I've been seeing a lot more of the House of the Dragon Season 2 filming this week and once again I'm really excited. I'm sure I've said before that I really enjoy the Dance as a story and now we are fully into it and can slow the pacing down I really think that the show will thrive.
My 'Next Story' poll is still active, and when all the votes from all the different sites are taken into account (including halving the r/citadel poll for fairness) the Tyrell OC is currently in the lead by about 9 votes. I'll keep it open until the final chapter of this story gets uploaded, so you've got 3 more weeks to let me know your preference.
Back to this story however, and this is only part one of the battle. I originally wanted it as one chapter but it was getting extremely long, so here you are.
I own nothing but the OC's, all actual characters and locations from Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire are the property of HBO and/or George R R Martin.
The first time Ser Jaime Lannister had faced the Army of the Dead had been a mad panic as soon as the three horn blasts had blown. The second, an eerie, quiet wait. This third time was more like the second, though Jaime felt more uncomfortable as he shifted his feet in the snow, missing the safety that the walls of Winterfell had brought to the living.
Moat Cailin was an easily defensible fortress if an army was coming from the South. The natural bogs and thin approach line meant that any invaders were forced through what amounted to a bottle neck, and even if an army made it past the initial defences and towards the towers, they would still need to take each individual tower before being able to call it a victory. From the North however, it was more difficult. Add to that the coldest Winter in thousands of years meaning that the usually treacherous marshland had frozen solid, and it all added up to increase the worry that the Kingslayer was feeling.
Those that had faced the Army of the Dead before had been placed on the front lines, with the few surviving Northmen, Wildling and Night's Watch forces stood side by side once more. Behind them however stood the majority of the vast army of Westeros bolstered by the King's allies from Essos. Jaime turned his head to see his childhood friend Addam Marbrand leading the Western forces on the far left of the line, whilst on the right he turned to see the Riverland host led by Lord Edmure himself.
"I don't like being so exposed." Dolorous Edd stated from beside Jaime.
"We stick to the plan." The Lannister countered.
Edd scoffed. "The plan. Almost broke my back seeing it implemented." A roar sounded from above, and Jaime looked upwards to see the green dragon racing Northwards, where it was soon joined by the King's own mount. "Three stags on them both dying." Edd grumbled.
"Shut your hole Tollett." Grenn hissed.
"I'm just saying…" Edd countered, but Jaime had had enough.
"Quiet, the pair of you." He snapped. "And focus, or you'll both be dead long before the Others get their chance." Thankfully that shut them up, and it allowed Jaime the peace to stare out into the darkness with the only sounds being the shuffling of men behind him and the dragons ahead. That was until a jet of orange flames impacted with the ground in the distance, allowing them all to understand how much time they had. "Come on Tyrion…" Jaime whispered, turning back around to look at the Gatehouse Tower where his little brother was based. He could see the fires burning at the tower's summit and the outlines of people atop it, one of which was obviously the Lord of Casterly Rock. They waited patiently as another stream of fire was seen in the distance, before the storm clouds appeared.
Jaime could feel the nerves and fear in the men surrounding him, mainly from those that had already fought the dead before, and he was about to turn and say something that would hopefully be encouraging when the first horn blast blew. "NOCK!" Arthur Glenmore's voice sounded from behind him. The cry went up further as Jaime recognised the obnoxious voice of Eldrick Sarsfield to his left ordering the Western archers to do the same. There was more of a wait then until the second horn blast from the tower. "DRAW!" The call cried, before the third and final one. "LOOSE!" From over Jaime's head what seemed like a canvas of flaming arrows shot out towards the North almost in slow motion. Jaime held his breath in hope, simply willing just the one of them to stay lit by the time they reached their marks…
He need not have worried, as in the distance the ground erupted in a deafening explosion, causing Jaime to stagger back into the man behind him with enough force to send them both tumbling to the ground. Jaime quickly hoisted himself up to his feet and pulled the large Wildling up too, turning around to see the carnage. Wildfire pots had been buried in shallow holes in the ground within range, with enough oil poured between them that just one arrow finding its mark would set off a reaction igniting all of them. The green flames shot up hundreds of feet in the air and shot off in a circular manner Northwards, with the idea if Tyrion had his timings right to encircle a vast majority of the onrushing army.
"HOLD!" Jaime called, not wanting the living to get too far ahead of themselves just yet. Wildfire was a powerful substance but he had seen the army of the dead throw themselves onto flames to snuff them out at Winterfell. Adjusting his eyes for the bright green light, Jaime watched with baited breath as he could see outlines trying exactly that, though this time the wildfire worked, and the bodies of the Wights were simply incinerated on contact, and the Kingslayer allowed himself the smallest hint of a grin.
The slow ascent from the frozen bogs of the Neck gave Luke a chance to look down at his gathered force. Men from all across the continent were in their positions, and as he looked down on them all the King on the Iron Throne thought back to the prophecy that had started it all. "The Song of Ice and Fire." He said, muttering under his breath. "Aegon, your dream is here." A loud roar from behind him startled Luke, and he swivelled his head around to see Jon Snow atop Rhaegal racing out to the North. "Follow!" Luke barked out to Valaxes, and he held on to the saddle tightly as Valaxes lurched forwards, the wind billowing the King's silver hair out behind him.
He had been travelling for less than a minute before the familiar storm clouds had appeared, and Luke spotted Rhaegal hovering nearby. Narrowing his eyes to try and improve his vision, the King spotted the dead charging at great speeds below them.
"DRACARYS!" The King cried out, and with a loud roar Valaxes dived, setting alight a section of the onrushing dead beneath him. That only served to illuminate more of the reanimated corpses charging towards the South however, and so Luke made sure to pull Valaxes around for a quick second pass, engulfing hundreds of the dead in dragon fire.
There was no third pass however, as the cold winds arrived with force. All around him wind and snow buffeted him around, and if he had not have been chained into his saddle the King might have fallen from the dragon to his death. Thankfully however he was and his black steel armour was stopping the chain from doing too much damage to his body. It took a little while for Valaxes to settle into the new conditions around him, but thankfully the dragon straightened up, though Luke was worrying about the exertion the dragon would face. He tried to call out to Valaxes but the winds drowned his voice out, so all he could do was yank the reigns to the side and try and escape the winds that way. Instead, all he managed to do was come within inches of colliding with Jon and Rhaegal, who looked in the split-second Luke saw him for to be having just as much trouble controlling the dragon. Luke tried to turn Valaxes around, but the winds were growing and were quickly followed a loud explosion from below that could only be the Wildfire, and also by that same, undead screech that could only belong to a dragon.
The moment that the King thought about trying to stick with the quickly falling apart aerial plan, Valaxes jolted towards the noise and sped into the winds. Luke couldn't see more than a yard ahead of Valaxes' own outline and so was letting the dragon lead, holding on tightly as they veered to the right at the sight of sharp blue flames coming straight for them. The rush of wind as Viserion streaked past was another to knock the black and crimson Valaxes off balance, though Luke frantically made to try and right the dragon, spinning around in the air to see another jet of blue flames in the distance.
"Kill!" Luke cried out in his native High Valyrian. "Tear Viserion apart!"
Valaxes roared once more and made for the blue stream of fire. As they grew closer Luke could see that Rhaegal had had arrived too, and had one of Viserion's wings clenched between his claws and the pair were slowly spiralling downwards. Luke could see the wound that had killed Viserion and without needing to say a thing, Valaxes clamped his jaw inside and around the wound before stabbing the side of Viserion with its own claws, ripping away scales, skin and muscle Valaxes darted back in for another bite quickly, tearing more away as Rhaegal did the same the other side, clamping down hard on Viserion's neck.
The undead dragon might have been able to move quicker, but Luke knew that the bond between rider and dragon simply wasn't there for the Night King. Grinning, he urged Valaxes to continue his actions, with both teeth and claws ripping the cream and gold, blue eyed dragon to shreds. Viserion managed a little bit of a fight back after Rhaegal ripped a chunk of its neck out by biting out at the green dragon and clawing into Rhaegal's wing, but the ferocity from both living dragons, both deeply offended by their sibling's unnatural return, was too much. Before the Night King could even realise it was a losing battle and grab another javelin, Valaxes had bitten into the loose part of Viserion's neck and yanked, unceremoniously beheading the dead dragon, while Rhaegal's claws ripped its wing off a moment later.
Valaxes spat the severed dragon head out and roared triumphantly, hovering above as they saw Viserion spinning uncontrollably towards the ground, the Night King still chained to the carcass as they fell out of sight. Allowing the dragon to rest in the air slightly Luke simply paused with no commands, though as he peered down to the unseen ground, he knew that it wouldn't be this easy and that the Night King would still be a threat to those on the ground.
Despite the wide area of the Wildfire barrier, not all of the dead had been encircled by the high green flames. Immediately calling for a shield wall to be put in place Jaime was holding firm behind his Lannister shield, as those beside him did the same with shields borrowed from various Houses. The front line's job was to hold off the dead as the second line struck out in the small gaps with Dragonglass spears, while from behind even the reserve line siege weapons such as trebuchets fired out flaming rocks into the trapped Wildfire circle. It was tough, and the strength of the dead was only countered by the numbers alongside Jaime. It was a surprise then when the dead seemed to stop for a moment, and from high above in the cloudy sky an object dropped, slamming into a dozen or so wights with a loud thud.
"IT'S A DRAGON HEAD!" Somebody called from behind Jaime. "IT'S THE DEAD ONE!"
The cheer that followed couldn't be stopped, and despite pushing all of his weight into holding the line, his green eyes wandered up towards the sky as from the cloud line a large silhouette was dropping at pace, before the decimated body of Viserion was visible, and it collided into the wildfire lines with enough force to shake the ground beneath Jaime's own feet. "HOLD!" Jaime cried out over the celebrations of the living, using his own Dragonglass weaponry to stab out at the wight that was trying to claw through his shield.
From behind his defences Jaime could only see little flashes. He noticed however that the strength of the wights was quickly increasing, and he noticed that the dragon carcass had landed in such a way that it had caused a bridge for the wights to escape the Wildfire. Grimacing, Jaime knew that they had to counter the increasing numbers they were due to face, and so he let out a call. "WITH ME! ONE, TWO, BACK!" The central forces under Jaime's command, whilst still keeping their shields up and holding the dead, all in unison stepped backwards once before a uniform spear thrust followed, dropping many of the dead trying to break through. Jaime gave it a moment before then repeating the call. "ONE, TWO, BACK!" The same thing happened again, as the central forces stepped backwards once more and thrust out, destroying the next wave of dead that had found themselves scratching and clawing at the shield lines. "ONE, TWO, BACK!"
The call continued at regular intervals until they had given up a good amount of ground, but through the small gaps in the shield walls Jaime could see the front lines of the Western forces ahead of him, and the living had formed an arch to try and entrap the dead. "HOLD!" Jaime then said, putting a stop to the movement as he jabbed out with his Dragonglass sword, hoping that the next part of the plan worked.
The frozen ground surrounding Moat Cailin was terrible for horses, and not even the best efforts of the thousands of men had been able to flatten the ground in a manner that would help for a cavalry charge. That meant that the flanking reserves would have to rush out on foot, something that Ser Edric Dayne was not looking forward too.
Patience was not the Knight of Starfall's strong point, but it allowed him to stand there in the darkness and look back on everything that had happened to him since the small bout of illness that had kept him from attending the Hand's Tourney all those years ago. He had been a 12-year-old squire in the service of his Aunt Allyria's betrothed, Lord Beric Dondarrion, but his illness had kept him from the fool's errand that had got the Stormlander killed at the Mummer's Ford, and he had somehow managed to end up as the squire to Lucerys Targaryen afterwards. A war of conquest and travel all around the continent later, and once the High Sparrow had been put down Ned Dayne had been knighted by the King himself, and given leave to return to Starfall. His return had seen more boons, as he was granted the privilege of claiming Dawn after successfully putting down an uprising by a distant cousin.
The claiming of Dawn had then granted him enough power to change the minds of his now goodfather and son of the Magister of Volantis, Marqelo Maegyr. Now Ned Dayne could boast the ancestral sword of his House along with a wife that he was completely besotted with, and he had all the more reason to ensure his survival.
"You think too much." Tyene Sand stated from nearby, flicking her signature dagger around with ease.
"There is lots to think on." Ned countered. "And time to do so."
"Not so much time." The voice of Prince Oberyn stated powerfully, and the Heir to Dorne turned to his daughter, holding his hand out for the dagger. Tyene obeyed, and Oberyn needed only one glance at the weapon before he tutted. "There is no need for poison here, these creatures are already dead."
Tyene snarled, but she sheathed her daggers nonetheless and took up a pair of Dragonglass daggers. Taking a breath, Ned withdrew Dawn and admired the milky texture of the blade. Unlike most Valyrian Steel blades, Dawn had a light texture and it was easily the most beautiful sword Ned had ever seen, even more so than Blackfyre, which the Dornish knight had handled hundreds of times.
"It is a fine blade." An accented voice sounded from beside him, and Ned turned to see Marqelo Maegyr, his goodfather, admiring the blade too. "Even in Volantis we hear of the Sword of the Morning.
"The last one was the finest warrior I have ever known." Oberyn input. "Ser Arthur Dayne, your own uncle." He nodded to Ned.
"I've heard all the stories." Ned shrugged. "But he died before I was born and my Father rarely spoke on him, nor my Aunt Ashara."
"She was a great beauty." Oberyn remarked. "And too fond of Northerners…" He trailed off, his face contorting into anger as Ned presumed he was thinking back on the Tourney of Harrenhal. Ned didn't delve any further into it however as from their position they heard a singular horn blast. "This is it." Oberyn stated, twirling his spear in his hands. "MEN OF DORNE! WITH ME!"
More voices went up as Marqelo and Draenor Rogare cried out in their own dialects of Valyrian, each commanding their own forces to begin the charge. Ned Dayne used his spare hand to pound himself in his chest three times to get his blood pumping before with a loud roar he held Dawn aloft in the air and ran. The Dornish, Volantene and Lyseni forces had the right flank, and so they charged from their positions behind the lines and rounded the Riverlanders, before the shield wall opened up and the Dornish streamed through.
It was carnage from the start and Dawn quickly carved through multiple animated corpses. The idea behind the retreat and charge had been to pull the dead further so that once ready, over 100,000 fresh men could charge out and cut off a large portion of the Army of the Dead. The Hand of the King and the Reachmen had the centre as they had the greater numbers, while the Knights of the Vale had the left.
Grateful for all of his practice with Dawn and how the blade was similarly light as Valyrian Steel, the 20-year-old twisted and turned, slashing and hacking out at anything remotely rotting in his path. The snarls and cries of the dead and dying were filling the air but Ned was singularly focused, knowing that he was seen as one of the commanders in the Dornish force. Holding Dorne aloft once more he pushed forwards, slashing it down to cut a rotting Northman in two. He spotted Prince Oberyn in the distance wheeling his spear around and dropping dozens of wights in the process. Ned pushed through to try and join him, only noticing as he stepped over a bleeding body that it was that of Tyene Sand. Snarling in anger at his countrywoman's death he continued with vigour, pushing through the army of the dead with brute force until he parried a rogue sword away, noticing that a blonde man with the Hardyng sigil was the one to swing.
"We live!" Ned cried out, and the Vale Knight looked puzzled for a moment before realisation settled in.
The chaos continued after that as the battle became more familiar, with the living and the dead all mixed in together. The volume of the living meant that Ned could push Northward as the Reach forces arrived, and the sight of the five white cloaked Kingsguard knights surrounding the Hand of the King was a big morale booster, and the cry of attack went up quickly once they reached the front lines.
That however was the moment that the air grew colder, and Ned looked over at the fallen carcass of Viserion to see that the White Walkers themselves were escaping the Wildfire blockade. "WALKERS!" He cried, hoping to make people aware before another wight charged at him, causing him to quickly parry the blow as he ducked to the left and slamming the sharp edge of Dawn into its back before retrieving it quickly and stabbing a second wight. The living was continuing to push forwards however as more Reachmen joined their forward line, and by the time Ned recognised the black cloaks of the Night's Watch he knew that they could fully focus on the North and that the pincer had worked. "FORWARDS!" Ser Barristan Selmy commanded, the Valyrian Steel blade Truth in his hands, and Ned grinned as he rushed forwards with the royal guards.
The White Cloak's prowess was evident when it became clear that they could carve their way through the dead a lot quicker than most, and by the time Ned could catch up with them all he saw was Ser Franklyn Flowers parry a blow from an ice sword held by one of the demonic White Walkers, only for the steel sword of the Kingsguard knight to shatter, and the ice blade was then thrust cleanly through the white armour.
"NO!" Ned cried out, as he slashed off a wight's leg and cut another more skeletal looking wight in two as he made his way beside the fallen Ser Franklyn, the White Walker simply cocking its head as it stared at Dawn. Ned held up the blade defensively, standing between the Walker and Ser Franklyn. The White Walker swung with surprising pace, and it took all of the young man's agility to parry the icy blade, the milky steel sounding out a melodic twang as it connected. Ned then used the Walker's surprise to push forwards, swinging the Dayne greatsword around at the Walker's neck, only to be parried away. Ned continued his assault though, aiming for any exposed area he could see and being parried back away every time until Ned managed to break through the Walker's defence, Dawn slicing cleanly through its blue neck and beheading the White Walker. Ned wasted no time as he ripped out his Dragonglass dagger from his belt and slammed it into the open blue eye of the Walker, panting as it exploded into tiny ice shards.
The Dayne wasted no time revelling in his victory however, as one look back to the horizon showed additional White Walker's entering the field of battle. Knowing that he had a weapon to truly make a difference now, Ned held Dawn aloft once more and screamed out. "STARFALL!" The call was added to by his own men behind him, and the Sword of the Morning charged further into the fray.
Once the Night King and Viserion had fallen, the buffeting winds seemed to recede slightly and the visibility cleared up a little, just enough for Luke to see the scene below him. The Wildfire seemed to have work to some extent, though the fallen dragon had created a small gap for Wights to stream through and the green flames hadn't entrapped every wight, with more streaming around on the uneven frozen marshlands. From Moat Cailin there was a steady stream of missiles being launched into the Wildfire circle, with small fires dotted around too. Worried, Luke looked around in the sky for a moment before he saw Rhaegal heading for Moat Cailin at a faster speed than he should have been for a landing. Luke winced when the green dragon clattered into the ground, though as he flew overhead he noticed movement and presumed that Jon was alright.
With that easing the King's mind slightly, he focused his attention on the actual battle below. He was too high up to see banners but the King had poured over the plans enough to make a good guess at how it was going. The Dornish and the Vale had pincered the Wights and the Reach forces had moved in to cut down those trapped between the lines of the living, but as Luke moved his eyeline Northwards he saw that the new lines were being pressed back.
"DRACARYS VALAXES!" Luke exclaimed, and Valaxes swooped down quickly before letting out a powerful blast of fire as he straightened out, and Luke could only look behind him to see a long wall of flames having incinerated an advancing line of Wights. The Targaryen let Valaxes continue that, turning and burning as many of the dead as the dragon wished, as his job was to look out for giants or White Walkers.
The light of the Wildfire made it easy, though he was facing behind Valaxes' current direction when he spotted one heading straight for the Essosi contingent, marked clearly by the golden glints of the Company's arm bands. "TURN!" Luke roared, shifting so that the dragon could make a sharp turn in the air. As they zoned in on the giant Luke noticed that he was slightly too late as it clattered into the lines of the living so instead of urging the dragon to shoot flames down onto his own people, he braced himself for a low line of flight. Valaxes was happy to accommodate as they descended further, passing over the giant when the dragon clamped its left claw around its torso and lifted back into the air, ripping the giant in two.
The next pass was simpler, as Valaxes' flames kept the onrushing dead down to what seemed like manageable numbers, but Luke's next target was quick to show itself as the Night King stood atop the carcass of Viserion, simply standing there as wights escaped the Wildfire around him. Luke's breath hitched as he waited for a javelin, but the only weapon the Night King had on its body was the icy blade that sent chills down his spine.
He bid Valaxes to stop and hover as he watched the Night King intently as the icy demon looked quizzically at the Wildfire, stretching a hand out towards it before stopping before any contact was made. Initially Luke thought that the Wildfire was a good barrier, but then the Night King dropped down into the green flames, and the next thing Luke saw was a figure kneeling down as the green fire began to extinguish.
"NO!" Luke cried. "DRACARYS, VALAXES! DRACARYS!"
Valaxes aimed the most powerful blast of fire that the hulking dragon had ever let out towards the Night King. The flames shot out for a good half a minute before the dragon needed to recharge, before another lengthy blast followed. All around the impact area frozen ground was being thrown up at the force of the fire, whilst the dead around the Night King incinerated into nothingness.
After all that though, once those flames died down the Night King was still in place, looking upwards at Lucerys with the glimmer of a smirk on that blue face. Luke snarled as he jolted to the right, steering Valaxes away from the Night King before it could be reinforced with a javelin, and as Valaxes let out more fire to destroy dozens more wights in one go, Luke's mind was stuck on the issue of how they were going to kill this unstoppable being.
This is another halfway point in a battle so I won't delve too deeply into it all here, I'll simply say that I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!
Next Time: The Living throw all they have at the Night King and the Army of the Dead.
Reviews:
AZW330: Of course it wasn't worthless, plenty of people have also voted for that on other forums, this one especially has a majority of that story. But that is the Subreddit I'm most active in and I'm a Game of Thrones writer so I guess it's to be expected, though I am halving all the Reddit votes for ADR and AHAH to make it fairer. Even if I don't go with the Harry Potter story it will get uploaded eventually, as I say I have 28 chapters now already written and every now and again I get a wave of inspiration to do more like this past week for example where I wrote about 6th Year Christmas. Even if it's never my main focus, once I've finished all of the chapters or at least the vast majority of them, I'll start uploading it anyway.
DonquixoteMel: Margaery's reaction to that will come…
C.E.W: The tragedy of Dany's death is what I was going for! It really will impact Luke for the rest of his life.
Dekiru Grindelwald: Thank you for your numerous reviews as you've made your way through the story. I've responded to them through PM's as there were so many. I will include a response to your latest review here though. The sequel is set years into the future, with the aftermath of this story playing a big factor in the events that happen in between and during that short story.
Hail King Cerion: Thank you!