After much advice from my wonderful beta The Hope Lions, I have decided that instead of releasing the War for the Dawn as one giant chapter, it shall be split into parts. This is to hopefully satisfy many of your hunger, but also it takes some stress off of me. The length of this is going to be far longer then I first thought and it may take me another month to finish. The Next part however will be up some time next week. Now then, given how much time and effort I am putting into this, surely you can do the same with a review. at the End. Enjoy.


Part 1


Rickon

The sound of the horn blasts gave way to a dread, settling doubt in the minds of all that heart it. The sight of blue eyes looked like stars emerging from the shadows of the Haunted Forest. The light they gave poisoned the body with fear. In the distance lands beyond the Wall, a great snowstorm that swallowed the mountains from sight was nearing the edge of the trees. The winds they blew through the gap of the Wall had been traveling northbound for days, but a sudden change turned them south and a cold far greater than any felt before came with it.

On the battlements made of ice, wood, and steel, five thousand archers stood side by side, forming two rows from on end to the other, all ready with their bows and five arrows in hand. In the first row, for every grown, seasoned, archer were four children. In the second row, as well as fifteen feet below on the ground were another five thousand archers, all grown and skilled. Behind them on the secondary battlements were only two thousand, but armed and ready.

Rickon stood at the dead center of the front lines, watching with everyone else as the Army of the Dead walked closer. Even while wearing thick clothes under his armor and his winter cloak, Rickon could still feel his hands shivering. But he felt it was from fear more than the cold. He was far more afraid of what brought the storm than the storm itself.

To Rickon's left was Ser Jorah with a bow and Snow at his sword belt. On his right was Johnna looking just as scared as he was. Behind both of them was Anguy, who would be calling out the commands when the time came.

As Rickon tightened his grip on bow, he felt a hand placed on his shoulder from behind him. "Are you afraid?" Anguy asked.

Without looking at him, Rickon nodded. A blast of cold air rushed past him and everyone around him. It didn't feel like a question since it was obvious, but more like something Anguy wanted to know for certain.

"Good, it's far better than being stupid." Confused, Rickon and Johnna both turned to look at Anguy questioningly. He shook his head then, as if the reason for what he said was obvious. "If you don't let yourself be afraid, then you can't learn to be brave." He patted Rickon on the shoulder and returned to looking forward.

Hearing those words didn't calm Rickon, but they did bring a small bit of comfort to him. But deep down he wanted to run from the battle. He was just over twelve and about to fight in a war. He could even tell he wasn't the only child who wanted to run, or only person for that matter. He didn't care about being brave, he wanted to be safe and away from all of this.

But then he remembered being Ramsay's prisoner and running from arrows at the Battle of the Bastards. All he ever did since all of this started was run from everything. Ramsay, the Night King, the bear. He shook the thoughts from his head, trying to remove any doubt lingering among them.

From behind, the sounds of the dragons roaring, and battle cries of the army, could be heard, echoing all the way from the source to beyond the Wall. Without question, Anguy, Ser Jorah, and all of the other adults raised their fists into the air and let out their own calls of battle. Maybe something like that would give Rickon something to help face the dead. He and many of the other children joined the army's shouting. Doing such a thing brought the feeling of victory before the battle even begun.

Hundreds of yards away, the Army of the Dead halted and became still. The shouting died down and all was silent save for the winds of winter. The silence felt like the kind that one who is guilty has before admitting his crime out of shame. At the frontlines of the dead were the White Walkers, more than thirty of them, all riding on their undead horses. The light of their eyes shined more prominently than that of their soldiers. One of them raised his spear of ice and let out a cry, a kind that carried a weight that crawled up the Wall and right over to the south. The noise was followed by the Army of the Dead's own battle cry before foot soldiers began to charge forward at a wild speed.

Rickon was not the only one who began to breathe nervously as light vibrations could be felt coming from over two hundred thousand dead men running to kill them all. In between both armies were small markers marking distances that were in range of the archers. The only cover the dead would have against such attacks was the giant scythe that was out in the open.

"LISTEN UP!" Anguy shouted, gaining the attention of all who could hear him. "IF I SEE A SINGLE ARROW MISS THEN I'LL MAKE SURE WHOEVER SHOT IT IS LEFT BEHIND!" At this point, the army of the dead passed the furthest marker. "KNOCK!" Rickon grabbed one of his dragonglass arrows and knocked it on his bowstring, letting out a deep breath and searching for the target he knew would be his. All of the other archers on the battlements followed suite. "DRAW!" Raising the bow up high, Rickon kept his eyes on the path the arrow would take to find its mark. Now, the battle truly began. "LOOSE!" Thousands of arrows were shot high into the sky and arched beautifully before taking their fall to meet that which they would kill.

As the arrows fell, the shimmer of the dragonglass emitted a shine that made all of them look like a rain of dark stars streaking across a darkened white sky. Within seconds, the arrows sinked to the ground and hundreds upon hundreds of blue eyed soldiers collapsed to the ground and became motionless. Only a couple dozen continued onward. "I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCKING MISS!" Anguy shouted before the second volley would begin. At this point, new soldiers took the place where many had fallen and closed the distance between them and the battlements. Anguy put his fingers in his mouth and gave a loud whistle that was repeated by many others signaling the archers on the ground to join the next volley. "KNOCK!" Grabbing the second arrow felt less terrifying than grabbing the first did. "DRAW!" Gazing out to the dead, there were too many to find just one to hit. "LOOSE!" The volley from the ground whistled by, bring a small gust of wind with each arrow. A second rain of dark stars rushed down to the ground and all that escaped the first volley was struck down and many more behind.

As the Army of the Dead continued to advance, Rickon noticed a small group of about twenty moving slowly with their shields raised up high, protecting everything underneath from being hit. Whatever it was they were protecting, the group wasn't heading for the Wall, but the giant scythe in the field. Behind them were two giants, both dragging a large tree, freshly torn from the ground with them, using the thick branches to keep the arrows from hitting them.

When the small grouping of shields reached the head of the scythe, they parted and unveiled three of the White Walkers. Far enough that Rickon could see, the White Walkers placed their hands on the cold steel head of the scythe. "KNOCK!" Anguy called out the order, but Rickon didn't follow it since he couldn't shake a feeling he had. He remembered what happened when the Night King touched his sword it shattered, but the scythe didn't when the White Walkers did. "DRAW!" The two giants that followed dropped the tree off to the side and raised two large clubs they had above them, ready to swing at the scythe.

Rickon held his breath as the giants swung their clubs at the head and the steel shattered like glass. "GET DOWN!" Rickon shouted. Instinctively, he reached out for Johnna and Ser Jorah and tugged them down with him and he ducked to his feet. Only a few heard him and ducked in time before dozens of steel shards whizzed by. Most of the pieces hit the walls of ice, but many found their way above and hit the archers. A few of them were struck and fell backwards and off of the battlements while some of the children around them merely collapsed and their blood began to stain the ice.

Rickon looked around and noticed that Anguy was no longer behind him, but on the ground below him, bleeding heavily from his neck and face, remaining motionless. At least for a moment he didn't move, then his body squirmed and his eyes turned blue. But before anything could happen, Ser Jorah shot a dragonglass arrow into Anguy's body, returning him to a dead state. "Check the wounded!" Ser Jorah shouted as he drew a dragonglass dagger and looked at the bodies that fell. Many of the ones that had rose back up but were quickly put back down with the magic of the dragonglass.

Rickon looked to Johnna and checked to see if she had been hit. "Are you alright?" he asked. Johnna rapidly nodded at him, showing no signs of injury. Glad she wasn't hurt, Rickon slowly rose up and looked over the battlements to see if the giants were preparing for another attack like that. But while the first one happened, the third volley had been released. With the attack made by the dead a small section was free of arrows and the dead broke past the mark of retreat. Luckily the arrows found their way to the two giants and both were lying dead in the snow by the scythe. But the White Walkers remained unharmed. "We need to sound the retreat!" Rickon shouted to any who could hear him.

It wasn't long after he said that a horn blast signaled for the first line to fall back. Without delay, the archers in the front grabbed hold of what arrows they could and began to empty the battlements calmingly retreating back to the south.

"Rickon!" Ser Jorah called as he picked up the body of a young girl who was bleeding at her left arm. But not just any girl, it was Lady Lyanna Mormont. She was passed out and Ser Jorah looked distraught. "Let's go!" Rickon and Johnna both followed him quickly down the wooden steps of the battlements, being careful to not trip and fall. When they got to the ground, the archers in the second line of battlements and on the ground knocked their arrows for another volley. It was up to them now.


Sam

The deaths on the front lines was not expected. From all of the experience that anyone had with the dead that Sam knew of, they weren't keen on using ranged weapons. The sight of those that fell of the battlements and the children whose bodies were left during the retreat weighed on Sam's heart. He had been in enough battles to stomach death, but the sight of the children made him sad. Only a few survived that vicious attack and were carried away.

Only a dozen men remained on the front battlements to act as spotters to call out the orders for the archers. Each of them carried a red flag to wave, signaling for the volleys to prepare. Even as Sam knocked his first arrow, many could be seen raining down from up high on the east and west side of the Wall.

"Are you ready for this, Sam the Slayer?" Edd jokingly asked as the two of them waited for the command to draw.

Sam used to take insult from the name since everyone who called him that did so to mock him. They didn't believe he slew a White Walker, but once Ser Alliser died, the new brothers of the Watch from Essos heard about his deed and gave him praise when they called him that. "Seven hells no."

"If only the dead died by reading books, you could take them on single handedly." Given the circumstances, a conversation was not the right thing to be having. But given what was happening, a conversation was the only way to keep things calm and focus on the task at hand rather than the fear.

Sam rolled his eyes as the two of them and the rest of the archers drew their bowstrings back and then released their arrows. If only his father and brother were alive to see him right now. The two of them had looked down upon him for being a fat reader instead of a strong hunter. But now Sam was a Brother of the Night's Watch, defending the realms of men from the greatest enemy while all they did was hunt and play at war.

The arrows sailed high into the sky and then disappeared in front of the battlements and what lied beyond them. Without warning, two of the flag bearers ducked behind cover, but one of them was struck by a spear and thrown off the battlements and to the ground. The spearhead buried itself in the snow and the body slowly slid down the shaft before starting to thrash and the eyes turning blue. Someone quickly shot an arrow into the body and released it from the magic of the Night King.

"If they're in range to throw spears…" Sam said.

"Then it's time to go." Edd confirmed before pulling a horn he had at his side to his lips and blowing loudly. The Ground Forces were to retreat first and then the rest. "One more volley, and then we get the fuck of here." The remaining flag bearers retreated off the wall and joined the retreating ground forces while the last line of archers knocked their arrows and drew them back for one last volley.

By the time the arrows were released, there were loud crashes sounding at the front wall. Sections of ice began to move repeatedly as if they were being smashed with a battering ram, or a giant. This started a small panic among some of the men on the ground and they began to run as fast as they could, afraid of what would come through.

"And now it's our turn to run away." Edd said before blowing another blast from his horn, signaling the last line to retreat. The battlements began to empty and by the time Sam and Edd got to the ground, some of the dead soldiers were beginning to climb over the front wall, but only a few at a time. "Run!" Edd grabbed onto Sam by his shoulder and pushed behind him to go faster.

Sam wasn't one for running, but he would let himself fall behind like he did at the Fist of the First Men. As the two of them neared the bridge, men began to push forward to cross like a heard of animals. The dead were climbing over the front wall in dozens. But it wasn't long until two wight giants crashed through a section and the dead spilled through like water rushing past a collapsing dam.

The fear of the oncoming hoard tightened around Sam's mind by the time he was on the bridge even though almost everyone was across. Even when he got to the other side, the feeling didn't disappear.

"Light the pitch!" Someone shouted just moments before a blast of heat erupted from behind all of the fleeing soldiers. The trench and the bridges became filled with fire that transformed into a protective barrier, though one that would only last for a few minutes.

Already Sam was exhausted from running, but he refused to let himself give in. His efforts would be nothing compared to the rest of the battle. But his fight was done, he would not be able to wield a sword or a spear but he could be of use at the camps to heal others when the bodies begin to pile up.

The infantry parted ways for the retreating archers to make it through to the open south. When the last man past the lines, the infantry quickly closed off any way passed them. Once the fires in the trench were gone, the only thing in the way of the dead would be a wall of spears, shields, and some of the fiercest men to living had to offer.


Grey Worm

As the fires of the trench continued to burn, the number of glowing blue eyes began to grow behind them. The archers high on the west and east sides of the Wall continued to bombard the ground with dragonglass arrows while the archers outside the walls of the passage waited for the fire to die, and the dead to advance.

The Unsullied were no strangers to war, but the battle like this would only be granted to a few in the world's existence. Grey Worm stood in the third row of the front lines. He and everyone else who stood around him were ready and waiting for dead to crash into them.

Behind him he could feel the fear of the Westerosi men, but not from the Unsullied. They knew no fear, not of pain, death, or the demons that have come for them. But out of the six thousand Unsullied, one them was afraid, afraid he might not Missandei again, or that she might not see him again. No, he had to stand his ground and face this. If he could, nothing would ever make him afraid of those things again.

Grey Worm began to tap his spear rhythmically into the snow. His actions were repeated by his brothers in arms and the Westerosi men. Soon what was a faint tapping became a loud stomp followed by spears being banged against shields. The noise of war brought the fury of battle to one side and intimidation to the other.

In the center of the wall of fire, the flames were extinguished, revealing three of the soldiers with skin of ice and the eyes bluer than their soldiers. This was the first time any of them had seen a White Walker and the first time any of them felt a cold that was evil in nature. Being in the center of their army, the White Walkers remained protected by their soldiers and out of range from any projectiles. The rest of the fires disappeared, and the dead resumed their march forward. Although what started as a march turned into running like wild animals.

"SUMBYS BE!" Grey Worm ordered. The sound of thousands of heavy shields planting into the snow thundered the ground and the barricade was made. "EGRIOS!" Every soldier lowered their dragonglass spears in front of the line of shields and a few feet above to combat anything that attempted to climb over.

Grey Worm could feel the ground begin to tremble like a small earthquake as the dead drew closer, but the noise was soon overshadowed by the sound of his heartbeat banging in his ears like a loud drum. He breathed deeply to try and calm his senses but keeping his absolute focus on the dead charging forward. The archers of the east and west sides of the pass began to unleash their volleys, but even with so many arrows the dead didn't seem to thin out one bit.

Everything went completely silent for a brief instant before thousands of dead soldiers crashed into spears and shields, making a noise like a loud explosion. The force of the impact even made Grey Worm shift in his position before he pressed his weight forward. The dead were desperately trying to break through but to no avail. Though most of the dead men were decayed and rotting away with very little flesh on them, and their strength was greater than a living man's.

The Unsullied and Westerosi infantry began their thrusts with their spears at the dead. Every time Grey pushed forward into an enemy, he could feel something trying to pull him forward. It took all of his strength to keep his grip on his spear and not let something take it from him.

The infantry continued to hold their ground as volleys of arrows began to fire from behind and over them. But no matter how many arrows dived into the dead, the dead continued with all their strength. It wouldn't be long until the catapults would begin flinging jars of pitch into the fray and fire arrows shooting to light them.

All focus shifted as Unsullied in the front lines were pulled forward out of line and killed. For those around them quickly blocked off any openings, but the time it took was too long and the dead began attempting to break through.

The dead began slashing their broken weapons at whatever they could like rabid animals, letting out an agonizing screech as they did. About five more fell before the Unsullied managed to fix their lines and kill the dead that broke past.

One thing that shocked Grey Worm was witnessing the Unsullied that fell rise back up and attack the ones they were fighting with just seconds before. They were quickly put down and all focus returned to holding the line. They had to draw as many as they could to them so that Queen Daenerys could unleash her dragon's fury upon them when they were all crowed together like herded animals.

After a second volley of dragonglass arrows, the jars of pitch could be seen flying with them and the faint sound of them shattering could be heard through all of the chaos. The next volley of dragonglass arrows were joined by many fire arrows. The shields and the dead blocked the view of beyond, but faint burst of light could be seen which meant the pitch and dead were catching fire.

But after the first jars of pitch were flung, it would become clear that the living weren't the only ones attacking with heavy range attacks. The only indication that could be seen were the silhouettes of object sailing across the dark clouds through the snowstorm. Suddenly heavy logs and small boulders crashed into the infantry lines, killing more than they wounded. Some of the front lines were broken through and the dead began to leak in once again, but this time the opening would not be closed. Spears splintered, and shields broken as more projectiles came flying in and crashing down. The only creatures capable of throwing such objects had to be the giants.

In front of Grey Worm, the breach began to grow larger and many more of the Unsullied were beginning to turn into the blue-eyed puppets of evil. But he had to hold the line just a bit longer for Queen Daenerys. He failed to see a small tree trunk flying through the air and heading straight for the front lines. When the tree crashed down, it crushed the first two lines of men it hit and knocked back the three behind it before it rolled over. Luckily it passed Grey Worm enough that he could get up, but he could feel blood starting to spill over him. Lying on top of him was an Unsullied with a branch protruding through his body and head.

Feeling the drive for survival, Grey Worm shoved his comrade off of him and got back on his feet along with the few others who lived through such an attack. His helmet suffered damaged that obscured his vision so he had no choice but to remove it and the weight of his shield was too great so he had to sacrifice its protection as well. Now armed only with his spear, Grey Worm was ready to fight whatever rotting corpse came his way. Except there were none that did, only seven undead giants charging at full speed, each of them carrying large branches and whale bones for clubs. Some of them even had bronze blades attached to their weapons turning them into what could pass for axes.

Immediately prepared to grab the spear of a fallen Unsullied, Grey Worm switch his grip on his and threw the spear at the giant closest to him. The spear landed dead center in the giant's face and the great beast collapsed instantly.

Grey Worm picked up another spear from the ground and was going to throw it another one, but a hand tightly grabbed his ankles and kept him from moving. Grey Worm looked to the ground and saw three of his men had become three blue eyed soldiers and were slowly starting to get up. Without hesitating, Grey Worm thrusted his spear into the body of the one who had a grip on his ankle. The other two were on their feet by the time Grey Worm killed the creature. But his skill with the spear could easily best two wights. Using the shaft of the spear, Grey Worm slammed it into the head of one of the wights, knocking it backwards, before piercing the armor and body of the other. Quickly retrieving his weapon from the body, Grey Worm stabbed it down into the body of the other.

With the two distractions dead, Grey Worm turned around and readied himself for more. But to his dismay, two of the seven giants that charged at the infantry were swinging their clubs like pendulums, breaking spears and bashing soldiers' bodies into mangled sacks of meat covered in armor. The giant on his right was swiftly taken down by a spear to its body, but the other one wore bone armor over its torso which blocked three spears.

With another powerful thrust, Grey Worm threw his spear and managed to hit the giant in its shoulder, bringing it down. But before Grey Worm could get another spear, the dead were beginning to push through the opening again and all he had was his short sword and a dragonglass dagger. Drawing both, Grey Worm got in a fighter's stance and immediately began to engage the dead. The first pair of wights that charged at him were both practically skeletons with barely any skin covering their bones. Both of them carried cracked swords. The first one that attacked met its sword with Grey Worm's and the blade broke in half. Grey Worm lodged the dragonglass dagger in the wight's ribs and pulled the corpse in front of him to use as a shield against the other. By the time the wight he carried deteriorated and slipped to the ground, Grey Worm had decapitated the second wight by stabbing it down in the neck.

Before another set of wights could attack Grey Worm, the Westerosi infantry marched to the front to take the place of the Unsullied that had perished. With the men getting control of the lines once again, Grey Worm could regroup for a moment before joining back into battle. He sheathed his sword and dagger and picked up a new spear.

From atop the Wall, a horn blasted twice, which meant that the passage way had most of the Night King's Army inside of it. It was time for Queen Daenerys to do her part.


Daenerys

Watching the battle from afar was unlike anything Daenerys had ever seen. The sounds of battle were muffled yet distinct in way that describing exactly what was happening and the sight of it was like holding your breath and waiting for a great disaster to happen.

Drogon was starting to become restless as the snow continued to fall and the cold winds stirred. Through the sounds of battle and the whistling of the wind, Daenerys could hear the horn blast that meant it was her turn to fight.

Daenerys pulled her hood over her head and tightened her grip on Drogon's spikes but kept her posture loose enough to not disturb her pregnancy. But then again, she was about to fly on a dragon into battle and that was the last thing any woman should do while pregnant, especially with twins.

'Maybe they'll write a song about me.' Daenerys thought. Before she would give the command to take flight, Sansa Stark calmly yet cautiously walked up to Drogon's side.

"Bran said that the Night King is almost here. Keep your eyes on the northwest and as soon as you see him, fly as fast as you can." She called up.

Daenerys nodded and Sansa backed far away from Drogon, not wanting to be thrown back when he and Lyarras took flight. Daenerys felt nervous but determined. As long as she had her dragons, she would fight as much as she could.

Clear of any person in the way, Drogon rose up and started to crawl forward, before spreading his wings and pushing his legs off the ground. Drogon took off, follow by Lyarras. The dragons began a gentle glide before ascending higher into the air, soaring over the archers who would be retreating to the camps away from the battle.

The pace the dragons took was easy on Daenerys's body; they seemed to know that it wasn't just her they had to keep safe. But regardless of how tame the flight was, it wouldn't last long, and the wind rushing by was cold and the snow falling stung against her skin.

The dragons backed away from the battle and began to head east. As the distance grew between them and those who were fighting, Drogon and Lyarras climbed above the Wall and flew over to the northern side. On the ground further to the west was the Dothraki horde and Westerosi cavalry galloping towards the battle.

Daenerys had Drogon and Lyarras pass by them once before flying down and following her khalasar. The Dothraki screamers began to let out their cries of battle as the battle came into sight. Being a part of the charge gave Daenerys a sense of determination and ferocity greater than what she felt during the battle of the Blackwater Rush or the Burning of Slavers Bay.

Drogon and Lyarras sped past them and were approaching the first bit of the haunted forest they were to burn. Daenerys remembered when Jon told her about the Battle at Castle Black and how Mance Rayder lit the biggest fire the North has ever seen. 'Challenge accepted.' "Dracarys!" The buildup of heat was quick and released in a powerful fury of fire. Drogon and Lyarras unleashed streams of fire onto the Haunted Forest. The trees they hit were obliterated immediately, while the ones around them caught fire and spread the flames to others.

Daenerys had to make one more run igniting the forest before she could engage the dead. She had to make sure there would be absolutely no way for them to escape. As the dragons passed the Army of the Dead, she kept her eyes out for any projectiles that could be thrown at them. The strength and skill of the White Walkers was great enough to kill one of her dragons, she wouldn't let it happen again.

By the time the dragons finished their first pass the entire front of the forest had erupted in fire. Smoke began to replace the snow in the air and the heat was so great that as the dragons turned to make the last pass Daenerys could feel it warming her face from the cold winds.

As the dragons prepared for the second attack on the forest, Daenerys couldn't help but let her gaze linger to the northwest, watching for any sign of the Night King and Viserion. Unfortunately for her the smoke of the forest fire and the falling snow made it hard to see any signs of movement in the skies. The thought of the two of them appearing prodded at the back of her mind and she couldn't let herself forget it.

The dragons unleashed their fire again onto the forest, extending the blaze that already was. Apart from what the dragons were breathing, the flames were rapidly spreading at a rate that could reduce the entire forest to ash by dawn. But the flames were so dense in the trees that absolutely nothing could pass through them unscathed and no undead creature could either.

Drogon and Lyarras finished their final pass over the trees before setting coarse straight for the battle. They flew into the wall of rising smoke and came out on the side of the fighting. Daenerys could see most of the dead had been herded into the passageway as planned. But then there was a great deal of the dead that weren't moving at all. They were staying behind and out of range, as if waiting for something.

As the dragons got closer, a horn sounded signaling the archers to cease fire so that they wouldn't hit Daenerys or the dragons by mistake. The dead seemed to notice this and started to part ways out of the path of the dragons, but it was futile to try.

"Dracarys!"

Drogon and Lyarras unleashed their fire on the army of the dead and as soon as the flames reached the ground, they exploded like small erupting volcanoes. The wights caught in the path screeched out, pain and fear present in their tone.

The dragon fire cross over the trench with the pitch and reignited it, causing more to be lit aflame. Daenerys looked back at the destruction the dragons had left and for a brief moment after seeing the fire devour the bodies of the dead she thought the sight was beautiful.

The dragons ceased firing when the infantry came too close within their range and prepared to return for another attack. As they turned around, Daenerys could see that the trench fire and that of the dragons had been extinguished for a second time. The magic of the White Walkers was powerful enough to stop the flames from spreading, but not enough to stop them from happening.

Drogon's body began to heat up once again as he prepared to let out his fire against the dead. But before he could unleash his flames, Daenerys barely caught the glimpse of a lance made of ice being hurled into the air at Drogon.

The heat of Drogon's body died down as the dragon quickly dodged out of the lance's path. As he dived down, Daenerys noticed that there was more than one being thrown as two more cut through the air and missing. Drogon's flying become more intense as he had to maneuver out of the way and climb higher into the sky. A forth lance was thrown and managed to cut Drogon across his neck. The wound wasn't mortal, but it did pierce his hide deep enough for it to bleed. Drogon let out a loud roar. He began to kick his legs and it was caused Daenerys to be jerked around. She couldn't see what was causing him to act like this but she could tell that he was hit. Drogon wasn't falling to the ground so it couldn't be fatal, but it was painful.

"Drogon!" Daenerys called out. "Tegun rȳ iā ȳgha dīnagon!" – 'Land at a safe place!'

Drogon turned around and began to retreat back to the south side of the Wall and Lyarras followed closely underneath them. She began to breathe fire into the air at one point, but it was to destroy more lances of ice from attacking Drogon. Her smaller size made her faster and it was easier to dodge and maneuver away from such attacks.

The dragons began to lose altitude as they neared the Wall, but not in a way that was a crash landing. They needed to get to the camps so the maesters could see what was wrong with Drogon.

The moment Drogon passed the border of the Wall, Daenerys saw Rhaegal begin to take off from the ground followed by Ygris. Jon probably saw what happened and wanted to escort her with extra protection. At least, that's what she thought he was doing.

From behind in the sky, a loud mutilated dragon's roar sounded across the land. Daenerys turned her head to look behind her and emerging from the clouds was a sight that horrified her to look at. Viserion had appeared and was diving straight for her and Drogon. His appearance had changed so much since she last saw him. Viserion's skin was a dead white color and his wings were shredded at the edges. But the worst part was the eyes. His beautiful golden eyes were replaced by the evil blue that once contaminated Jon.

Daenerys's heart jumped straight into her throat as Viserion rapidly approached her, looking ready to kill without a second thought. He opened his mouth and a blue light began to form within his throat, the same blue as his eyes.

Without hesitating, Viserion let out a bursting stream of blue fire, but it was met and stopped with the fires of Rhaegal. Viserion moved out of Daenerys and Drogon's path and retreated back to the north side of the battle. Rhaegal and Ygris flew over Daenerys and Drogon, pursuing after Viserion and the Night King.

As Jon and his dragons began their battle with the Night King and Viserion, Daenerys retreated back to the camps with Drogon and Lyarras. There was a clearing near the center large enough for both of the dragons to land. Lyarras was the first to land and did so with ease, but Drogon cried out as he slowly let the weight of his body be caught by the ground. He continued to screech in pain from whatever wound it was that he took.

A few maesters cautiously kept their distance from the dragon as Daenerys was let down. Gently hopping off the dragon, Daenerys immediately tried to find what it was that was causing Drogon to be in so much pain. Protruding from Drogon's left leg was a lance of ice that the White Walkers used.

Meeting the eyes of the two closest maesters to the injury, Daenerys made her way to Drogon's head. "I'll calm him down while you pull the lance free."

The maesters nodded and slowly approached to where the lance was lodged as Daenerys came face to face with the largest of her dragons not only in size, but temper as well.

"Drogon," Daenerys said soothingly, "I know you're in pain, but you need to hold still so we can help you."

Drogon growled intensely at her but obeyed. Daenerys kept her eyes on him, but in the corner of them she could watch the maesters work.

When one of them grabbed hold of the lance's shaft, he let out a chilling scream as his hands began to freeze instantly. Jerking away from the pain, the maester managed to pull the lance out by accident but doing so made his hands snap off at his wrists like ice.

Drogon let out the same roar he did when the lance first struck him and his entirely body collapsed to the ground with a great thud. Daenerys felt her heart tighten in her throat and feared that the worst had happened. Had it not been for the slow, soft breaths that came out of Drogon's nostrils, Daenerys would've thought he died then and there. She would have been at ease if not for her worry that kind of damaged the maester had just suffered could also happen to a dragon.

The maester with no hands and his companion were joined by one of the more elderly maesters and they both immediately saw to the maester first. They dragged the handless man away as he passed out from the shock and then others began to inspect Drogon's wound. Since Drogon wasn't moving, they were less afraid of him now.

After a moment, one of the maesters approached her. "Normally, a creature with such a wound would be bleeding," The maester informed her

"But Drogon isn't?" Daenerys inquired.

"No, the blood and the flesh at the wound are frozen. I've never seen or read of any injury like this before. The closest thing I've seen is a severe form of frostbite."

"Then bring maesters who have a regular practice treating that kind of wound. Look for maesters who serve the North and the Night's Watch."

"At once, Your Grace." The maester immediately hurried away while relaying the order to three other maesters and they all split up into the camps.

Daenerys never believed in gods, but she couldn't help but pray for Drogon to be alright. She couldn't bear to lose another one of her children.

Daenerys looked up to the sky where she last saw Jon and hoped that no fate like this would come to him and the dragons.


Jon- Moments before

From where Jon and the Dragons were, the battle was in full view. They were waiting on a hill just behind the entire force of the foot soldiers, all of whom were itching to join the battle. Daenerys and the dragons had just finished igniting the forest and were beginning their attack on the dead. Watching Drogon and Lyarras breathe their fire onto the dead gave Jon a sense of satisfaction. He wanted to be there with them, but he couldn't risk the Night King catching them off guard. He had to wait and observe.

As Daenerys and Drogon finished their first attack and turned around to make another, Rhaegal lifted his head up and looked out to the sky. He began to rustle and growl, his mood seemingly uneasy.

Jon was almost thrown off Rhaegal as the dragon started to jerk his body around. "Woah! Rhaegal calm down!" Jon noticed that Ygris was acting the same as Rhaegal and hoped it wasn't for the reason he thought it was. Jon warged into Rhaegal so that he could understand what was troubling the dragon so much. All it took were the two words that were reoccurring in Rhaegal's mind for Jon to be equally worried.

'It's here.' Through Rhaegal's eyes, Jon could see how the dragon saw the world. Instead of seeing the living from the dead, he saw the prey from the wrong. But in the sky, he could sense where the greatest source of 'wrong' was- in the cover of the clouds but heading straight for Daenerys and Drogon.

Jon returned to himself and tightened his grip of Rhaegal. "Valahd!" Rhaegal and Ygris began charging forward to gain some speed before spreading their wings and kicking off the ground. Ygris was faster and took the lead while Rhaegal slowly rose higher in the air and slowly gained on her.

As they drew closer to Drogon and Daenerys, a loud unearthly sound came from the sky. It was a dragon roar, but it sounded the same as a White Walker's scream. After the sound was made, a dragon paler than Ygris emerged from the clouds and dove at Daenerys and Drogon.

Jon's thoughts were filled with anger and desperation. He could see Viserion's mouth begin to glow blue and it could only mean one thing. 'No you fucking don't!' "Rhaegal! Dracarys!" Jon focused his mind to make whatever came out of Viseion's mouth to be the target of Rhaegal's fire.

Viserion let out a stream of bright blue fire at the same time Rhaegal let out real dragon fire. The flames met, creating a small explosion in the air that turned a bright purple momentarily before Viserion ceased his attack and retreated north.

As Rhaegal flew over Drogon and Lyarras, Jon looked back to see if Daenerys was affected by what had just happened. To his relief she was just fine, but he could see that Drogon had a lance of ice lodged in his left leg. 'She knows what to do.' Jon thought to himself as he returned his focus on the Night King and Viserion, beginning the pursuit.

Rhaegal and Ygris flew in a tight formation and were chasing after Viserion who was heading straight for the eastern flank of cavalry. The horses began to scatter in the charge to avoid any attack from the undead dragon. Their efforts were fruitless as Viserion unleashed his blue fire wildly in every direction. Jon was shocked that the dragon had the capability to do such movements with a rider on him. A regular human would be thrown off the dragon's back and wouldn't be able to handle the force of being thrashed around. But then again, the rider wasn't human.

A great deal of the cavalry was hit by Viserion's dragon fire and the rest became disarrayed trying to avoid being hit. The screams of those that were burned were unlike any Jon had heard.

To Jon's advantage, Viserion attacking the cavalry helped close the distance between him and Rhaegal enough that Jon was in range. The moment Viserion passed over the cavalry, Rhaegal and Ygris both let out their flames at the both the dragon and the Night King. But instead of hitting them, the dragon fire was stopped as the Night King turned his body and raised his hand up, using a form of magic to make the fire stop right before it could engulf him and Viserion.

Rhaegal and Ygris ceased their flames when they realized it had no effect. When that happening, Viserion dove down before quickly ascending higher into the air and heading for the clouds. "Don't let him out of our sights!" Jon shouted.

Rhaegal and Ygris furiously continued the chase and rose higher into the sky, higher than Jon had ever been before. The dragons entered a gateway of clouds and blindly followed the trail of Viserion. They came out of the cover the clouds gave and entered a kingdom in the sky. The clouds of the storm formed castles of their own to a grandeur greater than any on the ground.

Viserion maintained his distance from Jon and Rhaegal, keeping out of range and flying in a violent way that made it difficult to keep up with. As long as the dragon could fly like that and the Night King able to handle such force, Jon wouldn't be able to catch up. But luckily for him, he had one more dragon than the Night King.

Through the magic that connects dragons with those of Valyrian blood, Jon could connect his thoughts and intentions with them without having to warg. Jon focused his mind on Ygris and a strategy for her to fly ahead and flank the Night King so that he and Rhaegal could intercept. Her speed was far greater than either of them making her the only one who could do it.

Knowing the plan, Ygris sped ahead and into the cover of the clouds, hidden away from both Jon and the Night King's vision. The moment she disappeared from sight, Viserion dove down and rapidly accelerated below the clouds, almost as if he knew what Jon was planning. No matter what, Jon couldn't let the Night King out of his sight. Rhaegal dove after him and finally had a chance to gain on the other dragon. Leaving the cover of the clouds in the sky, Viserion and Rhaegal returned within the sights of the battle and those who were fighting in it.

As the distance between the two dragons was closing, Viserion performed wicked maneuvers and flipped his body backwards, now facing Jon and Rhaegal while still falling. The moment Jon could see blue light forming at the wight dragon's mouth, he was already prepared to counter it.

"Dracarys!" Rhaegal unleashed his fire and once again met Viserion's. A small bit of the blue flames broke past where the dragon fire met and brushed near Jon, barely missing his face. But at so close a distance, Jon briefly felt a heat so hot it was cold.

To Jon's advantage, Viserion's attack slowed him down enough that no maneuvering could let him escape. Rhaegal bore his talons as Viserion turned back around in an attempt to flee, but it was no use trying. Rhaegal slammed against Viserion and gripped tightly on the rear of his body and tail. The two dragons thrashed, desperately working to keep flying steadily while battling each other at the same time. Rhaegal's greater size gave him the advantage against his brother, but it made him a larger target.

Rhaegal tried to attack at Viserion's wings to cripple him, but Viserion constantly bashed his head into Rhaegal's keeping him away from attacking.

All Jon could do was hold on as tight as he could and pray he would not fall to his death. As Rhaegal and Viserion bashed each other, Jon caught glimpse of the Night King drawing his curved ice sword from his back. "Oh fuck! Rhaegal, let go!" Rhaegal did as he was ordered and released Viserion from his clutches and put some distance between the two of them. The Night King returned his blade to his back and locked eyes with Jon for moment. Jon would take no chances being near the Night King's weapons of ice. They were some of the only things lethal to the dragons and he'd killed Viserion with one shot.

'We have to find an angle he can't reach us at.' Jon thought as he thought of any direction that would work. He wouldn't be able to attack head on, there was no way he would be able to get in any kind of position as long as the he was the wouldn't be able to handle a collision like that. If he hadn't sent Ygris away he might've been able to get the advantage, but now he had no idea where she was and she had no idea where they were. It would just have to be him and Rhaegal. Any attack from the sides would be evadable as long as Viserion could fly so violently and not worry about his rider. 'That leaves the only place possible would be from underneath.' If Jon could get under Viserion, he could use Longclaw and maybe stab the blade deep enough to kill him. That or he could lose his position and become the chased. But it was a chance he had to take.

The two dragons were flying directly over the Wall approaching the battle. Rhaegal dove down to gain some speed before rising back up, approaching Viserion from underneath. Jon tightened his grip on Rhaegal with his left hand while he drew Longclaw with the right. Rhaegal flew closer underneath Viserion, staying steady as to not let Jon lose his grip and fall to his death. 'Almost there.' Jon was nearly in reach of Viserion's belly region, but he had to get closer.

Gritting his teeth and tightening his grip on Longclaw, Jon prepared to thrust the sword up as hard as he could to pierce the dragon hide. With all of his might, Jon shot his sword up at the undead dragon. But Viserion gained altitude the moment the sword would have pierced him. Letting out horrific screech, Viserion kicked down and clawed at Rhaegal's back, scratching his skin and throwing him off balance. Rhaegal jerked about so much that Jon lost grip of Longclaw and the sword slipped from his hands. "NO!" Jon looked back at his sword and could still hear the Valyrian Steel sing as it flipped through the air, heading for the south side of the Wall in between the pass and the foot soldiers. It would be a miracle if anyone even noticed it.

Rhaegal turned his body to turn around and get Viserion away from him, but it was no use. Instead of pulling back and chasing them, Viserion and the Night King performed the same maneuver they did just moments ago. Viserion latched his talons into Rhaegal and began attacking at him. Jon was in a spot Viserion could not reach, but he was not the target. Viserion sank his ginormous teeth into Rhaegal's left wing and began to ravage at his elbow. There was a loud snap followed by Rhaegal letting out a roar like Viserion made when he was struck by the lance of ice.

Viserion released Rhaegal and began to fly up higher above them. At least, that's what Jon thought. But actually, Rhaegal was falling to the ground and fast. They passed over the Wall to the south side and were set to land in nothing but hills. "Rhaegal!" Jon tightened his grip on his dragon's back and the ground came closer and closer, Rhaegal desperately trying to regain his balance. Jon failed to contain a scream just before the dragon crashed hard into the ground, sliding forward a great distance. The force of the impact nearly threw Jon off, but his grip was so tight it would probably crush a man's skull. It wasn't until Rhaegal slid over a small ridge in the snow that Jon was thrown off of the dragon and fell hard into a deep patch of snow that cushioned his fall.

Jon's vision faded between darkness and blurry and his chest was in pain. He found strength within him to stand up and the pain faded. His vision restored itself as he looked around to see where he was and where the dragon landed. Jon found himself about a mile away from the eastern ground forces. In between him and them was Rhaegal lying in the ground, covered in snow and dirt, and not moving. "Rhaegal!" Jon moved as fast as he could to his dragon, worried that he paid the ultimate price for Jon's mistake.

By the time Jon reach the dragon's body, a small group of riders were headed in his direction.

"Rhaegal!" Jon brought himself to the head of the dragon to check for any signs of life. The dragon opened his eyes and showed them to be the gold he always knew. To Jon's relief, Rhaegal was awake and breathing, but in a great deal of pain. His wing was broken and he'd just crashed to the ground from thousands of feet in the air. Jon's attack on the Night King had failed. "The Night King." Jon shot around and scanned the sky when he realized he'd completely forgotten about Viserion and the Night King.

Jon thought they would've been hiding in the clouds again, but instead they were out for all to see, flying at the north side of the west part of the Wall. Without Rhaegal, Jon couldn't keep Viserion away from the battle and could only watch.

Viserion has unleashed his fire onto the west Wall and was doing far more destruction than the other four dragons did when they first brought down the Wall. The four thousand archers stationed up there had absolutely no chance of escape. The Wall began to crumble slowly and the ground shook stronger than an earthquake. Through the sounds of the Wall crashing down, Jon could only imagine what the screams of those falling to their deaths sounded like. He failed his task, and now the living had to suffer for it.

By the time the west wall had fallen, Viserion was starting to move towards the east wall and preparing to repeat the destruction.

From the distance, Jon saw the blue light form in Viserion's mouth. But then the sky erupted in a familiar screech and Ygris shot out of the clouds and breathed fire onto Viserion's head. The force of her fire knocked the undead dragon aside from his course and angered him enough to begin a chase and forget about the Wall. She was luring him away and giving him something to focus on instead of the battle. But Ygris wouldn't stand a chance alone.

"Your grace!" Jon turned to see the group of riders arriving just now. Leading them was Beric Dondarrion and his Uncle Benjen who dismounted immediately. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine, but Rhaegal… he can't fly. I don't think he can even move from here."

Benjen turned to one of the riders who came with him, a brother of the Watch. "Ride for the camps as fast you can and bring back four maesters with you who have any knowledge of dragons and healing."

The brother nodded and spurred his horse to ride as fast as he could.

Jon placed a hand over Rhaegal's head and stroked at the warm scales, hoping that it might bring comfort to the dragon.

"Jon," Benjen said, "you need to see this."

Jon turned his head to see Benjen and the other riders looking to where the Wall collapsed. Faintly, Jon could see the dead passing the Wall and entering the south.

Benjen turned back to Jon. "As much I know you don't want to, we have to leave the dragon here and join the battle."

"I can't leave-"

"Bran will watch over him. But you need to get to another dragon and back in the sky. Drogon is in too much pain to fly, but Lyarras isn't, and she's guarding your wife at the camps."

As much as it pained Jon, he did have to leave Rhaegal. He turned to the dragon and knelt down to his head. "I will come back, I promise."

Rhaegal gave a soft growl as Jon got up and joined Benjen.

"By the way," Benjen said as he snapped his fingers to another one of his brothers of the Watch, "you should be careful not to lose this again." The man of the Watch brandished Longclaw from his side and tossed it to Benjen who returned it to Jon.

"How did you find it?" Jon asked as he sheathed it in it scabbard.

"We didn't, Bran did."

"Remind me to thank him." Jon mounted an empty horse that was brought with the other riders and Benjen mounted his.

"It's six miles of deep snow from here to the camps. The longer we're down here, the longer your other dragon has to fight the Night King alone up there." Benjen motioned up the clouds where Ygris was speeding by while being chased by Viserion. "The dead have a way past our main defense, we need to take the offense now. The Dorneish and Reach forces are closest, but their numbers are too little. The Men of the Stormlands and the Wildlings are their best hope of reinforcements."

"What about the rest of you?" Jon asked.

"I'll ride back to the Fiery Hand and bring them into battle." Beric informed.

"And you're on the ground now, nephew." Benjen reminded. "You need protection even if your better than everyone here. We'll escort you to the camps."

Jon nodded and looked over to the men who wouldn't be coming with him. "Good luck to you all." All of them spurred their horses and took off to their respective destinations. Jon could only hope that he could get to the camps before the dead. If the western forces fell, then there might not be any camps to return to.


Edric

Witnessing the collapse of the Wall from the head of the western division of the ground forces was nothing like Edric thought it would be. When the King and Queen returned from their journey to bring down the Wall, Edric imagined it as a spectacle to watch in a marvelous but terrifying way. Watching the Wall collapse and hearing four thousand screams turn silent was horrifying, nothing that Edric could've imagined possible. Not only that, but much of the fallen rubble had tumbled onto the western battlements, killing many of the soldiers posted their and opening up the pass.

Edric had five thousand at his command, alongside another fifteen, standing behind him and he could feel their discontentment. He would be lying to himself if he denied feeling the same. They were all preparing themselves to fight the dead if they broke through the infantry lines, but none of them were ready to witness the instantaneous deaths of so many.

The feelings only worsened when the undead dragon flew over to the east side of the Wall to do again what damaged it caused on the west. But great waves of relief came over everyone when the King's white dragon shot down from the sky and attacked it. The undead dragon switched its attention to the white dragon and began a chase, leaving the east wall intact.

But all of the unnerving feelings increased again when a few signs of movement at the rubble turned into many. Knowing it to be impossible for any to survive such a catastrophe, Edric knew that it had to be the army of the dead coming through their new opening in the Wall, and it was far more than he thought it would be. At first it looked like over ten thousand, then twenty, and the number didn't go down.

"Lord Edric," a lord of the Reach said, "we need to take defensive formations now!"

"No," Edric told them, "the King said that going on the defensive never works in a situation like this. We need to bring the fight to them before they can surround and overwhelm us!"

"But My Lord, that's madness!"

Charging to meet an army of dead soldiers that could turn the living into one of them? Of course it was mad. "It's the best chance we've got."

The two lords looked each other questioningly before both nodding at Edric. "We'll order our men to ready for a charge." They rode away to return to the heads of their armies.

Edric turned to face his men and saw them turning from panic to the fury of battle. They were itching to fight and so was he. "Men of Dorne!" Edric shouted. "This night we cross swords with the likes of evil itself! Don't charge into the fight to die for your country! Charge into the fight to live for it! Fight and live for friends, your family, and for yourselves!" Edric drew both First Light and Dawn from their scabbards and raised them high into the air. The Dornish under his command raised their spears and shields with their lord, and cheered for him and themselves.

Edric turned around and faced the oncoming horde of dead men. He took a moment and looked down at his Dayne surcoat. Sewn by his wife Neela before he left, Edric wore it over his breastplate rather than under it like many did. "Not one tear, I promise." Edric said as he charged and led his men forward to bring the might of Dorne to meet the dead. The feeling of charging into battle with thousands behind him made Edric feel like he was leading a stampede or an avalanche straight to obliterate worthless creatures. But these creatures he saw felt no pain, wielded weapons, and could turn those they kill into more meat for their army. Nothing could bring greater glory than fighting such a force.

Edric let out a battle cry with his forces as the dead let out what one would think was their response. Raising First Light in front of his body and Dawn low to his side, Edric took his lasts moments to enjoy the peace before the fight. He locked eyes with a jawless skeleton wielding a chipped axe and knew that would be his first kill.

The wight raised his excuse for a weapon in a wild style of attack but was met with Dawn slashing through its empty skull and extinguishing the light of its eyes. The sounds of thousands of weapons clashing and attacking sang through the air. Every time Edric cut down one bloodless foe another would take its place, different and more vicious than the last.

Despite that, Edric let his skill guide First Light and Dawn to cut down every foe that he faced. The Valyrian steel and star metal that made his swords swiftly sliced through the cold monsters that came into their path. But one stray swing trapped First Light into a large wooden club held by an equally large Wilding wight. He was no giant, but the wight was just shy of being the size of the Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane. Edric freed First light from the grip of the wood just as the wight raised his club up to swung at him. Edric jumped to the side to be clear of the club's path and would've thrusted Dawn into the wight's body, but another half decomposed wight wielding a Stark shield bashed into Edric's body knocking him backwards. The wight wielding the shield swung a longsword at Edric, the blade barely missing Edric's body, and the tip just cutting through Edric's surcoat.

Edric took notice and became filled with rage. "You cunt!" Ducking underneath the giant wight's club, Edric thrusted both of his swords into the shield wielding wight's body. He then tore them out, completely severing the wight's body from its legs. Using the momentum of his attack, Edric ducked down and severed the giant wight's leg with both swords. As the great body fell onto its back, Edric parried another wight's axe with First Light while stabbing Dawn into the giant wight's body. The moment the blue light left the eyes of the wight, Edric had already pulled Dawn out of the wight's body and blocked another weapon, the fury of battle flowing through his blood.

The ranks of undead men were starting to be joined by undead animals climbing past the rubble of ice. Snow bears, stags, and dire wolves. Dozens of each were shoving aside many wights to get to the front of the battle, not caring how much damage they did to those that should have been their allies.

Edric had just decapitated three wights at once with First Light when he heard a strange snarl that sounded like it was coming straight for him. Edric looked around and saw a large dire wolf charging straight for him. Its gray fur was stained with blood from multiple stab wounds and the flesh of its lips was gone exposing all of the teeth. The speed of the dire wolf was so fast that Edric didn't have enough time to properly take a stance against such a creature. The wolf leapt into the air straight for Edric and opened its jaws, ready to sink them into whatever flesh they could. Edric tripped backwards and fell onto his back, now unable to evade an attack. Out of sheer reflex, Edric raised Dawn above him and the blade entered the mouth of the dire wolf right as it landed. The creature's body collapsed on Edric, motionless and truly deceased.

With the strength he could muster, Edric shoved the dire wolf's body off of him, though it felt like shoving a full-grown horse instead. Then again, the dire wolf was the size of a full-grown horse. Pressing a boot to the dire wolf's head and gripping the hilt of Dawn, he yanked the sword out of the jaw of the great beast. He shook off his brief feelings of panic and returned to the fight at hand.

But even with the force of twenty thousand Dornish and Reach soldiers, it wasn't enough to hold off the dead. Their strength and numbers were beginning to be outmatched. The dead that were crossing through the rubble were nearly doubled and the lines of the living made were spread too thin. Luckily for them, they weren't alone. A great host of soldiers made of the Wildlings, Riverlands, and Stormlands charged from the central force of foot soldiers to join the rest of their allies and hold off the growing force of the dead.

They blocked off the dead's only way to flank the infantry lines and catapults to the east of the battle. The lines on the west side were too thin and if passed would leave the army vulnerable.

Edric fell back from the center of the battle and pushed through the living and the dead to the west, rallying a great deal of Dornish, Wildlings, and men of the Reach to fortify the lines.

But by the time they got there, a small army of wights-no more than a couple thousand-pushed through. But instead of attacking the sides, they continued to advance west.

Edric didn't understand until he saw where their destination was. "The camps." The dead were going after the maesters, healers, and the children to add to the ranks of their army. Edric turned to face the men that followed him. "Defend the camps!" He charged through what he could before breaking through the armies and chasing after the wights. Though he and those following him ran as fast as they could, the dead had no fatigue in them and had a great head start. They wouldn't intercept them in time. Edric's only hope was that either the forces that retreated could hold off long enough, or that they could run faster than the dead.


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