Chapter 66

…

Watching the massive metal gate lower, the giant golden "teeth" blocking off the Lion's Mouth, and separating her from Jaime, was the most difficult thing Sansa had ever done. She felt a fear that reminded her of when her father had been taken prisoner. A feeling of helplessness and a sense that a change had come that she didn't want. And Sansa was overwhelmed with the desire to run after Jaime, no matter how un-ladylike it would have been. She choked back a sob, feeling her eyes tear, and Roslin put her arm around her, giving in to her own tears at Edmure's departure.

Sansa wiped her eyes, pulling herself together for the benefit of the thousands of Jaime's men who remained. You are Jaime Lannister's lady wife. You are the Lady of Casterly Rock. She reminded herself that these men were hers to command until Jaime returned. She could not appear weak in front of them. It would bring shame on her lord husband. And on her house. I have to be the wife that Jaime deserves. She wanted him to be proud of her. The Lady of the Rock must be brave and strong.

Sansa took a deep breath and resolutely linked her arm through Roslin's. "It's going to be all right. They'll return to us," she whispered, squeezing her friend's hand. She ordered Jaime's men, with the exception of those who were to remain at the Lion's Mouth and those who served as her personal guards, to return to their barracks. For a moment, she feared they would not obey her, but they did as she asked.

Sansa led Roslin back to the Great Hall, where she reclaimed her baby from Pia's arms. She hugged Julianna, kissing her head, and watched as her mother returned little Bethany to Roslin.

Sansa closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of the baby, holding her close and telling herself to be strong for her. She felt her mother's arms around her shoulder. "Are you all right, my love?"

Sansa nodded. "Where is Tommen?" she asked quietly.

"He went up to his chamber," her mother said gently. Sansa knew the little boy was upset over Jaime leaving. "He'll be all right."

"I'm going to my chamber as well."

"Are you certain you don't wish to stay here, Sansa? It might do you good to have a bit of a distraction."

"I'll be all right, mother. I want to be alone for a while." She hugged her before hurrying upstairs, carrying Julianna with her. She entered her chamber and sat in the large window seat, watching Jaime and his men continue their march into Lannisport. Sansa stared out the window, holding Julianna and watching them ride off for as long as possible, until she could no longer see them. Sansa closed her eyes, praying to the Warrior and the Father to protect Jaime and to help all of the men in the battle, so that they could prevail against the White Walkers and return home safely.

Julianna was making noises to get her attention, and Sansa smiled down at her baby girl, holding her so she could stand up on Sansa's lap, and watched her bounce up and down, testing the strength of her legs. "Your father will return to us. I know it. He loves you so much, Julianna. He loves his little lioness." The babe smiled when Sansa said her name and she wrapped her arms around her daughter, who made her little sounds – not quite words – and rested her head on Sansa's shoulder. At least I'll have a part of Jaime with me, until he returns. Whenever I want to see his eyes, I need only look at our daughter. She spent that entire first day in their chamber, seated by the window, thinking about Jaime as she held their baby in her arms.

Later in the afternoon, she heard Tommen and Arya outside the chamber doors, practicing with wooden swords in the hallway. Sansa knew that Jaime had taken Arya aside before he left and asked her to be kind to Tommen while he was gone and to play with him. He had told Arya how much the little boy liked her and wished to be friends; that he missed having Myrcella to play with. Arya had grudgingly agreed, though she made Jaime promise to teach her to joust once the spring came.

Sansa wondered where Jaime was and if he was all right. Jaime had told her that they'd likely not encounter the White Walkers until the darkness fell, and Sansa found herself praying that it would never come. The darkness did come, and far sooner than Sansa wished it. She knew it would be dark for many days, and that Jaime would be in danger for every moment of it.

Sansa didn't have much of an appetite, and remained in her chamber when Pia came to tell her that dinner was ready downstairs. Despite her insistence that she wasn't hungry, Pia had returned with a tray of food for she and the children to share. Sansa thanked her, knowing the girl was completely loyal to Jaime and cared about what happened to his wife and daughter. She called Tommen and Arya in to eat in her chamber, placing the tray on the floor before the fire. Sansa fed Julianna little bits of food, while Tommen and Arya piled the roasted meat and potatoes on their plates.

She watched Tommen carefully, knowing it was her duty to look after Jaime's son. The little golden-haired boy seemed in better spirits, than when he'd tearfully said goodbye to Jaime. It had broken her heart to watch him cry as he fearfully clung to Jaime. Hearing Jaime tell little Tommen that he loved him had brought a tear to Sansa's eyes. He has to return, now that he has been given the chance to have a relationship with his young son. Finally.

After supper, Sansa wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed. She was exhausted from the emotion of the day, and a small part of her hoped that she would wake to Jaime's return. "Tommen, go ask Pia to help you get ready for bed, and I'll come tuck you in."

"Uncle Jaime said I should sleep with you while he's gone. So you're not lonely."

Sansa smiled, easily imagining Jaime asking Tommen to do such a thing. She'd not slept alone since she and Jaime were married. They had never been separated, and it would be a comfort to have Jaime's children sleeping near her. "All right…go change into your nightclothes and then come back."

Tommen smiled and ran out of the room.

"Arya, will you watch her while I undress?" Sansa asked, gesturing to Julianna who was rolling on the fur clapping her hands together.

"Doesn't your handmaiden have to help you? Isn't that what a lady would do?"

Sansa smirked at her sister. "This is an extraordinary time. And it's not as if I'm getting ready for a ball at court," she muttered. "Will you watch her?"

Her sister nodded, moving the baby onto her lap. "Why is he such a baby?"

"Tommen?"

Arya nodded. "He's nine. He should sleep in his own bed, not with you like Julianna does."

Sansa glared at her sister before removing her gown and shift, watching Arya holding the babe up as she bounced on her knees. "He's still a little boy and…I don't believe his mother ever let him be a baby. I don't think she ever really held him or cuddled him so he likes that kind of attention."

"Cersei was a horrible person wasn't she?"

Sansa sighed. "Yes, well…please don't say that in front of him. She was his mother and he loved her. I'm just trying to explain why Tommen enjoys being babied sometimes. He's still innocent, despite who his mother was. He's lost as much as we have, Arya…I appreciate your kindness to him. And I know Jaime does as well."

Arya seemed embarrassed by the praised, keeping her attention on Julianna as Sansa finished getting ready for bed – putting on Jaime's soft tunic from the day before, which fell to her knees. She saw Arya looking at her choice of sleepwear strangely and Sansa blushed, embarrassed that she wished to sleep in Jaime's clothes. It still smells like him. She took Julianna from Arya and lay her on the bed, getting her ready to sleep as well while Arya lounged on the bed. Tommen came bursting in, carrying his basket of kittens, which he set before the fire. Arya looked at her sister pointedly as Tommen sat beside his little pets, telling them they were safe from the White Walkers in Sansa and Uncle Jaime's room.

"Goodnight, Arya," Sansa said with a smile.

Arya hugged her tightly and she returned her sister's hug. "I'll say a prayer for Jaime," Arya whispered as she left, calling out good night to Tommen. The boy said goodnight to Arya, and continued tending his kittens as Sansa slipped under the furs of her bed and cradled Julianna in her arms, cuddling her and speaking softly to her as Jaime did, to calm her for the night. She was a bit fussy – no doubt missing Jaime – and Sansa unbuttoned Jaime's tunic, slipping it off her shoulders and allowing the babe to suckle. She was almost weaned, but Sansa knew nursing would comfort the babe and would help her sleep.

She stroked her soft red curls and watched her little eyes droop as she suckled. Sansa looked over at Tommen who had crawled into bed beside her, watching as Sansa nursed the baby.

"Sansa?"

"Yes, sweeting?"

"When will Uncle Jaime come back?"

She leaned back against the pillows, settling Julianna more comfortably in her arms as she nursed and turned her blue eyes to the little boy. "I don't know. I wish I did. I miss him already."

"Me, too." She saw that his eyes were beginning to water and she reached over to take his hand. "Don't cry. You must be brave."

"Do you think he'll win? Do you think he'll kill the monsters?"

While Sansa knew that the outcome was by no means certain, she had no intention of saying that to the little boy who wanted her reassurance that Jaime would return. "If any man can beat them, it's Jaime."

"Has anyone ever beat the White Walkers?"

"Have you never heard the story of the First Men and the Battle for Dawn?" Tommen shook his head. I suppose Southerners don't have much use for stories about the building of the Wall. I can tell him this story, it's shouldn't scare him. Sansa smiled to herself as Old Nan's story filled her head.

"Thousands and thousands of years ago, a winter fell that was cold and hard and seemed it would never end. This was the time of the First Men and the Children of the Forest. During this winter, there came a night that lasted a generation. And in that darkness, the White Walkers came for the first time."

"Where did they come from?"

"They came from the uttermost North. The polar regions of the Land of Always Winter. What is now far beyond the Wall. The White Walkers were cold, dead things that hated iron and fire and the touch of the sun. They hated every creature with hot blood in its veins. Wielding razor-thin swords of ice, they killed and then raised the dead to fight the living." Sansa looked at Tommen's wide eyes and hoped she wasn't telling too scary a story. She was leaving out the horrible details that Old Nan had always told, but he was still just a little boy.

"What happened?" Tommen asked, excited to hear more of the story.

"The Children of the Forest and the First Men fought valiantly against them, but were driven southwards by the advance of the White Walkers. They weren't able to defeat them. The White Walkers swept over holdfasts and cities and kingdoms. They felled heroes and armies by the score, riding their pale dead horses and leading hosts of the slain brought back to life to do their bidding. All the swords of men could not stay their advance."

"So as cold and death filled the earth, the last hero set out into the dead lands. He sought the last of the Children of the Forest in hopes that their ancient magic could do what the swords of men alone could not. For years he searched, until finally he found them. Then, the last hero led the war against the Others, wielding his sword of fire, Lightbringer. He led the Children of the Forest and the First Men, who worked together, despite their differences. And they succeeded, driving the Others back to the Land of Always Winter and saving Westeros."

"When the White Walkers had been driven back to the far north, Brandon Stark, known as Bran the Builder, raised a great Wall of ice, gravel and magic, stretching one hundred leagues from the Gorge to the Shivering Sea to prevent the Others from coming to Westeros ever again. That's when Winterfell was built, and the Night's Watch was founded to maintain a watch on the Wall."

Sansa felt a bit sad, thinking how long Winterfell had stood…and now it was gone. Nothing but a ruin. Her home was gone. Everything was gone.

She glanced down at Julianna and saw that she'd fallen asleep at her breast. She normally would have the babe sleep in her bassinette, but with Jaime gone, Sansa wanted to hold the baby girl he'd given her in her arms, so she gently placed her on the mattress, settling her between she and Tommen, so the babe would not fall off the bed in the night. He immediately curled up next to his baby sister and softly kissed her forehead before resting his own head on the pillows.

"Does Uncle Jaime have a sword of fire like Lightbringer?" Tommen whispered, his eyes wide.

"No, sweetling. He has something better. He has a sword of dragonglass, sharper than any steel. Jaime can do what the hero did. I believe that. Shall we say a prayer for him?" Tommen nodded and Sansa took his hand again. "Do you want to say it?"

Tommen closed his eyes and began to pray for the Warrior to watch over his "Uncle Jaime" and to help him win the battle. "Sansa and Julianna and I love him and miss him. Was that all right?" he asked, looking at Sansa.

She nodded, leaning over to kiss his forehead. "That was perfect, Tommen. Good night."

"Good night."

Sansa curled up with her arms around Julianna, and her hand holding Tommen's. She saw that he was holding one of Julianna's little hands also and smiled as she closed her eyes. Sansa said her own silent prayer for Jaime. She needed her husband and the children needed their father. Darkness had fallen, and she imagined they were battling at that very moment. Or were about to. Please be safe, Jaime. Please.

…

They spent the first day riding through Lannisport, stopping at every keep to see whether the residents lived or had died. Jaime was welcomed at every home they stopped at, and offered food and mead. They accepted some, so as not to use up the provisions they had taken with them. In return, Jaime offered the people of Lannisport some of the extra dragonglass blades he'd asked Gendry to bring along, and instructed them as to how to defend themselves from the White Walkers. Despite the circumstances, Jaime rather enjoyed speaking with those who lived in Lannisport and assuring himself that they were prepared for the Winter. He learned that Sansa had sent out provisions throughout the seaport when Winter began to threaten. Though they had not met her, most of Lannisport had kind words of praise for Lady Lannister.

"The people certainly seem to like you," Edmure commented as they rode from the last keep they'd stopped at. Jaime had divided his men up into five groups, fanning out over Lannisport. They planned to meet again outside the city – where the wilderness began to encroach.

"Surprised anyone could admire a Lannister?" Jaime asked peevishly. "Those who live in Lannisport feared crossing my father. Though they admired him as their lord. Like most of the Realm, the people's loyalty is to their lords first, not the crown. They don't fear me. They've no reason to."

"And they don't appear to blame you for the death of the Mad King."

Jaime smiled to himself. "Perhaps in Lannisport, they realize how mad he was." He didn't add that his father had launched a rather powerful propaganda campaign against the Targaryens in the Westerlands after Jaime had killed him. The Mad King did not have a single friend in Lannisport. Lord Tywin had always believed that Jaime would take his rightful place as his heir, and he wanted Jaime to have the support of his people. I suppose my father did love me in his own way.

In speaking to the townsfolk, Jaime had learned quite a lot about the White Walkers. They traveled in groups of many wights with only a few of the White Walkers accompanying them. The townspeople had been using fire to battle the wights, which had proven successful. Despite their efforts, many had been killed and then raised again, though nowhere near as many as could have been. They described the White Walkers as tall and thin, with swords of frozen ice and piercing blue eyes that glowed from their heads.

It still sounded improbable to Jaime's ears, but he supposed he would find out for himself soon enough. Regardless, all who they spoke to were grateful that their Lord was seeing to the safety of the West. He knew that the sight of all of the red cloaks armed for battle must be a comfort. They didn't care who sat on the Iron Throne or who was Hand of the King. They only cared about having food in their bellies and heat for their homes. And now, not to be killed by the White Walkers.

He made a point of stopping at the keeps of old childhood friends and those of relatives – most specifically his young cousin, Joy Hill, the bastard daughter of his favorite uncle, Gerion Lannister. Jaime had offered her a place to stay at Casterly Rock for the Winter, but she had declined, assuring him that she was quite well where she was. Jaime had hoped she would accept his offer, and stay with Sansa and Tommen, but he understood her wishes. Despite her assertion that she was safe, he left a few guards to protect her, should the White Walkers pay them a visit.

Darkness had fallen the night before, and Westeros would remain shrouded in darkness for several days. The men slept in shifts, anxiously awaiting the appearance of the White Walkers, though many, like Jaime, were skeptical that they would indeed be battling these creatures from beyond the Wall. That is, until the first attack. Those who held the watch began banging pots together, waking everyone and screaming that "the Others" were coming, as they ran back to the camp.

Jaime was instantly awake, and affixed the dragonglass sword to his belt, as his men roused and prepared to fight for their lives. He felt the thrill of an impending battle, and any fear that he could not fight with one hand had vanished. It was as it had always been for him – his heart beating faster as his body prepared for battle. The archers lined up, with the other soldiers waiting behind, their weapons in hand. They stood with swords and spears in hand, watching the snow fall, waiting.

"Here they come," he heard Gendry say.

"Notch," Ser Addam called out, and fifty dragonglass arrows were pulled from as many quivers, and notched to as many bowstrings. From another direction, fifty arrows were pulled and notched, as the soldiers directly behind those archers waited to light them afire.

"Gods be good, there's hundreds," a voice said softly.

"Draw," Addam said, and then, "Hold." Jaime sat atop his horse, not far from Ser Addam, though he saw nothing but darkness. The Red Cloaks stood behind their torches, waiting with arrows pulled back to their ears, as something came up in the dark, slippery slope through the snow. Jaime turned and saw that the arrows had been lit. "Hold," Addam said again, "hold, hold." And then, "Loose."

Some were all in ringmail and some were almost naked…wildlings most of them, but a few appeared to be from various parts of Westeros between the Rock and the Wall. All had a pale, ghostly pallor, and piercing light blue eyes. As they got nearer, Jaime saw that their hands were black and some had flesh that was visibly rotting, yet they continued to come forward. Jaime had of course heard the legend of the White Walkers raising the dead, but he'd never believed it until that moment.

The arrows whispered as they flew, many hitting their marks. Those who were struck with the dragonglass arrows stopped dead and slammed into the ground, a hissing sound coming from their bodies. Those struck with the flames continued forward, until the flames overpowered them. As Jaime watched, amazed, the dead continued coming over the hill.

They loosed the arrows again and again, picking off many of the undead, though they couldn't get them all, and the wights began to move closer to the battle line.

"Prepare to engage," Jaime called out as he drew his sword. He could feel the blood roaring in his ears as the Others drew near. He kicked the sides of his horse and led the charge into the army of undead, Ser Addam, Edmure and the Northmen following.

He began to hear screams, as the Others began to overtake some of his men, but he also saw that the undead were being dropped rather quickly. As he got closer, and watched them, Jaime saw that the wights were clumsy, and not difficult for a trained warrior to overpower. Especially since Jaime and his men were armed with the proper weapons. He slashed at the Others and saw that the blade Gendry had made was a fine weapon, and sliced through the wights as if they were nothing. Though, Jaime soon realized that fighting from horseback with a single hand would prove rather difficult. While he could easily lead others from horseback, he could not keep a firm hold on the reins and swing a sword with only one good hand.

He felt a moment of panic as he was unhorsed, wildly slashing around him as the wights came near, two of them caught by his blade and dropping to the ground. He heard a loud thump behind him and turned to see that Edmure and Gendry had both dismounted, now fighting from the ground as Jaime did. There was no time to feel shame that he needed their help as the attack was relentless, and Jaime lost himself in the battle, fighting as well with his left hand as he ever had. Perhaps the excitement of battle has made the difference.

What had begun as an organized battle had largely become a melee, as the Northerners and many of the red cloaks had also abandoned their mounts to fight on the same level as the wights. Jaime turned, cutting down many of the wights, and looked over at Gendry, and saw that one of the wights had him by the neck. He spun around and stabbed his sword through the wight – which appeared to have been a wildling in life – causing it to release the boy. Edmure appeared beside him and set it afire. He picked up the warhammer that had been dropped in the struggle, and handed it back to the boy.

"Thank you, m'lord."

Jaime heard an unnatural sound that appeared to be a horse from beyond the hill in front of him and turned to see the origins of the sound.

The rider was pale as ice. The White Walker slid gracefully from the saddle to stand upon the snow. Sword-slim it was and milky white. Its armor rippled and shifted as it moved, and its feet did not break the crust of the new fallen snow. The Other's sword gleamed with a faint blue glow. It moved toward Edmure, lightning quick, slashing. When the ice blue blade brushed the flames of Edmure's torch, a screech stabbed Jaime's ears sharp as a needle. The head of the torch tumbled sideways to vanish beneath a deep drift of snow, the fire snuffed out at once. And all Edmure held was a short wooden stick. He flung it at the Other, cursing, as one of the red cloaks charged in with an axe.

The wights had been slow clumsy things, but the Other was light as snow on the wind. It slid away from the axe, armor rippling, and its crystal sword twisted and spun and slipped between the iron rings of the man's mail, through leather and wool and bone and flesh. It came out his back with a hiss and Jaime heard him gasp as he lost the axe. Impaled, his blood smoking around the sword, the man tried to reach his killer with his hands and he almost had before he fell. The weight of him tore the strange pale sword from the Other's grip. Every man froze at the sight of the creature and the damage it had done.

The White Walker then turned his attention to Jaime, pulling the sword from the dead soldier's body and beginning to advance. Jaime felt his heart pounding in his chest as he faced this…thing…and wondered if the sharpened old rocks from his little brother's room could possibly kill such a thing. He thought of Sansa, and fervently hoped that it would work. Jaime rose up to his full height and swung at the neck of the White Walker, using his golden hand to brace the weapon in his left hand. He struck the thing in the neck, though the force of it ripped the sword from Jaime's hand.

He heard a crack, like the sound ice makes when it breaks a man's foot, and then a screech so shrill and sharp that Jaime went staggering backward and fell, knocking Gendry to the ground along with him. The Other's armor was running down its legs in rivulets as pale blue blood hissed and steamed around the black dragonglass sword embedded in its throat. It reached down with two bone-white hands to pull out the sword, but where its fingers touched the obsidian they smoked.

Jaime watched as it shrank and puddled on the snow, dissolving away. In twenty heartbeats its flesh was gone, swirling in a fine white mist. Beneath, they could see its bones, like milkglass, pale and shiny, and they were melting too. Finally only the dragonglass sword remained, wreathed in steam as if it were alive and sweating.

The Greatjon walked forward and began to scoop it up and flung it down again at once. "Mother, that's bloody cold." The large man walked over to Jaime, grasping him by his upper arms and placing him on his feet as if he weighed nothing. "As many things as you've killed, Kingslayer, I wager that's the most memorable. Even more than old Aerys."

The battle was ending around them as his men easily overtook the clumsy wights, dispatching all that remained. It seemed there was only the one White Walker among them. Perhaps this was not so difficult, Jaime thought, surveying the few of his men that had fallen.

"We'll have to burn all the dead," he said solemnly, assisting Gendry to his feet.

Ser Addam road over to them, his relief that Jaime was still alive plain to see. "We lost perhaps a hundred men. And killed five times as many wights."

"Perhaps we can return to the castle tonight," Edmure said optimistically. He clearly had no interest in engaging in a battle with these creatures any longer than necessary.

"Look, there!" Gendry called out, pointing far into the hills surrounding Lannisport. Jaime looked and saw half a hundred White Walkers, riding their undead horses, marching along the hills that surrounded Lannisport. He could not count how many wights marched among them.

"We'll not be returning to the castle for some time, Lord Tully," Jaime said grimly.

…

This is only the first battle…they will continue battling in the next chapter, with a bit of a time jump. I borrowed the description of the White Walkers and how they die from the books. But, that chapter was from Sam's POV which is quite different from what I think Jaime's would be, so there was some tweaking

I can't thank all of you enough for the reviews. Whether you are someone who has followed this story from the beginning, and consistently gives feedback, or one of the many people who have only recently discovered and read the entire think – thank you so much!