Jaime
The parade of soldiers, horses, and wagons marched smoothly through the freshly fallen snows of the storm that passed in the warmth of a winter morning. Despite the delay the army suffered, they could not make up for the loss of time in any way according to the Wildings.
Jaime kept to the middle of the army and surrounded himself with those he knew wouldn't stab him in the back given the chance. He may have surrendered himself to the Targaryens and received forgiveness in a sense, but not all were blessed with such a nature as they. He rode on his horse next to Bronn and Tyrion's. Behind them was Brienne and her squire Podrick Payne.
"Have you ever been to the Wall, Bronn?" Tyrion asked.
"Once, when I was a young lad." Bronn told him.
"What brought you there?" Podrick asked from behind.
"I got caught up in a brawl and got sentenced to serve the Black."
"Why am I not surprised you escaped your penalty?" Jaime asked rhetorically.
"It's not an escape if no one chases you." Bronn informed. "Lord Commander Qorgyle was nice and lazy during his command. Lost nearly three hundred men during his time and even more if you include the men sentenced to yet take the Black, myself included."
"Men like him were the reason the Watch declined over the years." Tyrion commented.
"It wasn't just the lazy ones who lost men," Bronn reminded, "Jeor Mormont was one of the better ones and he lost three hundred on his great range."
"At least they died fighting what they were meant to in the first place." Brienne said.
"Aye, they did. But they died none the less. And I heard it wasn't a fight, even calling it a slaughter would be merciful."
Jaime knew nothing of the encounter the Night's Watch faced at the Fist of the First Men, only that four men who went on the Great Range made it back south of the Wall. "Let's hope we're granted more mercy to at least have a battle then."
As those words left his mouth, they all came to the top of a hill and looked upon the Wall, Jaime being the only one among them to not have seen it before. The size of it stretching from each end of the horizon gave it a majesty of power unlike anything Jaime had seen before. But there wasn't as much as there could have been now that a giant gap was in it. There were many specs of men and giants with their mammoths all along the newly build parts.
"Such a shame," Tyrion said, "I was looking forward to having a brew of the Night's Watch ale in their common room."
"They still make it, my lord." Podrick informed. "I've had few in Wintertown with some of the brothers."
"It's not quite the same Podrick, but good enough."
The army marched away from the Wall and towards the camp that was four miles south of it. As they got closer, the many factions of the army broke off to join each of their own. Despite his feeling to stay away from the men of the Westerlands, he had no choice but to oversee their arrival and settling as their commander and lord.
It wasn't until late afternoon that Jaime had the time to meet with the other commanders of the Westerlands. They all gathered around a map of the Wall on a table inside Jaime's command tent, listening to Jaime's instructions that he received.
"The gap at the pass is long enough to have a thousand men stand together in one line. The Unsullied will be at the front with three rows of their army. The Reach, the Stormlands, and the Westerlands will combine to make the next ten and the rest of the Unsullied with be behind us. Behind them will be the North"
"Sixteen rows of shields and spears," one of the commanders said, "I can't imagine anything breaking through that."
"They Night King has three times as many giants and mammoths as we do and he has a dragon." Jaime informed. "Our archers will be stationed on the Eastern top of the Wall alongside the Riverlands. We'll need them to ride to Oakenshield with the Dothraki and the Knights of the Vale at nightfall. Make sure each man takes two days' worth of provisions with them. The rest of our men will join the foot soldiers, ready to face anything that slips past our defenses. We only have a few hours, so get to work and make sure that every sword belt has a dragonglass weapon of any kind strapped to it." All of the commanders bowed their heads and exited the tent, leaving Jaime to himself.
Jaime took another look at the map, trying to spy anything that could possibly help in the near time before the battle. The suspense of the wait was torturing him inside. The army was just over a day's journey away, yet it felt like it would be much longer than that.
A sudden breeze of cold air rushed behind him signaling that someone had entered. He turned his head to the entry of the tent and saw Brienne standing there. "Lady Brienne."
"Ser Jaime, or is it Lord Jaime now?" She asked.
"Until I return to Casterly Rock, I will remain a Ser." He didn't want to admit it, but he wanted to keep his title of Ser as long as he could before he would change from being a knight to a lord. Knights protected the innocent and defended the weak while lords drank wine and did stupid things for stupid reasons. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"No, but I was on my way to enjoy a last drink with friends. I thought you would like to join us."
Jaime looked back at the map, pondering over the idea. Perhaps taking a rest would be a good way to calm down and think straight. "Alright, I accept your offer."
The two of them walked past the many tents to a clearing were many had set up tables and ale kegs around many pit fires. They weren't the only ones who had the idea to have a last drink. The King and Queen themselves ordered all to take an afternoon's rest and enjoy the company of friends and family. Jaime didn't blame them, most men who where drinking and laughing would soon be dead or raising a mug to mourn the fallen. Near the heart of everything, Jaime saw a table with four others standing around it. Chairs were in short supply and were all sent to the medical faction of the camp for the wounded that might be present after the battle.
Around the table stood Bronn, Podrick, Tyrion, and Tormund Giantsbane of all people. Tyrion was given a small box to raise his height enough that he could reach down to the table rather that over it. "Ah, big brother, so good for you to join us." Tyrion slid a full mug of ale to him as he and Brienne both arrived.
"You hear anyone plot to kill ya yet?" Bronn asked.
"No, should I be?"
"Ah, dammit," Bronn tossed a small pouch filled with money of some small amount to Tyrion who looked smug, "you just cost me five gold dragons."
"You have dragons of gold?" Tormund asked with his brow raised.
"It's an amount of money." Brienne informed.
"You southerners and your money. Steel and food is the only thing the Free Folk use to trade."
"But you're in the south now," Bronn reminded, "so you might want to get some yourself if you want to get anywhere but here."
Tyrion picked up his mug and raised it above the center of the table. "Here's to either a merry end, or a new beginning."
"I'll drink to that." Bronn said as he and everyone else picked up their mugs and gently clashed them together before each taking a big swig.
They were interrupted by a women's yelp and they all looked over to see a Wildling man carrying a Wildling woman over his shoulders and running through the crowds while the only ones cheering for them were other Wildlings.
"What are they doing?" Podrick asked.
"Ha ha! He's stealing himself a spearwife." Tormund bellowed cheerfully.
"What?" Podrick looked more confused than he was.
"In the True North, if a man wants a wife, he has to steal her. If can do it without being caught or the woman resisting him enough, then she is his. Most of the time it's willingly. It looks like those two are going to have one last night together before we all march are arses off to die. Speaking of wives, where is yours?" Tormund asked looking at Bronn.
"Tyene? She took a backhand to the face when she tried to steal the Stark girl's Valyrian dagger. But then the girl gave it to her anyway."
"I'm not surprised," Jaime said, "Arya has the mood of a preying wolf and most of those that came with Valyrian weapons are giving them to the best of the fighters here."
"Do any of you know if she's getting comfortable with the stag smith?" Tormund asked before taking another drink.
"Gendry?" Podrick asked. "I heard that they were friends but I didn't think that much."
"They're practically lovers without the love part or the fucking." Bronn said, tilting his head to the side with his brow raised. "But I bet if we win, they'll finally cut the horseshit and just get it over with. Nothing like a good fight to get one in the mood for a good fucking."
"You got that right," Tormund said before subtly looking at Brienne while wearing a grin. Jaime quickly looked over to Brienne who immediately started to gulp down her ale, looking embarrassed. "I promise you, the moment the battle is over, they'll be in each other's arms like they've just met after years of being apart."
"I doubt that." Tyrion said. "When they first saw each other at Winterfell, she kept hitting him like any would to a brother."
As far as Jaime knew, that was how many began before taking a journey to something far more physical.
Arya
As the evening of the day drew near, the last of the construction on the barricade and pass were completed. Many of the soldiers and the Dothraki were readying their horses and themselves to ride out for Oakenshield and Queensgate.
The dragons had arrived after the army as expected and took to nesting far from the camp, mostly to be far from unwanted company.
While the most of the Starks prepared for war in their own way, Rickon was inside Gendry's tent who personally saw to his armor while Arya stood by.
"Hold still," Gendry said to Rickon as he strapped on a small direwolf gorget around Rickon's neck.
"I'm trying!" Having never worn armor before, Rickon did not like the time it took for everything to be put on or the weight of it. For him, the armor felt like three wet cloaks and the steel pieces on his arms were like prisons. The gorget pinched the collar of his shirt to his neck and the small couters around his elbows restricted his movements. "How can men fight in this?"
"I can promise you it will be a lot easier when you grow up to be one." Gendry finished strapping the gorget around Rickon's neck and spun the boy around to inspect the fit. "Can you breathe alright?"
"Aye." Rickon replied.
"Then my work is done." Gendry stepped back so he could view Rickon in his full attire. "You look like the youngest knight I've ever seen. All you need is a helm to cover your face and everyone will think you're just a tall dwarf knight."
"Can I take this off now?" Rickon pleaded.
"Not yet, walk around in it for at least an hour to really get used to how it moves. Make sure you run and jump around in it and practice some fighting."
Rickon sighed as he swung his arms from side to side, loosening as much of the fit as he could.
Gendry wiped his hands clean on a rag before turning to his own suit of armor he made for himself that was resting on an armor stand. He had a steel breastplate, pauldrons, greaves, and a great helm with two stag antlers nested on each side of the helm's crown. The antlers were provided by none other than Rickon himself. Salvaged from the mutilated stag he shot with Johnna and Ralf.
"If anything doesn't feel right, come see me and I'll do what I can." Gendry told him as he picked up a steel vambrace and began to adjust the straps.
"Whatever you say, Lord Gendry." Rickon told him as he turned to face Arya. "What do you think?"
To Arya, all Rickon was missing was a beard and he would look like their father, ready for war. "You look amazing little brother. The gorget looks just like the one the Jon used to wear."
"I just wish all of it wasn't so heavy." Rickon said.
"Be grateful for what you have," Arya told him, "you'll be glad when it stops a sword from killing you." Regardless of her encouragement to Rickon, armor was never a guarantee to stop whatever weapons attacked it.
"Or an arrow." Rickon added, reminding everyone of his injury he took at the Battle of the Bastards.
Arya felt a small bit of anger flare in her when he said that. She wished she could have been at the battle and killed Ramsay herself. But she had no idea who he even was or that he even existed at the time. But if she did, the Bolton Bastard and every soldier who was a part of the Red Wedding would've been on her list. "Come one," Arya told him, "Sansa and Bran are waiting for us."
Rickon awkwardly walked over to her as she held the entrance of the tent. Before leaving herself, Arya looked over at Gendry. "I'll see you tomorrow morning." With time growing short, she wanted to spend as much as she could be allowed to with those she held dear to her.
"Goodnight, milady." Gendry poked. Arya rolled her eyes and scoffed at him before she followed after her brother.
When they arrived at the tent their brother and sister were housed in, Sansa looked delighted to see Rickon as he was while Bran seemed to try.
"Look at you," Sansa said looking very proud at Rickon, "a young soldier of the North."
Rickon looked uncomfortable at Sansa's remarks. He was coming of the age where he didn't want to be seen as a boy anymore, but he had far more growing up to do before he could call himself a man.
"Robb wore the exact same thing when he went to war." Bran commented. It was only a shame he didn't wear it when he went to weddings.
"Is Jon on his way?" Arya asked. It was his idea to gather everyone together for the evening in the first place.
"He's on his way with Theon." Bran informed.
"Theon's joining us?" Rickon asked.
"Jon wanted a night for the children of Winterfell. He grew up with us just as we grew up with each other."
Arya didn't like it. She didn't forgive Theon for what he did, but in the end far worse would have happened if he didn't.
It wasn't long until Ghost popped inside the tent and shook a light layer of snow out of his fur. Everyone raised their arms in hopes to prevent incoming projectiles from getting on their bodies.
Jon and Theon both entered after Ghost finished unloaded the snow from his body. The two of them shared a laugh together as Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon wiped themselves clean of what hit them. "Good boy, Ghost." Jon said. The white direwolf laid down on the floor at Bran's feet, looking relaxed and contempt. "Rickon, you look ready to take on the Night King all by yourself."
"If I was a few years older I would." Rickon stated.
"Is Daenerys joining us?" Sansa asked.
"No, she's with Missandei and Ser Jorah and a few others. Tonight, and tonight only, it's just us." Jon walked over to a small table that had a keg and six mugs. While he began to fill each mug with a warm drink, Theon took a seat in a chair while Arya and Sansa sat down on Jon's bed and Rickon sat on the floor.
"I heard your sister had her baby." Rickon announced to Theon.
Theon nodded uncomfortably. "Yara had a baby girl."
"What's her name?" Sansa asked.
"She didn't give her one. She said that she wants no love for her in any way. She said the baby is just a reminder of what Euron did to her." It sounded awful, but also understandable. The baby was a product of rape and incest, two things that can scar the heart more than the body.
"I'm sorry," Rickon said, "I didn't mean to pry like that."
Theon shook his head at him. "It's alright. The baby girl is staying with my son on the Iron Islands. She'll be in good hands."
Jon began to hand out drinks to everyone. "You spoke to her then?" Jon must've been referring to the mother of Theon's son.
"Her name's Bella. I spoke with her twice before I was allowed to speak to… Small Theon, I call him." He turned his head to look at Jon. "He reminds me a lot Robb more than myself. He'll be nice to Yara's daughter, a brother more than a cousin." Theon looked on the verge of trembling. He didn't look sad or scared, but instead confused. "I'm sorry for everything, I am. Even if it means nothing to hear it, I have to say it."
"It doesn't mean nothing," Arya told him, "we can't change the past. As much as we wish we could, we can't. But we can remember it to make a better future."
Jon raised his mug to the air. "Here's to future. May it be better than what we've been given." Everyone raised their mugs with Jon and took their first drink. Rickon spat his out and began coughing hard, making everyone laugh at his first taste of ale.
"Shut up," Rickon exclaimed, "it went in wrong."
The opportunity was too good for Arya to let it pass. "I bet that's what Theon's first visit to a brothel was like." The only ones who got a laugh out of that were her, Jon, and Theon.
"Arya!" Sansa shouted while failing to resist a smile. Rickon just looked confused and didn't understand what the joke meant while Bran wore a fake smile.
The evening for the Starks was spent drinking and being merry. No one would've argued against spending their time like this instead of preparing for the battle. They needed this, for it could be the last time they were all together.
After an entire mug of ale, Jon began to recall the time he and Robb tried to scare Sansa, Arya, and Bran in the crypts. "I poured the flour all over my body," Jon explained while trying to contain his laughter, "and waited behind grandfather's statue for Robb to bring you three. When I saw the light of lantern I jumped out screaming as loud as I could."
"I remember what happened after that," Arya chuckled, "Sansa started screaming louder than you and Robb couldn't laugh because Bran started crying."
"And you ran as fast as you could to father." Bran said.
Arya didn't know whether or not she had too much to drink or if she had a bad memory because she didn't remember that happening at all. "Are you sure? You were only two years old."
"You're asking someone who can see every event of time at will if they remember something correctly?"
Arya became dumbfounded when she realized what she just did.
"I'm joking, Arya." Bran started to lightly laugh at her and it surprised everyone.
"You told a joke?" Sansa asked.
"I did." Bran confirmed.
Arya wasn't the only one to be overjoyed at this. Bran had been nothing but emotionless for months, but now he was starting to seem like their brother again instead of a magic all seeing cripple.
"It's getting late," Jon declared as he set his mug on the table, "we have a lot to do tomorrow, so get to bed soon." Even though he was deep into his ale, he kept a fatherly composure for all of them.
"No argument there." Arya agreed, feeling the weight of her eyelids starting to grow. She placed her mug next to Jon's and retrieved her cloak from Jon's bed. "Goodnight everyone."
While she walked past many tents and guards on patrol, Arya had time to gather her thoughts and shake away any drunk feelings she could. She wrapped her cloak around her body and trapped a small bit of warmth to her body as she thought about what the battle would be like. Arya remembered growing up and reading stories about great wars and conquering heroes. But being in the center of a great massacre changed her entire view on such things. All of the glory and victory that the stories of old had, those were things that happened after the wars and battles. The only thing true about every battle in history was that there was death. What differentiated the battles was the kind of death there was.
'There is only one thing we say to Death.' The voice of Syrio Forel rang through Arya's mind.
"Not today." She whispered to herself. Arya wished she could've learned more from Syrio. Her skill was great, but not good enough if the Hound told her that her duel with Jon was nothing but pity. That was when she made a personal vow to herself. After the war, she would have a real fight with him.
Daenerys
Having finished a well deserved get together with those Daenerys held close in her heart, she was escorted back to her tent by Greyworm and two other Unsullied. She didn't ask for him specifically, but he took it upon himself to see to her safely walked through the camp.
"Did you enjoy the wine Grey Worm?" Daenerys asked.
"No, wine tastes bitter when I drink it and it makes my senses feel strange. A poor drink before a battle."
Daenerys was a bit envious of him. She hadn't had a single glass ever since she learned she was pregnant, but she was beginning to have cravings for it. But with the help of Missandei and her other friend, she found ways to suppress it. "Ser Jorah once told me a tale of a drunken Red Priest who fought at the siege of the Iron Islands with a flaming sword and woke up the next day wondering how he became part of a battle."
"The red priests and followers of the Lord of Light are granted fire magic in exchange for their blood." Grey Worm informed. "Many men run away when they see a sword burst into flames."
"And many more men run away when they see a dragon."
Grey Worm looked agreeing with her as they arrived at her tent. "Mhysa, could I ask for a gift?"
This was the first time Daenerys ever heard Grey Worm ask her for a gift. "What kind of gift?"
"When the wars are over and the throne yours, I want to sail to the Summer Isles and Naath with Lady Missandei. To have a time that we can be ourselves instead of what the masters made us into." Daenerys wasn't surprised at all when Grey Worm asked her. To give someone a chance to be something instead of a soldier wasn't unreasonable at all.
Daenerys gave Grey Worm a very comforting smile. "For all you have done for me, such a request can easily be granted." She would grant that kind of wish to all the former slaves if they desired. Grey Worm was just the first one to be direct about it.
"You are kind, Mhysa."
"Now go, I believe I am keeping you from another beauty." Daenerys didn't want to let Missandei be delayed for 'many things.'
Grey Worm bowed his head and left his Queen at the entrance of Jon's tent.
Before Daenerys entered, she took a last look at the stars and took notice at their simple beauty. People see them every night of their lives, but it's only when they take a moment to really look at them that they see that they have a divine feeling about them.
Inside the tent, Jon had already dressed into his night clothes and was sitting down in a chair with a cloth in one hand and Longclaw in the other. He ran the clothe up and down the blade, cleaning any bit of dirt or pollutant that might be in the blade.
"Feeling nervous?" Daenerys poked.
"Not as much as before our wedding." He told her. She couldn't help but feel the same way. She began to change out of her cloak and gown as Jon sheathed Longclaw back into its scabbard and grabbed her nightgown, ready to assist her.
"Then tell me how I can ease my husband's mind. I want him to rest peacefully with me this night."
"Well if you wanted to that, then we wouldn't be doing much resting at all." Jon looked at her hesitantly before she grabbed hold of his body and started to kiss him.
Daenerys forced Jon to drop her nightgown as she slowly walked them to their bed. "Take off your clothes." She spoke slowly.
"As my queen commands."
The light of the lanterns within the King and Queen's tent begin to glow dim as the night pressed on. Jon and Daenerys laid together under their heavy fur blankets, receiving more warmth from each other than the furs.
Daenerys let her thoughts drift to whatever they desired as she perched her head on her pillow. She began to think about the Night King and the White Walkers and how they came from the Lands of Always Winter. She didn't know much about that place or the legends of the North for that matter.
"What do you think is beyond the edge of the North?" Daenerys quietly asked.
"Probably more snow," Jon quipped.
"I'm being serious. What do you think is beyond the world that we know?"
"The farthest I've ever been north was the Frostfangs. From what I saw there was nothing but snow, ice, and mountains. I can't think of what else is out there. But… I do remember I had a dream not long ago about a mountain. It was where the Night King was hiding for the past eight thousand years."
"Hiding?" Daenerys didn't understand what he meant when he said that.
"The White Walkers were never defeated in the first war against them, only driven back. I think that's why it's always been winter beyond the Wall. If we win, those lands may yet see spring once again."
"If we win, I want you to take me somewhere north. I want to see what lands without castle look like."
"I know of a nice cave I can show you." Jon told her. Daenerys didn't look at him, but hse could feel Jon smiling.
"Tell me more of the lands." It seemed to Daenerys that the place that has been cut off from the world had the most mysticism about it that drew her attention. "What do you think the northern edge of Westeros is like?"
Jon didn't answer immediately. It felt like he was in deep thought about it. "When I was a boy, I caught the pox and was bedridden for a few days." This came out of nowhere, but Daenerys listened all the same. "On the worst night, I couldn't sleep at all, but I couldn't stay awake at the same time. I was caught somewhere in between. But I could still dream. I remember everything I saw in my mind. I was standing on a beach. The sands were silver and the smell of the sea was a scent that was sweet. The sunset a gold I never thought existed. But when the light of day was gone, I saw something I long to see in my dreams once again."
Daenerys became entranced by Jon's memory, her mind begging her to know. "What Jon? See what?"
"A moonless night, and a sky filled with an uncountable number of stars and clouds of light. A dark sky that was brighter than the sun could ever hope to be. I thought I was looking at heavens themselves."
Daenerys couldn't imagine what such a place looked like, but she longed to see that place herself after hearing it. "Maybe you were, or maybe they were looking at you."
The light of the lanterns completely disappeared, leaving the two of them in total darkness. "Maybe."
The two of them fell into a deep sleep that they both hoped wouldn't end, so long as they were with each other.
Daenerys began to feel her mind take her from a void of nothing to her dreams, and the power of her child Matthias began to share her desire to know the place his father spoke of.
Daenerys found herself sitting down on silver beach, dressed in a moon white dress that was softer than any silk she ever wore. The fabric flowed like water when caught in the breeze. The sand looked cold but was warm to the touch. Curled up next to her was a small black wolf pup and a silver dragon, fresh from being hatched.
The three of them looked out to the sky and saw more than what Jon had described to them. Trails of small light streaked across the sky and the cosmic light looked like it was bursting from the shadows of night beyond the stars.
"It's beautiful." Daenerys unconsciously spoke.
Instantly after she said that, the warmth of the sand disappeared and the air grew cold. Daenerys cold see her breath beginning to freeze and the light of the sky fading away. The baby dragon and wolf pups crawled onto her lap and felt terrified.
Daenerys shot awake and felt a shivering breeze enter the tent. She sat up and looked at saw falling snow start to leak into the tent with the light of morning. Jon woke up after her and placed his arms around her for comfort. "Are you alright?"
Before she could give her answer, they both heard the sound of a horn blasting. The was a small pause before a second blast was made. But after that, there was nothing. "Two blasts," Daenerys said.
"They're on the horizon."
Jon
The afternoon came fast and there wasn't a single person bustling about doing something to prepare for the Army of the Dead. Only one in ten people seen wasn't yet dressed in their armor and everything was loud with the shouts of orders and commands.
Jon was in his command tent with Howland Reed, Bran, Jaime Lannister, and two other commanders who were in the place of Edmure and Tormund. They were all overlooking a map of the Wall and the lands north of it.
Howland traced his finger to a location about thirty miles away from where Castle Black once stood. "The wargs are keeping watch on the army and report that they are moving at a slow pace. They'll arrive at the Wall late in the night."
"What about the Night King?" Jon asked. "Have they seen him or the dragon?"
"He's not with the army," Bran informed, "he's preparing himself for the battle."
"What does that mean?" Jon asked.
"Right now, he's in the Cave of the Three Eyed Raven. He's just staring at the corpse of the one before me." Bran gazed to the empty space in front of him for a few moments before jostling around. "He didn't want me watching him."
"As long as we know where he is." Jon said. "We don't want him to flying around us and attacking from behind." Jon looked up from the map to the men in the tent. "I want the army to march to the Wall in and two hours. When the army reaches the Haunted Forest, I want ravens sent to Queensgate and Oankenshield. Everyone must be in formation and ready for battle."
The men with him nodded in unison before dismissing themselves to pass along the orders. The time was drawing closer and Jon himself had to prepare.
Back in his tent, a young northern lad waited patiently for the King to return to help him put on his armor. The pieces were strapped on one by one and the fit was perfect. This was the first time Jon had ever worn all of the pieces besides the gorget. The feeling of the armor felt more protective than what he wore when he fought against the Bolton army. As the last pauldron was secured to Jon's arm and the gorget, Daenerys walked inside. The young lad bowed his head to his queen before finishing his work and leaving.
"You look marvelous." Daenerys commented.
"It would make me feel better if you wore some." Jon told her.
"That won't be happening as long as I have two children inside of me." Jon had no regrets about their miracle, but a part of him did wish that it didn't happen until after the fighting was done. Regardless, the only thing he wanted was Daenerys to be safe. He walked up to het and gently embraced his wife, taking every moment he could to make for just them. "We will win this war." Daenerys assured him.
"But will we survive it?"
"I know in my heart we will."
Jon let go of Daenerys and took a lasting gaze into her enchanting eyes, remembering the moment he fell for her. "That's all I needed to hear."
Jon retrieved Longclaw from leaning up against a table and strapped the sword belt around his waist before putting on his cloak. As he left his tent with Daenerys next to him, his thoughts began to ponder around where he was, and what he was doing. So long, so long it has been since that day he left Winterfell, the day he truly started his journey that led to him going to war against the White Walkers and becoming a king. But now he was going to face them. Finally, after all the pain lost to the night King and his army, it was near time to settle the score.
The two of them join Jon's siblings and Ser Jorah. Together, all of them gathered would meet one last time before separating with their respective factions of war. Arya, dressed in light armor aover her regular clothes, would be part of the reserves behind the infantry since she couldn't use a bow or a spear, just Blackfyre. Sansa would join the maester and others who would be tending to wounded afterwards. Rickon and Ser Jorah will be joining the archers at the front, but after the retreat Ser Jorah made a promise to protect Rickon. Bran being unable to fight with weapons would be safely far from the battle, but he would be guiding Nymeria and her pack to the battle when the fighting will break out.
"So this is it," Ser Jorah said, "this could very well be the last time anyone of us sees the other."
"It could be," Jon said, "that's I order every one of you not to die."
"Only if you promise not to either." Arya said.
Jon wouldn't allow himself to. He's done it one time more than anyone should. "I promise."
Arya
After many hugs and holding back tears of fear, Arya left to go join the Northerners among fifty thousand others and get organized. But before she did, there was one more person she had to speak to.
Gendry was outside of his tent, dressed in his armor save for the helm. He looked like a true knight, the kind every boy dreams of being and every girl dreams of being rescued by. Over his armor was a yellow and black surcoat with his sigil. He was talking with Beric Dondarrion who was given a set of the armor the Fiery Hand wore.
Beric noticed Arya's presence and cut his time short, leaving Gendry alone. 'He did something right for once.' Arya thought to herself.
Gendry noticed her and looked very pleased that she came to see him. "I thought you would've joined the Northern army by now." Gendry told her.
"And I thought you knew me better than to guess such a thing. Of course I had to see you before we go to war." Arya couldn't let herself skip a moment together with him. They had been through too much together to waste a chance as this. But unfortunately for her, she didn't know what to say.
"Arya," Gendry said, "if I don't make it-"
"Don't you dare say another word like that. If tell yourself you can't this then you won't be able to." It was then Arya could pass along one of the best lessons she ever learned. "If find yourself in front of death, do you what you tell him?"
Gendry shrugged his shoulders. "Piss off?"
Arya smiled amusingly that Gendry could make a joke at a time like this, it was one of the things she loved about him. "Not today."
"Then how about we make a promise?"
"What kind?" Arya asked curiously.
"If we both make survive, Hotpie gets to come with me to Storm's End, and so do you."
Arya felt a knot in her stomach form when he said that. "And what would I do in Storm's End? Would I be your lady?"
Gendry smiled at her. "You wouldn't be my lady, you'd be my family." He turned her words against her. Before she could say anything back to him, Gendry walked away to join Beric, leaving Arya alone and without an answer.
She watched him disappear as another friend walked up next to her. "I feel sick watching the two of you." Sandor said.
Arya didn't even look at him when she replied. "Then maybe you shouldn't watch."
Sandor heavily sighed and rolled his eyes. "I am only ever going to say something like this once. Just because a woman is a lady of a castle or some other fucking thing, it doesn't mean she's a dress wearing damsel her whole life." Arya turned her head to look at Sandor, not believing that he was actually talking to her about that. "You can choose what kind of person you get to be. And is really as bad as you're making it? Ladies have power, families, and a place to call home. So stop bitching and think about it before you regret it."
Arya never did think about it that way before. The only thing she didn't want to be was what Sansa was before they left Winterfell but thinking about how different she was now gave her a new look at it. "Sandor-"
"Not a word, or I break your bloody legs."
Arya didn't know how to respond to that. She knew that he probably would but felt like he didn't mean it. "Can I ask you something?"
"One question, then no more."
One question was all she needed. "Why are telling me this?"
For a rare moment, Sandor didn't look angry. "Because I'd rather be a lord than a Hound who leaves a trail of bodies wherever he goes." Before Arya could speak, Sandor cut her off. "I said no more. Now are you coming with me or not?"
Arya took a long look at him and could see something more than she let herself see before. She gently nodded and walked with him on their way to join the Northern host and to prepare for war. As they did, Arya made a mental note that the next time she saw Gendry, she would give him his answer.
Jon
The last light of day had vanished when the unnatural storm clouds swallowed the sky and consumed the land. The Army of the dead was nearly upon them and everyone who was going to fight in this war was about to experience the longest night of their lives. A night that not everyone would wake up to see the day.
Ghost joined Jon and Daenerys as they prepared to mount their dragons. But seeing that he couldn't ride along, Jon knelt down to his direwolf and gave him a scratch behind his ears. "Sorry boy," Jon said, "but you can't come with me. I need you to do something else instead." Ghost perched his ears up, waiting for Jon's order. "Go find Bran and keep him safe." The moment Jon's hand left contact with Ghost's fur, the White Direwolf sprinted away back to the camp.
Daenerys walked next to Jon and watched with him as Ghost disappeared in the color of the snow. "Are you ready?"
"We're about to face an army of dead soldiers. If we win, we have another war to fight. If we lose… I don't think anyone is ready." Jon turned to Daenerys and grabbed hold of her hands, intertwining her fingers with his. "I won't tell you what to do if I die or make any promises. All I can say is I love you Dany. I love you more than anyone I've known."
Daenerys held back her tears as she planted a light kiss to Jon. "And I love you Jon, no matter what you are, a bastard of Winterfell, or my husband and King. From this day until the end of my days."
Jon gave her one last kiss, putting every emotion he could into it, before letting go of her hands. He turned away and walked up to Rhaegal, mounting him and ready to fly. The dragons had grown considerably since the first nested in the North. Ygris and Lyarras were nearly as big as Rhaegal and Viserion were when Jon first set foot on Dragonstone. Rhaegal however was just as big as Drogon was that same time. But Drogon was far larger than all of them, his head almost the size of a carriage, making him almost the size of Balerion the Dread. Jon looked at Daenerys once more, praying to any god who could hear him to not let this be the last time they see each other. "Come on Rhaegel, let's go."
The large green dragon jostled around a bit before getting a running start and spreading his wings. Ygris followed closely behind as the two dragons took off from the ground and into the sky. The flew higher than the Wall and circled around the gap that was made, giving them a clear view of the battle ground. The ice that had collapsed was mostly cleared away on the north side and the scythe was such a weight that it couldn't be moved, so it was left were it fell, not a hundred yards from the rebuilt wall. On the battlements on top and on the bottom, thousands of archers waited for the enemy to arrive at their doorstep.
Jon took this moment to let himself be heard by those who would fight for him. His bond with Rhaegal had grown strong enough that the magic that gave Valyrians the power to ride and control dragons let him mentally speak his guidance to his dragon. Rhaegal swooped down and landed in between the infantry wall and the foot soldiers, Ygris landing shortly after. There was no way the entire army would be able to hear him, but he would make sure many would.
"Look around you all! You stand with men from every corner of this country! Every corner of this world! But tonight, you fight as one army! Against one enemy! Those creatures from hell come to take this world from you! You will not let them! We will show them that we are the hell they fear! We will show them that we are greatest army that has ever been!"
The sound of a horn blast echoed throughout the land with a weight that felt like it was heard across the world.
"Tonight is the night we will win!"
A second horn blasted sounded shortly after the first.
"Tonight is the night we finish what our ancestors started!"
The third and final horn blast sounded, like an echo that begins an avalanche.
"They think we're afraid of them, so let's let them hear it!"
Rhaegal and Ygris both let out mighty roars as Jon raised his fist into the air and every soldier, whether they heard or not, yelled mighty battle cries that would shake mountains.
The calm was gone, and now began the storm.
I did what I could and am not rewriting this unless someone points out a very good reason why. Now if I don't see any good maney, then the next produst I give to you might match it, aha aha aha. Note that there is no LOL at the end of that last sentence, so who's to say I'm joking?
