2 weeks later
Sansa stood on top of the wall, or what was left of it. Most of it, at this point, was in crumbles. There were still stretches unfallen, and this is where she now found herself, Bran at her side.
The Stark siblings watched in stony silence as Daenerys, atop the beast she called Drogon, swept back and fourth, blowing hot flame across the army of the dead. Below them, closer to the wall, Jon led and army on foot, numbers surpassing 50,000, combined with the men of the north and what men Dany was willing to risk. These men simply killed the Wights that made it through.
It felt so simple it was like a culling, Sansa thought. With the aid of the three dragons, and the constant release of firebombs from the wall, it was child's play. This was a war they couldn't lose.
Daenerys guided Drogon up higher, and heard the two others close behind. She was breathing heavy, exhilarated from the thrill of battle. She was cold, though, colder than she could recall ever being in her life. Those Starks, she thought, were stronger than they looked. Even in the fine fur outfit Sansa has given her, she could feel the cold permeating her chest. She leaned closer to Drogon's scales, hoping to feel the warmth from the fire within him.
Jon hadn't been exaggerating. When they'd first arrived to the wall, the night before, she could see then why Jon and Sansa had come to her. It was more men then she'd ever seen on a battlefield before. Even more men than the Khalasar, which when she had been beside Khal Drogo, had over 100,000. But these weren't men, she realized, when she flew close enough. They were reanimated corpses, truly terrifying, but also a great disrespect to the dead.
Not only was this a service to Westeros, but it would also prove her to the people. That she would be their protector.
She dipped lower, and felt the hot flame erupt again, setting a group of nearly 100 ablaze.
They'd made enough progress that the Wights were dying out, and she could see the white men on horses behind them now, watching in silence. Their cold blue eyes pierced her through the distance.
She'd finally spotted their leader.
It would be easy, she realized. They would die as simply as the rest of them.
She looked over her shoulder, trying to catch Jon's eyes. He saw her, and she pointed. He looked across the field, and felt his stomach turn to ice. He looked back at her, and nodded slowly.
She lifted up again, flying with grace over the stretch of ice.
The Night's King watched the dragon girl fly closer. They would lose, today, he knew that to be true. But they wouldn't go without a fight.
He lifted his hand, aiming his spear right for the beast's throat. He let go, and the spear missed, but sunk into Drogon's shoulder. Drogon cried out, and began to descend, faster than Dany wanted.
Daenerys and Drogon crash landed in a heap a few yards away from the four horsemen. Dany slid off the back of the dragon, and into the deep snow.
"Dracarys!" she called up at Drogon, but when he opened his mouth, nothing happened. She felt panic rising in her chest. Drogon swept his tail around her, protecting her as best he could. The ice spear had frozen his fire, Dany realized, as she pressed her palm against the piece of his chest that usually glowed red hot. It was ice cold.
Rhaegal and Viserion circled above, and then Rhaegal took a sudden detour, back towards the wall.
He landed in the midst of the northerners, and cried out. The Stark men scattered, some of them screaming in terror. Jon's horse spooked, and Jon was suddenly thrown from it, and fell into the snow.
Rhaegal moved over, vocalizing impatiently as he moved through the snow. Steam erupted from his nostrils. He bent low, his huge head dangling over Jon.
Jon looked up, confused, and suddenly scared. The Dragon Queen had betrayed them.
But when Rhaegal dipped his head again, closer to Jon, it wasn't to bite or burn him. Instead, he nudged him, rolled Jon over until Jon was on his feet.
Jon was breathing heavy, trying to figure out what the beast wanted. Finally, the dragon motioned with his head, tossing it back. Trying to communicate.
Jon felt something shift in his blood. An instinct, perhaps. But he stepped forward, and using one of the dragon's back legs, pulled himself up onto the slick scales.
He'd guessed right.
Rhaegal took off, and like Jon could with Ghost, he guided the beast towards Daenerys.
And the beast flew. Jon cried out, his emotions a combination of pure delight and abject terror. But the adrenaline of the battle made him ignore his fear.
Sansa nearly fell over as she watched her husband take to the sky on the great winged beast.
"He really is a Targaryen." she said to Bran in wonder.
"They will save us all." Bran said.
Rhaegal landed beside his brother, and with a protective ferocity, unleashed a torrent of flame stronger than usual. The horses of the four men burst into flame, and the walkers jumped from them, trying to avoid the blast. Jon unsheathed his sword, and jumped off the back of the dragon. He slashed the oncoming defenses of wights and white walkers with ease, and felt another burst of flame beside him.
He was upon the Night's King then, nearly face to face with him.
"Snow." The Night's King hissed, long and slow. He didn't seem afraid.
Jon shoved the sword through his belly, and the Night's King burst.
And with his death, came silence. Jon looked around, confused. What had once been a cacophonous battlefield seconds before, suddenly seemed as quiet as an empty field.
All that were left, the wights, the walkers, the blue eyed horses. They all fell to the ground, into the snow. Without the power of the king, they had no power themselves.
Rhaegal let out a sudden roar, shaking the trees nearby free of their snow.
Jon moved towards Drogon, who moved his tail away from his mother. She stood in the snow, looking at him in surprise.
"You rode Rhaegal?" she asked.
"Is he named after Rhaegar, by chance?" Jon asked. "Because there's something we neglected to tell you."
She nodded once, her hand not leaving Drogon's neck.
"We didn't want you to see us as a threat to the Iron Throne." he said. "Because we're not interested in it. But my father wasn't Ned Stark." he said. "I'm the child of Lyanna Stark, and your brother, Rhaegar."
Daenerys blinked.
"Sansa isn't your sister?" she asked.
"A cousin." he said.
"And the baby she carries-"
"Will only be called Stark, my queen." he said. "Nobody knows, beside Sansa, Bran, and Arya."
"But you can make heirs." she said. "You can produce heirs with Targaryen blood for the kingdom."
Jon was worried now. She seemed angry.
"And you can control my dragons." she said, looking up at Drogon.
She reached her hand out, and Rhaegal crossed to her.
"Give him his flame." she said. Rhaegal stepped back, and when Dany moved to the side, blew fire across the scales of Drogon for a long minute. Drogon's eyes closed, and he seemed to relish the heat from his brother.
After he finished, Daenerys stepped forward, pressing her palm against Drogon's belly again. She felt the fire burning once more. She smiled up at Drogon, whispering something in Valyrian.
She mounted him again, and without another word to Jon, she took off, her other dragons close behind.
"No..." Jon whispered, as he watched her fly to the wall, in the direction of Sansa. He shouldn't have told her. His child was a threat to her throne, and Daenerys wasn't the type to take threats lightly.