Tyrion

He had arrived scarcely two hours before, barely making it into the castle before the slow ominous storm came to Riverrun. Besides the storms though, there was just something in the air that unnerved Tyrion. Whatever it was it reminded him very much of his brief time on the wall. Though his time on the wall had been a brief one, it now held a strong influence over his thoughts.

It was cold times such as these that he thought of Jon Snow. The Northmen whom he talked to told him that the wall had fallen. Little was known, about how it fell, but the few black brothers he found would not speak of it.

Tyrion could not imagine what could have happened up there that was so terrifying for them, but it had driven them half-mad, the most of them. Scarcely any of them would have been willing to speak to him anyhow, terror or none.

Besides that, nearly everyone at Riverrun had looked at him with distrust and sometimes hostility.

Worst of all was the Direwolf. It had seen him once before he recalled, and it must have sensed his Imp soul long ago, for it was howling loudly even before he was in earshot of the castle. Later he felt an odd sense of relief when he learned that direwolf who in fact belonged to long lost Rickon Stark was actually hostile towards queen Daenerys. I told her the wolf pelt was bad idea.

His command at least was out of the cold, and for that he was grateful. It mattered little that their reception was little warmer than the frigid winds that howled from outside.

He and his commanders took their offered meals with the common soldiery who most lords looked down upon. It was better for them all to be in one place in the Riverlands as Tyrion had learned.

"It seems you missed quite a standoff," one of his knights had told him. The knight who had told him had been ordered to escort Sansa to Riverrun ahead of the army, and had seen it all. "Some lord from the neck told our esteemed queen that she has a nephew thanks to Rhaegar. As shocked as we all were, she took it the worst of anybody."

"What nephew?" This was news to him. "I haven't heard any tales of Rhaegar sowing his wild oats, as if he were Aegon the Unworthy."

To Tyrion's surprise, the knight's serious face melted ... it melted into laughter. Do you remember why the war of the 'Usurper' happened. I can only say its a good thing Robert Baratheon did not know abut this one. We would have had a War of the Dragonspawn."

Why would King Robert care about someone's bastard. Half the seven kingdoms had Targaryen blood it seemed, and even Robert Baratheon's fury had it's limits.

"Your wife tells me that you get along with him much better then our current queen." Tyrion felt his hand grip his goblet with irritation. Damn you Sansa, you've caused me enough grief as it is.

"Why would Sansa care that much about another Targaryen claimant?"

"Because that claimant is her own cousin, Jon Snow."

A loud horn blew and it reverberated through the hall, it was an ominous one, and it blew three times.

Samwell

They came together in a rush of steel, shadow, and flame.

Jon quickly thrust Longclaw into the closest wight and promptly withdrew it in time to meet the blade of another wight, not even taking the time to ensure that it caught fire.

Then, a pair of wights lumbered towards him. Sam held his longsword in his right hand and the torch in his left. He met the first one head on forcing down the dead man's shattered steel, before stepping on his foot and forcing the torch onto it's neck.

The wight caught fire instantly, and Sam hurriedly stepped away to meet the next one.

He blocked a wicked chop, but was forced to take a step back.

The wight followed through, and overexended itself. It made a clumsy thrust that was easily avoided. Sam brought his own longsword down on the vulnerable arm severed it as if he cutting through cheese.

The sword, as well as the hand attached to it fell and hit the ground with a clang. For a barest second, the wight looked surprised. That was when he struck, his torch made contact with the stump of an arm and the wight shrieked with the flames licking it's shoulder.

The wights dropped all around them to fire one by one as the battle raged.

When Jon drove his Valyrian blade into the wight that had been Stannis Baratheon, which was the last wight standing, He gave a loud cry of pain. Jon Snow clutched his right arm in pain, and limped a step back, before falling to his knees leaving Longclaw in Stannis the wight.

Samwell surveyed the surroundings and after making sure that no more wights were present, he knelt where beside Jon.

"Sam," he called out with pain in his voice. "I'm hurt, Needle, it burns." His friend offered the injured arm with a slight clumsiness. He examined the arm, and sure enough, the wound he had taken from the wight under the cold spring, was festering.

Sam looked for the blade that had done the deed, and quickly found it within an arm's reach. Acting on a suspicion, he sniffed the blade.

"Jon," Sam did his best to suppress the concern in his voice. "This blade has Greycap. Most of it was thinned off from all that time in the pond, but Greycap is sticky underwater, and there's still enough on here to kill a man within a day."

"Can it be treated Sam?"

He shook his head, the only thing you can do for it is to develop an immunity to the poison before enough of it is in your body."

"Get up Jon Snow, if you can."

He tried to rise, but failed. "Sam, a wight got me from behind, on the left leg, it a long cut and I might bleed out before the poison takes me."

They would have to hurry. The only path was forward, and it's end would soon be in sight Sam decided.

"Do you remember the summer, Jon? We'll be seeing it soon. You can even see it in the Reach; we can savor the warm sun of Oldtown as we take cups of delicious summerwine, and we'll walk past the endless rows of ripe peaches together. Have you ever tasted a peach picked fresh off the trees, Jon Snow?"

"No Sam, I don't even remember the last piece of fruit I ate."

"Let's go, Jon Snow."

Jon tried to get up, but his legs were too weak.

"I can't make you get up, but I can carry you."

He gripped Jon by his arms, and heard a gasp of pain, as he helped Jon stand.

With Jon's left arm over his back, they made their way to the stairs, carved into the ageless stone, and into the cavern itself.

The faint acrid smell of brimstone filled this place and the air was rife with the light humid steam that emerged from some of the ponds. The quiet sound of the warm springs that had become the heart of this dying place could be heard, a heart that still beat on when its owner stopped fighting to live.

And down in the the center of the cavern was great pit unlike any other. Though much bigger than any other spring, no steam arose from its waters. It was what had been known as the fountain of time in the dusty tome he read in the Citadel's Vault.

They navigated their way though a maze of rubble to reach it. When they finally did, He helped Jon lay down. He was losing blood, and his movements were becoming disoriented.

He pulled several layers of furs and leather from Jon, and heard his friend exhale in delirious relief. They had both entered this place heavy laden for cold above, but now, they were overheating part in the haste to get down here, and partly because the heat was pleasantly warm here in bowels of Winterfell.

At least our sweat will not turn into a layer of ice down here, thought Sam, as he stripped Jon down to his small clothes. He then turned and did the same, but he had only taken off his thick overcoat before something caught his eyes.

At the edge of a rocky slope, was a shell of something with dark scales. He dropped the coat and had a look.

Samwell Tarly had never seen a dragon egg, but he knew enough about them to know what he was seeing. It was a queer thing to think about, but he recalled Archmaester Gyldayn's lauded account of the Dance of Dragons, the one that happened nearly two centuries ago. Gyldayn had been wrong about many things in his account, and as Maester Samwell later learned, he most likely left some stuff out of his account by deliberate omission. The Dance of Dragons, he would later learn would never have become the war it became had not Otto Hightower used the order for the gain of the Greens.

He had also dismissed the idea that a cache of Dragon eggs laid by Vermax, were hidden beneath Winterfell when Jacerys Velaryon rode here to gain the support of the North in what would become the pact of ice and fire. Though Jacerys died shortly after the pact was made, the pact lived on and eventually helped see Aegon III the Dragonsbane on the throne, despite the shadow Cregan Stark had put over King's Landing.

Sam had no doubt, that the ice dragons he had heard about were hatched here. He was still purplexed however, how could a newly hatched dragon have caused so much damage leaving this place taking a straight shot to the surface.

"Who are you, why are you following me!" Sam returned his wandering mind to the present situation, as he heard Jon scream in agonized fear.

He hurried over to Jon and shook him. "Jon, you're having a fever … get out of it." The distant look in Jon's grey eyes was the most frightening thing of the whole ordeal. They were consumed with madness and fear, as his body grew faint from loss of blood and the poison that was going to work on him faster because of it, and Greycap did not bleed out easily, as Archmaester Ebrose once lectured.

But soon he recovered from the madness, at least for now.

"Sam?" for a moment Jon just stared at one of the many fallen statues.

"I saw someone, Sam. It was a woman, she wore a dress and it was covered in blood."

"You're seeing things Jon, you're mad with pain and its only going to get worse."

Sam pulled out one of his Qohorik daggers and dipped it in the spring before pressing the blade on the Jon's bloodsoaked breeches. After ensuring that blood was on both sides, he handed it to Jon.

"Take this, its forged with sorcery in Qohor. If this works the way I think it will, we'll be back about 296 years after Aegon's Landing."

"Find me as soon as I take charge of Horn Hill. I'll send a raven to Winterfell when I do."

"How will you get Horn Hill?" Jon asked. Sam politely looked away as Jon fumbled at his bloodied smallclothes. He had told Jon earlier that it would work better if Jon had nothing on him but the bloody dagger, especially if anything else had blood on it.

"That's my problem." Sam heard himself reply automatically with a coldness that surprised even him, as he removed his maester's chain and then his tunic.

Jon gave him a strange look, "I know that your father tried wanted you dead for wearing a chain, but what kind of man did the Citadel turn you into?"

A healer and trained killer among other things, thought Sam. Outwardly he shrugged.

"When you reach the past, can you find a better place for the dragon eggs down here?" Jon tried to rise, but stumbled and Sam helped him to the fountain before giving him a push.

He saw a strange current pull Jon under the water.

Sam stripped himself of his remaining garments, and jumped in surrendering his body to the strange undercurrent in the spring that pulled him underwater. He could feel his eyesight dimming fading to darkness, and then he saw a blinding light.

And so they pressed on, their bodies vessels against the current of time, thrown into the past.

Dany

She had never felt a cold like this, the winds alone bit sharp and cold as knife. She flew across the frozen fork in the river on her dragon, the northern winds blowing against her.

She saw the three dragons that had screeched several times today. None of them were bigger than Rhaegal, but they were ready for her and they were three to her one. Ice Dragons, the Northmen had called them, were ice made flesh. The direct opposite of what she rode.

Daenerys Targaryen had agreed to defeat an army whose existence she still did not truly believe to earn the fealty of the northmen.

They were higher in the sky than she was and immediately took her challenge, free falling into a dive from their higher places.

The stirrups in her specialized saddle, she twisted, and she lowered her profile towards her last dragon. Rhaegal knew the signal, and sped forward at redoubled speed outpacing the ice dragons from above. And when she was certain that she was behind them, Dany tugged upwards at the reigns causing Rhaegal to ascend the skies.

Dany turned her head upwards out the upper corners of her eyes, she saw them gracefully turn around mid-dive and level their flight towards her. Her eyes went back to the saddle and she tapped her dragon with both legs telling him to barrel roll before leveling off her flight now that she had height over the enemies.

Below she saw their ice dragons and their equally icy riders. Until now, they flew in a formation with the shape of a V, but now it broke up as they split directions. When they broke off, the one in the center made a straight shot towards her and would easily reach her she knew. These dragons though smaller, were much more nimble as she could now see.

The others ascended as well hoping to catch up with her form behind. With their formation divided, Dany motioned Rhaegal into a dive before kicking him on his left, and shifting her weight slightly in that direction in anticipation of the manuever.

"Dracarys" she shouted, as Rhaegal dove head on for the nearest ice dragon. Smoke rose from his scales and fire erupted from his jaws in a dazzling stream of light and death that nearly blinded her in the night sky.

A loud painfull screech cut through the cold air as dragonflame hit home. The ice dragon was stunned was stunned at the least, and dying at the most she guessed. The Qohorik blade that she wore at her side was drawn and she held it out as she went past the nearest enemy. The blade struck the ice dragon with such a force that she feared it would be knocked from her hand, but she held on as the sword made a thin cut along the dragon's belly. Dany felt a faint trail of heat from the path of the blade.

She looked to the sight that awaiting her of the remaining two bearing down on her. The one on the left opened his mouth, and Dany instinctively motioned Rhaegal to roll turning to the right.

Her dragon obeyed and did a roll that barely dodged an incoming stream of looked like mist coming fast and deadly. Even though she avoided it, she could still feel it bite sharp and cold as a leech. As Rhaegal flew with his back to the distant ground below, the dragon on the right passed her by, its rider almost an arms reach away.

For what seemed an eternity, she stared at the rider, a being of inhuman beauty whose reflective armor shone and beamed different shades of the same icy blue. Its eyes were the worst part, they bore malice that did not even seem possible for any human.

When she was almost directly above, she recovered her senses, and drove Rheagal down on the ice dragon's tail, while she lowered her sword to brace against the saddle. His jaw snapped shut and he made contact with the end of the other dragon's tail. The impact jarred both riders.

The ice dragon could not get away from the bigger creature and was dragged down by its tail. Dany rubbed Rhaegal past the edge of the saddle he released the dragon in his teeth. Then, Rhaegal flew upwards as directed and took a bite out of the dragon's neck.

But she saw her fatal error coming too late, the third dragon came down on her's before she could avert it, and snapped its jaws around Rhaegal's back behind her saddle. A sickening crack was heard that only could have been her dragon's spine.

Dany's eyes went to the blade, and quickly untangled her herself from the saddle and made a daring jump up the neck of dying Rhaegal and tried to leap onto another an ice dragon as the strength left the jaws of her own.

She froze for a moment when she realized she was toe-to-toe with an Other, and in that moment she lost her footing and stumbled. As she fell she attemped to stick the sword to the dragon, but her attmept was in vain and the sword swung wildly until it met her left arm drawing much blood. She felt herself falling, and she heard an ugly cry leave her mouth that was her own.

The Mother of Dragons looked down below at the river that was beneath her and getting larger. There were many holes in the ice, and she armies of the undead crossing the remaing ice. She saw the fires that flew with the arrows, and towards the wall, she saw them scaling the walls themselves.

The last thing she felt was the cold water that bit like a thousand swords. The last thing she saw was the dark ice beneath the water before her broken body lost consciousness and transitioned from into darkness then light.