The fires at Castle Black burned low, their embers casting faint, flickering shadows against the stone walls. Despite the victory in the battle, the air was thick with unease. The White Walkers had retreated—but they would return.
Harry sat in the great hall, his injured arm resting on the wooden table. Sam had done his best to bandage the icy wound, but the cold still lingered beneath his skin. He could feel it deep in his veins, a remnant of the White Walker's magic.
Across from him, Jon Snow and Ser Davos Seaworth studied a map of the North. The battle had given them time, but time was a fleeting thing.
"We can't just wait here," Jon muttered, running a hand through his hair. "The Wall is strong, but it won't hold forever."
Davos nodded. "Aye, lad. And the dead won't give us another warning before they march again."
Harry exhaled, his fingers tightening around a goblet of water. "Then we need allies. Real allies."
Jon met his gaze. "The North stands with us."
"The North alone won't be enough," Harry said. "We need Dragonstone. We need Daenerys Targaryen."
Silence settled over the hall. They all knew the implications.
The Dragon Queen had an army of Unsullied, legions of Dothraki, and—most importantly—dragons.
If anyone could challenge the White Walkers, it was her.
Jon looked to Davos. "We sail for Dragonstone."
-------------------------------------------------------
A Journey South
The next morning, Jon, Davos, and Harry stood on the shores of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, where a ship awaited them. The cold waves crashed against the wooden dock, mist curling in the air.
"Are you sure about this?" Tormund Giantsbane asked, arms crossed. "You're going to a queen who could burn you alive."
Jon smirked. "She hasn't burned anyone yet."
Tormund grinned. "Yet."
Harry stepped onto the ship, adjusting his cloak. He had never been one for sailing, but this journey was necessary. If Daenerys refused them, they were doomed.
The wind howled as the ship set sail, cutting through the icy waters.
Winter was moving south.
And so were they.
-------------------------------------------------------
Dragonstone
Several days later, the ship arrived at Dragonstone, its towering cliffs rising against the stormy sky.
Harry stood at the bow, his green eyes scanning the fortress. He could feel the magic in the air—ancient, powerful, woven into the very stone.
As they disembarked, Missandei of Naath met them on the beach, flanked by two Unsullied warriors.
"The Queen will see you now," she said.
Jon, Davos, and Harry exchanged a glance before following her into the castle.
--------------------------------------------------------
A Meeting with the Dragon Queen
Daenerys Targaryen sat upon the throne of Dragonstone, her silver hair gleaming in the dim light. Drogon, her largest dragon, lay curled at the edge of the room, his golden eyes locked on the visitors.
Jon stepped forward first, bowing slightly. "Your Grace."
Daenerys studied him, her expression unreadable. "You came a long way, Jon Snow."
Jon nodded. "Because we need your help."
Tyrion Lannister, standing beside the throne, smiled slightly. "And why should she help you?"
Harry stepped forward. "Because the enemy we face isn't a king or a kingdom. It's death itself."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "Bold words."
Jon looked to Daenerys. "You have dragons. We need them."
Dany's gaze remained steady. "I was told you came to bend the knee."
Jon's jaw tightened. "I came to ask for aid, not to kneel."
A tense silence filled the room.
Then Harry spoke. "I understand why you don't want to trust us. But the Night King is coming. He won't care for your throne or your war. He will destroy everything."
Daenerys studied him carefully. "You speak as if you've seen him."
Harry met her gaze. "I have."
Dany's expression softened slightly, but she wasn't convinced yet.
Then, from outside, a roar shook the castle.
Everyone turned as Drogon lifted his head, his nostrils flaring.
And in the distance, beyond the cliffs, a raven circled toward them.
Harry's heart sank.
Something had happened.
----------------------------------------------------------
The Raven's Warning
Moments later, a maester rushed into the hall, carrying the raven's message. His hands trembled as he unrolled the scroll.
"It's from Winterfell," he said breathlessly. "The White Walkers… they've begun marching south."
A cold dread settled over the room.
Harry clenched his fists. The war had begun.
Jon turned back to Daenerys. "Now do you believe us?"
The Dragon Queen looked down at the letter, then back up at them.
Her expression was no longer doubtful.
It was determined.
"We fly north," she said.
And as Drogon spread his wings, a storm began to gather in the sky.
Winter had come.