Getting closer i think, maybe a few more chapters before the next episode and ill wrap it up. language from the hound of course, but he's such a complex character, it was enjoyable to write him. I will say, i feel like its important to write these characters with different forms of ptsd, shock and mourning. though it seems like a lot of people have a lot of feelings about the battle episode, all of these characters faced death and fear and i dont think theyd be able to just walk away from that with clear minds. anyway, enjoy :)

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Sandor knew he could have probably done more, but he also knew he was quite glad not to be dead. Even now, hours after the trench had been lit, he could hear his blood rushing through his ears like a waterfall, panic still laid siege on his mind, wary of not only the bodies that lay around him, but the small flames still peeking out of random places throughout the keep.

Sighing, Sandor lifted two more bodies from the middle of the courtyard and none so gently threw them across the open space, watching them land in the last open space next to the splintered doorway that led outside of the walls. He let his thoughts wander off as he repeated the process, not taking note of the Ginger haired menace watching his every move before joining in on the lift and throw method, only the large and strong men could accomplish.

The only clarity his mind held throughout the night, was to protect the little pain in the ass, that she had been able to defend herself so well, Sandor knew a part of him was proud, that the little spitfire from so long ago still had it.

Another part was weary, Sandor knew of the house of Black and White, hell, he'd contacted them once himself to find out how much it would cost to employ their services, maybe on his brother, maybe on one of the Lannister cunts.

In the end, he had decided that no matter how low he got, he could always look forward to watching the light leave their eyes because of his own doing. But he knew the tales of the assassin's house in the free city, often killing in the name of a god, he knew the truth though, they all killed because they enjoyed it.

He himself had it enjoyed it once upon a time, until the little runt and her sister had invaded his life and mind. He just hoped the little bitch could compartmentalize those feelings instead of falling into the same trap Sandor had fallen into himself.

Several bodies later, Sandor thought of his little bird, how strong she had become, remembering how gentle and soft natured she was, like the soft snow fall that fell so rarely in the south, nothing too damaging, pleasant enough to remind the mind, there was something else out there. Now though, she was a right proud bitch, like the ice storm he had faced on the other side of the wall.

Feeling something akin to a grin cross his features at the thought of the red headed lady, Sandor was broken by his thoughts by a rough voice near him, "Don't be grinnin at victory yet ya big bear."

Sandor looked around before meeting those bright blue eyes of the mad fucker, snarling, he responded "S'not a fucking competition, even if it was, a mad little cunt like you wouldn't win if he swore his soul to those damned gods everyone seems so fucking fond of"

The red headed wildling grinned at Sandor before grabbing a whole pile of bodies, their limbs dangling every which way, and running towards the gate and then through it. Sandor vaguely heard the little stag bastard grumble something before seeing the bright red hair running back through the gate with a wild grin.

With a sigh, Sandor stooped and lifted an arm full of bodies, moving towards the gate, he heard sputtering as the dumbass behind him toppled over after attempting to lift too many of the rotting bodies at once. Fighting the grin, he felt at the sheer stubbornness of the man, Sandor let the weight of the night fall from his shoulders. He had faced his fears for his icy little cunt, but he needed to get control of those same emotions, because soon, he had a bitch of a Mountain to face.

—

Gendry didn't know what the red wild man was doing when he appeared through the gates carrying too many bodies, but he did know he was a damn pain in the ass, dropping the bodies with little care of the system he had in place.

Gendry didn't consider himself to be, rigid, but so many years as a blacksmith, where the process was exact, had made him appreciate order more than anything. Suffice to say, following the night they had all had, where chaos had reigned supreme, Gendry felt the need for something to have order.

So, he had placed himself in charge of the portions taking place outside the walls of Winterfell. Laying the bodies neatly on the other side of the trenches, so that, as time went on, they could start stacking more on top of one another without massive piles of the undead.

He knew this would help them later on, if the dragons torched too close to the walls of the keep, it could damage the walls, but if they did so on the other side of the trench, it would purify the lands too, they could plant there once the mess was cleaned. Gendry found it was fitting that the sight of such death and destruction could soon be a place for growth and life.

Feeling a chuckle, it was sort of like his Lady in a way. That she could be so open and passionate so early in the evening when they had been alone in the store rooms, but then, he had seen her fighting the dead on the opposite wall, she was so fierce and precise, eyes guarded as she took down more of the bodies than just about everyone else.

And watching her swing the weapon he had made for her around like she had, well, Gendry could still feel a bit of a blush warming his ears. It had almost been the death of him, so focused on her, he hadn't even noticed the dead man about to stab him in the neck until Jaime Lannister had chopped it's head off with a wild swing of his sword.

Even now, while helping the few soldiers of the Vale who had volunteered to help lay and stack the bodies into rows, Gendry could feel himself in wonderment at the fact that not only was he still alive. Arya was as well; he couldn't help but wonder what would happen now that they had both lived through the night. He wondered if their moment in the store rooms was just a rite of passage she had needed someone to help her through.

Worried that maybe he had taken too many liberties earlier by kissing her in front of the others, but he hadn't been able to help himself, he had been overcome with the feelings he once had as a young boy when they had been on the road together, entrusted with her deepest secret.

Gendry looked around to see if he could find the small but deadly woman, not seeing her anywhere, he sighed, but the Hound had seen.

"She's inside, said something about the bodies of the fallen should be properly cleaned or some shit. Holed herself up in one of the stables, has a fuckin line of people workin for her, bringin bodies and water like a fuckin herd." the Hound said gruffly before dropping his arm load of bodies, he turned and walked away just as quickly as he appeared.

Gendry just shook his head before getting back to work, they needed to get as much out and done before the sun got too high in the sky, that way the rotting wouldn't be too bad and they could escape the potential rats and other vermin that would descend soon onto the victims of the Night King