have a tent set up for you in the center of the camp until your leave tomorrow. I can't say you'll enjoy your time hear, but there are worse places to be." Benjen bowed his head to Jon and Daenerys before departing from them.

Daenerys took Jon's arm and walked with him into the encampment, Jorah following closely. "Did you hear what your uncle said, about a girl? Was he talking about your sisters?"

"I don't think so," Jon told her, "he sounded to playful about it and he would've said Sansa or Arya by name."

"Then who was he talking about?"

"I only know of one girl that Bran knows who isn't a Stark."


Meera

Ever since her arrival, Meera had done nothing but drill with her father and the other crannogmen with their new dragonglass spears. They were much finer quality than the ones the Children of the Forest used in the cave of the Three Eyed Raven. But aside from that, her father also trained her better to use a sword. She had the strength to wield one beyond the Wall, but her skill wasn't as good as she wanted it. The two of them were in the camps at a large practice yard that was basically just an unoccupied area of land. It was so large that there were thousands of others doing their own training as well.

Meera had just failed to parry a strike from her father and he managed to lightly slash over her chest. "Nope," he told her, "you let the strength of the block move into the follow up too quickly. Don't return the attack unless you know you can go on the offensive."

Meera nodded to him as she regained her breathe and took her stance. Her father took the first swings and meera blocked them better then she previously she. This time she did a proper parry and managed to poke her father in the chest with the end of her sparring sword.

"Much better." Meera pulled her sword away and took a moment to catch her breath. But when she let her guards down, Howland surprised her and struck at her body twice before she reacted. "Dead." He told her.

She became frustrated that he did that without warning. But the dead wouldn't be as kind as to let everyone take a break after every kill. "I'm sorry, father."

"You look distracted Meera." Howland began walking with Meera over to a large canopy that stood over an armory of practice weapons, protecting them from the snow.

"I'm just tired. We've been at this for since morning."

The two of them placed their weapons on a sword rack and retrieved their own. "You voice says one thing, but the look in your eyes says another." They left the shade of the canopy and began to make their way to the castle, passing many others making preparations for the march north. "Tell me what's troubling you."

"There's nothing troubling me. I just don't like being here."

"Well that's a first." Howland chuckled as he spoke. "I remember a little girl who once told me that all she ever wanted to do was see the great castle of Winterfell, and she kept saying that right until the day came that she and her brother left the Greywater."

"That was when Jojen was still alive. Before everyone starting dying so a boy could have magic lessons with an old man in a tree."

"Aye, that's precisely what they died for. Jojen knew that, and so did you. But that's not the real reason you're upset, is it?" Howland stopped in his tracks so he could face Meera. "Have you gone to see Bran since we returned?"

Meera had a sudden flashback to when she said goodbye to him and the sad realization she had. "Don't be ridiculous, Bran died in that cave. The person who calls himself the Three Eyed Raven isn't Bran."

Howland sighed at her as they resumed their walk. "Meera, I know little when it comes to the sight. But I do know that Bran is the way he is because of the mistake he made and what he and the one before him had to do to correct such a thing. To have the entirety of time rush through your eyes, it's incomprehensible to imagine. But he'll return to who he was one day. The more time he spends seeing through the weirwoods, the more he pieces himself back together."

Before they entered through the gates, the ground beneath them began to shake so much that Howland lost his footing and slipped into the snow-covered road. The tremors only lasted for a few seconds and ceased completely.

"What was that?" Meera exclaimed as she helped her father up.

"I think that was the Wall." Howland brushed the snow off of his body and adjusted his cloak.

A feeling of familiar fear rushed through Meera's spine. She felt the same as she did in the cave when the warmth disappeared and she saw her breaths turning into the faint clouds of frozen air. That was when all sense of safety left her, and it felt like she was on the border that was just before that dread.

"Come," Howland told her, "I think you should have a talk with someone." As led her through the castle and to the entrance of the Godswood.

"Father I don't want to."

He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders and looked at her dead in the eyes. "He's already changed from when I first saw him. You just have to have two things, patience and faith."

Meera wasn't sure if she would be able to. She was afraid that when she saw him, Bran would be the same person who felt nothing when she left. Her father left her at the entrance to return to the camp's training yard. She looked into the Godswood and could see the white bark and the red leaves of the weirwood. She didn't want to go in, but she also didn't want to leave.

Meera took a deep breath before stepping into the Godswood, feeling the same magical presence that was in the cave of the Three Eyed Raven. As she walked through a few other trees, Bran came into sight. One of his hands was on the face of the weirwood and his eyes were the white of a warg's.

She stood in front of Bran and took a moment to just look at him. She hadn't seen him in months, but he didn't look different at all. His hair was the same, his face, his size. It gave her comfort to know that at least some things about him didn't change.

Bran's eyes returned to the natural color and he looked up to her. Neither of them said anything to the each other for a moment before Bran actually grew a small smile to Meera. "Hello Meera."

"Hello Bran." She didn't notice anything different about his personality yet, but she would listen to her father and try patience, but not yet faith. "Were you watching the Wall?"

"I was. The dragons brought it down with hardly any effort at all. But the gap they made is a bit bigger than we hoped for."

"We felt it crash all the way from here."

"All of Westeros will. It will be the sign that the end is drawing closer to everyone. But we'll be there to stop it."

"You think we can?"

"I know it. We have the numbers, the weapons, and a reason to keep living."

Meera had a spark of hope flash within her when she heard the way he talked. It wasn't so monotone or lack of emotion as it was before, but only by a little. "So what's your reason to keep living?"

"I'm the Three Eyed Raven, my reason is unknown even to me. My purpose for know is to combat against the power of the Night King. But after that, I don't know."

Meera understood what her father meant by Bran's change now. He beginning to feel like a human rather than whatever it was that woke up from hours of using the sight when they escaped the wights from the cave. But for her, it wasn't enough yet. "I need to get back to practice, Bran."

"If it wouldn't trouble you, could you send for Rickon to come and get me?" Meera nodded at him before turning to walk away. "I'm sorry." He said.

Meera turned her head, confused. "At what?"

"That I can't be who you want you want me to be right now."

Meera smiled at him sympathetically. "I have faith you will be one day."


If I had to estimate, I think only four chapters left until we get to the big calm before the war. But it's only an estimate. Now then, thanks for reading and if Reviews were moeny, then I am Jerry Mcguire. SHOW ME THE MONEY!