Here we go then. I'll keep this short and sweet. Welcome to Winter. Welcome to the War for the Dawn.
I own nothing but Durran and the other OC's. Everyone else belong to George R R Martin or HBO
It took almost 5 weeks at a pacey march before the armies of the South could see the giant half ruined castle of Moat Cailin. An effort had clearly been made to make the structure more habitable since the last time Durran had travelled up the Kingsroad towards the gateway to the North, but the bleak wintery conditions hadn't helped.
There were two banners hanging above the gates of the Moat, one was the traditional grey Direwolf head of House Stark on a white field, while the other was the full grey Direwolf lying down, its head turned towards the person looking at it, with wide, black eyes baring into them. Durran felt slightly chilled as he rode ahead of the lines to announce themselves.
"Who wishes to enter the North?" A voice called down from above them. Durran sighed, wishing that these guardsmen would have a bit of sense about them.
"The King!" Ser Arys Oakheart shouted up from beside Durran. "And his army, come to help protect the North from the oncoming threat!"
Durran watched as the guard turned around, and after a few minutes in the snow the gates opened with a groan, and a young woman stood in their way, looking sternly out at the army in front of her.
"Lady Arya." Durran nodded his head politely.
"Commander Stark, if it pleases Your Grace." Arya corrected him. The girl was dressed in the Stark leathers, a thin sword strapped to her waist. She reminded Durran of her Father a bit.
"My apologies." He said honestly. "May we enter the North?"
Arya just nodded. "You're late." Was all she said, before turning away. Durran could only turn to his Kingsguard in amusement before he kicked his horse to take him through the gates.
The rest of the army continued Northwards, as so many men couldn't possibly set up camp in the bogs that surrounded the crumbling castle, but Durran had met with the Stark girl in the Gatehouse Tower, the one that she had taken for her own.
"I haven't heard much." Arya began, taking the King to a table where a map of the North was filled with small figures depicting each Northern House. "The very North has been evacuated entirely, even Bear Island. Some have fled South towards White Harbour where Lord Manderly is taking them in and shipping them off to the Riverlands when he can, those that can hold a spear have joined Robb."
"Where are the enemy?" Durran asked.
"Last I heard they were here." Arya said, pointing to a spot towards the south of the Dreadfort. "Robb had gone to aid Lord Bolton but the last message I received from him was of their retreat back to Winterfell. That was a week ago."
"Shit…" Durran cursed. "We need to move quickly."
"Yes, we do." Arya said firmly. "The Greatjon is dead. Rickard Karstark and his last son are dead. The Mountain Clans were too few to stop them. Half of the Night's Watch is gone."
"Then we should waste no more time." Durran said grimly. "Are your men ready?"
Arya nodded. "We were just waiting for you." She told him. "The plan was to draw them to Winterfell, Bran told Robb that we could beat them there as Brandon the Builder once did thousands of years ago."
Durran began to walk to the door. "Well then, Commander Stark." He turned back to tell her, trying to keep his morale up. "Let us go and join your ancestor in legend."
The last time Durran had rode towards the impressive fortress that was Winterfell he had been welcomed by thousands of smallfolk lined up to greet them, and the entire household of the castle had stood in the courtyard waiting for his Father to arrive. This time however, all Durran saw was men either groaning and looking after their injuries or grunting and shovels being thrust into the ground behind a deep wall of snow.
"The King! The King is here!" One man shouted from the walls of Winterfell. Durran spurred his horse closer to the camp outside the castle, inside what was appearing to be a deep moat in the snow. Soldiers dressed in the armour of House Hornwood came and took his horse away as Robb Stark came up to the party informally, his forehead drenched in sweat.
"Your Grace." He said, catching his breath. "Thank the Gods you're here."
"Sorry we're late." Durran said as the army filtered through and were directed to where they could set up camps.
"It's been a fucking nightmare." Robb shook his head as Durran helped Daenerys off of her horse, the Queen deciding to ride into Winterfell rather than fly. "I'm down to just under 6,000 Northmen and women. The wights… they came for the Dreadfort. Thousands upon thousands of them… We were lucky to escape with as many as we did."
"What stopped them?" Dany asked.
"The wildfire you had sent Northwards." Robb admitted. "We had to torch the castle, but it took enough of them with it."
"They still have more than we do." A voice that Durran recognised said from behind Robb.
Turning towards the noise, Durran grinned at the sight of the man, but his greeting was too late as Arya Stark had joined them and exclaimed. "Gendry!"
The knight turned to see his old friend and grinned. "That's Ser Gendry to you, Arry."
"Who was stupid enough to knight you?" She asked with a grin, before moving forward and locking him in a brief hug.
"That would be me." Durran stepped forward, hugging his elder half-brother. "How are you?" He asked.
"Alive." Gendry said solemnly. "More than can be said for dozens of my other brothers. They completely tore down Eastwatch Your Grace. Climbed over the Wall and smashed through the gates in all their force. They came for Castle Black then but most of us had evacuated by then. Thankfully Lord Stark offered us Winterfell."
"It's my pleasure, Lord Commander." Robb said, causing Durran to grin.
"Lord Commander?"
"The 1000th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch." Gendry sighed. "Edd didn't make it, he stayed at Castle Black."
Durran nodded, showing his condolences. "What of the Wildling's?"
"Some made it this far." Robb shrugged. "Most haven't been seen since the Dreadfort."
"Shit…" Durran said, and nobody could have said it better than that.
"We have a plan though." Robb nodded, leading them all through the camp towards the castle. "A moat is being dug around Winterfell. We plan to fill it with caches of your Wildfire and lighting it when they're close. Your pyromancers promise me that how we're doing it can contain it to just the moat."
"Well my Father managed to burn people alive with the stuff and not destroy the Red Keep, so hopefully they can be trusted." Dany said darkly.
"Hopefully it will slow them down." Robb added.
"Well done." Durran said honestly. "Are they coming here then, definitely?"
"Aye." Robb nodded unhappily. "This is where the largest population of people is in the North. They went for Eastwatch, then Castle Black, then Last Hearth, Karhold and the Dreadfort. All populated places in the North."
"White Harbour is evacuating too now." Gendry added. "They have high walls, but not high enough."
"But with the Wildfire, your army and your dragons." Robb said towards the King and Queen.
"We can make a last stand." Gendry finished.
Durran nodded as they passed through the gates to Winterfell. "And end this, once and for all."
"There is one more thing, Your Grace." Gendry said. "Something we didn't know before."
"Oh?" Durran asked.
"We know that Valyrian Steel and Dragonglass can kill the Walkers." The bastard began. "What we didn't know, is that once one dies, all the wights it animated die too."
"They just crumble." Robb nodded.
"Jonothor Roxton killed one outside of the Dreadfort as we were helping some of the smallfolk to flee." Gendry said, and Durran recognised the name as the man he had sent to the Wall with the Valyrian Steel sword Orphan-Maker.
"Is he still alive?" Dany asked. Gendry shook his head.
"He died of infection not long after." Gendry admitted. "We saved the sword though."
Durran let his eyes drop to the ground for a moment in mourning. "We'll give the sword back to his family today. Is there anything else that we've missed?"
A screech was heard in the sky, as the three dragons soared above Winterfell. Aelyx however veered off into a different direction, and Robb had a bemused laugh on his lips.
"Only Jon choosing his heritage." Robb told them, with a nod up to the dragon, as Aelyx dived and fell to the ground somewhere in the distance.
Dany didn't go with her husband into the castle of Winterfell, instead she made her way over to where Aelyx had landed and was surprised to see the green dragon staring at Jon Snow passively. The former Lord Commander had taken his glove off and was close to touching the green dragon on the snout. She got as close as she could without being spotted, and watched as Jon made contact with the dragon, stroking its massive head. Aelyx began almost purring, and Dany smiled at the sight.
"He recognises your mind is more settled." She called over to her kin. Jon looked up in surprise, stepping back.
"Your Grace… I'm sorry, he just landed by me and I thought…"
"You wanted to try and see how he would react this time." Dany noted, running her hand along Aelyx's scales. "You know, I never understood how bonding with a dragon worked before now. I knew I had more of a connection to Rhaellar as she grew, but you managed it in a single meeting in King's Landing."
Jon was confused. "He flew away in King's Landing…"
"But he flew up to you to see if you were worthy of him." Dany told him. "He could sense your blood. Now that you can feel it too he may let you ride him." She could see how much that appealed to Jon by the way his eyes wandered over to the dragon's wings and continued. "Just be firm with him, in your mind tell him that you're going to mount him and fly."
Jon considered it, and Dany could tell that in his mind he was trying to decide whether to fly the dragon or not, but he shook his head and took a step back. "I need to help dig out this moat." Was his excuse. Dany silently sighed and stroked the green beast, silently telling him to go and join his siblings. The dragon lifted his neck up to smell the air, and with a giant gust of wind he flapped his wings and flew into the air.
"We need the dragons in the fight." Dany told her nephew. "And if you are to mount him during the battle I'd rather you practiced.
Jon sighed. "I know, but we're busy here. I'll fly him in the morning." He tried to persuade her, as he regripped his shovel and made his way back towards the moat. Dany decided to help out and followed him as the two began speaking of Targaryen history and dragons while preparing Winterfell for the coming storm.
As the two Targaryen's were bonding over their dragons, Durran was led by Robb into the Godswood of Winterfell. Durran was in awe at the large woodland area. "It's beautiful." He said quietly, admiring how peaceful the Godswood was compared to everywhere else in Winterfell.
Robb nodded. "My Father always used to come here after an execution, to contemplate his actions and I believe to ask the Gods for their forgiveness. I tend to just come here to get away from it all."
Durran noticed two men seated by the Weirwood tree. One was covered in thick furs, and the other dressed all in black. "Samwell Tarly." He greeted the one he knew.
"Hello, Your Grace." Sam said.
"I thought you were in Oldtown?" Durran asked.
"He arrived a few days before you did." The other boy, who as Durran got closer he realised was Bran Stark.
"Bran… I'm glad you're alive. The last time I saw you…" Durran began before being interrupted.
"I was in a coma, you offered your sympathies to Mother and spoke to my Father about Daenerys Targaryen." Bran said monotonously.
Durran was slightly scared at that. "How do you know that?"
"He knows a lot nowadays." Robb said, looking warily at his brother. "Come, Samwell. Let us leave the King with Bran."
Sam nodded, and followed the Lord of Winterfell out of the Godswood. Durran took Sam's chair and looked towards the Stark boy. "What happened North of the Wall?"
"I became the Three Eyed Raven." Bran admitted. "I can see everything that's ever happened, and everything that is happening now." Durran wanted to be disbelieving, but he was in Winterfell because of an army of dead men, so why couldn't there be a raven with visions? "I want to show you something." Bran added.
"Me?" Durran was surprised.
Bran just nodded and held his hand out for Durran's. Tentatively, Durran took it, and then Bran placed his other hand on the trunk of the Weirwood tree.
He gasped, as Durran's mind lurched, and when he gathered his senses he found himself in a small room in the Red Keep. His vision coming back to him, he felt himself grow angry at Bran. In front of Durran was the dying King Robert Baratheon being given some Milk of the Poppy by Pycelle, with Renly by his side.
"Father…" Durran whispered, going to his side.
"He can't hear you." Bran said, walking around the bed. "But listen."
Durran did just that, as Pycelle left the room. "Why did you race off like that?" Renly asked, tearing up.
"I thought…" Robert began, in obvious agony. "I thought I had it. Ha, the King of the Seven Kingdom's murdered by a boar. Have it at my funeral feast, at least the bitch will enjoy a meal for once."
Renly shook his head. "You're not going to die, brother."
"I am." Robert grimaced in pain. "And I need you to do something. Bring Stannis and Durran back from Dragonstone, then help Ned. Cersei will try and take control for the damn Lannisters, I can feel it. Joffrey will need… will need better influences." He said, his face scrunching up in pain.
"I will." Renly nodded.
"And get those boys to stop battering each other with swords." Robert laughed lightly. "I swear, Durran should have been firstborn. He's the more suited. It sounds fucking awful but I'm more proud of him than any of my children, even than I am of me."
Durran felt a tear fall from his eye, as Renly nodded, taking Robert's hand.
"I'll bring them back." Renly promised.
"Killed…" The Milk of the Poppy was kicking in truly now, as Robert began to drift off to sleep. "By a pig…"
The great man's eyes closed, and Renly bowed his head in sadness. Durran wanted to go over and comfort his Uncle as he shared in the grief again, still as fresh as it was seven years earlier. A flash of light however and he was back in the snow in Winterfell, his tears freezing cold on his cheeks. "Why would you take me there?" Durran asked, wiping it away.
"Because you never got to see King Robert talk about you like that." Bran said. "And to prove to you that even your Father thought you were better suited to lead than he was, so that you can lead us all confidently in the battle to come." The sun finally went below the Walls of Winterfell, and the Godswood soon became shrouded in darkness. "And if we don't win, we'll never see sunlight again." Bran added.
Bran was right. It had been 5 days after Durran had had the vision in the Godswood and there had been no sunrise. Candles were burning constantly all throughout Winterfell and extra braziers had been commissioned in order for the castle exterior to be properly lit. Meals were being heavily rationed too for the account of the sheer amount of men at Winterfell. Randyll Tarly had sent groups off in all directions as scouts to try and make a guess at where the enemy would come from, but so far nothing had come of those parties.
Only a few issues had come from the differing Kingdom's all being in one space. Some Northmen and Ironborn had had a falling out, along with the Dornish and the Marcher Lords, but Daenerys, Edric Dayne and Stannis, who had turned up to Winterfell a day after Durran with a dozen men looking worse for wear after being in the lands by White Harbour, had intervened.
As the patrols were ongoing, Robb Stark was hosting the King, Queen and his own family in the Great Hall for their single meal of the day and thinking about how different the atmosphere felt to the feast so long ago.
"Do you remember the first time you came to Winterfell?" Robb mentioned to Durran as the latter was tucking into a chicken leg.
"Mm." Durran nodded, swallowing his mouthful. "I'm sure I stopped you from throwing something at Sansa." He said to Arya.
"I'm still annoyed at that." Arya sulked, but a smirk on her face gave her amusement away.
"I almost want to go back to that." Robb told them. "No cares in the world, just two families enjoying themselves."
"I think my Father enjoyed himself a bit too much." Durran chuckled, remembering his lecherous Father palm at the serving women all night. "Your Direwolf tried to eat me as well that night, I still remember those red eyes coming at me from the dark." He laughed to Jon.
The man in question grinned, turning his head to see Ghost and Grey Wind both snoozing behind them. "Aye, he smelt the meat on your fingers."
A round of laughs filled the table. Robb sighed, happily remembering the day. "Now look at us."
"Times are different." Dany said softly.
"One day we'll have another feast like that." Durran said firmly. "Where everyone is invited." He said to Jon, who smiled at the gesture. They were interrupted by a loud horn blowing from one of the towers.
"What's that?" Dany asked as the noise was ongoing.
"Ranger returning." Jon answered quickly. "We adopted the Watch's policy." He added as a second horn blew.
"Wildlings." Robb noted, his hand going to his sword belt.
"But they're in our army." Durran reminded everybody, as the third horn blew.
"Walkers." Jon whispered. "This is it." He threw himself to his feet and grabbed Blackfyre, which had been on the table.
Durran felt chills in his bones. "Benfred!" He called, as his Rykker squire came running over.
"Yes, Your Grace." He said.
"Go and prepare my armour, I'll be up in a second." Durran ordered. He turned to Dany and kissed her deeply. "I love you. Stay safe."
"I'll have Rhaellar." She whispered against his lips. "You come back to me."
Durran nodded before getting up and walking briskly up to the rooms he had been sharing with his Queen. Robb already had his armour on and was just tightening his pauldrons as the Queen also got up. "Jon, are you sure you're ready for this?" She asked.
Jon nodded. "I've been up a few times, I'll be alright." He said. Jon hugged Arya tightly. "Stay safe." He whispered. "You know what to do."
"Stick them with the pointy end." Arya chuckled, as Jon pulled away and stood before Robb.
"Give them hell." Robb told him, and Jon just nodded, before he and the Queen were the next to leave. "Come Arya." He said, and the two Stark's made their way through the castle in between men at arms who were grabbing weapons of all shapes and sizes. Spears, maces, flails and swords. Everything that could be used to fight was being taken.
While Arya walked off to the Godswood to check on their brother, Robb found his way up to the battlements to look out towards the distance. Towards the east and out of the trees sat a lone horseman, with spikes on his head that made it look like a crown. He seemed to lock eyes with Robb for a moment, before more horsemen slowly appeared out of the trees.
Stannis Baratheon soon appeared next to the Stark Lord. "Are the archers ready?" Robb asked.
"As ready as we'll ever be." Stannis replied gruffly, as infantrymen with all manner of decomposed flesh began to slowly filter out of the trees, stopping just before they got to the horses. "Your woman better be as good as you say she is."
"Oh, she is." Robb nodded, looking towards the First Keep where a small fire burned safely on the roof, and a red headed woman could be seen looking over towards Robb. The Stark man held his longsword in the air and swung downwards, signalling to her. From then all Robb had to do was watch as Ygritte lit an arrow and drew her bow backwards, firing. The arrow sailed through the air and over the gathered army of the living almost in slow motion, as Robb watched it disappear into the moat.
It wasn't even a second later when green flames erupted from the moat, spreading both ways but staying inside the dug-out area, and in almost no time at all the whole of Winterfell was encased in a Wildfire ring. The men below him began to cheer at the sight, and Durran took that moment to appear dressed in his Baratheon leathers with black steel plate pauldrons and chest guard, holding his antlered helm in one arm.
"Did it work?" He asked.
Robb wasn't sure. "They've not tried to face it yet."
"Very well." Durran nodded. "I'm going down there. The men need a speech."
"Make it a good one." Stannis told him, as the two kin clasped forearms. "It's been an honour, Your Grace."
Durran just grinned a cocky smile. "Don't go dying on me now, old man." He said before he walked down, three of his Kingsguard waiting for him on horseback. Robb swore he saw a smile on Stannis' face.
"I should be down there too." Robb said grimly.
"There'll be plenty to go around, Lord Stark." Stannis replied. "Our turn will come soon enough."
Robb nodded his agreement as he saw Durran riding before the men. He was just far enough away that Robb couldn't hear the words he was saying, but the impact in the men was apparent as they stopped shuffling nervously, standing tall and proud. He did hear the end however, as Durran screamed out. "WE WILL SHOW THEM OUR FURY! FOR THE LIVING!"
The men roared out the last part together, banging swords and shields together to create a deafening noise. Ygritte soon appeared beside Robb and the pair of them looked out at the scene.
"Banging bits of steel together won't scare them off." She scoffed.
"No, but it keeps morale up and makes the men believe they are brave, and not afraid." Stannis told her.
"My Father once told me that that is the only time a man can be brave." Robb smiled at the memory. "Or woman." He corrected himself.
"We are brave when we fight." Ygritte told him. "Where's Jon?"
"With the dragons." Robb told her.
Ygritte's face fell for a moment, before it hardened again. "He better live." She growled. "The fucker got me with child, he best meet his son."
Robb was about to say something to stop her from fighting when movement in the distance caught his eye, as the wights began to charge forwards. "ARCHERS!" Stannis bellowed. "NOCK YOUR ARROWS!"
"Here we go." Robb clenched his teeth and growled. He gripped the fur on Grey Wind's neck tightly for comfort as he watched the dead charge at them once more.
Even in the relative peace of the Godswood and through a vision of his ancestor Brandon the Builder laying the first stone of Winterfell Bran could hear the banging of shields and the snarls of the dead. Coming back to the present, he saw Arya leaning against the heart tree, clearly agitated and wanting to get out there. "Your role will come." Bran promised her.
"I know, I just feel craven stuck here while others are out fighting." Arya said shaking her head.
Bran nodded his understanding. "The fighting will spread; the wildfire won't hold them back for long." He said ominously. "But my role is close."
"What are you actually doing?" Arya asked, pushing herself away from the tree.
"Fighting the Night King himself eventually, but for now, only two of the dragons have riders." Bran told her, as he placed his hand on the Weirwood to expand his power. Slipping into another's skin had become second nature for the Stark boy, but a dragon was a different beast entirely. The black dragon Dārys fought him for a moment, but Bran was too powerful. He looked around with his large eyes and saw Dany instructing Jon on how to best fight on dragon back, and his hosts brother and sister all waiting around expectantly. Looking up to the sky, a voice rang through his mind, a mere memory but the words were still as powerful as the day he had heard them, so far away underneath the tree.
'You will never walk again, but you will fly.' The Bloodraven's voice filled Bran's mind as he got up on his hind legs and powerfully launched into the air, beating his leathery wings in time and ignoring the protests of Daenerys below him. It was so much more intense than flying as a raven, and if the situation wasn't so dire Bran might have enjoyed it.
He let out a roar as he rose far beyond Winterfell, hovering in the air for a moment watching the wights try and push through the Wildfire barrier, to no avail. Launching himself forwards with another roar, Bran felt the wind rushing against his scales as his eyes narrowed to find a target. He swiftly flew over the Wildfire barrier, truly seeing the sheer number of wights coming for them.
Not wasting a moment Bran roared once more, shooting a powerful blast of flame from his mouth and setting dozens of wights alight wherever he aimed. Sticking close to the Wildfire barrier, he roasted as many the crazed dead as he could, burning the corpses to ash.
This carried on for a while, as Bran combed the area nearest to Winterfell and roasted hundreds of wights that were rushing to attack the living, until suddenly Bran's chest was on fire as one of his hydrogen sacs in his torso exploded. Crying out in an agonised roar, Bran forced himself back into his own body.
"AAAAAH!" He screamed, patting down his human body for any signs of pain. His lungs were on fire and he felt like he was going to die.
"What? What is it?" Arya asked worriedly.
"I… I lost him. The dragon is dead." Bran panted angrily.
Jon knew that the scream of the dragon dying would haunt him until he died, but the look of sheer devastation on Dany's face made it even more unbearable. The thud of Dārys falling to the ground shook the ground of the castle too, and a sob escaped the Queen's lips.
"We have to go now." Jon told her. "We have to avenge him!"
"I… I can't…" Dany could just about get out.
"Yes you can!" Jon exclaimed. "Out there is a being that can bring back the dead, do you want that for Dārys?"
Dany shook her head, but her legs wouldn't move. Grunting his annoyance, Jon turned back to Aelyx who lowered his shoulder to let Jon climb on. Once he settled in between the green dragon's spikes, he shouted. "Sōvēs!" As Dārys had before him, Aelyx lifted himself up and began racing past the walls of Winterfell, the gathered army and the wall of Wildfire that was preventing the armies from meeting. "DRACARYS!" Jon shouted, and Aelyx did as he was bid, lighting up several of the dead.
The horses had begun to slowly move forward, spanning the entire length of the battlefield, although two remained close. The Night King and, to Jon's surprise, Lady Melisandre wearing colder colours. They were heading directly towards the fallen dragon. "Dive!" Jon commanded, and Aelyx began to race towards the dead and bleeding black monster, but he was too late.
As Jon began to scream for Aelyx to burn his brother, the Night King had already dismounted his horse and knelt by Dārys' head. "DRACARYS!" Jon cried, but it was too late. The purple haired Priestess of R'hllor held out her hands and looked to absorb the dragon fire as it raced towards the carcass of Dārys, and that was enough to buy the time for the Night King to work his magic, and Dārys' eyes turned blue. "No!" Jon cried, as Aelyx roared more flames towards his brother's corpse, but dragonhide was immune to fire. The Night King climbed atop Dārys' back and the dragon flew once more.
Jon's mind began to race. If he couldn't burn the carcass, he had to tear it to shreds and stab its organs with Dragonglass. "Aelyx! Tear him to pieces!" He commanded the green dragon in Valyrian, the tongue coming naturally to him, and with another roar Aelyx launched forwards.
Dārys was ready however, and the two dragons clashed together with an almighty thud. Claws and teeth sunk into both dragons, as over 170 years after the war of the same name, the Dragons danced again.
Every single man stood outside of Winterfell had their eyes in the sky as the two dragons fought closer to Winterfell. Durran was watching in sheer awe from atop his horse, but his attention was soon taken by a lone figure parting the wildfire. The woman stood with her hands out as the flames dissipated under her steps, and soon enough the entire moat was extinguished. The snarls and screeches of the wights were starting to become deafening, and Durran looked behind him, the cavalry of the Reach were in his vanguard, and he nodded to Mace Tyrell before unsheathing his Valyrian Steel sword Fury.
"Are you ready?" Durran asked his Kingsguard, Ser Barristan, Ser Arys and Ser Archibald Yronwood were his shadows for the battle, as the other three at Winterfell led men elsewhere.
"We're with you all the way, Your Grace." Ser Barristan answered for them. Durran nodded his thanks and turned back to his army.
"FOR THE LIVING!" He roared, once again repeating his message from his speech moments before, as the Knights behind him roared the same phrase, lowering their spears and unsheathing swords. Durran then turned back as the woman had disappeared, but the wights were in sight and running with pace. "ADVANCE!"
The wights were climbing out of their side of the moat now, and Durran kicked his horse into action, galloping the distance between them and the onrushing wights. Spears with Dragonglass tips lined up either side of him, and the whole world seemed to silence as Durran narrowed his eyes, ready to crash into the dead.
And crash he did. Durran's horse drove through the first line of wights with such force that their bodies just seemed to explode from the contact, and Durran had to raise his shield to stop a rogue arm from clattering into his helmet. Then he began hacking down at the dead with sheer ferocity, there was no strategy to his attacks, just pure power behind every blow.
It wasn't all their way though, as what the wights lacked in organisation they made up for in numbers. Durran saw the plumed helmet of Mace Tyrell be dragged off of his horse by half a dozen of the crazed dead, and by the time he had made his way over to try and help his bannerman the man had been torn into three pieces and bleeding heavily. The battle was like none he had ever seen, but seeing his people getting torn apart strengthened his resolve. "Hyaah!" He cried, as he kicked his horse into a gallop once more, slicing as much rotting flesh off of his enemy as he possibly could.
That's all he did for what seemed like an age, just hacking his sword downwards from horseback and keeping himself mobile so that he couldn't get swamped as Mace Tyrell had done. That was until another roar was heard from above them, and Durran's heart thumped louder in his chest through fear as Rhaellar and Daenerys had joined the battle in the sky.
It wasn't just the Reach forces that were in the thick of the fighting. After the Wildfire was no longer burning Robb and Stannis both left the walls of Winterfell to fight with their own men, leaving Ygritte to marshal the archers atop the high walls of Winterfell. Robb headed towards the left where his own Northman had joined with the last remaining Free Folk. He was glad for having practiced so much with the two handed greatsword that had been passed down by his family for generations then, as Wight after Wight fell to Ice.
The Lord of Winterfell felt exposed on foot, but as the main cavalry force had gone to the fresher Reachman, he had to make do. One half skeletal creature saw Robb, and screamed as it charged, running faster than any man Robb had ever seen. The scarred Stark quickly ducked below the axe blade, swiping Ice with force cutting the exposed spine in two before swinging back around to face the two parts of the dead man, swinging Ice around so the point of the blade faced the floor and drove the sword into both the skull and the snow underneath.
That kill exposed him though, as another Wight came clattering into him, knocking Robb off of his feet. Luckily, he kept his grip on Ice, and he brought it up to defend himself. Straining against the weight of the snapping man, Robb could feel his strength fading until suddenly a man in thick furs came barrelling into his attacker with force. Robb quickly got to his feet and watched as the Wildling King finished the Wight off with a Dragonglass dagger.
"Keep alert, Robb Stark." Mance Rayder began. "I won't always be there to…"
He was silenced with a groan, as an ice sword appeared through his chest. "No!" Robb screamed, bringing Ice up as a White Walker withdrew his blade from Mance's torso, waiting for the King Beyond the Wall to drop to the floor before stepping over his still writhing body to face Robb. The Walker swung the ice blade around his head, only to be met with a melodic twang as the Valyrian Steel of Ice held. Robb saw the confusion in the Walker's cold, blue eyes and Robb used that to his advantage, swinging Ice back around his head to go on the attack. He aimed for the Walker's left, for his leg and for his head with all of them getting parried but the Stark Lord kept pushing, using his anger to drive the walker back. Robb rained blow after blow upon the creature before a driving an overhead cut down, causing the creature to stumble under the force of the blow. Using the stumble, Robb drove Ice straight through the White Walker's chest with a roar, jumping back slightly as the creature crumbled into shards. Panting, Robb looked around as thousands of the wights crumbled, as if the magic binding them to whatever life they had just disappeared in an instant. The fight wasn't over however, as Robb swung his sword around his head once more to slash out at another Wight's head and carrying on the battle.
One of the things that Ser Gendry Durrande was most proud of was how he had managed to melt down some of the obsidian that he had been given at the wall to coat the spikes of his Father's old Warhammer in the substance. The bastard son of King Robert was like a demon outside the walls of Winterfell, swinging the hammer around and taking down dozens upon dozens of wights with his hybrid weapon.
The Night's Watch had dwindled down to it's last 30 or so men, the many skirmishes from Eastwatch to this moment having had a drastic impact on the once prestigious order, but Gendry unknowingly channelled his Father in his command, and the black cloaks fought ferociously on the front lines as the battle raged on both on the ground and in the sky. Even Sam Tarly, the once severely overweight man had managed while in Oldtown to trim some of the fat and fought back to back with Grenn, although Gendry still heard the odd whimper if a Wight got too close.
That whimper changed to a cry of "NO!" as Gendry caved in the skull of yet another rotting body. The Lord Commander turned around to see the Tarly boy, as he dragged Grenn over towards the centre, and close to where Gendry saw the banners of Randyll Tarly get swarmed.
"Night's Watch!" Gendry cried, swinging the hammer around his head again, before moving to an uppercut and sending the torso of a Wight flying into the air, it's legs still standing in the ground for a split second. "With me!"
Together, the few dozen men that remained fought in unison as Sam Tarly almost clawed his way through to where guardsmen of Lord Tarly had formed a tight circle. "Let me through!" Sam ordered, but the men dallied, and so Sam screamed. "I am his son, let me fucking through!" Gendry continued to hold wights off as Sam barged his way through, and though the fighting was still thick, the bastard could hear the conversation. "Father…"
"Sam." He heard the Master of War whimper out in pain. "You're alive…"
"So are you." He heard Sam say, surprised at the emotion in the man's voice.
Gendry heard a dying cough. "No Sam, I'm done." Tarly said, in pain yet still with a bitterness in his voice. "You… you're all that's left of our House."
"Don't say that you stubborn old bastard." Sam growled, and Gendry could tell he was crying. Randyll Tarly choked out a laugh, that turned into a growl of pain. Gendry smashed in another head before turning to see the two. Sam was crouched over a prone body, and if Gendry hadn't known the voice, the face wouldn't have been recognisable. Half of his face looked as if it had been clawed off by a beast of some sort.
"Take… take…" Randyll began, weakly holding out his own sword, before his hand fell limp. Sam lowered his head in silent mourning before grabbing the blade.
"Burn the body." He said darkly, venom in his eyes as one soldier was protected by the others started generating sparks, and caught the cloak of Randyll Tarly aflame, the body soon catching afterwards.
"Sam!" Gendry cried, crushing a wights leg before upper cutting once more to behead it. "We have to fight on."
Sam nodded, speaking to a soldier he clearly knew. "Kyle. Raise the banner."
"Yes milord… urm… Samwell." The man said, holding up the Tarly banner.
Sam held Heartsbane in the air. "HORN HILL!" He screamed, with a courage that Gendry had never seen of the bookworm before, as he led both the Watchmen and the levies of Horn Hill into thicker fighting.
While the wights were still swarming and killing many of the foot soldiers and cavalry on the ground, the battle in the air was still raging. Dany was absolutely terrified but determined to see that her child was avenged. Rhaellar was the smallest of the dragons, and she kept her distance for the most part while still swooping in to rip chunks out of Dārys' body and limbs. Aelyx was coming off bad too, but Jon was still holding his own, using his ability to move to use Blackfyre to swing at Dārys when the opportunity arose.
They were above Winterfell now, and both the male dragons were slowing down. Aelyx managed to rip a huge chunk out of Dārys' neck, roaring in triumph as the Night King's reanimated dragon staggered in the air, falling slightly. The victory was short lived however, as the undead dragon regained its balance. Aelyx swooped in for the kill once more, but the black beast managed to avoid its jaws, instead managing to snake around and dig its teeth into the join of the wing. Ripping away, Aelyx roared in agony as his wing was completely torn off, and the dragon plummeted to the ground.
"JON!" Dany screamed. "The neck wound. Rip his head off!" Dany commanded in Valyrian, and the cream and gold dragon did just that. She avoided Dārys' claws as she barrel rolled towards the neck wound, Dany clinging on for dear life until Rhaellar clamped her jaws into Dārys' neck and began shaking it around viciously.
The dragons tussled in the air, Dārys scratching with his feet when he could but the grip Rhaellar had him in was too much. Dany watched as the Night King somehow lost his grip and went tumbling down to the ground, disappearing into the chaos down below. Up in the sky though, Rhaellar was whipping her neck from left to right until she managed to open the dead dragon's neck so much that the force of the shaking did the rest, and Dārys' head was separated from its body.
Spitting it out, Rhaellar let out a deafening roar. Dany looked on sadly as the two parts of her biggest dragon fell to the floor with a crash, crushing dozens of wights and many of the Dornish and Ironborn part of the army too. Dany could feel tears mixing with the snowfall on her face and the pair of them were just hovering in the air until Rhaellar growled uncomfortably.
"Land!" Dany shouted, holding in her sobs. "Rest, behind the walls!"
The white dragon lowered towards the courtyard of Winterfell, landing awkwardly beside her fallen brother, who was still screeching in agony at the loss of his wing. Dany got off of Rhaellar and went to comfort the green dragon, but a body on the floor took her attention.
His eyes were closed, and his leg was caught under Aelyx. Blood poured from his head steadily. Dany held a hand to her mouth and cried out. "No!"
"Jon!" Ygritte's voice came from behind her, as the Wildling had abandoned her post to come rushing to the courtyard. "Wake up. Wake up you fucker." She cried as she skidded to her knees, holding his head in her hands.
"Ygritte… I'm so sorry." Dany said, tears falling of their own free will.
"Don't!" Ygritte snapped, crying herself. "Don't you fucking dare. Come on Jon Snow, open your eyes for me."
Dany couldn't stay there. She backed off slowly, devastated that her last adult kinsman had suffered such a fate before suddenly, she couldn't move in absolute terror. Jon had obeyed his wife's last request, but his eyes weren't their usual dark grey, but bright blue.
Edmure Tully was the first to be distracted by the tumultuous finale to the dragon battle, as his attention was taken by the brutality above him and he paid for that with a dozen knives in the chest. Durran felt ill as he saw the dragons falling, but the selfish sight of Rhaellar still flying after it all had filled him with enough hope and courage to keep ploughing through as many wights as he could find. He had also linked up with his Uncle, and together the Baratheon's proved their House words, and no dead man could stop them as they tore through the army of the dead.
For every man they killed however, it seemed they lost one too, and the White Walkers coming into play meant that every now and again a new wave of fresh corpses rose from the ground. Another instance of this happening had Durran turning to Stannis. "We need to kill those Walkers!" He roared.
Stannis agreed. "Stop standing around then!" He shouted back. Stannis then began striding over to the nearest blue skinned creature, swinging his sword around to take down wights in his way. Durran joined him with a grin, laughing manically as he took down his enemy. He was soon met by a giant however, and his courage turned to water.
He wasn't on his own though, as men of Storm's End and the rest of the Stormlands rallied around the King and they stabbed their spears and swords, surrounding the giant and poking him full of holes. Durran was the same, avoiding the legs as they kicked out, crushing people in his wake. Sensing an opportunity, Durran growled, and took out his dagger as well. "KEEP HIM BUSY!" He cried out, as he took Fury in his right hand and buried it deep into the Giant's hamstring, before using his dagger a little higher up. Stab after stab, Durran bravely climbed up the back of the Giant, praying to all Seven gods that the giant was kept too occupied by the dozens of men surrounding him to be able to swipe him off.
The King managed to get up to the neck but was having to hang on for dear life as the Giant's limbs were being torn to shreds to such an extent that the ligaments weren't joining. One scary moment came as it fell to one leg, after ten knights of the Stormlands led by Lord Rolland Caron, the former Bastard of Nightsong, hacked off a foot. Durran held on though, and with a roar buried his sword into the back of the giants neck and wrenched it across, severing the spine. The giant's head rolled forwards, half hanging off as the body lurched forwards too. Bracing himself, Durran clung onto the giants back as it crashed into the floor.
Panting, the King sat up. Rolland Storm looked slightly green as he helped Durran up, looking at the men that couldn't get out of the way in time. "You're fucking mad." Rolland told him.
"Someone had to do it." Durran panted. "Come on, there's more where they came from." They didn't meet another giant though, but instead Durran saw Stannis approach the White Walker they had been aiming for. "Stannis!" Durran cried, but the Lord of Storm's End didn't hear the cry, and instead tried to engage. His steel sword shattered at the contact with the ice weapon however, and while Stannis dodged a couple of swings and picked up another blade, he was still run through with the weapon. "NOOO!" Durran roared, sprinting over to his uncle, only to see the eldest Baratheon grinning as blood poured out his mouth, as he shoved a Dragonglass dagger into the shoulder of the unsuspecting Walker.
The creature shattered, and Stannis' legs buckled. Durran managed to catch him in time, but things didn't look good. His steel armour had been pierced all the way through and blood seeped out the wound. "Uncle Stannis." Durran cried, tears falling. "You fucking fool."
"I got it." Stannis grimaced in pain. "I did my duty… to you, Your Grace."
"Don't." Durran said, wiping his tears away. He could hear the Kingsguard surrounding him calling for his protection, but he didn't care. "Don't say goodbye."
"Tell Joy… Thank you. Tell Stefan… tell him…" Stannis began coughing. "To trust himself."
"Tell them yourself." Durran snarled. "I won't!"
Stannis held a hand up to hold Durran's cheeks. "It was an honour… an honour to serve… you…" He whispered, as the light faded out of his eyes.
Durran stayed there, holding his uncle in his arms in shock for at least a minute, before rage boiled over in his eyes and he let out a deafening roar. He felt hands on his shoulder, and Ser Barristan was pulling at him.
"We need to burn the body, Your Grace." The elderly knight said.
"No! He needs to be buried!" Durran argued like a child.
"Do it!" Ser Arys said, and Podrick Payne, who had found them during the battle, had a torch in his hands and lowered it onto Stannis until his flesh caught fire. Durran tried to struggle against Barristan's grip but he couldn't break free.
"No!" He cried. "No! He needs to wake up! No!" Durran screamed, but Barristan wouldn't let go.
"Call for a retreat." Barristan told Ser Arys Oakheart. "We'll get him within the safety of Winterfell for now! Get him to the Queen!"
Arys nodded and unstrapped a horn from around his back and blew once, signalling the retreat. Durran was still being pulled back, but all he saw was the body of his uncle burning in the snow.
Throughout all the chaos outside the walls of Winterfell, Bran had been recovering from the harrowing experience of his death inside the dragon. Arya had been waiting with him as patiently as she could be, but the elder sibling was having none of it anymore.
"Bran, you need to do something!" She urged. "We're retreating into the castle and they're still coming!"
Nodding, Bran said. "I will. You're needed out in the courtyard."
"I can't leave you unprotected." Arya said defiantly.
"I'm not unprotected, Arya." Bran told her calmly. "The Old Gods are with me."
At that, Bran let his eyes roll back as he found the mind of a raven, scouting. Spotting the single archer among the giants, Bran got an idea, and quickly released the raven before finding the giant and beating back his new hosts mind.
He felt powerful with the giant bow and tested the tension, before knocking an arrow and aiming at the head of another giant.
'Don't think too much Bran.' He could hear in the back of his mind.
'Relax your bow arm.'
Bran did as his thoughts told him, and soon loosed the heavy arrow. The shaft hit its mark, and the giant's head exploded, causing the large Wight to drop to the floor. Bran nocked another arrow and did the same at his other side, taking out another of the massive beasts.
The wights were clued on to what was happening now, and they came streaming for Bran's host. With one other giant remaining Bran got ready to aim again, ignoring the pain of the wights stabbing at his shins. As he was about to loose the arrow the giant in question dropped to the ground with a thud, as hundreds of other wights either fell or disintegrated. Bran released himself from the giant and found the raven again, watching from afar as the giant was slowly taken down by the dead.
If ravens could gasp, the next thing Bran saw would have made that happen. The Night King had re-joined his new bride and was walking slowly towards the retreating living, but it was the creature at his side that Bran was surprised and horrified to see. A Direwolf, his Direwolf. Summer had fur that had stained red and multiple wounds adorning his long body.
For the first time since the Three Eyed Raven had stopped him from running up the stairs in the Tower of Joy, Bran was truly angry. Cawing in rage at the sight however, he attracted the attention of the Night King, who sharply looked directly into his eyes, pushing him out of the Raven's mind and back into his own.
Bran gasped as he caught his breath. "No." He growled. "Not again. Not Summer."
Placing a hand on the Weirwood's face for strength, Bran found the mind of his first animal. Blinking, he felt the snow underneath his paws as he trotted along beside the Night King and the Lady Melisandre. Snarling, he leapt up at the woman, taking a bite of her arm. She was too powerful though, and she moved her hand back sharply, to bring it forward and hit Summer's body with the palm of her hand, setting the Direwolf alight.
Bran quickly released Summer, gasping for air as his head was pounding from the experience. Leaning back weakly in his chair, Bran whispered. "Now, you are free."
Sword met sword as two lovers fought. One had angry tears in her blue grey eyes, the other just an enraged look in his dead, blue eyes. Jon Snow had been reanimated once again, though this time he had come back as the thing he had spent his adult life trying to destroy. Blackfyre swung with no precision, just the rage of the dead. Ygritte was just as angry however, blocking the Valyrian Steel blade with everything she had.
Arya arrived at the scene once Bran had let her leave and mimicked Daenerys in just watching on with horror, until she withdrew her custom made Braavosi blade and went to join in. She couldn't get a decent blow in however, and Ygritte was left to fight on her own.
"This can't be happening." Arya growled, wishing once more that she had Nymeria by her side. It was happening however, and the scene turned to horror as Blackfyre pierced through Ygritte's stomach, and the dead Jon Targaryen snarled in victory.
Arya cried out in anguish as the Wildling girl dropped her sword and placed them around her belly. "Jon… Snow…" She gasped out, before collapsing to the ground unmoving, the sword of King's still poking out from her body. Arya flew into a rage then, rushing at Jon and knocking him over, stabbing him with the skinny steel blade over and over, as her knees held his hands in place.
"GIVE! ME! BACK! MY! BROTHER!" Arya screamed as she plunged her sword into Jon's torso and neck with every word. This just enraged him, as he leant forwards and bit into Arya's neck. The Stark girl screamed, and was thrown backwards, her hands automatically going to stop the blood flow from the teeth marks. Jon's body got up, his evil blue eyes trained on her as he advanced on Arya slowly, before being halted as Daenerys, having finally gotten over her shock of what had happened, swung Dark Sister at his neck, slicing clean through the skin and bone.
Gasping, and holding her blade outwards still dripping with blood, Arya's eyes widened in surprise as shining off of the dripping blade came sunlight. Dany noticed it too and held the blade in the air, allowing the blade to reflect the first sunrise in days to such an extent you'd have been forgiven for thinking the sword was aflame. "Lightbringer…" She whispered, but Arya didn't understand. Groaning, she moved herself to get to her feet, still holding her neck, and the Stark girl grabbed a torch, throwing it on to Jon's body.
"What the hell happened?" A voice came from behind as the gates slammed shut, with soldiers streaming into the courtyard. Arya turned around to see Robb still alive and standing with the King, both men covered in gore and panting. She rushed towards her brother and enveloped him in a hug, feeling blood trickle down her neck.
"Jon… He was Nissa Nissa, Dark Sister is Lightbringer." Dany said to her husband as they embraced too. "The stories… they're real. Dawn is here."
She was right, as the sky slowly filled with orange. Their delight at bringing the sun back was soon shattered by a loud thud at Winterfell's main gates.
Robb had sent Arya away to get patched up and joined the King and Queen on the battlements as they watched the wights clatter against the gates.
"They won't hold for long." Durran grimaced.
"I can't use Rhaellar, she's too injured." Dany told them, upset.
"The Walkers. All we need to do is focus on the Walkers. There can't be many of them left!" Robb said through gritted teeth.
"Three, maybe 4?" Durran said, trying to remember how many had been killed. "Stannis… Stannis killed one." He added sadly.
"I've got two." Robb told them. "I saw Hightower slay one as well before he fell."
"Harlaw got the giant raiser." Durran remembered. "Aye, not many left at all." The northern dialect seeped into his words.
"Then we focus on them." Robb nodded, looking around. "Arthur!" He called to a ginger wearing the surcoat of House Glenmore, one of his bannermen. "Thank fuck you're still breathing! Excuse me, Your Grace."
"Go." Durran nodded, knowing the Glenmore's were the finest archers in the North. He turned to Dany as he led her back down to the courtyard. "I want you with Rhaellar in the courtyard. She may be grounded but she still has fire. Light them up."
"I will." Dany told him. "So many are dead…"
"And the bastards keep rising afterwards, if we can't burn them." Durran gritted his teeth in fury. "Robb is right, focus on the Walker's and the spell is broken. Kill the Night King and maybe they all die."
"STAND CLEAR!" Durran heard, and he turned to see his half-brother moving the majority of survivors that had come through that gate back, giving it a wide berth. Ice began forming around the centre of the gates.
"Go." He told Dany. "Hurry!" She did as asked and ran back through the castle. Durran closed his eyes and whispered a prayer to the Warrior. "Guide my arm and guide my feet, give me a Walker to slay, and give us the victory." He whispered, repeating it as the ice spread to the whole gates. Durran looked up and saw Robb marshalling the archers, as they fired from the tops of the walls. A cheer went up, and Durran presumed they'd got one of the Walkers with a Dragonglass arrow, but then the gates exploded.
Ducking out of the way of the debris, Durran held his arm out to protect his face, slowly lowering it to see the Night King and Lady Melisandre standing there. Nothing moved for a second, until wights came rushing through the gates of Winterfell.
Durran saw Gendry roar as he was the first one to engage with his hammer, and soon the wights were upon the King too, and Fury was soon covered in whatever remnants of Wight it carved through. Body after body fell at his blade, as there was only one thing on Durran's mind.
The Night King and Melisandre hadn't moved, but another Walker had entered the castle boundary with a long ice spear. Durran adjusted his antlered helm quickly before rushing in, followed by two of his ever dutiful Kingsguard, although he didn't know who was still with him. The white cloaks cleared the way as Durran ploughed through the onrushing wights with the mission of reaching the Walker fresh in his mind. He soon managed it, and Fury and the Walker's weapon made music as they clashed. Grunting and crying out, Durran poured every bit of his strength into the fight but the Walker blocked everything. The creature then went on the offensive, but Durran managed to grab the Walker's sword arm with his own left hand, screaming out at the agony of the cold rushing through his gauntlets but forcing himself to run his sword into the Walker's neck, shattering it.
This must have been one of the eldest Walker's, as both inside the walls and outside of them thousands of wights crumbled to bones, causing the few thousand that still lived to cheer, pushing their morale just high enough to cause a surge of men to attack the gates. Durran backed off as men rushed past him, gripping the hand that was in absolute agony.
'The Godswood. Come.' A voice said in his head, and Durran felt himself moving back towards the main courtyard of the castle and through the archway into the sacred area of Winterfell.
Robb saw the King retreat clutching his hand, and dread filled him as he saw the Night King and Melisandre make their way slowly towards the Godswood as well. Holding Ice in both hands he tried to make his way back down the stone steps to the ground, but wights were savagely forcing their way in the opposite direction. The fighting was narrow, but Robb kept swinging Ice and stopping the dead in their tracks, until one barrelled into him, knocking him off of the steps, and making him fall down around 8 feet onto the ground with a thud.
Groaning, Robb rolled onto his front and crawled over to where he had dropped ice, picking up the blade as he tried to get to his feet, only stumbling once. Forcing himself to his feet, Robb rubbed his aching back, when running towards him he saw the familiar Tully armour with countless holes in, and ginger hair of his Uncle Edmure.
Snarling, Robb forced himself to grit his teeth through the pain and swing Ice at his undead uncle. The Tully Wight countered once, but the force of Robb's strikes was too great, and the dead Lord collapsed as his body was carved in two from shoulder to hip. Robb made sure that he wouldn't rise again, numbing himself emotionally as he forced Ice through his Uncle's skull. Bringing the blade back up, his bones shuddered as a screech came from behind him. Turning just in time to parry the double handed ice blade, Robb yet again found himself locking swords with a White Walker. He was done with prolonging the fights now though, as he rained blow after blow upon the creature before swinging Ice down onto the Walker's skull, shattering it into millions of pieces.
The Wight's were dwindling now, as more just dropped to the floor when the magic that bound them to mobility disappeared. Robb didn't stop to take a breath however, as he shouted over to a still warring Ser Barristan. "The Godswood!"
Durran stumbled into the picturesque miniature forest that was the Godswood, his head throbbing. Over by the heart tree he saw Dany crouched over Bran Stark, who looked to be writhing in agony. Rushing over, he grasped the arm of Bran's chair. "What happened?" He asked.
"I don't know." Dany cried. "He was fitting when I got here."
"After me." Bran managed to get out, as his spasms grew weaker. "He's after me."
"Why?" Dany asked, but there was no time for an answer. The weather chilled and the leaves of the Weirwood's suddenly grew thick with ice. Both Durran and Daenerys turned slowly towards the entrance of the Godswood, as the Night King and his bride appeared, their feet covered by icy mist.
"Get out of here." Durran whispered. "Get on Rhaellar and fly away. If I fall, then incinerate the castle. Ignite the wights, ignite the Walkers. Just burn them all."
"Burn them all." Bran gasped, as his eyes went white and he started shaking again. "Burn them all. Burn them all!"
Dany shook her head. "No. I'm with you till the end."
Durran took his spare hand and cupped her chin, leaning down to capture her lips one last time. They broke apart after a moment and turned to face the oncoming enemy with venom in their eyes.
Durran rushed forwards, another loud roar coming from his mouth as Fury connected with the giant two-handed scythe of the Night King. He tried to overpower the creature of nightmare as their blades locked, forcing Fury down towards the demon, but the Night King was strong too, and he pushed Durran away with relative ease.
"The woman is his weakness." Bran said from the Weirwood, his face shaking quickly, "Kill her. Kill her. Kill her."
Looking worriedly at Dany, who held Dark Sister in her hands shakily, Durran's rage grew at the thought of losing his love, and he spun around evading the horizontal swing of the scythe, and powering through the sudden blast of wind coming from the witch's hands, feeling his blade sink deeply into Melisandre's breast. The colour started going back to her hair as the Valyrian Steel stuck in her body, with her face losing its paleness as she smiled down at the sight of the sword in her belly.
"R'hllor stands victorious." She choked out. "He is like any man, weakened… weakened by his Queen."
She pushed out, and Durran fell backwards into the snow, coughing as the wind was knocked out of his chest. He looked back up at the Red Witch as she embraced her fate, her dress hem beginning to burn until she was completely aflame. Durran had to cover his eyes with the still painful hand from earlier, until suddenly the light dimmed, and Fury was spat back towards him.
For the first time, emotion seemed to show in the Night King's eyes as they narrowed in rage. Durran had to be quick to hold Fury up, but the blade was quickly parried to one side by the giant scythe before the Night King made ready to finish his kill.
"No!" Dany shouted, as she swung her own Valyrian blade at the Night King, who had to block it. That gave Durran enough time to roll to the side, picking up Fury as he went. Getting back to his feet he saw Dany being pushed backwards and moved in, swinging Fury with all his might only to be blocked again.
Together, the Targaryen and the Baratheon united in their assault, hacking at the Night King with everything they had, but the demon was equal to them both. He lashed out with his foot, causing Dany to fall to the ground before he swung the giant weapon around his head, causing Durran to parry to his left quickly. The Night King then swung again and Durran barely caught the parry, as the Scythe was directed into his left-hand side.
The blade seemed to melt through the armour and dug half an inch or so into Durran's flesh. Screaming in agony, Durran grabbed the Night King's arm, holding the blade there. The battle of strength was evenly matched as the Night King failed to retrieve his weapon, his bright blue eyes baring into Durran's own darker blue with rage, as Durran determinedly held him into place. Suddenly a gasp, as Dark Sister's point forced its way into the Night King's back and out his chest.
The White Walker dropped his weapon, leaving Durran to rip it out of his side with an anguished scream as he dropped to the floor. Looking up, he saw the Night King staggering backwards. Dany moved out of the way and ran to protect Durran, but there was no need. Looking surprised, the Night King stared into the violet eyes of its slayer, his own eyes wide in fear. Slowly, bits began breaking off. Fingers at first, then chunks of its arms, facial features and neck until suddenly the Night King crumbled to the ground.
Dany took that moment to swing round and kneel before her husband, holding his head in her arms. "You're ok. Please tell me you're ok." She began to tear up.
"I'm fine." Durran gasped, in agony but knowing it was only a flesh wound. "You did it… You beat him."
"We beat him." Dany told him firmly. "Together."
"United." Durran grimaced, as he tried to sit himself up. He put one arm around her as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. Bodies came rushing into the Godswood then, as Robb Stark and Gendry led some of the survivors into the sacred place. Durran saw Robb cock his head questioningly, and Durran just nodded. No words needed saying. The cost was great, and it would take generations to truly rebuild, but the living had done it. They had won.
There we are then. The War for the Dawn is a costly, costly victory. So many dead as should happen in a battle such as this, but the threat is over with. I personally feel like this has wrapped things up nicely, with hints to the very first few chapters with the flashbacks to Robert, Renly, and then Robb and Jon helping Bran with his archery from the first episode. But it also sets a few things up for the future of the world, which is important in this world.
I don't really want to say a lot in this outro, I'll save my long author's note for the epilogue. All I will say is that I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any questions about the fate of anybody then just ask me in either a review or a PM. A battle of this size I wanted to try and limit it to a few POV's, and I hope I did it justice.
Thank you all for reading, and I'll see you all next time for the final instalment (other than a potential 320 AC family tree chapter so you can see the state of Westeros)
Reviews:
ZabuzasGirl: Black Wolf will be back as soon as I've seen this season of Game of Thrones and know how I want to adapt that to fit in with Torrhen's story.
Hail King Cerion: I hope the showdown was good enough!
Vwchick: Sorry to be pedantic but it's Elaenor! (Ell-ay-nor)
Many Faced Mage: He didn't trust her at the start and then the lie had gone on for too long is how I took it.
Marvelmyra: I really wish you'd get an account on this site so I can PM you the responses to your reviews of old chapters instead of clogging up this section of this chapter, but ignoring the grammar because I've already told you in another story that if it's not glaring and detrimental to the story, I'll ignore it. 4) They'd been at Winterfell for a while so it had begun to heal, and he was showing off as a child would do. 7) Davos was on Dragonstone at the first meeting, and then was off doing what he was doing on the show, gathering ships for the army. 8) I'm from the UK, we call it by either but mostly 'Series' as in Series 4 of Doctor Who etc. And yes, this is an AU where Stannis' sort of success in retrieving Dany meant that Robert gave him Storm's End and a Stormlander wife, meaning an entirely new family. Stefan and Davos are his sons. 10) Why does he need to tell everyone he killed Lancel? The Council wanted it quiet that Joffrey had done such an idiotic thing and Durran wasn't likely to tell anybody. Also, they aren't direct cousins, so it depends on your definition of kinslaying to mean everybody in your Mother's House as to whether people will care. 13) You're being very harsh on an impressionable 13-year-old girl there. 14) Your views on loyalty wouldn't have gone down well in this sort of setting. Winterfell owed its allegiance to House Baratheon, and at that time Joffrey. Daenerys' explanation on perpetuity in Season 7 is exactly what is meant here. Just because a new King comes in doesn't mean that you're independent again. As for the Gardeners, I never mentioned them in the chapter, so I have no idea why you're telling me something I already know. 20) Targaryen's were cremated. 33) Brightroar is long gone so they were only going off of those that they knew were probably in Westeros and there is no record of a Durrandon Valyrian Steel sword in the lore. 39) Aunt/Nephew or Uncle/Niece marriages are common in Westeros, as are cousin/cousin (Tywin/Joanna, Ned's parents etc). So honestly in the setting I find that to be a lot better than the usual Targaryen incest. I just get the feeling you don't like Daenerys, which is amusing when this story has her in a big role throughout.
BBryant: The War of the Four Kings was brutal, with the Lannisters/Riverlands being decimated. The Vale had a bloody civil war too, leaving three Kingdom's that together could barely muster up enough troops to fight off the Crownlands. The North had half its army burned by Dany, and Durran had his forces jumped on by the North before that. Maybe 55,000 in the South is too few, but I also can't imagine Dorne bringing too many men Northwards after their treatment meaning most of the army is Reachmen.
Lightningscar: She was certainly shocked, I hope I portrayed it well enough as while it's horrifying, they still had a job to do and they can mourn later. I'm sorry that I did it all in one fight for Durran, but the actual war spanned the months of the Southerners marching Northwards, and many little skirmishes still happened.