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Here comes the 28th chapter of the story!
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Nature was crying in joy at its newfound freedom, liberated from its frozen chains. Everyone had seen the people being raised and chained into obedience. But Eragon and the Eldunaris had felt the true extent of the madness when they had arrived at the Wall for the first time. They had seen the slow corruption of the whole country and of nature. This was over now and nature was singing its joy inside Eragon's mind. A fleeting emotion, of pure and boundless raw joy, after its slow and long corruption.
The wait was over, but Eragon didn't have time to relinquish this.
As soon as the Night King had fallen, Saphira had urged him to climb on his back
"Climb on me, fast"
When he had tried to protest and to try to heal her, she had growled menacingly and almost tried to scoop him to climb faster. Sensing the urgency in her voice, he didn't question her and they left before the ashes of the Night King had completely fallen. The elves were left in the Weirwood to deal with the Stark children and to make sure the threat was completely gone. Eragon trusted his dragon and knew everything would make sense rather sooner than later but for now, time seemed to be of the essence.
He could feel her pain but she kept pushing, flying quickly to the inner walls of Winterfell.
After only a few seconds, they got their first glimpse of the fortress after the battle. The Castle was just as wounded as the people who had protected it. Walls had been destroyed, blood was mixed with the snow and bodies littered the whole place. It felt surreal, given that
But Eragon looked past all this, for he had something else more worrying in mind.
As they flew in the direction of Winterfell, he understood the reason for Saphira's worry. During his fight against the Night King, all the remaining White Walkers had attacked Daenerys and her dragons. Both dragons had been hit by spears but Rhaegal seemed to be in a critical state.
Most worrying was the fact that a few elves had remained with the Targaryen Rider instead of coming to the woods should have been able to protect the dragons. The White Walkers should have been easily dealt with, and the wards surrounding the dragons were strong enough to withhold anything short of a whole turret collapsing on them.
They arrived in the middle of a warzone. What had been a peaceful place, covered by snow 24 hours ago was now unrecognizable. There was a feeling of despair in the air. The majority of the snow had melted, mixing with mud, blood and wights' remains. Small fires still lingered left and right.
The smell was unbearable, a mixture of gore and decayed flesh.
But all of this mattered little to Eragon and Saphira. Their whole attention was turned on the two dragons who were laying on the ground.
Daenerys stood next to them, alive but in deep pain though she didn't have any serious apparent wound. Saphira hadn't completely landed that Eragon was already jumping, walking in the direction of Daenerys. He had recovered some energy stored in Brisingr's sapphires. But he dreaded what he would see. Because Rhaegal was dead, his presence completely gone and every step he was taking only seemed to confirm this harsh truth.
Daenerys tear-streaked face proved she had reached the same conclusion. The body of the green dragon had been hit with several spears. His throat, back, left wing and chest had been pierced by frozen javelins, some of which were still deeply buried inside of his body. Drogon's right wing had also been pierced and one of his legs looked broken.
"Please Eragon save them" begged Daenerys as soon as she saw him.
But he knew no words or spell would be able to bring Rhaegal back. Brom's face, kept in his priceless sepulchre came to his mind.
Eragon's face and lack of movement must have betrayed him because she fell on her knees, losing the last bit of control and hope she had and he felt his chest tighten at the painful memory.
Drogon, probably sensing the pain of Daenerys let out a sorrowful roar, coming to the same conclusion as all the people present.
"There's nothing I can do for Rhaegal now. He's gone Daenerys" whispered Eragon softly. Behind him, Saphira let out a sorrowful roar, mirroring the great pain she was feeling.
He felt helpless in this situation. A taste of bittersweet after their hard-earned victory.
"I … I will heal Drogon now. The wounds look serious and painful" finished Eragon
There was nothing she could do but nod and Eragon slowly made his way toward Drogon. He felt numb and in pain, but he felt it owed it to Drogon and Daenerys.
Slowly, softly, he began to sing, to heal the black dragon. It was a long and tedious task, one he was all too familiar with, having performed it on Saphira several times, though she had scarcely been that wounded. His first move was to make sure there wasn't any internal bleeding, before turning his attention to Drogon's wing, which had been broken in several places. Only then did he start singing, softly, not to startle Daenerys.
It was a new tone, that felt natural after the events of the day, where the pain and sorrow could be felt, along with some hope lingering. One by one, he felt all the bones coming back together, fusing, smoothing the cracks until they weren't any left. The Eldunaris were helping him silently, offering him the last bits of energy he needed.
Finally, after some time, he felt confident the right-wing wouldn't suffer any lasting damage and he set his work on Drogon's left leg. The job here was easier for Eragon, the damages were less important. No bones had been broken, only muscles that had been shredded. This required less finesse but more energy, which was once again provided by the Eldunaris.
He was completely exhausted. The sun was slowly emerging behind the forest. They had fought and defended Winterfell the whole night. He was knackered, from the fights, the energy spent healing, warding, using magic … The Night King and the army of the dead had vanished, but their own army had taken their toll. Rhaegal was a painful reminder of this. It felt all the more surreal since all the dead were their own. The entire enemy army had vanished and it looked like they had fought for nothing.
Drogon had now stopped bleeding but he remained there, sitting painfully close to his dead sibling, also completely exhausted from the night's fighting. His eyes were closed, only letting small groans. He has lost a serious amount of blood but was now out of danger.
Eragon didn't know how dragons mourned. Glaedr's loss had been in the middle of the war. But he guessed Saphira, Drogon and Viserion would deal with it on their own terms, just like he and Daenerys would.
He had one last task to complete before he could sleep. Taking a deep breath, he left Drogon's side and went to Saphira. He took comfort in her presence and for a few seconds, he remained at her side, taking solace in her presence, absently stroking her chest but he quickly stopped. She too had been wounded on her left leg and he wasn't about to let the pain continue.
As usual with dragons, it looked impressive but he knew it wasn't critical. Nevertheless, he tapped into the energy stored in Brisingr to heal her. Absently, he noticed he had emptied most of his reserves. Aren and the sapphires in his sword were now depleted of energy, something which had never happened before. But in his current state of tiredness, this situation left him pretty much indifferent.
He healed her wound, methodically, bringing his mind close to hers, and looking for some comfort in her presence after this surreal night. No more thoughts were shared, they simply relinquished to be reunited and were mourning for those who had left them.
Her wound was the easiest to heal and he was quickly done with it. Turning, almost falling from the lack of energy, he turned to find Daenerys. She hadn't moved and stood next to Drogon, her face stuck in a mask of pain and sorrow.
Silently, he walked the few steps separating him from her. Absently, he noticed all the snow had melted and already, the day felt warmer than what it had been the previous days. She didn't react to his presence, didn't move.
He simply offered his hand to Daenerys who took it, clutching it almost painfully.
No words from Eragon would help her at this point. And Eragon didn't know if he could properly do anything. The past fifteen minutes had been unreal. After fighting and killing the Night King, he stood next to one dead dragon, clutching Daenerys close as she sensed the loss of Rhaegal and cried the loss of one of her children, the minutes were a blur.
The bond a Rider shared with his dragon -or dragons in Daenerys' case- was a blessing most of the case. But its backlash was unbearable in those few cases.
Eragon sensed the arrival of the other elves who had remained in the castle. Viserion also was here, gingerly half flying, half walking, followed by his guards. He could see also some bystanders, watching curiously but not daring to get closer to the dragons.
Eragon couldn't help but notice some absences in the ranks of the elves. Five of them were missing, something most unusual.
He would later learn that three of them had died while purring energy to ward Rhaegal from the spears. The two others had been wounded while fighting White Walkers or wights, who had come in waves to overcome the dragons. The whole castle had been on the edge of collapse when Eragon had killed the Night King, who had let loose of all his army in the final moments. The elves' magic hadn't worked as intended just like in Urû'baen.
The icy weapons had been able to cut through many layers of wards, more than what they expected. The magic here was foreign, aggressive and older than what they were used to and had worked in most unexpected ways.
He knew he would miss the presence of these elves with whom he had shared a lot these past months. But the moment to mourn would come later. At this point, Eragon even doubted he could feel a lot. He felt empty, washed up. All the adrenaline and stress accumulated during the previous weeks was leaving him and he could feel his exhaustion catching up.
"Let's get some rest," said Eragon, both verbally and mentally.
There were many wounded in the castle but he knew that if he didn't take a short break soon, he would collapse and make terrible mistakes.
The fights had taken their toll, and healing Drogon, Saphira and his own wounds had been the last stroke. Saphira and he had been in relatively good shape, especially compared to the others, but healing dragon wounds, even the most benign, always required a lot of energy.
Eragon wasn't particularly eager to go back to the castle, where he predicted many would be fasting. With a common agreement, Saphira and he took a few steps, making some distance between them and Rhaegal, before simply falling on the exterior side of Winterfell. Drogon had followed them, keeping a close eye on Daenerys, with the elves closing the group. Daenerys was still clutching his hand and while he felt some resistance leaving Rhaegal, she followed silently, probably understanding what they were doing.
Without further ado, he simply laid against her side and closed his eyes. There was nothing else to do. Daenerys laid close to him. Drogon and Viserion came close, protecting their mother. In these tragic times, they were trying to keep her warm and protected.
When Eragon snapped his eyes open a few hours later, he felt more ready to face the challenge the day would surely bring. Daenerys was still asleep and was surrounded by Drogon and Rhaegal.
Her face was set in a mask of sadness and he could see streaks of dry tears on her cheeks, puffy and red from the warmth provided by the dragons. Last night had been hard for her, and he knew the following days would be even harder, as the loss of Rhaegar would be felt. This was a wound that would never completely close, Eragon knew it.
He remained still for a few moments, watching the slow breathing of the dragons. No one had dared to disturb them and he couldn't feel anyone close to them.
Without waking her, he extracted himself from Saphira's wings before slowly stretching his limbs. After a whole night fighting and wearing his heavy armour, his muscles definitely felt stiff, especially his right arm which had wielded Brisingr during long and painful exchanges with the Night King. He would need to follow with some Rimgar exercises once he was sure everything had cooled down in Winterfell. Drogon had felt him move and was looking at him intently but wasn't making any threatening move. Just like Saphira, he was guarding his rider.
He knew his help would be required quickly at the castle, but he couldn't let Daenerys alone in such a state. But he needed to learn about the battle, the casualties and the burning topics. The whereabouts of the missing elves were weighing on his mind.
"Go Eragon, I'll stay with her," told Saphira softly, letting a soft grumble.
He was surprised by this omission. Such tokens of kindness towards humans were rare from Saphira. But the loss of Rhaegal had taken its toll on all of them.
After stretching his muscles one last time, he started going back to the castle, to meet with the Westerosi.
During the short walk to the castle, he kept talking to Saphira and the Eldunaris, who had followed the aftermath while they were resting. From what they had understood, the losses had been important, something quickly confirmed by what Eragon could see around him.
People were buzzing, collecting corpses, clearing the walls of the castles, removing rumbles ... The losses were important, both in terms of destruction and in human lives. The battle hadn't been contained outside the thick walls of Winterfell. No matter where he looked, he could see remnants from the fights, be it rumbles or corpses. He was starting to think all the castle had been swarmed and thought about the civilians who had been confined in the basements. Eragon hoped they hadn't been ambushed, since he knew they had close to no defence. The Eldunaris couldn't offer many answers there, having heard little about the fate of the children and the elders.
People had started to notice him during his short walk and whispers followed him. They tried to be discrete about it, to no avail since Eragon was able to understand it perfectly with his enhanced hearing.
"Saviour", "Kingslayer", and "Targaryen boy" were some of the words he could hear as he walked by the men. He noticed more warmth, and kindness coming from Daenerys's soldiers, compared to the Northerners. They were still wary of the dragons and, mixed with the adulation, he could perceive some fear and mistrust.
But it didn't matter. He needed to understand what had happened during the battle. He had received a good overview but he wanted to hear what they had to say. First, to see if some information was lacking on either side and second, to hear their point of view. Dragons and elves tended to see things with a different perception than humans.
Entering the great hall, he wasn't surprised to find broken furniture littering the ground. The wights had been able to enter the building. Thankfully, the damages in this room appeared to be only material. A table, which appeared to be the only one not destroyed, had been set up with bread and wine. Jon was there too, with his sister Sansa.
Tormund was the first to catch sight of him and to make his presence known
"Here comes the Night Killer" he shouted with a boisterous laugh, lifting his glass full of ale in a welcoming gesture.
He was glad to see the wildling had survived the battle. He appreciated his honesty. The ginger man was never afraid to speak up his mind and would never hide his opinion. He didn't seem wounded, except for a few scratches. Knowing the wildling, it was a miracle he hadn't sustained more injuries since had probably gone into the battle headlong. But behind the mirth in his voice, his eyes spoke volumes. There was a spark of darkness in them, a small window to see all the horrors he had lived during the previous night. Despite his presence here, a part of Tormund had left during the battle, while fighting side by side with but also against fellow wildings.
Nevertheless, Tormund's shout had attracted the attention of all the people inside the room and all the eyes turned on him instantly. He remained for a few seconds frozen in place, hating to be the centre of attention in times like this.
"Go Eragon, don't remain frozen like this," said Saphira encouragingly.
Step by step, he kept walking, ignoring the whispers who erupted. He stopped at Tormund's side for a brief moment before continuing his reaching the high table where Jon and Sansa and a few lords were seated and were probably discussing before Eragon's entrance. Now, they were intently watching him.
"Jon, Lady Sansa, I'm happy to see you both survived this night" started Eragon
"So am I. The North and Westeros in general owe you for what you've done Eragon. Thank you" answered Jon. His tiredness was plain to see. He probably hadn't rested since the end of the battle, barely two hours ago.
Sansa merely nodded but refused to meet his eyes.
It suddenly dawned on Eragon that Bran had died and that they were grieving the loss of their sibling. With the rush caused by the end of the fight and Rhaegal's death, Eragon and Saphira had completely forgotten about the small boy who had been the last victim of the Night King.
"Is Arya going to be ok?" enquired Eragon.
Sansa's eyes looked up but it was Jon who answered once more
"She will be. Her wounds were deep but her life isn't in danger anymore."
"That's good to hear. I'm sorry for your loss. Bran was a good and smart boy and he certainly didn't deserve to die," replied Eragon, uncomfortable talking about the strange Stark boy.
They exchanged a few more words but he felt the weight this conversation was bringing and decided to let it go. They were grieving and he definitely felt out of place. The other lords were also merely watching him like a dangerous prize, an asset they hadn't properly qualified yet.
But all of this mattered little to Eragon. He had done his part, and couldn't care less at the moment about foreign politics made by foolish stubborn people. They were also places where his presence would be much more valued. Thus, he decided to leave to go where all the wounded had been gathered.
Fortunately, or not depending on the perspective, it was easy to find the place. The smell and the noise gave it away. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he was going in the right direction. When he arrived, he was met by a rather gruesome sight. Dozens upon dozens of people were lying, on thin mattresses laid on the ground. The whole room was filled to the brim. Some of them were sleeping, and others were screaming in pain. Many faces were tense, definitely in pain. Several maesters were acting hastily, offering unknown concoctions, patching wounds, and trying their best to save as many as they could.
Many soldiers were suffering from frostbite or similar injuries. The fights had been long and many wounds had been sustained. The list went from minor wounds and frostbites to rather gruesome open wounds or missing limbs. Some of them had been sustained while fighting White Walkers with their unique weapons, which made it all the more complicated to heal. Eragon knew Viserion had suffered a lot from the consequences of his own wounds received at the Wall.
He made his way towards them. This was where he would be the most useful, healing those beyond help for Westerosi healers. He wasn't in the mood to partake or cheer. And the sentiment was shared by the Eldunaris and Saphira.
They had hoped that Shruikan's death would be the last for decades, but fate had decided otherwise. Another dragon had been slain mere months after the death of Galbatorix. There was almost a sense of doom and resignation amongst them and Eragon couldn't blame them.
The next hours were spent bringing back those who should have been doomed. Most of them were unconscious and didn't offer any resistance. Most of the wounds didn't require more than one or two words in Ancient Language. He was continuously mending bones and repairing muscles.
The maesters too, having seen first-hand Eragon's magic saving Jon Snow, didn't even try to oppose him. It would be fruitless, and Eragon was concentrating his efforts to save soldiers who were beyond saving for the Westerosi healers. News of his victory against the Night King had reached them and he could see the respect in their eyes.
During that time, he could feel Saphira's presence, bringing him all the energy he needed. He could feel her vulnerability, her fear and sadness. He knew that somehow, she felt responsible for Rhaegal's death, just like she had been moved when Viserion had been wounded. He knew Umaroth had been talking to her, sharing his own experience, having also lost his whole pack during the war against Galbatorix.
Muscles were mended, bones repaired and wounds were protected against infection. Eragon couldn't completely heal all these people, but he had the ability to save them from dying.
But his concentration was broken when he heard that Daenerys had woken and would be coming to the castle herself. In a matter of a few seconds, she got surrounded by Unsullied and Dothrakis who took it upon themselves to escort their Queen to the castle's safety. Eragon managed to follow her walk through Saphira's eyes.
He heard Saphira explaining to Daenerys where he was before she went back to rest. Outside, he could feel the castle buzzing with activities. Quietness wouldn't come anytime soon at Winterfell, not after having fought a large-scale battle like this.
There was a strange atmosphere floating around. There was a definite sense of relaxation, of freedom gained back. But the losses were important and many people were still missing. For these, the worst was imagined. The conditions outside of the castle were still harsh, even though the blizzard brought by the Army of the Dead was gone. The chances of survival were dimming with each passing hour.
When he shared his observations to Saphira and the Eldunaris about the apparent lack of joy, their answer was most enlightening:
"Not many people got the full scale of the enemy Eragon. You must understand that many fought in Du Fyrn Svell for the first time yesterday, against an enemy they had never seen. Only a few of them, like Jon Snow properly understood the threat they represented. For the rest, this was just another war, motivated by leaders who lived with luxury. For the commoners, the difference between fighting soldiers, wights, dragons or even frozen spiders is non-existent. They put their lives in danger, risk their crops and usually fight without a real purpose. Sadly, this is what happened with the Usurper too. Only a few like Oromis truly understood quickly the danger Galbatorix represented. I'm ashamed to say Valdr and I let the problem linger far too long," answered Umaroth.
Eragon sent the equivalent of a mental nod. He knew it was still a sore point for most of these elders, having been caught in their sense of self-security.
But their mental comparison of the way people acted here and the Riders of before was interrupted by the arrival of Jon Snow in the middle of the room transformed into a hospice.
If possible, the room got more silent. The few wounded who weren't asleep turned their heads to watch the hardened man. The whimpers dropped. Even Eragon had stopped casting, knowing starting a spell now would be ridiculous. The whole attention of the room was split between the two of them, trying to catch the conversation that would start. But it seemed that Jon would remain true to his reputation of being a man of a few words.
His eyes went on Eragon and with a quick gesture of his hand, indicated that he wanted to talk outside.
Being done for the moment and seeing no one on the verge of dying, Eragon followed him. With the recent arrival of Daenerys, he had a good idea of Jon's request. He followed him in the cold corridors of Winterfell until they arrived at the familiar solar.
Eragon was quite familiar with this room, having spent countless hours with countless lords to prepare for the battle. Thus, he didn't linger on the shelves filled with scrolls and books on the back nor on the large map of Westeros displayed on a wall. When he entered the room, he was greeted by several of said lords. It became obvious that the battle had taken its toll. Where once they had all been cramped around the table to have a good view of the battlefield that had been drawn, they now were able to move freely in the luminous room. Some of them were in the room Eragon had just left. Others, less fortunate, had been killed during the battle.
No one mentioned it, but it was at the forefront of everyone's mind. Daenerys was also present, in the corner. She still looked extremely pained and tired after the events that took place a few hours ago. He noticed that as usual, no one was talking to her, even if today, not many were talking in general.
He noticed her eyes on him when she became aware of his entrance and he gave her a small nod. She looked just as sad but a bit less tired than the last time he had seen her.
Behind him, Jon took his place in the middle of the room. He acted as the rallying point between all the Northern Lords, the wildlings, Daenerys, her armies, and Eragon.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice" started Jon, his voice firm. Eragon could detect a small flick of tiredness in his voice though and he guessed that the young man had probably slept as much as Eragon, perhaps even less.
Jon carried, intending to finish this discussion rather quickly to earn some rest.
"The Night King has fallen and we won the battle at the cost of countless sacrifices"
Shouts erupted from several lords who made their agreement vocal, forcing Jon to pause again. He let the lords celebrate for a few seconds before catching their attention and resuming:
"As you've probably heard and seen, the Night King was defeated early in the morning by Eragon, ending the Army of the Dead. The losses have been important and I know the masters are still counting the people missing. We won and I feel myself fortunate to be alive and share this special day with you. While we will celebrate this victory, we need to be aware that now is the time for reconstruction. Winter is here, and we will need to survive it."
This is the end of the chapter! I hope you've enjoyed it! Please, don't hesitate to comment, review, fav, this gives me a lot of motivation to keep this story and update quickly !