The horns sounded the next eve and everyone who may have felt rough still from too much drinking the night before suddenly became much more clear-headed at the knowledge that the battle would very soon be upon them. That first horn was a signal, one they'd all been waiting for with somewhat baited breath.
They'd suspected the fight would come to them at dusk or later, assuming the Others would want to take every advantage they could. By the time the light was fading on the horizon, everyone was in their place and ready to face the threat they'd spent so long preparing for. Arya herself stood upon a beside her siblings overlooking the lands in front of the keep- waiting for the approaching army to be in just the right position before they deployed their first defense.
They watched as the first lines of their enemy came within viewing distance for the first time and the line of them seemed to spread across the entire horizon without break. One of the men nearby swore and murmured that they were all going to die. "Valar Morghulis." Arya said softly in response, though it hadn't been aimed directly at her.
While most of the men surrounding her became more and more on edge the closer the threat came, the more focused and honed Arya herself became. She stood still as Robb ordered the first assault and their archers took aim. Half a dozen burning arrows soared across the field and caught the glowing green lines of the wildfire they'd left leading to the open fields they had drenched.
The green flame lit the night in an eerie glow and Arya understood how it could feature so prominently in someone's nightmares, for it was as beautiful as it was deadly. Something similar to a screech rent the air and reached those in the keep despite the distance still between them.
The seemingly unending army continued to press forward, uncaring of the casualties that continued to fall to the still burning flame beneath their feet. Finally, eventually, pathways amongst the flame began to remain and some of the wrights began to make it through in spurts. A blood curdling roar sounded from behind and several of those in attendance ducked from instinct alone at the sound.
Arya watched as the Queen and her dragons took flight, her brother who wasn't sitting on the one beside her, much to Arya's consternation. The trio rapidly approached the spreading breeches and rained a different kind of wildfire down upon their heads. They made several passes before retreating out of reach, as had been the plan. It wouldn't do to lose one of their strongest weapons so early in the battle, after all.
The next phase of their defense was the first of the trenches, which were still covered by netting and ground cover to make them invisible to the unknowing eye. The next wave of surviving corpses had made it almost two-thirds of the way across before their combined weight dragged them down and into the dragon-glass lined pit.
Still they continued to come, piling up in the trench until they were simply walking across the fallen bodies of their comrades with hardly a stumble. Robb gave the signal and the next wave of burning arrows were launched, striking the wild-fire coated tar lining the trenches and setting the endless pile of bodies alight.
After the first trench came another empty field coated in the eerie green liquid, and then the several rows of trenches they'd dug initially. Still the enemy continued to come, seemingly endless in number. The dragons made their fourth pass, but they were getting to close to the gates to continue attacking the front lines, and they weren't yet ready to try them against the still-unseen Night King.
When they made it over the last of the trenches and were still coming strong, the woman and children who weren't fighting were given orders to ride South in a move they'd been hoping to avoid if possible. Even still, they couldn't risk the most vulnerable of them being left for easy slaughter and so had to hope the Gods would keep them safe in their journey.
Once the smaller party was clear, those sending them off returned to their secondary positions as they waited for the hand-to-hand combat to be upon them. It was only a matter of time at that point- the archers and trebuchet operators doing all they could to keep the approaching lines at bay.
They eventually broke through to the final clearing that had been left open purposefully as the intended point of the battle. The final trench surrounded its edge, but was built quite differently- with narrow paths giving way to steep edges hewn into the design in a final effort to bottle neck the wave as it reached them.
The Dothraki and the Unsullied were sent out as the first and second wave to meet them with mixed success. It was the last sight Arya saw from above before she headed down to the ground level to join Bran in the Godswood as the next part of their plan. Her brother was convinced the Night King would come for him there, and who were they to doubt his vision? While the rest of the battle raged, a few key players began moving to their own positions for a much more targeted defense.
Arya was halfway through the courtyard when the first of the wrights broke through and flooded the outer keep. Custom weapon already in hand, she began swinging the deadly purple blade around with a grace that was unmatched as she continued to press her way in the direction she needed to go. Other individual fights were taking place around her with a growing frequency and she knew she needed to break free before they were overwhelmed.
As things became more crowded, Arya found she had less room to swing her blade that didn't put anyone on the side of the living at risk of joining their enemy. She snapped the handle onto its custom spot hanging from her belt and unsheathed her matching blades in the same smooth motion. She swiped in a graceful arch and decapitated the beast directly before her and then had time to pass both blades to one hand so she could drag them along the other and prey for the Lords Light to come to her aid.
Both blades were engulfed in the holy flame and she found herself able to breath as she could focus on her next move without having to pull her swings or risk friendly fire and self-inflicted causalities. With her altered strategy, she was able to carve her way to the smaller side gate that would take her to her final destination. She turned and moved backwards to prevent herself from being followed without her knowledge.
Howls sounded on the distance and Arya's head turned towards the noise, though she couldn't hope to see anything past the stone wall beside her. For scarcely a second she had a flash of what Nymeria might be seeing as she lunged for the throat of a Wright and tore its head clear from its body- before her vision cleared and she was once again stood by the entrance to the Godswood. She shook the oddness off and took her position hiding in the shadows. More obvious solders stood around guarding her younger brother and they could only hope her own presence to remain unnoticed until it was time.
A piercing screech suddenly split the ear, followed by a resounding and long lasting crash. Arya froze, wondering which of the dragons just fell, for she couldn't imagine such a noise to be caused by anything else. She only hoped it wasn't the one baring her foolhardy brother. It felt like an age passed before the Godswood was breeched, and Arya had the sensation of being terribly helpless considering her position and lack of current contribution to the fight while they stood waiting to be found.
She'd quenched her blades already and held naught but the Valerian Steel dagger her younger brother had given her all those days before in her left hand, ready to strike at any given time and refusing to allow herself to lose focus as the minutes drug on endlessly.
Finally, after an age of being forced to listen to the battle without taking part, a commotion began at the exterior entrance of the Godswood and the sounds of fighting suddenly became much closer. She watched from her hidden spot as the men guarding Bran began to fall one by one, until he sat along before the weirwood tree, surrounded by naught by bodies strewn across the ground around him.
She watched her brave and ageless younger brother face off against the single greatest threat currently facing their world with nary a twitch or flinch overtaking his expression in the face of such unnaturalness.
Neither Bran nor the Night King moved to speak, though their eyes remained locked and both clearly read more into the situation that Arya could hope to without her brothers own knowledge and understanding of how things had come to be as they were. She watched, frozen and with baited breath, as the unnatural atrocity before her reached for his ice-hewn blade.
She waited until the very last moment possible, not wanting to give him any time to react or retaliate. Just as the creature moved to draw free the blade and swing it at her brother, she leapt high in the air and aimed to land with her the weight of her body behind the Valerian Steel blade she still held in her left hand. The undead being seemed to sense her somehow and twisted before she could reach him, catching her by the throat and holding her body in the air like a weightless ragdoll.
Her well-honed instincts kicked in and she let the blade fall, only to catch it will her less dominant right hand and plunge it into an unprotected strip of abdomen without hesitation using a move she'd practiced a thousand times before. Unnatural blue eyes widened just before he exploded into a shower of shattered ice, followed by the others in an unstoppable chain reaction.
Arya watched it all from her crouch where she'd fallen with wide eyes, for it had worked better than they could have imagined. She drew in a deep breath for what felt like the first time that night and turned to look at her brother to ensure he was alright. He gazed back at her, looking at her straight on for what may have only been the second or third time since she'd returned.
The battle may have ended suddenly, but those who fought continued to work past daylight cresting the horizon and shedding light on the nights massacre. Hundreds of men were dead, with thrice as many injured. Aid camps had been set up in patches around the keep where clear stretches of land remained open and accessible.
Arya was one of many who spent the early morning hours dragging corpses into a line in hope of their family identifying them. They were sorted by the colors they wore but each party seemed to have a pretty even number lost, with the exception of the Dothraki and the Unsullied, who bore the greatest number of losses.
It was exhausting work and she felt well and truly beat down before they were relieved by a fresher group of men. She made her way back to the main courtyard, using a clean spot on her arm to wipe the cold sweat covering her brow. She couldn't wait to wash the filth of her skin, for the old blood had long grown tacky in the cold and it stuck unpleasantly to her chilled flesh.
She was halfway to the keeps' doors when her name was shouted from nearby. She was surprised for a moment to see her mother rushing towards her but remembered that a rider had been sent after the fleeing party to bring them back home some hours before. The elder woman drew her into a strong hug despite the questionable liquids coating her and she could ear her mother sniffling close to her ear.
Arya shifted uncomfortably but lifted a hand to pat her mother's back in a half-hearted effort to reassure the woman. "I'm okay, Mother." She said aloud when it seemed the woman had no intentions of letting her go. She glanced around feeling rather helpless only to see that her siblings had joined them while she was distracted.
She was glad to see them all looking well and standing unhindered before her. Her mother finally let her go and she was free only for a moment before she was grabbed again by the first of her siblings wanting to share their combined relief that they'd all, somehow, survived the night.
She was shuffled inside before she could glance around to take stock of who else was present, but she was too tired to protest and so allowed herself to be led to a thankfully already waiting bath in her chambers. She was so pleased she didn't even mind that her mother and sister both stayed and she stripped down and submerged herself without complaint.
Wanting to feel clean, she allowed herself to slip down until she was fully submerged in the large tub. The water was hot on her skin but she bore it no mind as she reached up and used her hands to rub harshly at her face and scalp. When she allowed herself to come back above the surface, she found her mother seated on the lip of the tub, soap in hand and ready to wash her hair. She felt as if she were a child once more but she wasn't sure she would have had the energy to do it herself just then and so allowed the help.
Aside from her back, she refused to allow the woman to assist her with washing her body and completed that task on her own before standing to escape the now murky water. She dried herself off with a large cloth identical to the one still laying beside the hot spring and then allowed her sister to help drape her in a sleeping gown, however much she'd normally refuse to wear such a thing.
She was sat down before her vanity so her mother could comb and plait her hair into a simple pattern for her to sleep in. Once finished, the woman moved around to her side and dropped down to rest on her knees beside her exhausted daughter. She reached up to stroke the flesh that was quickly regaining its Northern pallor as her Eastern tan faded into memory and Arya was surprised to see moisture gathering in the woman's Tully blue eyes.
"Oh, my precious daughter." Catelyn whispered as a tear escaped to trickle down her cheek. "I was so afraid for you, at knowing you were taking part in this madness and there was nothing I could do to stop you. You've always been stubborn to a fault- so like your father, even in your youth- but now? I can hardly believe the woman that you've become- you're truly not my little wild-child anymore, are you? You're so brave, so strong, you've survived so much.. You've become this amazing, independent grown woman all on your own. I'm so proud of you." Her mother said waveringly. "And I know your father would be just as proud."
Arya swallowed hard at the unexpected surge of emotion attempting to choke her up. She reached up to cover her mothers hand with her own, noting silently how thin and wrinkled the woman's hand was becoming, the grey streaks cutting through her vibrant red hair, and realized for perhaps the first time just how aged her mother was becoming through all of this. "I did miss you, you know." Arya admitted in return. "While I was gone. Some days getting home to you and the others was all I could think about. I'm so glad you're all okay- truly. You're my family, my blood. We might not agree on everything, but we can all agree on that."
"Aye," Catelyn agreed, another tear escaping even as she let out a quite and choked laugh and drew her daughter into her most reciprocal hug yet since her return. "We can all agree on that." She pulled back and cleared her throat, dabbing her eyes as she stood. "Now come, let's get you to bed, you deserve a bit of rest."
Notes:
Hello to those of you who are still reading! A couple of things to help explain why certain events are playing out as they are:
*This is a short chapter following a very long one, because I didn't want to leave you all hanging on the unpleasantness.
*Jaime was always a bit of a d*ck in the actual story line. I found myself disappointed with him time after time, however much he managed to remain one of my favorite characters. As much as he's central to a key relationship in this story, I wanted to hold true to his faults and force him to work on his flaws and attempt to better himself. Arya's hardly a delicate flower and if anyone can put up with a man as privileged, strong willed and stubborn as Jaime Lannister, it's Arya. I hope you bare with me while we work to get him there in a hopefully realistic way.
* I was attempting to keep as true to cannon here as possible- Jaime slept with Breanne and Arya slept with Gendry in cannon. Arya had her mind set on losing her virginity before the battle and I had it happen with Jaime rather than Gendry for the plot of this story. As nice and fluffy as it could have been, I didn't really see either of them in the headspace of soft lovey sex as that point in their relationship development, but they were both upset enough to use the other for their own gain despite knowing it likely wasn't the best idea they could've made.
* The Battle of Winterfell was never intended to be a huge part of this story, aside from being an important part of the storyline itself; Even still, I hope it did not seem too rushed, I simply didn't want to spend 10,000 words re-writing most of what we already spent an hour watching, with a few small variations (I don't know about you, but I personally thought that fight sequence lasted much longer than it needed to). Now that we're past the necessity of it, we'll get back to the main plotline.
* We are definitely going to break 100,000 words with this story and I have a soft goal of hitting about 125,000 words with the rest of the plot points I want to cover.
* Thank you all for reading. I appreciate all of the feedback whether you love a chapter or hate it. I have noted the many comments referencing the delays between updates and I'll say this: My no-longer-quite-so-new job is stressful to the point it keeps me from sleeping some nights and I spend most of my waking hours thinking over some problem or another. It's very difficult for me to clear my head enough to not only focus on something else, but be in a focused mindset that allows my writing to flow without awkwardness. The three back to back updates that occurred over the holidays happened because I took a week vacation over Christmas and so had plenty of cozy time to drink coco and write. I promise you all I will continue to update as real life allows, but I will not force myself to write if I'm not feeling it.
Thank you to those of you who've stuck it out with me despite plot twists and long delays. 3