Sorry for the wait. This was a difficult chapter to write. Hopefully what it has will make up for that and I am nearly done with another chapter of The Ghost for those of you reading it. Enjoy!


Daenerys

With the death of the Night King and complete annihilation of his army, everyone thought that things would brighten up now. The world was free from the greatest threat in all of history and countless songs would be sung of the greatest armies in the world doing battle for the fate to live. But the one thing no song ever sung of were the tears, blood, and death that came after the fighting. The night was not graced with a calm silence after the battle as thousands upon thousands were being taken to the camps for healing and care. The air echoed with screams of pain that was necessary to sustain the lives of those near death. The hands of every healer would be dyed with the blood of those who risked their lives for the world and would most likely end up giving them. And great was the sorrow to lose a brother, a father, a son, or a friend after the fighting is over and all thought to be saved. The hill that led up to the camps was beginning to form trails of red from all who bled while being taken to the healers.

But the morning that came was unlike any ever seen. The moment the rising sun eclipsed over the horizon the sky became a golden fury of light, as if the gods themselves declared for all the world of the victory achieved. It would be the only time such a sight would be seen, and for far too many it was the last one for them.

The days that followed were those of an awkward kind. How would the world be now that the war for life was won? The great evil that united the countries was defeated and men who would be at the ends of each other's blades were instead sharing mugs with one another. If they could forge the bonds of friendship now, would they last when the War for the Iron Throne would draw to its climax? None could be certain, but they could only hope.

Nearly a month had passed and the death toll was reaching its end. Hundreds of wounded succumbed to their injuries, unable to find the will or strength to last through them. For them and those who were the puppets of the Night King, a great burial was being prepared on the battlefield. Great pyres were being erected and the remains of all were collected, be it nothing but bones or bits of flesh, in the most respectable manner and prepared for their last rights. Many of the Lords and Ladies were demanding that the bones of their subjects be returned to their lands where they belong, but such a thing wouldn't be possible for at least another month and that was time no one had. Even though the Night King was dead and the great storm he bought diminished, winter was still upon the world.

The one thing no one could quite believe yet were the number of those lost on the side of the living. It was until a week after the battle did the maesters have a firm estimate on how many died so far. At the end of the battle, there were sixty thousand accounted dead. In the weeks that followed thirteen thousand succumbed to their wounds and passed away from this life while near twenty thousand remained injured and healing. And that wasn't including the giants or the dragons. Out of the seventy-two giants that fought for the living, only thirty-nine survived thanks to their superior arms and armor. Many tears were shed for Ygris and Viserion, and not just from those that hatched them, but also those that were their kin. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Lyarras were not as lively as they usually were before the battle. Now all of them acted as somber as Ghost always did. Drogon's wound only worsened as the days went on, but the maesters did everything possible to prevent to need to remove his leg. Rhaegal was luckier than his brother. The joint in his wing was merely dislocated and the strength of the giants snapped it back in place.

Daenerys rested calmly in her bed, her one hand gently over her growing belly and feeling the lives inside of her and the other wrapped around the red dragon egg, feeling the warmth that only those with the blood of the dragon could feel. She began to imagine what her two sons would look like. In the dreams she remembered, there was a silver baby dragon and a black dire wolf pup. The dragon had dark eyes like Jon did but the pup had the Targaryen purple. Of mix of both Stark and Targaryen.

While Daenerys laid in bed, Jon sat down at a table. His elbows rested on the wood surface and in his hands he twirled what remained of Longclaw at the tips of his fingers. He hadn't spoken much since he returned from the battle, emerging from the tents with the remnants of his sword in one hand and having a blank look on his face. When Jon saw her and his family he nearly fell into tears, in fact everyone did.

"Jon," Daenerys said, "as much as I know it calms you, but your brooding is making me nervous."

He set the blade down on the table, laying it next to Blackfyre, and got up from the chair. He walked over to Daenerys and lied down the furs of their bed next to her, the dragon egg resting between their bodies. "I'm sorry, it's just… I think this battle took more out of me than any of the others ever have. Ygris, Tormund, my Uncle Benjen, and Bran still hasn't woken up. It's just like when he fell and became a cripple all over again."

"I think this war took much out of everyone. If you keep looking back, then you'll never see forward. The ones we've lost will always have a place in our hearts as long as we keep them there. They died for you, for their home, and the ones they love. Now, we must let them rest and make sure the path they helped us pave for tomorrow will be worth the price they paid for it."

"That's the thing. We still have to defeat Cersei, but after what we've just faced it all seems so…"

"Meaningless?" Daenerys finished.

Jon just silently nodded as he rested his head back on his pillow and stared up at the canopy of the tent.

Daenerys knew that he didn't share her ambition for reclaiming the throne, in fact deep down she knew that he didn't care for it at all. She didn't mind that and still would not stray from reaching the end of the journey set out on, but she did have to agree with her husband. After facing such a colossal threat everything else she ever faced just seemed so minor in comparison. Everything just felt different, neither in a good way nor a bad, but just different.

"Then maybe you should try and find some meaning in it," Daenerys advised, "I know you would rather we stay in Winterfell until our bones fade into dust."

"Dany-"

"Let me finish." Jon closed his mouth and stared directly at her, giving her all his focus. "You want that because Winterfell, the North, it's your home. But it's not mine. Meereen wasn't my home, the Dothraki Khalasar wasn't, and neither was Dragonstone. But it's not in King's Landing either." She took Jon's hand into her own and held it gently. "My home is with you, our sons, and our dragons, but I won't stop fighting for the Iron Throne."

Jon sighed and leaned over to her head and placed a soft kiss above her brow. His lips felt warm against the chill that creeped into their tent.

"Then we'll do it together."

"Your Grace," Missandei's voice came from outside the tent.

"Come in," Daenerys said as Jon sat up.

Missandei came inside, looking as miserable as she did when she first laid eyes on Grey Worm's body, followed by Tyrion. With Grey Worm gone, the Unsullied had to regroup and choose a new commander. Only three and a half thousand Unsullied survived, eight hundred of them too injured to fight, and now they followed the leadership of Ash Pile. "We're almost ready to begin the service for dead." She informed. Though her face did not show, behind Missandei's eyes was misery.

Daenerys got up from the bed and placed the red egg on a small pool of hot coals made at her request. Jon exited their tent with Tyrion to wait for her to be dressed.

All the while Missandei helped her, Daenerys could feel Missandei's sorrow even though she did her best not hide it.

"Missandei," Daenerys poke softly, "I want you to speak to me."

"Of what, your grace?" Missandei's voice was blank and acting oblivious.

"Missandei please. I miss him as much as you do, but it hurts me to see you as you are now. You try to hide your feelings, but it's only making it worse. Please…" Missandei was doing the laces of her dress, but stopped halfway. She could feel Missandei's hands starting to shake and hear sniffling. She turned around and saw tears beginning to stream down her friend's face.

"I miss him," Missandei admitted, keeping her eyes to the ground as if she were ashamed of herself. "I never got to say goodbye or even say I loved him. We didn't have to say to each other to know it, but still… I hate that I never did." Missandei finally looked up at Daenerys. "Why did he have to die like that?"

Daenerys wrapped her arms around Missandei and gave her every warmth of comfort she could as they both sank to their knees. She always made sure to keep herself looking strong in front of her people, not wanting to show a shred of weakness. But in the case for her friend, she joined her to share her tears one evening. She couldn't stand to let her friend bear her pain alone, and not all tears that were shed were a weakness, but a way to empty out our miseries. "I miss him too." Daenerys admitted. She looked at Missandei straight in her eyes. "But you still have a chance to say goodbye, and to tell him that you love him." Missandei closed her eyes and lightly nodded before wiping her tears away.

"I'll finish your dress, your Grace. But after that, may I be excused?"

"Absolutely."

Tyrion and Jon were returned inside as soon as Missandei finished her work and left. With them was Samwell and Lord Commander Eddison Tollett.

"Your grace," Tyrion said, "we still have some time before the services are to happen. I thought we could discuss a few important matters that we've been absent minded about as of late. The fate of the Night's Watch for one. From what Lord Tarly has told me of his studies, the Night's Watch was formed to keep the White Walkers at bay after the first Long Night. They weren't defeated, only driven back. But with our victory, we managed to wipe them out as far as we know." He turned to the Lord Commander who took a seat at the table.

"And now that the dead are defeated," Edd started, "and the Wildlings are granted passage to the south, what point is there to man the Wall any longer? And there's the question of what to do about the lands beyond the Wall. What's the point of ranging out there anymore?"

"One thing at a time, Lord Commander." Daenerys said. She didn't have as much knowledge as Jon did of the Night's Watch or how to handle this, but she would give her input regardless. "How many of your brothers are left?"

"Less than two thousand, most of them are from Essos. They've managed to blend in as best they could, but they still don't 'belong' if you understand what I mean."

"Technically," Sam said, "those who swore to take the black have fulfilled their vows. We pledged to guards the realms of men, and we have. Like Edd said, with the dead defeated and the Wildlings south of the Wall, what more is there to defend from?"

"He has a point," Daenerys said, "we could issue a release for Night's Watch now that there's need for them anymore."

Jon shook his head. "Don't forget that for some, taking a black was a way to escape justice for their crimes. But at the same time, taking the black was meant as a prison for men to freeze and die. You could run south, but as long as the Warden of the North kept watch, you wouldn't get far before losing your head. I can't let dangerous men be set free so easily. But when the war for the throne is over, maybe I can find some way to keep them in service to realm without posing a threat to the people."

"And the men who took the black of their own will?" Edd asked. "What about them? Nearly all the Essosi came because they had nowhere to go."

Jon just shook his head. "I don't know. Everything depends on if we win the throne from Cersei."

"But what about until then?" Edd asked.

"Until then," Tyrion said, "the Night's Watch should remain intact and stay bound to their oaths to keep out of the conflicts of the nine realms."

"Lord Tyrion has a point." Daenerys agreed. "While we still have more battles ahead of us, we can only do so much." In fact, until the Iron Throne was theirs, the was nothing they could do without having to worry about Cersei. Until the war the won, nothing else could be given much attention. "Is it too much to have them remain at the Wall until things settle?"

Edd chuckled silently to himself. "We've garrisoned the Wall for thousands of years and through the harshest of winters, what's one more?" He got up from his seat and straightened his cloak. "When you lot return to Winterfell, we'll go to the Nightfort and wait for word of who wins."

Jon got up to his feet and gave his old friend a warm embrace. "We'll send enough supplies with you until you manage on your own."

As Edd turned to leave the tent, Sam got up to join him, but was stopped. "Not you Sam." Edd told him. "You're needed with the them more than us." He patted Sam on the shoulder and looked at him pleasingly. "Your watch has ended."

Sam just stood in place, wide eyed and speechless as Edd left him with the others. He looked over to Jon as if expecting him to have something to say.

"Don't look at me," Jon told him, "I'm not the lord commander anymore."

Daenerys hid her smile as Sam had an awkward look on his face before nodding and leaving.

"Never thought I would meet someone who reads more than me," Tyrion admitted, "I had an idea for him lingering as of late, but it can wait. We should discuss what to do with the Wildlings that are still with us. Though a great deal of them and the giants are being housed by the Umbers, Forresters, and Manderlys, they'll need to settle on their own soon."

"I've negotiated with them that the lands of the Gift can be given to them." Jon informed.

"If I may," Tyrion said, "since the Dreadfort has been stabilized by the Forrester bastard, what was his name… Josera Snow, and now that you are no longer its lord, but the King of Westeros, I believe the best course of action would to appoint a new one."

"Rodrick's brother has managed to make things calm between the people. He can have the Dreadfort if he wants it."

Tyrion wasn't against it, but he didn't look satisfied.

Daenerys had a thought. "Such good labors to establish good relations shouldn't go unrewarded." Daenerys informed. "If castle is to have a lord, then a he should be given the name of a lord."

"He is a son of House Forrester," Tyrion reminded, "naturalizing him would be the practical approach. But giving him such a powerful seat in the North might upset the other Northern Lords."

"Whatever we choose to do will anger someone." Daenerys reminded. However, She knew Tyrion enough that he wouldn't let things result in that way. "But I feel you have a plan so that doesn't happen."

"The Dreadfort is in need of a new lord, but the seat in the North is major. If Josera Snow even accepts the offer, we make the castle the seat of a lesser House. I would suggest that House Forrester be raised to a major seat sworn directly to House Stark rather than Glover and give them reign over a cadet branch residing in the Dreadfort."

"Lord Glover won't be pleased." Jon said. "He's relatively stubborn about things like this. But… we can make up for his loss by having the Whitehills swear to him. They were relatively equal to the Forresters before their aligned the Boltons."

"That sounds fair," Tyrion said, "I'll go make the arrangements and meet with the Lords after the services. Now what about the Wildling Clan leaders? Tormund Giantsbane is gone, and he was the one the turned to for leadership. In the time I spent with him, I was always surprised at how well he could keep his people under control unlike any other Wildling I've met."

"I don't want to assume anything," Daenerys said to Jon, "but don't they follow you?"

Jon shrugged his shoulders. "They know I want peace with them, and they are faithful to their words. The Free Folk pledged to fight with me against the dead, and they did, and now they'll return to the lands of the Gift and settle in as promised."

Daenerys knew that was the original agreement for the Wildlings when they were let through the Wall. However, that was when the Night's Watch governed those lands. With the meeting they had with the Lord Commander, there would soon be a problem. "But if the Night Watch is abolished, then won't the lands of the Gift return to the North?"

Jon had a look on his face as if he just realized that, or rather forgot about it.

Tyrion had the same look on his face. "I don't need to know them well enough to think that they don't want to return to lands beyond the Wall, despite the threat of the White Walkers being gone."

"And it raises a big problem." Jon said. "They were going to be under the care and responsibility of the Night's Watch, free from any rulers. They won't let themselves be governed by anyone south of their country."

"But they're in their country anymore. You mean to say that they won't swear allegiance to us?" Daenerys asked.

"They only Kings they've ever followed are the ones they chose."

"They followed you south of the Wall and to battle. If they're going to live in our lands, then they must do as everyone does and bend the knee to their rightful rulers."

Jon laughed a little as if she said something funny she wasn't aware of. "The one thing the Free Folk do is kneel to anyone. But… there could be a way to create alliances with them."

"You have an idea?" Daenerys inquired.

"There are a few places in the North that are cold and abandoned. Queencrown, Ramsgate, even an old fortress near Sea Dragon Point. if they declare me their King and you their Queen, then they can have better places to live and better lands."

"Are you sure about that?" Tyrion inquired. "That might anger the Northern lords more than the Dreadfort plan. Some of them do still have grudges against the Wildlings."

"I'll talk it over with Sansa and Rickon and try to convince them. Hopefully they'll see the reason in this."

"But we would need some form of guarantee of the Wildlings' loyalty," Daenerys said, "in a way that unites them to the North. And the best alliances are made with marriage."

Neither Tyrion nor Jon said anything, but that just meant that they had no objections.

"I think such negotiations would better be suited by a Northman favored by the lords." Tyrion suggested.

Jon rolled is eyes as the answer to who was obvious. "I'll talk it over with a few of them."

"Oh, I nearly forgot," Tyrion said, "there's one more thing. Someone from yesterday's supply caravan from Winterfell is here to see the two of you. He said it is urgent that he does."

'It could be a report on the south.' Daenerys thought. "Of course, Tyrion."

After putting on his own cloak, Jon assisted Daenerys with hers and they both followed Tyrion outside.

Entering Tyrion's tent, Daenerys saw Ser Davos and Ser Jorah gathered together. In front of them all was an elderly man well over sixty, the only hair on his head was a great white beard that stretched from his chin to his chest. Standing next to him was a younger man about half his age, with more hair but less of a beard, and only one arm. The younger man was most likely s soldier who fought in the battle. Over the older man's shoulder was a large rucksack, barely holding its contents.

"My Queen," the old man's voice was coarse and calmly, like many Northerners. He struggled to bend to his knee to Daenerys, his age putting strain on his joints. The young man helped as much as he could with his only arm, but it was more than enough to ease the weakening body of the older man.

"What are your names?" Daenerys asked.

The younger man introduced himself first. "My name is Tomas, your grace. This is my father, Rorus."

"You may rise." Daenerys offered and the two of them did so gladly, Rorus nearly toppling over had Tomas not given him his arm to hold onto to.

Rorus turned to look at Jon. "Your Grace, you may not remember me-"

"I do," Jon told him, "You're the kennelmaster of Winterfell."

"Aye, I took back the position after my son Farlen was killed by the Boltons, your grace." Rorus grabbed hold of the rucksack and positioned it over his large stomach. "About a week after you left, some of the new dogs we had brought in were howling outside the walls of the castle." He opened the flap and pulled out a large wooden box with a lock sealing the lid. "I went to see what was making them cause such a ruckus and that's when I found this, just lying in the snow where the dragons would nest." He reached into his shirt and revealed a key tied to a thin line of string around his neck before breaking it off and unlocking the box. When he opened the lid, everyone became wide eyed when they saw what was inside. "I made sure to handle it with as much care as I could."

Inside the box, resting on a small thick blanket as a cushion, was a dragon egg, grey as ash with specks of black riddling the surface.

Rorus held the box out to Jon, his arms on the verge of shaking from the weight. As Jon gently removed the egg from the box, Daenerys started to feel something within her desire the egg, something reminiscent to when she had her first dragon eggs.

"Ygris," Jon whispered, "this is hers." It seemed improbable that the egg would be Ygris', considering that this is the first laid egg in hundreds of years and how much younger she was compared to Rhaegal and Drogon. But Daenerys could see the certainty in Jon's eyes and not a shred of doubt of where the egg came from.

"Khaleesi," Ser Jorah said, "given the circumstances, I think it's possible to hatch them before the day is over. The death that has happened is more than enough of a payment and all of the dragons that live were hatched on funeral pyres."

Before Daenerys could respond to such a proposal, Jon interjected. "No, not this time." He offered the egg to Daenerys and she carefully took it into her hands. The feeling of this egg felt far different that the red one. Instead of a warm stone like touch the surface of eggs usually had, this one felt delicate and weak. "There are two eggs for two children. If our sons are going to have dragons, they have to be the ones to hatch them, to earn them."

Daenerys thought over his words but couldn't take her mind off the egg in her hands. Aside from what Jon said, the egg didn't feel ready. Moreover, the egg didn't feel like it belonged in her hands. She would sometimes feel the same thing from the red one.

"Then so it shall be." Daenerys said. She turned to Rorus and Tomas. "I deeply thank you for bringing this to us. If there is anything you wish for within our power to give, name it and it shall be yours."

"You honor me, your grace," Rorus said with a bow of his head, "but I have all could ever want that I can. The only thing I can ask for is that you live better days than I have." Rorus was a humble man, but well into his years that he had no desire for worldly things. Just to continue on as he is until he longer draws breath.

Rorus and Tomas were excused from the tent. Despite what Rorus said, Daenerys wouldn't forget what he did for not only her and Jon, but the dragons as well. Who knows what would have happened if the egg remained in the snow.

Now that the matter was settled, Daenerys gave the egg to Missandei to be taken to her tent. Everyone else joined the mass of lords and ladies to give the dead their respects and send them to their gods.

Standing on the peak of a hill, Daenerys and Jon faced all the Lords, Ladies, and commanders that represented the soldiers that fell. Not all who were present at the war council were present here since many fell in battle. Their heirs were now given what their parent left them while some would never see their children take their place when they left this world. Jon held a bow and arrow in one hand. The sun had just set and the light of the twilight hour remained in the clear, cold sky as Jon began the eulogy.

"Throughout history, many us fought against one another, be it for power, revenge, or justice. But tonight, we lay to rest those that fought together and won, despite their differences, despite their hatred for each other. Sons will return home without their fathers, and fathers will return home without their sons. They came from every part of this world, and because of them, we can all live to see more days ahead of us. And now, we say goodbye, but always remember their sacrifice and honor their memory."

Jon knocked the arrow on the bow string and dipped the head into the fire pit then faced the field of pyres. What was once the battlefield for the largest battle in history was now about to become the largest burial ground. Great pyres that had near one hundred men a piece created a field of graves that were about to lit into the biggest fire the North has ever seen.

Jon drew the arrow and released it high into the sky. It sailed true and landed on the largest one where Viserion and Ygris were put to rest. The pyre ignited beautifully and the flames spread very quickly. Once the first pyre was consumed, every man available to wield a bow and shot was little arrows they had left. Thousands of arrows soared and fell to their marks, enlarging the amount of fire that was already there. Despite this, it wasn't enough to light every pyre, but that issue was already taken care of.

Jon gave the bow to a Northern guard standing by and warged into Rhaegal and Lyarras. They both took to the skies from where they nested with Drogon and flew over the funeral pyres. Streaking down close enough, both of the dragons let out their flames and ignited the last of the pyres in dragon fire.

Watching the flames, Daenerys imagined those who followed her from Essos leaving this world as free people and not the slaves they were born as. "Goodbye." She whispered under her breath.