Winterfell 305 AC.
Aegon.
Their plans were made and all they could do was wait, so after a night where he and Dany had almost exhausted themselves, Aegon woke and made his way to his mother's statue. He knelt in front of it and offered up prayers to any who'd listen, his mother, his father, the Old Gods, any, his words simple and true.
"Me and not her, if it must be one of us, then let me fall." he said softly before rising.
When he arrived back at his room, Dany was already dressing, his wife looking annoyed at him for not waking her up, though the kisses they shared soon seemed to win him back her favor. Together they walked to the Great Hall, finding it to be full and bidding people keep their seats while they took their own. The food they would all share today was more than they'd been eating for most of the days leading up to this. Not that they'd starved themselves or anything, more they'd conserved and not truly indulged. Aegon though had stopped that for the night before and for today. What they had to face would require them to do so on full stomachs and for some these would be the final meals they ate, they may as well enjoy them he had decided.
"All is set?" he heard Dany ask Grey Worm who for once was sitting eating with them.
"All is set my queen, we are ready." Grey Worm replied and Aegon watched as Dany placed a hand on the man's shoulder and leaned in to whisper something in his ear.
"You're not drinking King Crow?" Tormund said walking over with a horn of what he was glad to smell was ale.
"Neither are you." he said with a smirk nodding to the horn.
"Drunk but not too drunk, King Crow." Tormund said with a loud laugh.
"The Free Folk? He asked.
"Are ready, For Hardhome." Tormund said raising the Horn.
"Aye, for Hardhome." he said raising his own mug that was filled with water and slamming it against Tormund's own.
He saw that Jaime Lannister was sitting beside and speaking to Brienne, Aegon smiling as he looked at them. Word had reached him of what had happened the night before and he felt that she had deserved it more than most. Around the room he could see the Northern Lords and Lord Beric, he nodded to Edd and looked for Arya though not finding her. It was a little later that he saw his little sister come into the hall with a very sheepish looking Gendry beside her. Aegon was about to go over to speak to her since she'd not come to him, when one of the guards came running inside.
"Riders, Your Grace, from the South."
"Dead Men?" Tormund asked.
"No, they live." the guard replied but Aegon had risen to his feet and was already heading to the door by then.
Jaime, Brienne, and Arya followed behind him as did the Mormont's and Lord Reed, with Dany and Grey Worm not too far behind. Aegon quickly headed to the battlements to see the riders from the best vantage point. He took the stairs two at a time and ignored the worried looks the guards gave him as he passed them. Soon reaching where he could look out and see the riders in the distance. Two things became very clear to him almost right away, the riders were moving quickly and they were not part of the group he'd sent south. Aegon looking to see sigils he couldn't recognize and then turning to run back down to the courtyard and ride out to meet them.
Dany and Arya met him first, his wife and sister had obviously run while the others had moved more slowly and Aegon was happy to see both Jaime and Grey Worm close by his wife's side.
"Who are they?" Dany asked.
"I don't know, they're not ours." he said and saw her look a little worried.
"It's fifty or so men, Dany. If they mean us harm they'll find themselves outmatched." he said relaxing her some.
They made their way to the courtyard and despite his wishes to ride out, he took the advice of Jaime and the Northern Lords and allowed them to send out a party out in his stead. Waiting for the men to return was frustrating and yet welcome too, as it was the first time in god's knew how long that he and others hadn't been thinking of the Army of the Dead and what marched their way. Eventually, the riders and the party they'd sent out to meet them arrived at Winterfell's gates and Aegon had a chance to get a closer look at the men.
He could see they were tanned, not from the North, and perhaps from even further South than he had expected. Were it not for the sigils he'd have named them as Essosi, but as he looked closer he began to recognize some of them. A black adder biting a heel on a field of yellow, three black scorpions on red and the one that excited him, and by the looks of it Jaime Lannister him just as much, a white sword crossed with a falling star on a lilac field.
"House Dayne." he heard Jaime whisper.
Aegon watched as two men dismounted before one moved forward and took a knee in front of him and Dany, though it was the blade on the man's back that took his and everyone else's eye. The young boy in him was keen to see if he was indeed right and that was truly Dawn that the man carried. Looking to the other man, he found that he didn't like how he looked at him and especially Dany, something about his eyes and his look feeling off to him. There was an arrogance about him and the silver hair with its dark streak only added to it. The man on his knees seemed altogether more pleasant, he wore an easy smile on his young face, and his blond hair and blue eyes were both quite striking.
"Your Grace, I am Lord Edric Dayne and I bring greetings from Dorne." Edric said.
"Arise Lord Dayne and be welcomed." Aegon said and the Lord did just as he was bid.
Hearing a gasp from behind him, Aegon looked to see Arya moving forward with Gendry, both of them looking keenly at the boy who himself was looking past them at Lord Beric, wearing an even warmer smile on his face as he did so.
"May I present my cousin, Ser Gerold Dayne." Edric said motioning to the man with the silver streak who hadn't knelt and was now looking at Dany with even greater interest.
"Your grace." Ser Gerold said to her and not to him Aegon noticed.
"You've come at a most inopportune time, Lord Dayne, or perhaps it's actually a most opportune one, we make ready for a battle." he said looking to see if the man knew more than he was letting on.
"We heard, against dead men apparently." Ser Gerold snorted.
"Aye, and they'll be here right soon." he said not looking to the man but at his cousin instead.
"We are here to offer our spears and swords should you have need of them, your grace." Edric said and Aegon nodded before calling for Ser Jorah and Lord Reed to see the men were properly armed. Something which garnered an odd look from both Edric and Ser Gerold.
"We were just breaking our fast, I'm sure you'd welcome some warm food and we can discuss what brings you to the North, my lord." he said looking to Edric.
"We'd welcome the warmth, your grace, the North's cold is not something we're used to." Edric said with yet another smile on his face.
After they'd eaten and warmed up some, Aegon and Dany held a meeting alone with Lord Edric where he told him to call him Ned which raised his interest, and then gave them some background on himself. Aegon was most surprised to find that he'd been Lord Beric's squire and had met both Arya and Gendry while with the Brotherhood without Banners. Despite the urge to see Dawn in all it's glory, he felt the need to inform him of exactly what was coming for them and so began to tell the tale. Watching as Ned both looked disbelieving and worried at the same time before he then began to listen more keenly.
"I cannot deny this sounds most strange, your grace, had I not seen what Thoros was able to do myself then I'd call you a liar and a fool. Though I'd do both in my head and not with my words." Ned said and Aegon found himself chuckling.
"I wish I was both, Ned, truly, and when you see them for yourself, you'll wish it too. But they're coming and will be here by nightfall or early on the morrow. So you won't need to wait for long to see me proved false or true." he said looking to the man.
"As I said, your grace, we're here to offer our assistance, if you can use us then we're more than happy to help."
"Why?" Dany asked.
"Your grace?" Ned asked confused.
"Why come all this way? And why fight in a fight that's not your own?" she said staring intently at Ned Dayne.
"On the second it would seem we have no choice, your grace, the fight is coming, better to die with a sword in your hand than an arrow in you back, not that I have any intention of dying here today." Ned replied with that same easy smile still on his face "As for the first one, the princess would seek an alliance, your grace. She would see Dorne be part of the Seven Kingdoms once more, under your rule."
Aegon looked to Dany who he saw despite how calm and composed she looked was more than happy with this turn of events. Her eyes sparkling with the knowledge that Dorne still saw her as the rightful queen.
"And will Dorne offer up its spears to see my wife crowned?" he asked catching the surprised look that Ned shot him.
"It will your grace, as long as Cersei Lannister is brought down and faces judgment for her crimes, she and the Iron Born she's aligned with, then Dorne is more than happy to call her grace our queen."
"And my husband? Will Dorne call him it's king?" Dany asked curiously.
Aegon looked on as Ned hesitated, something on his mind that he wished to say but he held his tongue on whatever it was for now and instead seemed reluctant to answer.
"A question for tomorrow my love, let's ensure first that we make it through today." he said seeing the relief on Ned's face.
The Battle of Winterfell 305 AC.
Jaime.
He wished he could be by his king's side or by his queen's but he knew he could not, Jaime's job was to make sure the keep didn't fall and that's what he would do. Besides he had no urge to fly on a dragon and out into whatever it was that Aegon and Daenerys were flying out into. So instead he stood looking out and waiting as the light started to fade and night began to fall. A little earlier Melisandre had arrived and Jaime had watched as Aegon and his sister had both given the woman looks that did not bode well for her future. Only for her to say that she'd come to help and then for her to be taken to the Dothraki at her insistence.
Looking out on the darkness, he began to wonder if they were truly out there. If the army that everyone said was coming was truly was on its way. Aegon seemed certain they were and had sent the Dothraki and the Knights of the Vale to make ready. Beneath them standing in front of the walls and behind the last of their barriers, the unsullied, the Free Folk, and the Mountain clans stood waiting to invite them onto them. Jaime hoping that they would hold and move as the king had told them to do.
There was more than a mile between the walls of Winterfell and the trees that were off in the distance and for the last few days, he'd made sure that as much of that mile as possible was filled with traps. Trenches were filled with spikes tipped with Dragonglass, with oil that could be alighted. Caltrops had been made crudely to slow and perhaps stop some of the dead from reaching them. Every single trick, every tactic he'd ever read about to deal with cavalry charges, infantry marches, or holding a defensive position he'd used and adapted. All he could do now was hope he'd done enough.
"Ser Jaime." he heard Brienne say as she walked his way, Podrick walking beside her.
"Ser Brienne." he said with a nod and saw the brief smile she gave and the much larger one on Podrick's face.
"I'd rather be out there." she said as she took a place beside him.
"No you wouldn't, they have their job to do and we ours, I'd not swap with them." he said truthfully.
"You really think they'll come, Ser Jaime?" Podrick asked nervously.
"The king does." he said simply in response.
Qhono.
Behind him were almost 50,000 of his very best men, across the field in the distance and led by Zhowo were the remaining 50,000. When the signal came they would do as they'd been ordered by Khal Ver, Qhono having listened and accepted that his plan was far better than his own. His Khaleesi had chosen a strong man to be her Khal and he was a man that Qhono felt comfortable calling his Khal. He'd proved his strength to him and to others in the things these people called spars. Khal Ver showing his blade to be far truer than his own and to any who dared challenge him.
He'd also shown that his loyalty was to the Khaleesi above all others even going against his own blood to do so, which was as it should be. Khal Ver was Qoy Qohi to the Khaleesi which made him Qot Qohi to him too and so he had listened and accepted his words. They'd keep their Arakhs, but would ride out with long spears called lances and they would ride hard and true.
" Cut down and move on, do not stop, ride, and only when you're through and out the other side are you turn to ride again." Khal Ver said.
" This is not the Dothraki way." Qhono replied.
" Against this enemy, this is the only way, Remember the three thousand. Qhono"
" I remember, Khal Ver."
It was a strange feeling to have a Khal and a Khaleesi who though they wished victory, didn't wish it above all else. Qhono found that it was something that had taken him time to get used to and even more time to understand. Jorah the Andal finally making it clear to him when he brought the Red Witch their way, telling them that she was here to help and would do so once the time was right.
" Why we need her help, Jorah the Andal?"
" You've seen what comes for us, Qhono, imagine what an army of them will look like, what men who are not men and who have no fear will do. Imagine that and tell me you need or accept no help, this woman may not follow the Great Stallion but perhaps she serves him too."
" The Khaleesi, The Khal, they wish this?" he asked.
" They do. Our Khaleesi would see you on the morrow, you and all her Qoy Qohi." Jorah said.
" Not all will return from the ride this night, Jorah the Andal, not even the Great Stallion could make it so." he said shaking his head.
" Yet the Khaleesi would see that it was more than less. We have more battles to fight, more days to see and more moons to live, my friend. All who fall, all who are lost bring pain to the Khaleesi's heart, she would see her Qoy Qohi live to ride another day." Jorah said gripping his arm before he rode off.
Qhono looked to the men behind him and then he looked to the sky, he'd bring as many back as he could, and together they'd ride once more.
Dany.
They'd gone over their plans, again and again, Dany not agreeing and yet knowing that she'd not change Aegon's mind on this. She wished to be a part of it his plan for the Night King and yet the words he spoke though hurtful were true. No longer was she alone or was her own life the only thing she held in her hands. The life that grew inside her and that she was feeling more and more each day, mattered even more than the life she feared for.
" Our babe, Dany, you and our babe, no matter what else happens this night, no matter how much it may pain you, I need you to promise me something."
" Aegon?" she said shaking her head.
" Promise me." he said determinedly.
" What would you ask of me."
" If all is lost, then you fly, you go, Dany. You, Drogon, our babe, you fly as far from here as you can, you live, both of you."
" Aegon, no."
" Promise me." Aegon said determinedly.
She had promised and had sworn she'd do as he bid and yet she was sure she would not, she could not leave him or her people, she would not. They would win or they would lose but it would be together and as she climbed up on Drogon's back she quickly made her own promise. Across from her but too far away for her to touch or feel, she could see he was up on Rhaegal's back already. His passenger was secured in front of him and he too waited to take to the air.
They'd agreed that Dany would see to the forces that attacked them, she'd sweep over the dead and Drogon would lay down his flames, just as he had done so many times already. Aegon would take Rhaegal and fly off and into the storm, his own target was sure to come his way or so he'd told her. Dany knew he was right and cursed him for risking himself so. She felt Drogon begin to stir beneath her and then she looked over to Aegon and saw he was looking her way. Dany trying to picture his expression as she watched Rhaegal take to the sky.
"Sōvegon Drōgon" she said as Drogon followed his brother into the air.
She heard the cheers of those below her as Drogon flew low enough for them to see, Dany looking down and seeing the battle had already begun. Beneath her, she could see dead men pushing against the barriers, the unsullied pushing them back along with the Free Folk and the men of the North, and Dany flew as close to her own men as she dared before Drogon readied to lay the dead to waste.
"Dracarys." she said passing over a large group and seeing them burn, her eyes both on those below and the dragon which now flew further and further away from her.
Tormund.
They came and he almost shat himself to see just how many there were. It was different than Hardhome or even being beyond the wall with Jon Snow. Here they were more focused on what was in front of them, the carnage he'd seen them bring to his people seeming far less organized than this. His axe swung as hard as it ever had, the head coming loose as he used his other hand to drive the dagger into another of the dead fuckers.
Arrows flew from high above them, thinning the line they faced but only briefly, Tormund hearing the screams as men were pulled over the barrier and into the army of the dead. Beside him, men fell and the torchbearers soon moved to set them ablaze, their lines both holding steady and yet more and more flames were being lit where the dead men fell. Better that than they rise again Tormund thought as he moved to take his axe to a dead man who had tried to take the Wull's head. The large lord of the mountains giving him a thankful nod as he went right back to ending even more of the dead fuckers in front of him.
The Free Folk and the Northmen fought with a ferocity that was very much different than how the unsullied were fighting. Tormund seeing the cockless men move their spears and use their shields to hold the dead men back. Swift and sharp, the spears moved out and then in, their Dragonglass tips ending dead man after dead man. When he saw the bodies begin to pile up, he moved quickly, shouting to the Wull, The Norrey, and the Middle Liddle to help him out.
"The pile, the pile, we need to knock it over." he shouted and then was forced to do so again when his words went unheard.
"Lead the way, Giantsbane." Big Bucket shouted as finally they moved towards him.
They had to fight to get there, his axe never staying still as he found out that turning sidewards to the dead was a terrible idea. He felt dead fingers try to claw out his eyes, his hair being pulled, and he was grabbed only for the Middle Liddle to take the dead fuck's arms with his own even larger axe. Soon enough they reached the pile and Tormund was relieved they made it in time, all of them moving up against it and some more of their men joining them as they began to push.
Whether it was the sheer mass of dead men behind it forcing it their way or whether they somehow knew his intent he couldn't be sure, but Tormund felt the pile being pushed back towards them.
"More, we need More." he shouted.
It was his people that answered, Tormund looking on as they were led towards him and soon enough there were more of them pushing than those who were pushing back.
"Torches." he called out loudly.
The men ran with them as the pile began to move and was on the verge of falling over. He grabbed one from one of the men and pushed it into the bodies, watching as the flames took hold and as the other torchbearers did the same. The pile now aflame and crashing down on those behind it and Tormund heard the cheers as more of the dead soon began to catch on fire. Looking out he saw the black and red dragon as it laid down more and more flames on the dead that had tried to come their way.
"Show off." he said as he began to swing his axe once more.
Luthor Boggs.
Why the fuck had he agreed to this? Was he mad? Did he have a death wish? Was he so keen to die that he was willing to lie in a field that was soon to be full of dead men? He wasn't sure that he hadn't lost his mind and then it hit him. Luthor wasn't here for himself nor did he wish for glory, he was here for her, for them. For his wife and their children and they were all that mattered, not him, not the men with him though he'd fight for them too. Larna, Marl, and Howl, that was who he was fighting for and whether he got to see them again or not, he'd give them the best chance to live that he could.
Together with the other dozen men he laid in wait, the cold ground having stopped bothering him some time ago. Time stretching on and feeling endless had long ago become something he was used to, the smell that had started to come his way, was very much not. Not that he wasn't used to bad smells, living in the Neck near the swamps he and every other Crannogman had smelt their share. This was very much different though, a smell of death that filled up his senses so completely that he could smell nothing else.
He saw them then for the first time and he was glad he'd taken a piss and a shit before he'd covered himself in the grass and moss that lay over his back. Had he not, then he'd have been sure to have done both now as he looked out at the countless dead men that were moving his way. Some fell into the trenches, the spikes soon enough being so full of them that the dead were just able to walk right over the many bodies that were impaled. Others fell into the oil and Luthor heard the splashes and knew that the others amongst his men would soon set them alight.
His first sight of a White Walker did loosen his bladder a little, Luthor feeling a warm sensation run down his leg and both welcoming the heat it provided and wondering where the liquid came from. Was there always this little extra there, this small bit of piss that you could never relieve yourself off, if so then why? Ah well, it was a question for another time and a conversation with friends that he looked forward to having.
Taking his bow, he readied the arrow and waited until the White Walker passed him by. Moving as quickly as he could, he rose to his knees and readied his aim, the White Walker no more than twenty feet in front of him and a target far bigger than the squirrel's he'd hunted back in the swamp. Yet his fingers had never shaken when aiming at a squirrel, his hands had never sweated, nor had his mouth ever been this dry. So when he took his aim and missed hitting a dead man, Luthor wasn't truly surprised.
"Fuck." he said loudly, there was no need to hide his presence now as the dead moved towards him, and the White Walker looked his way.
As quickly as he could he loaded another arrow and readied to take his shot. Images soon flooding his mind of Larna and of their wedding night, of holding Marl in his arms and seeing his daughter's smile for the first time and of welcoming Howl into the world and realizing that he was now father to a son. His eyes narrowed and he pulled the string back and watched as the arrow flew true. Then he closed them once more and readied for the dead to do their worst.
The high-pitched scream had him dropping his bow and placing his hands on his ears, the sound like nothing he'd ever heard before. It was piercing and it forced him to the ground before suddenly it was gone and the sound was heard no more. How long he lay there for he couldn't be certain, it felt like hours but was perhaps not even a moment that he did so. Luthor finally opening his eyes to see bodies around him and a pile of ice where the White Walker had once stood. He grabbed his bow and moved back into his hole covering himself up with the grass as he lay in wait once more.
Aegon.
He laid down flames as he flew, hitting those furthest away from where the Dothraki would ride and flying further north toward the storm. In front of him, Bran was strapped in, his brother a reluctant passenger but a passenger all the same. Aegon had not listened to his arguments and had not given in to his own stupid plan. Though there was no Theon to protect him until Arya could come and save him this time anyway.
No, the Night King wanted Bran and so Aegon would bring him to him or more assuredly force him to come his way. The storm had already changed direction as soon as he had begun to fly which proved him right on this. Looking behind him he could see Drogon as he lay down his flames and he wondered if Dany had given the Dothraki their signal yet. He doubted it as there were still too many of the dead moving to make their way to the field and so now was not the right time for the Horselords to ride them down.
"WE NEED TO GO BACK." Bran shouted into the wind and Aegon just shook his head.
Back was the last place they were needed, no it was to the storm that he now flew, the dead men beneath him were long gone from his view and the flames behind him seemed to be no more than a candle in the dark. He closed his eyes and checked on Rhaegal beneath him. Soon he was feeling the dragon's own sense of worry and doubt and he smiled when he felt it was for him, rather than for himself the dragon feared.
"Ȳdra daor sagon zūgagon emi naenie jēdri hēnkirī naejot māzigon, ñuha raqiros." (Don't be afraid we have many years together to come, my friend.) he said softly knowing that his brother would not understand the words he spoke.
He saw it then, the open expanse, the large drifts of snow, the North in all its harsh beauty and he felt it call to him. The old gods were here and here and they'd be watching, so he began to fly in circles rather than in any direction in particular. His eyes looked to the storm as it drew ever closer and the battle he was born to fight was finally set to begin. Aegon reached down and felt the hilt of Longclaw, he moved his hand and felt the Dragonglass dagger and on his back, he felt the bow and quiver.
"WE SHOULD NOT BE HERE." Bran shouted, his voice far more panicked than it had ever been since he'd returned.
"Yet here we are, brother and here we'll stand or fall."
"WINTERFELL."
"Is safe as long as he comes to me." he said as he felt the winds pick up and the ice and hail began to hit against his face.
Very soon he could see nothing, the whiteness of the falling snow and hail and the wind that whipped it up blinding him to all but a few feet in front of him and he swore he heard a voice in his head that sounded like a woman calling out to him.
" You are a dragon Aegon, be a dragon, a true dragon." the woman's voice cried out.
Aegon closing his eyes as he listened and saw what it was he was meant to see, his eyes no longer just his own as he and Rhaegal became one. He felt the fire begin to burn within him and then he felt the cold come ever closer and knew it was almost time.
' Sōvegon Rhaīgal, sōvegon adere se Drēje." (Fly Rhaegal, fly fast and true).
The words were felt and not spoken and Rhaegal flew just as Viserion dropped down from above, the cold ice of the dead dragon's flames missing them as they flew away, and soon enough they were being chased. Aegon feeling the malice and hate from both the Night King behind him and the thing he called a brother that sat to his front.
He held on as Rhaegal dropped low and skimmed the trees, the ice flames hitting where they had just been moments before. The chase was now on and he wondered if the Night King was even aware that it was he who was the rabbit, Aegon smiling as he took off his bow.
Grey Worm.
They could not hold, he knew it and the king and queen had known it long before the battle had begun. That he'd been ordered not to was the only saving grace he had here, as otherwise he and his men would fight to the last. As it was it allowed for them to do as much damage as they could and though some of his men had fallen, it was nowhere near as bad as it could be. The Northmen and the men from beyond the wall, the Free Folk, had helped them out greatly here as well, their ferocity matching the dead men who came their way.
As for the unsullied, they were precise and poised even in the face of an enemy that none of them who lived through this, should they be so lucky enough to do so, would ever forget. Grey Worm had thought seeing one of them in the Dragonpit had been a sight that would never leave him. Seeing countless numbers of them as they attacked made the other seem like something that was easy to forget. He heard a cheer and looked on to see a large group of the dead fall and an explosion of ice off somewhere in the distance was soon taking down another even larger group.
" The leaders Grey Worm, they're fast, faster even than I, one man may not take them down, but two, three, four or more. Men with arrows would be even better than men with swords and spears. When they fall, the dead will fall with them, larger groups than any but the dragons can take down."
The king's words were proved true and he began to look to see if he could see any, his spear moving all the time as the dead kept coming his way. While he didn't find any of the so-called White Walkers, his eyes did soon come upon a much more happy sight. His queen and Drogon were proving that they were both mightier than even these dead men. Flame upon flame, arc upon arc, the dragon never stopped and on its back his queen looked like the warrior she was. Daenerys may not swing a sword or carry a spear and she didn't fight as the northern women did, but on her dragon's back she had ended more dead men than the entirety of the men that were lined up alongside him.
"The Dragonqueen." he heard someone shout and looked to see it was the red-headed large man who was close to his king.
Grey Worm looked up to see as the queen and Drogon came flying their way. The sound the dragon made was as loud as he'd ever heard, the roar sending a vibration that he was sure every single man felt, one he was even more sure that every single man knew the meaning of. Looking back to the sky he saw the dragon head to the east and then he knew it was time.
"Dovaogēdy, arlī, naejot se gaomagon." (Unsullied, back to the keep.) he said as his men began to retreat.
They fought all the way, the spears moving even more quickly, the men of the North helping them as best they could, and as they reached the gates of Winterfell he heard the sound of the horse's hoofs. It saddened him that they had lost more men in the retreat than they did in the fight itself, but he knew they had no other choice. They were tiring and despite holding the dead men back and the queen using Drogon how she was, it would have only been a matter of time until they fell. Now they had a chance and soon enough he saw the gates as they closed and he felt able to breathe and relax even if was to be for just for a moment.
Dany.
He'd rested for days, Dany making sure he was fed and fed well and that he had no need to hunt and Drogon for once allowing her decision to stand. Her son was wilful and uncooperative when he wished to be and yet he could be anything but when he knew she was right. Dany knowing that he wished for nothing more than to fly to Rhaegal and to bring the fight to the thing that had taken Viserion from them both.
That it was what she wished to do more than anything else, only made her even more grateful that Drogon had listened to her when she'd explained why they could not. If her son had decided he'd not then she'd have given in by now, as it was he'd instead done as he was bid. The reasons for her being here had quickly become very clear, the dead just kept coming and they would have been overrun by not had they not had a dragon to offer them protection.
Drogon's rest had allowed that protection to run for far longer than she'd expected. His flames had kept falling and her son had shown no signs of letting up. After taking as many passes as she dared and seeing that the army of the dead finally seemed to be thinning and that those guarding the barriers looked to be tiring, she'd felt it was time. So she'd flown over them and gave them the signal to retreat and now she flew towards the Dothraki and the Knights of the Vale.
Her eyes looked North instead of East though, her mind with Aegon and Rhaegal as much as it was with any of the men on the ground below. Dany not seeing the storm anywhere in sight and while that was good for those in Winterfell, she worried that it meant bad things for Aegon and her son. Flying over the tree's Drogon let loose his flame, Dany turning around as she heard the horses begin to ride. To the West, she flew next and as she did so she looked to the keep. The barriers were now covered in the dead as they swarmed and she hoped that Grey Worm and the others had made it inside.
As they flew over the battlefield she felt Drogon's desire and so she allowed his flames to cover the dead once more. How many she and he had burned this night was unknown to her but it had to have been in the tens of thousands she believed. Soon enough they were over the other forest and Dany gave the men below the same signal and then she felt it as Drogon began to tire.
"Tegun Drōgon" (Land Drogon).
They set down in a wide-open space, Dany keen to be able to see any danger which came her way and she looked out to see the Dothraki were already in full flight, Dany looked to their swords and was surprised to see they were alight. Reaching into the small pack behind her back, she grabbed the bread and cheese from it and then ate it hungrily. Once done she swallowed down the water and she tried not to smile as she remembered Aegon packing it for her before they had left to mount the dragons earlier that night.
" What's that for?"
" You." Aegon said.
" But I'm not hungry." she said confused.
" You will be my love, you're eating for two remember."
She felt Drogon's eagerness to get back to the sky and wondered had her son actually been tired or had he known how much she'd needed the rest. Did he feel her hunger, her thirst? Could he know that she'd needed to eat, that her babe needed food? Dragons knew things, she more than any was certain of that and so she began to think that he did and for some reason that made her feel even better.
"Aderī īlon'll emagon tolī zaldrītsos's ñuha tresy." (Soon we'll have more little dragon's my son.) she said and felt Drogon's trill as they took to the air once more.
Lord Yohn Royce.
Seeing the dragon's flames he lowered his lance and almost dropped it when suddenly the tip was ablaze, Yohn looking around to see that the rest of his knights and the Dothraki that surrounded them were all now bearing flaming lances. Giving that fire killed the dead or so he'd been told, he supposed that this was a good thing, and so he reached for his horn and blew it as the knights and the Dothraki began to charge.
Had anyone told him that at some point in his life he'd be doing this, then he'd have laughed and called them a liar to their faces. The mere idea that he'd be riding with and not against Dothraki screamers was one that he'd not have ever dared contemplate. But war often made for strange alliances and this one more than most. Dothraki, Unsullied, Northmen, Wildings, all of them united against a common foe, the dead.
Yohn was not a foolish man and he didn't believe in the tales he'd heard and read about unless he saw the evidence for himself, something that he had not seen here. However he did believe in men and men despite their differences all had one thing in common, one way of knowing when they spoke the truth. A man who feared for the life of those he loved and was willing to let them leave while he fought, that was a man you could believe in. That man would speak true and be he Wilding, Northman, or Essosi like the Dothraki, that was a man worthy to fight alongside.
He'd spoken to them, to Jon Sow and to Eddison Tollet and heard tales of dead men. Jon Snow telling him that before he'd left to go to the Wall Ned Stark had executed a man, a man that he'd since found out was part of the group that Waymar had ridden out to range with. That man had spoken of the dead and had they believed him then, had they listened then they may have saved the realm from the chaos it had found itself in. Yohn had barely listened to that though and instead his nights since he been told had been filled with images of Waymar being turned into one of these wights that everyone spoke off. Yohn's mind filled with images of White Walkers who apparently made the wights themselves.
As he rode hard, as his lance was lowered and as he finally saw the dead and realized that what he'd been told was right, that they had spoken true, he knew what he needed to do.
"For Waymar." he shouted as loudly as he could, his lance connecting with and setting a dead man alight.
He cut down he knew not how many before the lance fell to the ground, Yohn quickly grabbing the morning star from behind his back in its stead. The Dragonglass had been melted into the steel and the jagged edges that stuck out from it made it look even more deadly. Yohn soon swinging it hard with all of his might as he rode through a never-ending field of dead men. When he was grabbed he knew he was done for, the impact of the fall knocking the wind out of him and it took him some time to rise to his feet and he almost cried at what he saw.
How many of the Knights who had ridden out with him had made it through was unclear, but many had fallen as had some Dothraki though they seemed to have suffered fewer losses than his men had and he wondered why that was. As he looked he saw it clear, the Dothraki had ridden through while more and more of his knights had stopped to fight. It shamed him to see it so, the Knights of the Vale losing their discipline and forgetting the plan while the savages from the east had not. However, seeing the dead move his way he knew that he had far bigger problems than shame.
When they parted after he'd taken down almost a dozen, Yohn looked around confused and wondered why they had stopped coming his way. He saw it then, the creature made of ice, the White Walker and he wondered if it had been the one. Was this the one that he saw in his dreams? The one who had killed his son? It mattered not he thought as he moved towards it, this one would do. The morning star ready in his hand as he looked on and saw as the creature almost seem to form a blade of ice where before there had been nothing.
It was fast, far faster than he, and he felt it was toying with him too. Simply dodging out of the way of his strikes and not truly aiming any of its own. When he finally did manage to catch its blade he expected the ice to fall to the ground, only to look on instead in horror as the shaft of his morning star turned to ice and broke. He felt the coldness as the icy blade pierced his armor just under the arm and he dropped to his knee. The White Walker soon moving in for the kill and Yohn looked on as the ice blade was raised, the strike ready to take his head.
Where he got the strength he could not tell, but he brought the dagger up as the blade began to fall, hearing the shattering of the ice when the Dragonglass dagger hit home. Around him, dead men fell as one and Yohn fell back onto the ground. The coldness flowing through him now and his breathing growing shallow as he lay back and looked up to the sky. He smiled when he saw the dragon lay down its flames and as he heard the horses ride once more, the sounds of steel hitting dead flesh ringing out.
"Ysilla, Andar, I go to see your brothers and your mother." he said as his eyes closed for the last time.
Howland.
" Loose."
" Reload."
" Loose."
How long and how many times he'd called it out he couldn't be sure only that his voice was getting hoarse and they were running out of arrows. Wherever these White Walkers where they'd learned their lesson. Be it his men who hid out amongst the dead, the one or two on the walls who'd found and hit their targets, or those who'd actually beat them in fights, they'd learned they could fall and so were nowhere to be seen.
It meant it was dead men they were firing at, burning arrows being used rather than Dragonglass ones, and soon enough they'd be using their swords and daggers. Maege, Ser Jorah, and Gabart, all fought to keep dead men off the walls, while behind them Northmen led by Lord Beric and Arya Stark fought against those who'd managed to make it to them.
"Loose."
"Reload."
"Loose"
He cried out the instructions for the final time and then gave the order for his men to retreat. Against these things, his men were no use in a straight-up fight. Their poisoned darts and spear tips or their tridents gave them no advantage here and without their arrows, all they'd be is meat for the Night King's army. Howland looked on as his men were replaced by men of Dorne, the young Dayne lad leading them and his thoughts soon going to the boy's uncle.
Seeing Dawn again after all these years only fully showed him the failure he had been guilty of. The blade then cut deep into his side and he turned to look at the dead man beside him, stabbing it with the dagger he'd pulled from his hip. Howland fell to the ground and tried not to laugh at the irony, even more so when Ned Dayne stood over him with the white blade of Dawn shining just as brightly as it did on that day many years ago.
"How bad is it my lord?" Ned Dayne asked.
Howland looked into his eyes and saw a much different man, a man he'd killed and who he knew he shouldn't have. He felt the blood at his side begin to pool, the knife having reopened the same wound he suffered at the hands of Ser Arthur all those years ago. Howland now believing that the gods had always meant for it to be his end.
"Tell my king, I'm sorry, I should have…..I should have come sooner, tell him… promise me…"
"I promise." Ned Dayne said and Howland felt the light begin to go from his eyes.
"Jyana." he said softly as he breathed his last.
Maege.
She saw him fall and then heard the gate being pounded and looked down to the courtyard to see Lyanna standing down there, giving men orders. Galbart was fighting men to one side of her and ahead of her Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth were fighting side by side. Maege surprised to see the Lannister do so well with his off-hand, though maybe some of that could be down to the Valyrian Steel he bore. As much as she knew they were needed up here and as much as she wished she had time to grieve for Howland, the crashing of the gate took all her thoughts away from all but that.
"Jorah, with me." she shouted and saw her nephew nod as the two of them ran down the stairs.
Maege shouted to men to go to the walls while she herself abandoned them. Reaching Lyanna she stood beside her daughter and held her mace up, Jorah soon joining them bearing a Valyrian steel blade, one she had no idea where he'd gotten. As the gate began to fall, she turned to her nephew and then to her daughter.
"You stay behind me." she said to Lyanna "Here we Stand." she said to Jorah.
"Here We Stand." he shouted back to her.
Seeing a giant in the flesh was far different than seeing one in a vision or even in the nightmares you had because of that vision. Maege heard Lyanna gasp and Jorah take a deep breath as they watched the giant step on men and casually brush others aside. She moved quickly, Jorah following her and Lyanna refusing to stay behind, Maege both as proud as she had ever been and fearful too as she swung the mace at the dead man in front of her.
Lyanna did the same as she while Jorah moved far better than she had ever known he could, the three of them cutting down any who came near.
"Sheila." she heard a shout ring out and soon enough there were four, all of them working together and none coming close enough to cause them harm.
"That, we need to kill that." she said pointing to the giant that was causing havoc just feet ahead of them.
"GIANTSBANE" Tormund shouted out and she laughed despite the ridiculousness of his name.
She moved out of the way of a giant hand as it crashed to the ground, saw Tormund pick and carry Lyanna when another swing had barely missed her daughter. Jorah getting ever closer to the giant's legs in front of her and moving away when the giant tried to kick out at him. Rolling on the ground she was only yards away when she was faced with a group of dead men, Lyanna breaking free from Tormund's arms to run her way.
Time seemed to slow, to stand still, Maege looking on as the hand reached out, as the fingers grew ever closer, and as Lyanna seemed to have no place to run. Her mace swung faster and faster, dead men no match for a mother's fury as she tried to get to her girl and watched the hand begin to close. Maege crying out and cursing the gods for lying to her, for giving her hope only to take it away so cruelly. Then the giant began to fall, the hand soon falling away and Lyanna's mace joining her own to take down the last of the dead men in her way.
"How?" she said to no one as she looked only to see Jorah pull his sword from the giant's foot.
"This is no time to rest, mother, there are more of them." Lyanna said her face scowling as she looked at the dead men pouring in the gate.
"The let's give them more than a bear's roar." she said as Jorah and Tormund joined them once more.
Arya.
She swung and caught the two dead men that came her way, the weapon she had gotten Gendry to make for her taking them both down at the same time. Feeling one of them come closer to her than she would like she unattached the top and used its sharp point to deal with him before reattaching it and spinning once more. A little to her left Gendry swung his hammer as if it was as light as Needle, which it was anything but.
The dead though kept coming, no matter how many she killed or how many Gendry and the others around her killed, they just kept coming. She felt herself growing tired and saw that Gendry was barely swinging his hammer now. Around them, their own men had begun to fall, and then she felt the knock to her head and stumbled. To her horror she saw she'd lost it, the weapon had gone leaving her with a Dragonglass dagger and the Catspaw one. Arya taking both of them in her hands and stabbing out in every direction.
"We need to run." Gendry shouted and Arya nodded before she saw him fall.
"NOOOOO…" she cried out the sounds of her pain soon reverberating about the keep.
Determinedly she moved faster and faster trying to get to him only to find that she could not, nor could she see him any longer and she feared the worst. The Greatsword took three of them at once, the flaming sword another three and she looked on as The Hound and Beric came to Gendry's aid, Arya feeling incredibly relieved when she saw him being helped to his feet. He was hurt but she didn't know how badly and all she could think was that he was alive. Unfortunately despite having Beric and The Hound and now Gendry once more fighting close to her, it didn't do her own situation any good as the dead kept coming her way.
"Aryaaaa…." she heard Gendry cry out in warning and then she was falling to the ground.
Every instinct she had was telling her to turn, to get away from the hands that grabbed at her. The Dragonglass dagger was buried into a wight's neck and was lost to her, the Catspaw lay a few feet ahead of her on the ground. She punched, kicked out, crawled and rolled and picked it back up just in time and buried it in the side of a dead woman's head.
" Stick 'em with the pointy end."
Jon's words playing out in her head.
" Better them than you little sister, remember that always."
The voice his once more and she felt her will to live and see another day, to laugh with her brother and to kiss her bull once more, the thoughts suddenly giving her strength that she did not know she had. The Catspaw was like a blur and she finally made it to her feet, looking to see The Hound, Beric, and Gendry all fighting while looking her way. She gave Gendry and the Hound a nod and then she moved quickly away from the large group of the dead that was in between them both, some if not most of them following after her.
Arya ran, dodging the hands that came her way, stabbing out with the Catspaw where she could, and looking around as the keep looked ready to be overrun. Glancing at the main gates she swore she saw the flames just outside them and as she quickly looked up she saw that Drogon was there. When she heard the sound of the horses she felt they had a chance and so she climbed up a wall, ran across some roofs and then down one of the bailey's, before running down some stairs and coming back up behind where The Hound, Beric, and Gendry were.
As quick as she could she ran to them, offering whatever help she could and stabbing a dead man who was moving behind The Hound. She saw Beric's flaming sword go down, the man being stabbed repeatedly just as she reached them. Once she did she looked to The Hound and then to Gendry and all three of them almost seemed to share the same thought, the Hound nodding to her and Gendry doing likewise, and then they were all fighting together once more.
Qhono.
What magic the Red Witch had used he didn't know but she'd lit their lances with it and they had ridden out and cut through the dead me. Zhowo he'd seen fall but the men he'd lead had lost but a few of their number and had passed him by as he'd ridden through. Reaching the other side, the archers amongst them quickly lit their arrows and loosed them, Qhono seeing those who'd been with Zhowo do the same from the other side. They quickly reformed back up and soon they were riding once again this time from east to west.
Three times they'd ridden and how many dead they'd cut down he couldn't tell, but still, they came. After each charge, the arrows flew and now while the horses rested they flew in even larger waves. One, two, three volleys fired into the mass of dead men, cutting them down along with their charges. He could see it clearly now why his Khal had told him to ride through and not engage, to not stop to fight and most of his men had done as they'd been bid. Any who had not and the Knights in their iron suits had found there was no protection from the dead men. Those who'd tried to fight were simply torn them from their horses and the dead had overwhelmed them.
While they charged, his Khaleesi wasn't idle, Drogon laying down waves of flame after flame and thinning the numbers down just as they did. He like others of the Khalasar had looked on approvingly, watching as she proved herself to be worthy to lead them. Qhono didn't need to ask where the Khal was either and had explained to those closest to him who'd asked after him as they rested. Their Khal had gone to challenge the Khal of the Dead, he and his dragon gone to face off against the Khaleesi's now dead one. Qhono respected that, it was their way, the mightiest warrior of them all would challenge the mightiest of their enemies. He'd face their enemies' leader, their champion, the greatest of their warriors, and should the Great Stallion wish it so, he'd win.
"Kisha Dothrakh?"(We Ride?) Fakko asked.
"Kisha Dothrakh." he said as they formed up once more.
He was about to give the order when he looked to the stone house and saw it was about to fall, Qhono calling Fakko back and pointing to it.
"Kisha Dothrakh Rekki (We Ride There.) he shouted pointing to the stone house.
His men quickly formed up to ride now in a different direction and Qhono soon felt the wind blow his braid from side to as his horse gathered speed.
Brienne.
Oathkeeper cut down dead man after dead man, Brienne not tiring and finding that the dead didn't do so either. More than once she'd grabbed Podrick when a dead man had taken a hold of him, her squire was fighting well but against these numbers, even she and Jaime struggled. Lord Reed had fallen, as had many others and yet they'd been reinforced too. The giant men of the mountains had come to their aid when she'd all but given up hope. Their ferocity in attacking had driving the dead men back or had at least as anything ever did.
The dead didn't retreat she'd found, they cared not for losses and they never backed down. All you could hope for was brief moments of respite when you'd deal with those nearest you and the next wave hadn't arrived just yet. Jaime fought like a man possessed beside her, Brienne finding that even despite the nature of the fight she was in that her eyes wouldn't leave him. Widow's Wail moving just as quick as Oathkeeper and Brienne wondering where he'd gotten the strength or skill to wield it so.
Were this not his offhand then she'd have not been surprised as even when she'd beaten him on the road it was clear he was more skilled than she. Brienne winning only because of circumstance and not because she had outmatched him. Fighting against him in the sparring yard as they practiced, seeing him against others, had shown her that Jaime was a much poorer swordsman now than he had been and yet to see him fight now you'd not think so.
She saw the dead thin out, another brief respite coming their way and she felt the need to catch her breath and to take a much-needed drink of water, hoping that she had time for both. Oathkeeper took the head of a particularly ugly dead man and then there were none close by, Brienne reaching down to her pouch and taking a swallow before insisting that Podrick took a drink too.
"Drink." she said handing him the pouch.
"I'm not thirsty, Ser." Podrick replied and Brienne felt a small amount of pride flare-up, she was a knight, and should she fall this day then she'd fall as such.
"Drink Podrick." she said and he nodded as he drank down a large swallow of the water at her behest.
"Eat this, both of you." Jaime said handing her a broken block of cheese which she took a huge bite out of before she handed it Podrick.
He'd no sooner swallowed it than they were at them again, Brienne looking to see Jaime staring at her with a small smile on his face as he raised his sword.
"For the King and Queen and for the Living." Jaime said loudly, Brienne hearing some cheers go around despite the circumstances they found themselves in.
"Aye, for the King and Queen and for the Living and for my friends." she added seeing Podrick look to her and Jaime give her a small nod.
They came in a larger wave this time and she feared that it would be the end, Oathkeeper barely keeping them at bay and soon enough she'd lost sight of Jaime and Podrick. She felt her despair grow, her sword now moving almost as if it had a will of its own, and Brienne simply going through the motions. It was then she saw the flames and felt the wings of the dragon as it flew over her, her head turning and she saw the dead outside the gate were now ablaze. It gave her hope, all was not yet lost and when she heard the sound of hoofbeats she began to fight even harder.
Aegon.
Firing an arrow from a dragon was perhaps something he should have practiced more, his first two not even coming close to hitting Viserion or the Night King. The third had barely missed the latter and bounced harmlessly off the former but it did have the desired effect. Aegon watching as the Night King grew warier, the Dragonglass tips and the Weirwood arrows themselves making him ever more cautious.
As for him and Rhaegal, Viserion and the Night King had an advantage over them, being dead allowed for both of them not to worry about their own safety when it came to maneuvering. However, they also had a rather surprisingly big disadvantage too. Just like a raven with an injured wing, they couldn't fly as well as one who had not. The rotting away of the golden dragon had created an issue with flying through the air and so where Rhaegal glided and soared, Viserion had to fight the elements far more.
It gave him opportunities and he took as many of them as he could, bathing the Night King with flames when he'd managed to out-turn him and outrun him. In front of him, Bran had stopped demanding they go back, his brother or the thing he'd become was now sure that was not what was going to happen. Instead, he'd actually tried to help, or at least Aegon believed he had, the flock of ravens he assumed was his brothers and not the Night King's. Not that he had managed to do anything that had helped yet, Dragons flew far faster than ravens, and the chase he'd led the Night King on had outpaced the flock.
It did give him even more ideas though but as he and they were turning he realized that he'd made a big mistake, the pained noise that came from Rhaegal clear evidence of that. That it was a lesser scratch than it could have been didn't make him feel any better and he lined up his bow and fired his last arrow far more quickly than he should have because of it. Had he breathed and taken a moment then he may have actually been able to hit the Night King or even Viserion somewhere that could be pierced. Instead, in his worry over his dragon he'd used the arrow to force them away from Rhaegal and to give him time to put some distance between them and him.
"Iksis ziry quba, Rhaīgal?" (Is it bad, Rhaegal?) he asked the dragon and he felt the bond between them grow just a little more as Rhaegal explained it was just a scratch and that he could keep fighting.
Whether it truly was or whether his dragon didn't wish to let him down, Aegon cared not, he'd promised Rhaegal they'd fly together and that he'd not allow him to be hurt and he had meant it. This needed to end and end soon and so the time for the chase was over.
"Konīr, Rhaīgal, gūrogon nyke konīr." (There, Rhaegal, take me there.) he said flying closer to the flock of ravens.
He felt Viserion and the Night King behind him, could almost sense the Night King feeling even more confident now his arrows were gone, and he smiled at that as he wanted him confident. Confident men made mistakes and while the Night King wasn't truly a man, Aegon felt the principle would hold just as true.
When he saw the ravens were in sight, he hoped that Bran would play his part and as he reached down to take Longclaw from its sheath he heard the sound of Drogon's roar. Looking back over his shoulder he saw the Night King was doing likewise and so he told Rhaegal to change direction quickly. The ravens moving even quicker than his dragon did for once. Aegon watched as the Night King looked from him to Dany and to the raven's, almost as if he was trying to decide who was the greatest threat, and then it was like time was frozen, it was as if it simply stood still.
Images filled his head of dragons flying in the sky, of men fighting on them, and finally of one which showed him the way. He felt Rhaegal break through the vision of the images, the bond he had with the dragon quickly pushing everything else away, and for the first time since he'd mounted him again, he and Rhaegal were at odds. Aegon then hearing a strange almost otherworldly voice in his head.
" Daor, daor, kesan daor" (No, no, I will not) the voice said.
"Istia, bisa iksis se ñuhoso, bisa iksis se mērī ñuhoso" (You must, this is the way, this is the only way.) he said and felt it as his dragon reluctantly agreed.
Had he been thinking more clearly or about it even in the slightest then he may have asked himself where it came from. Where did he get the knowledge that he had? How had he the mastery of a language that he had barely known more than a few words to? Had he been thinking of it at all he may have asked himself that question but he was not. Instead, his mind focused only on what was to come and he prepared as Rhaegal began to climb higher into the sky before the dragon tucked his wings in and began to dive.
Aegon could see the Night King beneath him, he seemed to be looking around trying to see where he had gone and then he saw the flock of ravens attack him and almost force him from Viserion's back. He saw the flames that came from Drogon almost completely cover Viserion, the Night King, and the ravens and he felt his brother slump forward in front of him. Knowing now was the time he pulled Longclaw from its sheathe and readied himself, the sword now in his hand he watched as the distance between Rhaegal and Viserion closed, a hundred feet, fifty, twenty-five.
The jump was good and true, Longclaw dipping deep into Viseron's back and piercing the gap between the scales. Aegon held on for dear life as the dragon was finally at rest, it's now truly dead body spinning as it fell from the sky. While he was near the dragon's tail, the Night King was at the other end of Viserion, trying to hang on just as much as he was. The impact when it came dislodged him, throwing him almost twenty feet from the dragon, and the large drift he fell into while cushioning the worst of the fall, still jarred him some.
Aegon climbed out of it and into a snowstorm, around him nothing but white until he saw the brightest light that he'd ever seen before and moved to it. He stumbled through the snow, falling into the banks more than once and when he finally made it to the light he found himself almost standing still, so awed was he by what he saw. Viserion burned but not from a fire and there was no heat coming from the dragon's body. Instead, it was the light that seemed to be burning him from the inside out. Aegon quickly moving to the source of that light and putting both of his hands on Longclaw's hilt he pulled it out and held it up to the sky.
" End this, Aegon Targaryen, fulfill your destiny and end this once and for all." a voice called out Aegon turning to see where it had come from.
" Show them Aegon, show them what we knew all along. You are the Song of Ice and Fire, my son, it's time for your song to be sung." a woman's voice said.
" You are a dragon Aegon, be a dragon," another voice called out.
" It was always you son, it was always supposed to be you, you are the Prince that was Promised, it's time to see that promise made good." a man's voice said.
"Mother, Father?" he called out, and then he looked as Viserion seemed to almost blow away into dust, as the snows that surrounded him seemed to fade away and he found himself walking in nothing but green lands.
He turned this way and that and then he saw him, the Night King rising to his feet and Aegon seeing there was something different about him. This was not the same cocky and confident thing who had almost laughed at him as he had raised the dead at Hardhome. There was fear in place of that confidence, worry in place of the cockiness and Aegon moved towards him with the light still shining brightly from Longclaaw's blade.
"And now it ends." he said as he brought the blade down and felt it connect with the ice of the Night King's own.
Watching as the ice blade broke into a hundred different pieces, as he did the same to another and then another and as the Night King took a step and then another backward, Aegon saw that fear had grown even more. Longclaw slamming down and smashing through each of the Night King's blades just as the ice blades the White Walkers wielded had against the normal steel at Hardhome. This time though the confused and worried looks were worn on a dead icy face and not a warm living one.
Aegon moved ever closer and finally it seemed as if the ice blades were no more, the Night King looking almost defeated and Aegon wasting no time to see that it was so. He thrust and thrust deep and Longclaw did what it had always done for him, it ended those who wished him harm, it protected him from those who wished him dead and it helped him win the day.
The explosion of ice was large, Aegon shielding his eyes and then looking to see there was nothing there in front of him, no remnants of the Night King or the dead dragon, and the light which had shined from Longclaw was now gone leaving only the silver blade behind. He heard the wings behind him, the sound of the dragons as they landed and he turned to see them there. Rhaegal with his brother slumped on his back and Drogon with Dany climbing down from its own.
"Here, I am king." he said softly as he moved to his wife.