Chapter 19: Farwell, Not Goodbye

Winterfell 304 AC.

Baelon.

He'd fought against the toughest of the Free Folk when he'd thought them naught more than wildling savages. Had gone toe to toe with a Thenn without a sword in hand. At Hardhome, he'd fought against dead men and a White Walker. While in the Battle of the Bastards he'd faced down a cavalry charge and been almost crushed beneath the weight of men. As he'd moved to face Ramsay Snow, he'd faced arrows and worried about them not and at Dragonstone he'd touched and then mounted a dragon. Yet never did he feel as nervous or as much of a green boy, as he did when the door closed behind him and he and Dany were finally alone.

His mind told him that he'd lain with a woman before, that he and Ygritte had done so more than once and so what had he to be fearful about. Yet fearful he was and for reasons that he couldn't quite name. Tormund's japes still rang out in his head where he'd name his pecker small and no bigger than a babe's. Yet though he knew it wasn't true, he'd be a liar if he said that a part of him didn't fear the Tall Talker to be right at this very moment.

How long he stood just at the door, he knew not. Nor whether his nervousness was infectious and so the reason for Dany's own. He hoped it was not. Prayed to the Old Gods that it was because she was feeling as he was. That like him, it was because this night was different than any that had come before it, that what they were about to do would be different than either of them had known before. Baelon prayed and then the gods gave him a vision that took his nerves from him and brought him a hunger that needed to be satiated instead.

*Lemon Begins."

The dress fell to the ground and she stood there in her small clothes. Baelon for the first time realized the true reason they were named such, for they covered little if anything. With her eyes focussed on his own, she began to unwrap the ties and within a moment she stood there as naked as the day she was born. It was a sight that he'd take with him for the rest of his days. One that could only have been fashioned by the very gods themselves and it took his breath away completely.

"Do you like what you see, husband?" Dany asked slightly nervously and yet there was more in her words too, a challenge of sorts.

"Were I but a fool with no thoughts in my head, then I'd still like the sight you present me, wife." he said moving to her "I am no fool," he added and was rewarded by her smile.

"Strip for me, Baelon, let me see all of you," she asked after she'd kissed his lips far too fleetingly.

"As my wife commands," he said seeing her smile become even more true as she moved and lay down on the bed.

How he fought the urge to rip his clothing from his body, he knew not, only that he began to disrobe slowly and by the look in Dany's eyes, this was much appreciated. His own eyes never left hers as he took off his coat and then his shirt. He moaned aloud when her fingers began to play with the hard nipple on her breast almost absentmindedly. Baelon gasped a moment later when he removed his britches and saw the flaring of her nostrils. His excitement rose at how her hand gripped her breast even more strongly. Standing there in only his small clothes, he moved his hands to them and then stopped, enjoying the look of frustration that appeared on her face.

"I said all of you, husband." Dany said firmly and he smiled as he removed the last of his clothing then she smiled as she looked to her manhood and spoke her words "I owe Tormund a slap on his thick skull for daring to jape of such a thing, for believe me Baelon he was japing."

He moved to her, felt her hands reach out, and then she was holding his member between them both. The feel of her was like nothing he'd ever dared to imagine and as he looked down at her, her expression almost made him spend. She looked excited, intrigued, but most of all he could see the desire and want in her eyes. Baelon knew that look well and he was certain that he wore it too. When she moved from him, he felt the loss of her hands, and then he watched as she lay back on the bed and opened her legs slightly. Had he not already been hard for her, then he certainly would be now. He doubted there was a man alive who'd not rise at the sight that from now on only he was to be gifted.

The hair between her legs was a silver as that on her head, yet there was little of it and so he could see so much more than simply that when he looked at her. Somehow he managed to turn his gaze to her face and the look she wore wasn't just wanton, it was wicked. Dany lay back on the pillow, her elbows raising her slightly off it and there was a challenge in how she presented herself to him. A challenge he had every intent of accepting and mastering.

"I think show is over, wife. Time to do," he said seeing her smile as he moved to join her on the bed.

"And what is it you wish to do, Baelon Targaryen?"

"Everything," he said as he kissed her deeply.

Her tongue brushed against his own, her hands rubbed down his back and over his arse pulling him closer. He felt her shudder as his hard cock touched against her soft skin and his own shudder soon followed. They moved more fully onto the bed and the kisses grew ever more passionate. Neither of them it seemed wished to break from them and was it not for the need for air, then neither of them would have done so he'd have wagered. When they did, he found himself looking deeply into her eyes, a look there he was unable to name and one that he enjoyed immensely.

"You look like a dragon, Baelon, like a dragon whose not eaten for days or weeks and has finally found something to feast on," Dany said huskily.

"I am a dragon. Do you wish to know what I intend to feast on?" he asked and saw her eager nod "You." he said as he kissed her once more.

This time when he needed to breathe, he did so while kissing her neck and shoulders, even under her arms which made her giggle delightfully. He wanted to kiss every single inch of her, to taste all she had to offer, and to feast upon her as both she and he desired him to do. Baelon wished to savor their first time and so despite his own growing need, the kisses were slow, soft, and he took his time to enjoy each and every single one of them.

He found there was a spot near her collarbone that made her push him away. That beneath her arms were her ticklish spots and when he kissed and nibbled on her ears, Goosebumps would appear on her skin. Kissing and licking her breasts brought her as much pleasure as taking her nipples in his mouth seemed to and so he spent equal time on both. When he kissed down her stomach, he felt her hands in his hair pushing him and willing him to go lower and stronger than her that he might be, she pushed him hard and so he let her win this particular fight.

When his hands spread her legs apart and he looked upon what lay between them even more closely, he thought he'd falter. So desperately did he wish to taste her, to kiss her there, that he almost abandoned the task he'd set himself. Only to find a strength from somewhere and for his journey of exploration to begin anew. He kissed the inside of her thighs, the front and back of her knees, finding that the back was just as ticklish as beneath her arms had been.

Moving lower forced him to have to leave the bed and the forlorn look she gave him was soon replaced by one of surprise when he took her foot in his hand and began to kiss and suck on her toes. The giggles she made as he began were soon replaced firstly by a shocked look and then a needy one. One that only grew when he moved to the other foot. Which of them wished for him to move back up her body the most, was something that the gods themselves only knew. But as he did so, he saw how she opened her legs a little wider and when he reached her thighs, he felt her hands in his hair once more.

"Pleaseeee," she begged and he had not the strength to refuse her.

The first sweep of his tongue brought a loud gasp and as he tasted her, he knew he wanted more and more. Somehow he was able to go more slowly than either of them truly wished and so the pleasure that he brought to her, built gradually. Her fingers in his hair pulled him closer to her sex and the taste of her in his mouth demanded more and more and so he began to quicken his tongue's work. He strained to push it inside of her and to seek to explore even there too.

He missed her first climax as he was almost so focussed on his own pleasure that he'd forgotten about her a little. So when he felt the second one begin to build, he ensured he'd not miss this one and his eyes sought hers out. In this he was to find himself unlucky as though she was facing him, her eyes were closed. Baelon instead took in her expressions as he brought her over the edge once more. There was to be no third time, or at least not with his tongue. Dany pushed him away and closed her legs to make it clear she could bear no more. Moving up her body, he placed little kisses as he passed until he was once again looking deep into her eyes.

"We've found your true calling, Baelon, it's not with a sword in your hand that you truly excel," she said breathlessly.

"It was good?" he asked to a snort.

"No it was terrible, did you not see?" Dany laughed.

"I saw," he said kissing her.

They lay like that for some time, he looking at her as she regained her composure and then he felt her hand reach down between them and grip his slightly softened cock between her fingers.

"This will not do, not at all," she said as her fingers began to move and he swore he almost laughed at the surprised look on her face when he hardened almost instantly.

"You like how my hand feels, do you?" she whispered in his ear before biting it gently "There is a part of me made for this cock, Baelon, a part of me that longs to feel this cock for true, would you deny me what I want, what I need?" she asked, her tongue licking the inside of his ear as she did so.

"I'd deny you nothing, Dany," he said struggling with the dual assault of her tongue in his ear and her fingers wrapped around his cock.

"Good answer." she said huskily "To be denied such a thing is a sentence I'd not like to face."

It was her hand that guided him to her sex, her hand that denied him entry as instead it rubbed the tip of his cock up and down and coated it with the wetness that leaked from it. As slowly as he'd kissed down her body, she helped him inside of her. The tip being all she'd allow for a moment before, inch by inch, she allowed him to enter her fully. He heard her gasp as he filled her. His own gasp was lost somewhere in his throat as he felt a heat that he was sure matched a dragon's flames.

She didn't let him move for the longest time, her eyes staring into his and when she finally gave him leave to do so, she smiled at how slowly and carefully he began. Taking his weight on his arms, his movements were unhurried and he could feel each inch of himself when he was inside her and very much when he was not. Soon his need was joined by her own and he began to move more quickly and more forcefully. The sound of their bodies coming together was soon ringing out around them, as were the small moans, excited yelps, and words of endearment and encouragement spoken by him to her and her to him.

Dany beseeched him to go faster, to be more forceful and he complied willingly. He kissed her, bit her neck gently, did his best to move his hand down her body, not quite managing it, and soon found a rhythm that both seemed most pleased about. At what point they ended up in a different position, he knew not. One moment he was on top and pressing down, the next, she was raising herself up and down on his cock. It allowed him to use his hands differently, to touch and caress and even to pinch her breasts and nipples. To reach behind her and grip her arse, forcing her to almost slide forward and allow him to enter her slightly more deeply.

Soon enough they were back with him on top and all subtlety and softness had passed them by long ago. The sound of his body as it crashed against hers was loud and his trusts were firmer than ever. Once or twice he feared he was hurting her only to find her was very much not and then he felt the pressure begin to build that told him that he was close to his release. Fearing that she'd not find her own, he somehow managed to get his hand between them and found her nub by the gods' good graces. Then before he knew it he was falling, he believed he'd heard her fall too, though he couldn't be sure, his own fall was something that he was in no position to stop.

Never had he felt such a release. It was as if his whole self was trying to join with hers. Long after he'd spent, he was still feeling the trembling, and even when he reluctantly removed his cock from inside her, he swore he still felt joined somehow. It took him some time to be ready to clean himself up, to help Dany as she did likewise and he welcomed the ale that someone had the foresight to see left by their bed. As did Dany too, Baelon watching as she drank it thirstily.

"A night worth waiting for." Dany said when both of them had recovered enough to speak "A night worth waiting for indeed."

"One of many such nights." he said and heard her giggle which confused him "Dany?

"Oh, I was just thinking."

"Of?"

"How this night is not yet done," she said and he felt the twitch of his cock that told him that was very much the truth of things.

*Lemon Ends*

Her eyes were closed as he looked down on her, her breath even and though his own eyes felt heavy and his body yearned for sleep, he knew he'd not be able to drift off this night. Every little exhale of breath she took or each change of her expression was one that he wished to witness and when he saw the upcurl of her lips and the smile that came to her face, his own followed instantly. When she opened one eye and almost peeped to see if he was still watching her, Baelon chuckled.

"I've not worn you out then?" Dany asked playfully.

"Oh Aye, you've worn me out completely. I'll not rise again this night, on that you can be certain," he said and he swore she got a self-satisfied look on her face that was delightfully wicked.

"Then why is my husband not resting his weary body, for I would hope he would know that tomorrow is another day and I can think of only one way I'd wish to start it," she said and when she saw the brief worried look that came over his face and how quickly it was replaced with a far more eager one, she giggled once more before rising so she was sitting up a little more against the pillow.

"I find I've no true desire to sleep lest I miss some of our first night together as man and wife. Instead, I'd much prefer to simply watch my wife as she sleeps. For surely she needs her rest as much as I."

"That she very much does, yet she too is finding it hard to sleep." Dany said smirking "As her errant husband won't allow her to." she said laughing more fully now.

He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips, one that was not to initiate anything but simply one of affection. Laying his head down against his pillow, he welcomed it when she moved closer to him and took his arm to wrap around her. His fingers were soon stroking her hair softly and he heard her contented sigh and then felt her tense slightly before she spoke.

"You enjoyed our first night together? "she asked shakily.

"Was I not clear enough in just how much I enjoyed it? Mayhap I should shout it from the windows?" he said and felt the shaking of her body as she laughed at his words "Proclaim it for the world to see. What words would my wife wish me to use? Sharp and direct or perhaps something more poetic and flowery?"

"Hmmm." he heard her say and he tried not to laugh when her hand went to her chin as if she was deep in thought "I think you may need to try both on me to see which I prefer."

"Very well as my wife commands. Laying with my wife was the greatest and most fulfilling experience of my life," he said firmly.

"Your wife hopes that was not an example of poetic and flowery, Baelon Targaryen." Dany said and he shook his head.

"All my days have led me to this one, all the suffering I've known has been made worthwhile this night. Never before has my heart felt as full or my body as weary nor have I ever felt such hope for the days to come. A wise man once told me that the gods have fashioned us for love and not until I met you did I truly understand what those words meant, for I know for certain that it's what I've been fashioned for. Tonight has shown that to me as clearly as if the gods themselves had spoken. I was fashioned to love you, Dany, to be with you and tonight has given me, even more, to fight for in the days to come. For I seek naught more than the rest of the nights of my life to be as this one has been. A dream finally proved true and a wish finally granted."

There was silence for a few moments, Dany not saying any words and he feared he'd either said too much or not enough, right up until she moved so she was facing him and looked into his eyes before kissing him deeply. Then he laughed when she moved back and rested her head on his chest and spoke.

"I suppose that'll do," she said as he grabbed her and began to threaten to tickle her, the two of them rolling on the bed for some time before breathless, they lay down, and sleep soon came to them both.

He didn't dream, for he'd told the truth and his dreams had come true so he'd no need for other ones. When he woke it was to find Dany had woken earlier and that she, as he had the night before, was simply looking down at him. She kissed him, a soft kiss that soon developed into something more and their coupling was much different than the night before. They were less rushed and hurried and though they'd taken much time to explore each other during the night, they did so even more in the early morning's light.

They'd just cleaned themselves and were debating about the rights and wrongs of leaving their bed or staying in it. The rumble in his wife's stomach pretty much made the choice for them. He had risen from the bed and was just in the process of dressing when the knock came to the door. Baelon hurried to put on the last of his clothing as Dany covered herself up with the sheet to protect her modesty.

"Mayhap we can break our fast in bed after all," she said as if she'd won an argument they'd not had and Baelon chuckled as he walked to the door.

"Rickon?" he asked worriedly when he opened it and saw his brother's expression.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Rickon Stark.

Complete chaos was not enough to name the atmosphere in the Great Hall. People, especially men from the South, were arguing between themselves when he arrived in the room, walking before the newlyweds as ser Davos announced their arrival.

"Their Graces King Rickon Stark, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, and King Baelon Targaryen."

He could hear mutters about them finally gracing them with their presence and he made it clear by glaring at his uncle that he had heard him loud and clear. They went to sit at the High Table, him in the middle while his brother and new goodsister flanked him.

"My Lords, My Ladies, good Sers, Princess, People of the Free Folk, of the Unsullied and the Dothraki. You all know why we're here. The hour is dire, the Wall is under attack. A raven has arrived from Eddison Tollett requests our immediate help at Castle Black. My brother Baelon will now explain our battle plan." Rickon said his voice as firm as he could make it.

"Traveling from Winterfell to the Wall takes three weeks with horses when the weather is good, and yet we also need to plan for a small contingency. The plan is to prevent the dead from crossing the Wall which is our first line of defense and to maintain our advantage there. Should we fail to do so, we will need a second and third line, one around Queenscrown, and one at the Last Hearth. The last line of the North will be Winterfell." Jon said before nodding to Daenerys.

"Lord Umber, have the people unable to fight been evacuated per your king's wishes?"

"Erm… They have, My Queen… And My King… And Your Grace…" Ned stuttered shyly.

"They've been settled in Wintertown, White Harbor, and Barrowtown." Rickon added when Ned did not speak more.

"I'm not comfortable with letting non-fighting forces in Winterfell. Should anything happen -" Baelon said looking to him.

"Winterfell can hold its own. We will be able to protect them here." a voice called out though he knew not whose it was.

"What if they manage to take the keep? Where would we hide the women and the children then?" he said silencing all but one of those who seemed ready to argue.

"We can hide them in the crypts?" Edmure suggested tentatively, with a smug look on his face as he stared right at Theon Greyjoy. "My nephews hid there for days and nobody found them. It's probably the safest place you can find in the keep."

"The crypts?" Rickon repeated, unsure he had heard it well.

"With provisions and a well-locked place, I think it's the best place to keep them from the dead." Edmure said far too haughtily.

"Uncle, do you remember what we said about the Night King and his men being able to raise the dead anytime he wishes to?" he asked.

"I do."

"And you still want to place people in a locked place surrounded by dead men?" Sansa pointed out, frowning.

"I… Haven't thought of that," he admitted, hanging his head in shame.

"Do we have more room in the Barrows, Lady Dustin?" Rickon asked the lady in question.

"It will be complicated, Your Grace."

"White Harbor?" he said and Wyman's grimace was answer enough "What about the Moat? Lord Cerwyn? Have you started the rehabilitation of the towers as I had requested?"

"It's not finished yet, King Rickon, but aye, we had started it when we were there. The three Towers will be able to host most of the people."

"Good. I thank you, Lord Cerwyn." Jon said, sighing loudly. "Now that it is settled, we need to talk about what forces ae to be in the first line and which ones are to stay in the last one."

The room erupted once more in shouts and jeers, each and every one of the representatives wanted to give their opinion, until Dany silently stood up, commanding the crowd to keep quiet.

"Baelon and I will go to the Wall with the Dragons, the Unsullied, and the Dothraki," she said as the room hushed

"We will also come, Dragon Queen," Tormund said firmly and Rickon glanced at Brienne who seemed shaken by his intervention. "Our people are already in the front line with the Crows. We will join them."

"Very well. Thank you for volunteering, Tormund."

"We gathered last night, your grace, and agreed that some of our men are also going." Barbrey Dustin added though she looked displeased. "With the exception of Lord Manderly, myself, and the younger ones who are the Heads of their House, the North will protect their own."

"That was not what was agreed upon, Lady Dustin!" Lyanna retorted vehemently as Rickon too was about to protest.

"Yet it is a sensible request, Lady Mormont," Jon replied. "Lord Umber, Lady Karstark, Lady Tallhart, Lord Hornwood, Lady Forrester, you all are the future of your Houses. I do not doubt your abilities to fight, but for the good of the North, I would rather not have you at the front line. The same goes for the King in the North."

"What the fuck?" Rickon yelled loudly as the room soon exploded in protests. "If you think that I will let you leave to fight those fuckers without me, you -"

"You and Queen Daenerys both named me commander of our allied forces. This is my decision as commander. You will hold the last line of defense at Winterfell with the contingency left from the North, as it is your duty to protect them." Jon said, not looking at him and augmenting his fury.

"You can't make me!"

"Rickon…"

"I don't fucking want to hear your excuses! You're pushing me away when I can help!"

"This is not a punishment, brother. We all know what you're capable of, and I know how helpful you can be. I would be a fool to let someone as important as you fight from the start." Jon tried to explain.

"Your brother is right, King Rickon." Lord Davos said and Rickon's heart broke even more. "The dragons will be most effective at the front line, and should something happen, you will be here to reinforce their position, supplement their ranks, and relay them if they have to fall back. Your brother is a seasoned fighter, and you might be good, but neither you nor Lady Mormont has stood your ground for days fighting without respite. The less you will be solicited to do so, the less fatigued you will be and the better you will all be able to help."

They all made solid arguments, yet Rickon couldn't help but feel he was being abandoned yet again. Jon would put himself in danger, once again, and there was nothing he could do about it. His eyes locked with Lyanna's, who looked as devastated as he felt at the idea of being removed from the fight because of who she was.

He stood up and she did the same, mirroring his attitude as he steeled himself to what he was about to do.

"I will leave you to discuss your battle plan, Your Graces," he said before turning to walk from the room.

"King Rickon, stay, please." his goodsister asked. "We need your input regarding -"

"You made it very clear that neither I nor my opinions are valued regarding the battle you face, so I will leave you to it and I will focus on what shall be done On my end." he retorted, his tone leaving no room for discussion as he made his way to the sparring yard, Lyanna and the other dejected Lords and Ladies from the North following him with determination.

The arguments about what had happened began almost as soon as they reached the sparring yard.

"The nerve of these old fucks to make us stand aside! After all we did to protect our own!" Lyanna yelled, venting her frustration on the unfortunate dummy in front of her.

"I'm the Head of House Umber and they want me to stay in Winterfell, even when they'll use my keep as a line of defense!" Ned scoffed, clearly as angry as the others.

"It was not what we agreed to. They've blindsided us."

"They will not listen to me. I am supposed to be King here, and they will not listen to what I say." Rickon growled.

"It's because you are too valuable for the war to come, King Rickon." he heard someone say and frowned as he turned to see Howland Reed standing in front of him.

"Right, too valuable." he chuckled darkly.

"I know what you're thinking, that they think you too young to fight, like the others. Believe me, we did not take this decision lightly, nor did I take mine to stay by your side while sending my last living child to the Wall with your brother." Howland ended with difficulty.

"Meera? You're letting Meera leave? But I thought -"

"I would have preferred her to stay here, but the Old Gods have other plans for her, and for you," Howland said cryptically.

"Why would the Old Gods -"

"You may think it a punishment, something unfair because you know you could be more useful than the others because of your gifts." Howland cut him off and Rickon tensed as his words held some truth. "Aye, you have something others do not and which makes you special. But you cannot go to the front, not now. Not before you master and control your powers enough."

"Enough for what?"

"To do what your brother cannot. To use your dreams to find how to end the threat."

"So you think I can be useful? More than Bran is?" he asked finding comfort in the idea he was not to be simply left behind for no reason.

"Aye. I have faith in the Old Gods and they seem to favor you. They tasked me to watch over you and help you reach your potential, so this is why I think staying here will be beneficial for you."

He felt the wind caress his cheek and red leaves fall in front of him, proving Howland's point in a way he didn't like.

Damn you Osha, for making me believe these tales… he grumbled internally.

The North 304 AC.

Arya Stark.

He'd wanted to leave her here, refused her leave to join them on the march and to fight for their family. She'd been furious with him, so angry that she'd not allowed him to explain, and had stormed off rather than listen. She was as skilled as any he was bringing with him to the Wall, more so than all but mayhap Jon himself. He needed those skilled with a sword to face the dead. Arya had heard the tales of what they were like and that wasn't even counting the White Walkers who moved swiftly and were almost unbeatable according to what she'd heard.

She could beat them.

She was quick.

As quick as a shadow.

Yet it was Jaime Lannister, Ned Dayne. and even Beric Dondarrion who would fight, but not her. Rickon was the first to find her and try and offer her some comfort but she was not in the mood to listen to him. Nor to Sansa when she told her how relieved she was that she'd be staying here to protect them should Jon fail. Jon wouldn't fail, she didn't believe that. He'd died and been brought back, he couldn't die again, he couldn't.

She should guard his back and fight by his side. Together they'd be unstoppable and it had always been what she'd wished for. To stand side by side with him. The two of them would wield their swords and beat any who stood against them. When she was a younger girl, she'd dreamt of leaving Winterfell and riding off with her brother. Jon would gain a kinghood and she could be his squire. In time she too would be a knight, just like Brienne had wished to become. They'd travel the seven kingdoms, helping those who couldn't help themselves and bringing evil men the justice they deserved. That had been the life she'd wished for, but not the life she'd been given.

Closing her eyes, she bid the tears not to fall and felt the softness of the fur as Nymeria rubbed up against her. She was sitting near the crypts, waiting for Jon to come and speak to his mother as he was wont to do. He needed to listen to her, he had to. She'd not let him walk into battle without her. Arya wouldn't sit idly by while her brother fell. She'd have saved him had she been there, she knew she would have. Had she but known he was in danger, she'd have left Braavos and come back to Westeros earlier. When her father fell she had been too young. At the Twins, it was the Hound who'd stopped her from getting to Robb. She was no longer too young, too weak, or small enough to be held back.

"He has to listen to me, he has to," she said as she rubbed her head against Nigeria's side.

It was her wolf that alerted her to his presence. Arya had dozed off and fallen asleep against Nymeria, the wolf's warmth had brought her a comfort she'd felt rarely in her life. He was alone with no guards and she frowned at that as he walked into the crypts. As capable as he was, her brother took far too many risks and that's why he needed her by his side. So that she could see what he could not. She would stop the danger long before it ever reached him. As she intended to do now, even though that danger was Jon himself. Rising to her feet, she walked to the door of the crypt and entered. Her footsteps were silent as she crept to where her brother stood.

"I fear they hate me, mother. They think I hold them back because I don't trust them or need them when neither is true. I wish they would understand. That they knew the fear in my heart I have for them would stop me from what I must do. How can I make them understand that it's the very thought of them facing the dead that would take the heart out of me? How can I tell them that were they with me and to be in such danger that I fear my courage may fail? That I'd break the bonds of fellowship just to see them safe. Help me mother for I know not if I can take their hate of me into battle and yet if It means I do not take them, it's what I fear I must do." Jon said, and Arya could hear the pain in her brother's voice.

She moved even more quietly from where she stood. Her first thought was to leave him there, to let him speak as he wished to, and not to alert him to her presence. Yet she could not. Arya couldn't allow him to leave and think she hated him. Never could she let him think that. So she made her way to him and reached out her hand, taking his and bringing it to her mouth to place a kiss upon it.

"Arya… I…"

"I know brother." she said softly "I love you, Jon, always. You're my brother, my true brother. You've always been so. Never have you not allowed me to do what I wished to do Not until now."

"Arya…"

"I'll protect them. But you promise me, Jon, you promise me here and now. You promise me in front of your mother that you'll come back to us. Swear it to me."

He turned and looked at her, his eyes wet though he'd shed no tears and then he embraced her. The feel of him holding her was her true comfort. Him, Nymeria and only one other had made her feel that way, had allowed her to feel something that she'd almost given up while in the House of Black and White.

"I promise I'll do all I can to come back, Arya. I have no intent to die, no intent to give my life easily. I'll kill him, Arya, I swear to you I'll kill the Night King and nothing will stop me from doing so." he held her for a few more moments, and then she felt his breath against her ear "I love you, little sister. From the first time I saw you to the last breath, I shall ever breathe, know that I've loved you."

After leaving the crypts she'd found herself in the smiths. He was working and so he took time to notice her. Arya just sat watching him and though she was loathe to admit it, he was a pleasant sight. Her mind drifted as she did so. Memories of different days and different paths. Of a time long ago when he'd broken her heart and she wondered if he regretted not coming with her. It was a thought she'd had more than once these last few weeks. Amongst the many other what if's that had plagued her dreams at night.

What if father hadn't accepted to be Hand of the King?

What if she'd have made it to her mother and brother earlier?

What if she'd have made it to the Wall with Yoren?

What if her father had listened to her warning about the men she'd overheard?

What if he'd come with her and allowed her to be his family?

What if?

What if?

What if?

The sound of his voice seemed far away to her and so she at first ignored it.

"Arya?"

"What I'm not asleep," she said angrily after she was woken by a clearly amused Gendry.

"Tell that to the drool on your chin." he chuckled.

"Why are you so stupid?" she said wiping her chin with her sleeve.

"Because I'm a stupid bull." he said and they both laughed at the same time.

They ate together, the two of them alone and relishing sitting in front of the forge. The heat from the fire that burned was welcome, as was the way the light from it would shine against Gendry's face. Arya enjoyed the way the shadows would fall on one side and how it made him look. At what point things got awkward between them she knew not. One moment they were there sitting and just enjoying the silence, the next they were almost stumbling over words that neither of them wished to speak.

Apologies for things long since passed and doubts that were spoken about the future. Who moved to who first, she knew not. The feel of his lips on hers and hers on his was almost magical though. It sent a wave of heat down through her body and before she knew it, she was sitting on his lap, her legs wrapped around her back and her tongue halfway down Gendry's throat. She felt his hardness through his britches and longed to release it. Yet for some reason, he stopped her from doing so and she looked at him with a hurt expression.

"I'm traveling with them when they go to the Wall, Arya, to fight and to help mend the weapons and armor. I may not…."

"No, you can't, you need to stay here," she said panicked.

"I've given my word. I'll not go back on it. I'm needed there."

"You're needed here, I need you here. You can't leave me, not again!" she said feeling her heart thump in her chest.

"I have to. I don't wish to, I wish I'd come with you all those years ago. I was wrong, Arya I made the wrong choice."

"Then don't do so again, don't do this." she pleaded.

"I'd not be able to live with myself were I not to. I have to fight, Arya, for me, for you, for everyone, I have to fight."

She wanted to hit him, to beat some sense into him. He was breaking her heart once again and yet this time felt different. Her heart felt different. And yet she couldn't fault him as she had the last time. Just like Jon, he was doing what was right and while she wished he would not, she knew that he must.

"Promise…"

"I promise," he said firmly, and then she was kissing him again and when her hand began to wander to his britches, he didn't stop her. Nor did she when his own hands began to wander.

Later they lay wrapped in each other's arms. Neither of them was truly naked and he'd gotten a blanket from somewhere to lay over them. She could still feel the heat from the forge and yet it was the warmth of the chest her head lay on that she truly felt. The beat of that heart was something that relaxed her greatly. Hearing some noise, she moved from him and shushed him when he began to say something.

Grabbing Needle she rose to her feet and looked around the smiths, finding no sign of anyone other than Theon Greyjoy who was walking across the courtyard. She felt a shudder go down her spine at the thoughts that he'd been watching them, but then she shook the thought from her mind. Theon was not the man he used to be and even were he, he no longer had the equipment that would get excited by such a sight. Had there been someone watching them and getting excited by what they saw, then that man was not Theon Greyjoy.

With her worries assuaged, she walked back into the smiths and moved to where Gendry lay. The wicked idea that they could do what they'd done earlier came to her mind as soon as she saw his muscled chest. It was an idea that he most readily agreed to much to her delight. Arya then found that the second time was even better than the first. They slept afterward and she woke when day dawned, bidding him farewell as she snuck back into the keep.

The look she got from Bran as she passed him while he was being wheeled out to the Godswood was one she liked not and she knew that he probably was fully aware of what she'd done the night before. Reaching her room she was relieved she'd not run into Sansa, Rickon, or Jon, worried as she was that they'd see her face and know what she'd done. Not that she was shamed by it or by Gendry, mind. She just wished for something to be for her and her alone. In time they could share it with her family. After the war was won, then they could speak of what was between them, for now, it was theirs and theirs alone and she very much liked that.

The day they were to leave came all too soon. Her goodbyes were heartfelt and her worries were ones she couldn't shake. She still longed to go with them, more so now that she looked at Gendry as he mounted his horse. Looking to her brother as he mounted his own, she offered a prayer to the Old Gods and the New. To the Many-Faced God, she offered her life for his. Her words were ones she meant and yet she remembered the last words Jon had whispered in her ear before he'd mounted his horse.

" When I see him, when I face him, I'll only have but two words to speak to the Night King. Not Today."

Turning from him to Gendry, she thought on the promise he made and the words he'd whispered in her ear when he believed her to be asleep.

"I love you, Arya Stark, I promise I'll return to you."

Watching the horses ride out of view, she felt her sadness threaten to overwhelm her, her regret rising up and taking the breath from her. She should have told him she loved him too, she should have spoken the words. Speaking them now would do no good, yet she spoke them still.

"I love you too," she whispered, her words lost to the wind.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Brienne of Tarth.

The Morning of the meeting to discuss the raven from the Wall.

When she had woken up that morning, she had been surprised to see Tormund already up and looking at her with almost sad eyes. She then remembered the raven they'd received about the army coming and felt dread overwhelming her. She had let Tormund speak with his people, not wanting to meddle in his leadership nor trying to know what he had decided. It had been clear to her that he would follow the King. Now even more so judging by the way he was staring at her, and her heart clenched at the thought of something happening to him, but she tried to let it go for that moment.

"Did I do well, yesterday, Maid of Tarth?" he asked and she rolled her eyes.

"Brienne. Just call me Brienne." she sighed and smiled. "You were pretty decent, I must admit."

"Har! If you jump on pretty decent people how you jumped on me yesterday, best I stay decent and not be exceptional! You almost broke my back!"

"I'm sorry, it was not my intention -" she said, flustered.

"Do not be. I like it when you are yourself and not the contained guard you show the others."

Brienne felt a chill on her neck as her eyes locked with Tormund's. The sincerity and almost admiration in his gaze made her uncomfortable, and she soon looked away in search of her clothes.

She didn't want to get attached, even less to a wildling. She had to admit she had never thought that she would someday lay with someone, and now that man was looking at her as if she was not a freak, as if she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Why did she feel so bad? Why did it feel so wrong to lay with him when it felt so good? She was losing control of her emotions at a time she needed to be very much on high alert. War was upon them, upon her, she had a duty to fight and protect the Starks and she had to focus on her task.

She walked to Sansa's room, ready to relieve the guard of his duty, and glared at her squire who couldn't hide his smirk. Now almost everyone knew about her infatuation with Tormund and she struggled to keep her composure as Sansa's knowing eyes looked at her.

"Not a word, please, my Lady," she begged, visibly uncomfortable.

"I was not going to say anything," Sansa replied, and her tone sounded like she was not telling the truth. "Did you break your fast? I don't recall you eating anything last night. Aren't you hungry?"

"I…"

"Come, Brienne. Today will be hard on all of us. Let us enjoy a meal before the seven hells open in front of us."

She complied, feeling grateful for the offer as she didn't realize that she had been hungry. This was a feeling she had almost grown accustomed to, because of the short ration they were given due to winter shortcomings. She could feel the tension in the room when King Rickon came to announce he was going to their brother, and she hoped the king and queen had enjoyed their moment together.

She shook her head and followed the Starks as they went to join the other representatives of the North and the Queen's forces. She sent a nod at Tormund, who gathered with the heads of the Free Folk's tribes, and smiled when he returned it in kind, before turning her head in embarrassment when she caught Sansa watching her interaction.

King Baelon and Queen Daenerys finally arrived, a solemn look on their faces, and Brienne couldn't help but pity them both. They were far more withdrawn than the day before when they radiated joy and love, and she could not imagine getting married and only having one day to make the most of it. Even she had had more time with Tormund, and she found she didn't appreciate it enough as it was nearing an end.

Hearing Tormund volunteer to be in the front line felt like a punch to her stomach, yet it didn't surprise her for him to do so. He was always ready to train, fight, and always willing to put himself in harm's way to prove his valor.

The fool.

"I thought you would be stuck to your wildling fuck friend until the end." Sandor Clegane, who she had been paired with to guard Sansa's door, teased and she rolled her eyes.

"He's a man of the Free Folk, and it is not like that between us."

"What, you don't fuck his brains out every night and ignore him during the day?"

"Each of us has our duty. I am sworn to the Starks and he has to train and work with the Free Folk."

"Yes, he's leaving and we're stuck here. I have to admit I do not envy him. I am not ready to fight the dead fuckers anymore." he said and she shivered.

"How was it?"

"We barely made it out alive. Lost the three guides sent with us from the Wall. They knew how to fight, these wildlings, but they were no match for a fucking dead bear."

"A dead bear?" she gasped.

"Weren't you there when King Baelon told everyone that the Night King or whatever the fuck he calls him can rise everything from death? You thought it was only people?"

"I…"

"Trust me, you do not want to be faced with one of those," Sandor said and she shook her head, now even more shocked by Tormund's attitude.

How could someone desire so much to meet the army of the dead after barely surviving their last encounter? How could he be excited to fight dead people and animals as if he feared them not? Brienne would never understand the Free Folk, she could never, yet in her shock it was her squire who voiced the answer to her question.

"It makes sense for them to go, they were chased from their home by those things. They've lost friends, family, loved ones and had been forced to watch them rise again and to kill them once and for all. If they want to go back to their lands one day without any regrets, then they will have to fight." Podric said shyly. "The North may have welcomed them, but it isn't their home. I sometimes miss my home so I imagine how they feel."

Podric's words made sense, but it didn't ease the unease she felt at imagining Tormund fighting the dead. If only she could…

No.

King Baelon had made it clear that none of his siblings would be going to fight at the Wall. King Rickon was angry and she could still hear Arya's colorful choice of words to her older brother when the latter stated that she also had to stay, to protect Rickon and Sansa should he fail to contain the Dead there. As their sworn sword, she was duty-bound to stay with them, which was a good thing.

Wasn't it?

She had no doubt that with the dragons on their side and Baelon and Daenerys' determination, they would win. So she had no other choice but to pray for their victory, for she couldn't imagine having to fight them should they fall and be raised as the Night King's foot soldiers. Podric would be safe here. Her squire would undoubtedly follow her should she follow her instincts and go to the Wall, and she would not have him in harm's way.

But…

"Something's bothering you." she jumped as Sansa's voice startled her.

"This is nothing, my Lady. I'm just…"

"You want to go there, don't you? You want to go with Tormund and protect him?"

"This… This is not like that between us, Lady Sansa." she was quick to refute. "It is just a mere infatuation."

"Yet you worry about his wellbeing. You worry he would not come back." Sansa pointed out and she looked away, embarrassed.

"I…"

"It is perfectly normal, Brienne. You do not have to hide your feelings with me and I will not judge you for being worried. In fact, I am happy."

"Happy, my Lady?"

"You've found something I dreamed of when I was a child. You found love and I am glad that at least one of us got to experience it."

"I'm not…"

"You should go with him. You should make sure he comes back to you, and going with him is the only way to do so."

"I cannot leave you, my Lady!" Brienne protested. "My duty -"

"You have done your duty to my mother, Brienne, and you have done way more than you were supposed to do. If this is what you want, then don't let your obligation toward us get in the way."

"I can't… I can't do that," she said, shaking her head, chastising herself for feeling so conflicted.

She should not feel that way. Not when she was doing her duty. This was what a knight, a true one would do, he would not foreswear his word and break his oath for selfish reasons.

Yet again, none of the knights she knew was behaving this way.

Tormund felt her desperation in their coupling that night and called her out on it.

"As much as I enjoy you jumping on me like there is no tomorrow, I will be back, you know?"

"You cannot be sure of that." she shook her head as the words almost choked her.

"Aye, you're right. But now that I have a Big Woman waiting to fuck me to death, I have more reasons than before to stay alive."

"I don't want you to leave!" she finally said, shocking even herself in the process, and feeling tears gather as Tormund's expression changed to one of concern, then back to his silly self.

"Har! Woman, you're worrying for nothing! I have fucked a bear and came back unharmed."

"Lady Lyanna said that Shiela was a madwoman from Bear Island who thought herself a bear, loved to wear bear furs, and got on with any men she got a hold of." she retorted, fighting her tears back.

"The little shit," he mumbled, making her chuckle. "Well, I have survived living with a giant -"

"Nessa said they are pacifists and you just took advantage of their kindness to stay warm for a moment.

"Well… Thrice have I fought the dead and I'm still here to tell the tale!" he added, visibly annoyed.

"That I can believe, but King Baelon said you barely made it each time."

"But I still made it, woman! I swear, why do you keep contradicting me? They said women from the south were meek little things, yet you have the attitude of a spearwife!"

"And that was why you wanted me, wasn't it?" she managed to joke as she straddled him, taking his sigh of defeat as a positive answer.

"Stop worrying for me! I fight beside Jon Snow, the little crow, each time I have I've stared down death as he has and each time we've laughed in its face, Har.."

"I wish I could come with you. I wish but I can't leave the Starks alone."

"The little fuckers grew on you too, didn't they?"

"Sansa is not a fucker!"

"But the others are." Tormund laughed, and she could hear the fondness he had for them. "I understand. If you feel this is the right thing to do, then… Do what you must. Now stop thinking too much and get on with it!"

She was extremely sore the next day, the last time she had felt her muscles so pained must have been when she had to fight the bear in Harrenhal. Maybe what they said about Tormund was right, after all, but she found out to her dismay that he was already gone. She sighed loudly, feeling the loss of his presence, knowing that it was the last moment they had shared together, for he would be leaving that day with the Free Folk and the Dothraki. She had her own duties to attend to and did so reluctantly, sighing again when she found herself paired with Sandor Clegane.

"So, you're still here?" he grumbled.

"Where do you want me to be?"

"Packing your things to leave with your wildling love?"

"For the last time, it is not -"

"You can lie to yourself all you want, the worry you show for the man betrays your feelings." Sandor cut her harshly. "Now I wouldn't mind you staying because you are set on protecting Sansa and the wolf girl, but not because you're too much of a coward to figure out your fucking feelings."

"Even if it was the case. Even if I loved him. My duty is to the Starks."

"You speak like you were a fucking knight. Wake up, Brienne! You may hold to their precepts, you may live the oaths better than any of the fucking shits, but you are not a knight and will never be one!"

"Why are you so set on seeing me leave?"

"Because as much as I hate it, I learned to know you a little. I can see and feel how conflicted you are about all of this. If ever we were to face the dead, if they manage to get through our lines, you will not stand long if your mind is mourning your fallen love. And in turn, you will endanger all those you swore to protect."

"Sandor, that's enough." once again, Sansa's soft voice stopped their argument and Brienne felt ashamed of herself when she saw the young woman's face. Her eyes were red and she could see she had been crying a lot.

"I'm sorry, my Lady; we shouldn't have…"

"I understand, Brienne. It is hard to see the people we care about to go to war."

"My Lady…"

"I was hoping Baelon would come before… He has a lot of responsibilities, but…"

"He will come to you, my Lady. He loves you. There's no way he would not spend a private moment with his siblings."

"I hope you're right. I need… If I wasn't so weak, I could have gone with him."

"You would leave?" Brienne gasped, frowning when Sansa frowned.

"I'm not the only one. Arya would have snuck into the army had Baelon not taken her faces." Sansa replied, laughing sadly.

"But you're not…"

"A fighter? I know. I would do more harm than good if I stood by my brother's side in battle. He would worry too much about protecting me and this, as well as Rickon staying, are the only things preventing me from disobeying his orders."

They were interrupted by Ghost's arrival and Sansa's face lit up while Brienne's, who was happy to see the young woman's happiness at spending time with her brother, closed with uncertainty. She walked with Sansa to the entry of the crypts and let her get inside alone so she could see and talk to Baelon, her heart clenching in pain as she watched Nessa and some of the other women she had grown to care for were piling furs, salted and frozen meat in the carts they would take with them to the Wall. She couldn't see Tormund, and knowing him, he would be joking around with some of the Northern Lords or starting to get drunk with some of the Dothraki warriors. It had become a pattern for him to 'straighten the ties of comradery' according to the Free Man. Just another means to get a free drink, she thought to herself.

Rickon was there, shadowing Nessa's steps, as Brienne knew that he also thought of her as pack. The wolves around him helped the Free Folk while Lyanna Mormont and the youngest Lords and Ladies from the North did the same for the Northern contingency. Brienne felt her throat close as Rickon stopped what he was doing to run into the crypts, and shortly after she held Sansa in her arms, the lady begging her to bring her to her rooms for she needed to gather her strength back. She was surprised to see Theon Greyjoy waiting in front of Sansa's rooms, the man looking worse than she ever saw him. He was obviously still feeling some guilt towards the Starks and what he did to them, and Sansa was the only one who accepted his apologies because of what they'd lived through together. That the lady felt grateful for his presence and had asked him to stay with her was not so surprising given the circumstances. Brienne too felt a little better that someone could share Sansa's pain with her at that moment, even though the Hound disliked it greatly.

When they were called into the yard to see to the army's departure, she almost refused to go. She didn't want to witness the heartbreaking farewells between families, friends, and lovers. Most of all, she didn't want to say her farewells to him. They had talked about it and agreed that they would not look for each other before he left, even if she wished to at that moment.

Yet she came and stayed strong as Ser Jaime came to her, wishing him good fortune for what he was about to face and smiling as he thanked her for her support. She watched as the Starks siblings stood unwavering and admirable, not wanting to show weakness as their beloved brother rode away to war. She looked on as Lyanna Mormont managed to keep her tears at bay seeing her only family, the man she had finally accepted as kin, now rode with his queen to protect her. She then watched as Missandei clenched her fist and bit the inside of her cheeks to keep a dignified attitude after she had said her goodbyes to first the queen and then her love.

Brienne had thought she could withstand it, and she had been successful thus far until she heard Arya's words. She knew she wasn't meant to hear them, or maybe she was. Maybe the Gods had seen fit for her to overhear what was supposed to stay between Arya and her lover, for she was certain her words weren't for Baelon. Mayhaps it was what she had needed to react as she did, to see someone in her position, looking helplessly for someone she cares about more than she wanted to admit ride away from her.

The need she felt was almost overpowering, the beating of her heart louder than ever and so she didn't hear the footsteps as Sansa moved to stand by her side. Nor at first, the words that were spoken. Had she not placed her hand on her shoulder, then she may not have even turned to face the woman she admired so much.

"I deem your oath fulfilled, Ser Brienne, your duty honored and the vow you swore to my mother one that I now release you from. Thank you for all you did for me, for saving me when I was lost, and for standing by my side even when I did not deserve it. Here is not where you are needed to be, go be with your love, stand by him as faithfully as you have by my family and gods be good, we'll see each other again in the future." Sansa said her smile was a true one and the embrace one she'd not expected.

"It's been my honor, my lady, truly," she said to a nod, and then she looked to Arya and to Rickon who both did the same, their permission was not something she needed but something she was happy to receive.

Mounting her horse, she was joined by the Hound but briefly. The words he spoke, ones he'd told her already, and yet she felt more comfortable hearing them once more. She knew he'd do as she would and keep the Starks safe and in truth, her facing off against the dead was dong so too. If they stopped them at the Wall, then they'd never be in any danger and so she made a new vow to do all she could to see them defeated there and not here.

The smile that she got from the king when he saw her ride to join Tormund was even more beaming than the one that she got from her love when he saw her. Baelon seemed almost relieved to see her there, something she'd feared he'd not be and was most happy to be proved wrong in. it showed just how important Tormund was to him and made her even prouder of the man she loved.

Tormund just smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at her, no words were needed between them and she was grateful for that. The truth was she may have made her choice, but she wasn't yet ready to explain that choice. Not with words anyway. Later when they camped, she found out that Baelon truly felt happy that she'd joined them. Again no words were needed, a simple pat to her back and look to Tormund all that was required to tell her so. The King and Queen had left for their bed early, no doubt keen to spend as much time alone together as they possibly could and she could fault them not for it.

"I think my little crow has the right idea, Har," Tormund said with a laugh, and where once she may have blushed, now she found she did not.

Within the hour they were abed, Tormund had discarded his furs and despite the cold, she wished to be uncovered as much as he. So she quickly did the same and then the fight for control began anew. Tonight she lost, but she smiled knowing that there was always the next night or the night after that.

"What fucking chance has he got. Jon Snow, the Dragonqueen, her mighty beasts, the largest fucking army ever seen and the Tall Talker and Maid of Tarth, he'll fucking shit his icy britches when he sees us coming, Har." Tormund said and she prayed to the gods that he was right, it was not the only prayer she said that night.

The North 304 AC.

Dany.

Saying their goodbyes had been hard, for Baelon, for her, for Grey Worm, and for Ser Jorah. Family, friends, those who were a mixture of both, all fighting back their emotions and fears as they readied to depart. She and Missandei had spent some hours together, just by themselves before she'd then moved aside so that her closest and truest friend could say her goodbyes to the man she loved. Jorah had spent time with his family, a family that he'd feared he'd never see again and if he had, that they'd have never accepted him. Now that he had and they did, it was a much different fear that threatened to break her bear's heart.

As for Baelon, he and his brother had a special bond. One that was forged in death and in resurrection and one that other than Beric Dondarrion, no one could ever come close to understanding. They were more than brothers in truth, Baelon was almost a father to Rickon and given what had happened to the boy's true father, Dany could understand the depth of feelings he was going through. Arya had always been the closest one to Baelon, the one who'd accepted him when none other than their long-dead brother had and so they too shared a unique relationship. As for Sansa, the woman she was now was far different from the one she'd been. She'd come full circle and to Baelon she was as true as either of his other siblings.

It made her think of those not here, of her own brother and how he may have been if circumstances had allowed for it. Of her niece and nephew, Baelon's brother and sister, and of her brother Rhaegar, Baelon's father. In one way she was glad that none of them had lived to see the day that was fast approaching, while in another she cursed the gods that they had not. She said her own goodbyes to her Goodfamily, was hugged tightly by Sansa and even Arya to her surprise. While Rickon, despite his own fears, told her that he'd ensure that Missandei and the rest of her people were protected and safe.

Finally, they had begun to move away, three Starks with their wolves watching them, two Direwolves, and the rest of those who'd been welcomed into their pack, just as she had been. Baelon too looked back at Winterfell as they crested the hill and it faded from view and she found it telling. All her life she'd believed that if she looked back she'd be lost. It had become something she'd tell herself when she felt at her weakest. Words that she believed gave her the strength to do all she needed done and not to dwell on the losses she may have suffered. Now she knew it proved her weak, showed that she was not yet who she needed to be. With Baelon by her side, she could look back because she feared it not. As they both turned to look at each other and she saw the smile on his face, she feared looking forward even less.

Two days later.

They had marched, set up camp, sent out scouts, and yet other than in the lands around them they did not fly. The snows had come and it was heavy going and so her children had no wish to be in the sky for once. She thanked the gods that they'd been prepared for such, that they'd brought enough food to sustain the dragons should they not be able to hunt. Her children needed to be strong to face the army they marched against and while she'd suggested they'd be able to hunt to their heart's content, it was the Lady Melisandre who cautioned differently.

Their men had suffered far less than she feared too. The Free Folk, the Mountain Clans, and the Men of the North were used to the bad weather and had prepared the Dothraki, Unsullied, and the men from warmer lands of the South as best they could. Fires always remained lit, furs were always worn and men shared the heat from each other when they slept side by side and not apart as they'd normally do. Baelon even told her that at the Wall, this was how the black brothers would sleep on the coldest of nights. Something which amused her greatly as they lay in their own bed.

"Does my husband long for those days once more? Is my body not enough to keep the cold away," she said as she snuggled up against him.

"Even on the coldest days, I'd seek no other bed companion." Baelon said with a smirk "Other than Ghost." he added making her laugh.

"I suppose losing out to a Direwolf is no shame," she said pretending to pout.

"No, it's not, though I'd seek my wife to join us. No doubt my wolf would offer you his heat far more than me though."

"He would, he loves me more than you," she said as she giggled.

"Well, you're most lovable, my love," Baelon said as he kissed her neck and began whispering things in her ears that warmed her up completely.

Laying together was all she'd wished it would be. The things he did to her and she to him, bringing her a joy she'd not dared believe was ever to be hers. She had thought with Drogo that she'd known love, that she'd known pleasure. Yet not even her Sun and Stars made her feel how Baelon did. After they coupled, they'd speak and she'd find that even his words filled her heart as it had never been filled before. Baelon speaking on their future, on all they'd achieve together, on a family that she longed for and that when he spoke of them to her, almost could see. Sometimes, like now, he'd speak on things that may have been, Dany finding she liked those conversations just as much.

"I think I'd have made a good jouster," he said as her head rested on his chest.

"I thought Northmen didn't joust?"

"Robb and I would often ride with lances, not a true southern joust, but we had most of it down. While he was the better lance, I was the better horseman and yet that's not why I think I'd have made a good jouster," he said a fond smile on his face as he thought mayhap of his brother and days they shared together or pictured a different joust in his mind.

"Why then?" she asked curiously.

"I'd be more motivated had I grown up in court. Wished to win far more."

"To show them you could," she said to a shake of his head which she felt rather than heard.

"To crown my queen," he said making her heart still.

It took her a moment to be able to speak, the image of being crowned with a garland of flowers taking root in her head.

"I hope very much I was this queen, Baelon Targaryen," she said when she'd composed herself enough to speak.

"You're my only queen, Dany, you and you alone," he said and she rewarded him with a kiss that soon grew more passionate and as her hands moved down his body she was happy to find he'd risen once more.

By the time they'd woken and broken their fasts, the weather had cleared up and the march would be far easier. The dragons had taken flight early that morning, off in search of fresher fare than the food they'd been eating up to now. So it was to their horses that they made their way and while Baelon rode and spoke to the men of Dorne, the West, Reach and North, she rode with her Dothraki and spent time with her Unsullied. They ate with the Free Folk and the Mountain Clansmen that night, Dany enjoying the irreverence as much as Baelon did. Both of them were pleasantly drunk when they made their way to their beds, only for Lady Melisandre to bid them join her.

"Have you had a vision, my lady?" Baelon asked worriedly.

"No, my prince, but I believe my god wishes for us to seek something in the fire."

"Seek what, Lady Melisandre?" she asked.

"I know not, your grace, only that I feel his presence and his call," Melisandre said as they entered her tent.

She looked to Baelon who had already taken his dagger out and she watched as he cut his palm before holding it in a fist. Then she, Melisandre, and Baelon moved to the fire and she watched as he let the blood drip into the flames. The explosion of fire almost caught her out, Dany amazed by the brightness and the sheer intensity of the flames. Yet when she looked into them she saw nothing. Something that worried her when Melisandre looked just as confused and worried as she was.

"I don't….I see nothing…" Melisandre said sounding smaller than she truly was.

"I see it all," Baelon said and she and Melisandre looked to him.

"You do?"

"I do," Baelon said determinedly.

What he saw wasn't made clear to them until the flames had died down and they made their way back to their own tent. Baelon asked Melisandre to join them and once inside he began to speak.

"I saw the army moving to the Wall. It's larger than any army I've ever seen before. There are many White Walkers amongst them and at the front, he marches."

"The Night King?" she asked to a nod of Baelon's head.

"I saw us fly to the Wall and the dragons refuse to fly over it. Then I saw the army of the dead sweep over our own, our men no match for them without the dragons' aid. I think R'hllor is warning me that my plans will fail and that they need to be changed, adapted with this in mind."

"I don't understand."

"We can't cross the Wall, Dany, the dragons can't cross the Wall. The fight is not on that side of the Wall, it never was to be, it's on this side." Baelon said and she felt the shiver go down her spine at his words.

He called for Ser Jaime who was on guard and bid him bring Tormund, Jorah, Qhono, Ned Dayne, and Daven Lannister to their tent. Melisandre who'd looked somewhat lost when she'd seen nothing in the flames, now stood straighter and firmer. Her faith in her god was reaffirmed by her faith in her prince. Baelon looked to the crudely drawn map he'd placed on the table and she watched him write out a note before placing it on a raven's leg.

"For the Watch," he said as a way of explanation and then moved to the opening of the tent to set the bird on its journey.

Soon enough the tent was full and she took her seat beside her husband as he explained his new plans.

"We cannot keep the dead behind the Wall, that's a forlorn hope. The battle we face is one we'll lose without the dragons being used to their fullest and without them offering their protection to the men on the ground. I've sent word to the Night's Watch to abandon their posts, to ride south and join us and we'll make our stand here." Baelon said pointing to the map."

"I had thought that was where you wished our reserves, your grace?" Ned Dayne asked.

"We have no reserves, Lord Dayne." Baelon said to shocked looks "I erred in thinking this a normal battle, one fought against a normal foe. I thought the Wall was our biggest strength when in truth it's a weakness. It cannot be held, to try to do so is folly. Our reserves can't be parted from our main forces for the dragons can't offer them aid were they to be so far from our lines." Baelon said to some nods "We form up, we fight, and by the gods will we win or we die, there is no middle ground. No retreat, no surrender or parley. We fight until the fighting's done."

"Do we ride hard, your grace?" Daven Lannister asked.

"There is no point, my lord. We cannot offer aid to the men in front of us and only offer it to those behind us."

"The Watch, will they follow your orders, your grace?" Ser Jorah asked.

"The Lord Commander is a good man and true, Ser Jorah, a man I trust and they are few and far between, Edd will heed my words," Baelon said.

After giving the commanders their orders, they were left alone once more and she moved to her husband, eager to have him speak words that brought her as much comfort as he could.

"You do that well." she said softly and he looked at her unsure of her meaning "Inspire men, lead them."

"In a fight, aye, mayhap. But it won't be me that the Unsullied look to nor the Dothraki, oh they'll listen, follow orders, but it'll be their Khalessi, their queen that gives them the courage and strength they need when their own falters." Baelon said.

"I need not be flattered, Baelon," she said annoyed.

"You think that's what I'm doing? I'm not. I know you need not your ego stroked, it's us men who worry we're been overshadowed or our authority is being usurped."

"You don't…" she said only to be silenced by a kiss.

"Aye, I don't, because I know the strength of the dragon I married. I know she's a mighty Dragonqueen." he said and his mummery of Tormund was enough to make her laugh "So I know she needs not to be told how very strong she is. Nor does she need to be told that it's she who inspires me and gives me mine own strength and courage."

"Baelon." she gasped.

"Together, Dany, together we're more than a match for the Night King and his army. I could not do this alone and I thank the gods each day that I don't have to."

"Together, my love," she said.

The North 304 AC.

Melisandre.

A few days ag o.

They had prepared as best they could, both in the army that marched and with those who'd been left behind. Her prince had not brought every fighting man with him, instead, he'd left a sizable force back at Winterfell to act as a reserve. Though it was more than that she believed and Baelon soon proved her right in that belief. Should they fail, if for some reason the Night King was able to defeat the army her prince and his wife had gathered to face him, then he'd still face another. That army would not be facing the same odds as they would either, for they'd have taken much of the Night King's forces from here before they met their ends.

Orders had been given to burn the dead before they could be raised. Men had been assigned to such a task and all those who marched did so with the knowledge that even should they fall, they'd not be allowed to rise again. Melisandre had been happy to see that even those who believed in the Seven who are One had quickly agreed to this. Though it had been done so somewhat reluctantly and only seeing the dead for themselves would truly allow them to accept it was needed. Her prince had spoken to her about seeing fire used not just as a weapon or defense against the dead, but as a way to remove those who'd fallen from the Night King's plans. He'd pledged that he and his wife would use the dragons to full effect in this regard if need be.

It had brought her great comfort to know that her god's greatest gift to the world would be used in such a way. Had made her regret, even more, the way she'd used it in the past. The mistakes she'd made in thinking that she knew more than she truly did, still haunted her to this day. Melisandre had always known her fate. It was set in stone and nothing she, nor anyone else, could do would stop that from coming to her. Just as Lord Varys' fate was always to die in a land, not of his birth, so too was hers. She accepted it, after what she'd done to the princess, she welcomed it even. Though she'd have gone to it a failure. Since truly finding the Prince the was Promised, she felt anything but. When her god called for her, she'd now go to him happy. His will had been done, her task almost complete, and her life had found its meaning. But that day was not today and she had more work to do before she breathed her last. Starting with the fires as it always did. Then she took to her bed and the dreams began anew.

" Melony Lot Seven."

" Father please."

" Mother."

" Help Me!"

She woke from the dream, her body cold and the fire in her tent had blown out. Tonight she'd found nothing in the fires to see, no sign from her god, and had gone to her bed upset. Mayhap that had led to the dreams, to the cries of a young girl, or mayhap her guilt was growing now that she was closer to her own end. Lighting the fire, she felt its warm embrace and knew what she needed to do. Her footsteps took her to her prince's tent and the worries and fears she had, she hoped would soon be allayed.

Now.

They came each day. Wave upon wave of them. Nothing she could do could fight them back and they almost overwhelmed her. More than once she had found herself crying out and had been unable to be stopped from doing so. Only her prince's presence allowed them to retreat and give her some semblance of peace. His words of worry and concern filled her heart with something she'd thought was never to be hers.

Baelon would sit by her bed, he'd hold her hand and ask her to tell him all she'd seen. The words she spoke would be heard by only him and as soon as they were uttered, they and the memory of them were lost to her. It was her prince that had bid her ride with his wife and him. Melisandre accepted and once again found peace by his side. As it was her prince who had told her the truth of things, or what he believed to be the truth of things.

"I think it's him, my lady," Baelon said as he sat by her bedside.

"My prince?"

"The Night King. I believe he's a warg, mayhap even more than that."

"How would this affect me, my prince?" she asked.

"You have heard tale of Bran? Of the things he can do or has done?"

"Some."

"And Hodor? Wylis as he was once known. Have you heard of what Bran did to him?"

"You think the Night King is warging me?" she asked horrified by the thought.

"I think he's trying. What we saw in the flames my lady, the change it brought to our plans, I worry that he knows or senses them, though I pray that he's just seeking the truth of them and knows them not. I fear this is his way of trying to find them out, to find out all our plans." Baelon said looking at her.

"Then I should be far from here, I must leave," she said trying to rise only for Baelon to place a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"You are much needed in the fight to come, my lady. You say my presence stops these visions?"

"I feel them not when with you," she said softly.

"Then that is our answer. From now on your tent should be placed close to Dany's and mine. We ride together each day, my lady, and by R'hllor's will you'll not need fight alone."

"I fear my God has abandoned me or his power is no match for our enemy, my prince."

"I have faith he has not, my lady, and I believe our enemy is no match for us, no match at all," Baelon said determinedly.

So she did as he'd bid, rode close with him and the queen, and saw even more clearly just how much they loved each other. Her prince was a different man when next to Daenerys Targaryen. To be in his company was to find your own fears and doubts chased away by the certainty that he would bring to the day. Be it to keep sprits up or a front of sorts, though she believed it not, Baelon spoke not of battles and the war to come, but the peace that would follow. At times his words made her feel saddened, knowing she'd not be a part of that peace, mainly though they invigorated her spirit and the spirits of those around them.

She'd ride with him when he would speak to the men. Both he and the queen only parted from each other to do so. Melisandre would listen as he spoke to them and watch as their belief in the victory they were to win would grow. Lord or Knight, man or woman, Smallfolk or Noble, it mattered not and changed not how Baelon spoke to them. Some may say it was because he'd been raised as a bastard son, while others may say it's because of his time in the Nights Watch. She was sure it was just who he was, it was his nature and it showed just how wrong she'd been with naming Stannis what he was not. For he could not lead them, inspire them, make them believe things that they would need in the days to come. Nor would he have been able to chase away her own fears had she brought them to him.

"You will scout today, my prince?" she asked and Baelon nodded.

"Dany did so yesterday. We fly only over the land we will cover in the next day or so, not yet flying too far lest we fly into a trap."

"Do you truly believe one is waiting, my prince?"

"I know not, my lady, but we cannot risk even one dragon nor to fly too far lest the army comes under attack. When we face the Army of the Dead I wish it to be on as much our terms as I can make it."

"With R'hllor's grace it will be so," she said and she caught Baelon's smile, though she was unsure of the reason for it, then shocked when she heard what he asked her.

"Would you care to join me, my lady? I'm sure Rhaegal wouldn't mind and the view from a dragon's back is one I'd recommend."

"I would be honored, my prince, truly," she said, her words choked full of emotion.

Less than an hour later she was climbing up on the Green Dragon's back, her excitement like a young girl who was being gifted on her nameday. It was different to her, much different than when she'd flown with the queen, it seemed more intimate, more true. A gift more so than simply a means to an end. She watched as Baelon kissed his wife and spoke into her ear before he then spoke to Jaime Lannister and Ned Dayne. A moment later he was in front of her and she wrapped her arms around his waist as he bid her to. The world seemed to still, no sound other than the loud beating of her heart and then her prince's words spoken in a language she knew well.

"Sōvegon Rhaīgal"(Fly Rhaegal).

It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. The feeling was one that she couldn't truly describe. Her god's greatest weapon was even more majestic than she had ever dared to dream it could be. To soar the sky, to look down on the lands below and watch as they covered more ground in a moment than they could in hours on horseback was incredible. When she heard her prince bid Rhaegal to fly lower to the ground, she looked at what they were flying over to see why that was. The small herd of elk seemed to be the prize and then she saw the truth of fire made flesh.

"Dracarys," Baelon said and the flames that came from the Green Dragon's mouth were such a sight to see.

She looked on as one, two, no three elk were caught by the flames, while the others scattered and ran for their lives. Rhaegal though sought them not and they were landing far sooner than she would have wished for. Melisandre didn't hear the sound of the elk being devoured. Instead, it was her prince's words and the water he offered her that she concentrated on. Then no sooner had she drank from the pouch and felt the dryness of throat disappear, they were back in the sky once more. How far they flew or for how long for, she knew not. Only that when they finally landed back where the other two dragons were, she felt it was too little and wished for more.

"Food for his brothers," Baelon said as he helped her down from the Green Dragon's back and Melisandre saw that he'd carried the other two elk in his talons. The black and the golden dragons soon filled their stomachs with the bounty they'd been given.

"Thank you, my prince, I…."

"Need thank me not, my lady. I owe you much, I hope this pays back some of it." Baelon said and she nodded.

She slept well that night, dreamt a sweet dream of a life that could never be. Her life was always meant to be this one, her path was always to lead her to here. Though that path was coming to an end, she was at peace with it. Her god had gifted her more than she'd ever dared to dream for, her role was to be important, her life not to be one of mediocrity or insignificance and her death was to be meaningful. In the end what more could anyone hope or pray for.

The Wall 304 AC.

The Night King.

He'd marched here before, many years earlier he'd marched and faced defeat. Those who should fight with him had fought against him. Kin who should know better did not. Yet he'd been as guilty for his defeat as any foe he'd faced, for he'd not truly given his all in the fight. It had been more a test, not quite a feint, but more an attempt to fix a problem before it had truly become one. Now the problem had to be fixed. The fear he'd had all those years earlier was now finally realized. This time he had no doubts about his attack on his kin. There was no voice in his head telling him that what he was doing was wrong, that he should put his faith in those who deserved it not.

All his warnings had been ignored. What he'd told them was now on the verge of being proved true and so unlike the last time he marched, this time he marched with a true resolve. For thousands of years, he'd gathered the strength he needed. His only doubt was that it was not enough and that was a small doubt only. True he'd wished for more. Had hoped his kin would see sense and join his side. Alas it was not to be and when he was done, it was not just the last of his kin that he'd see fall, but the last of men too.

Riding on his undead elk, he looked to the army that marched with him. They stretched as far as the eye could see. Wolves, shadowcats, elks, horses. Men, women, children, and giants. He'd gathered them all and raised them up to do what needed to be done. What he'd truly been created for and not what they had believed him to be. He was not their tool, for they were not worthy of wielding him; they'd proved it after all.

" I've seen the future, the paths you'd have me travel, I've seen where our line leads to," he said as he looked to them.

" The future is unwritten and you are merely one player in it."

" Follow the path."

" Do as you must."

" And what will you do about what I've told you?" he asked.

There had been no reply, not then, not later. Not even the gods themselves had answered him when he'd sought them to give him leave to do what needed to be done. Had he been a lesser man he'd have thought himself a fool. Believed that they knew best and he was wrong. Yet he was not a lesser man and he knew the fool was not him. He'd seen the path, seen where it led, and had grown angered by their laxity.

Why gift someone so and then ignore what their gift had shown them?

Why seek to end one threat and yet let the biggest of all go unopposed?

Why should he listen to those who thought they knew better than he?

Why should he follow them when they were clearly walking the wrong path?

The answers to each of those questions had come to him very quickly and so he'd gone about their work to their eyes when in truth he was about his own. For many years he'd watched and waited, he could no longer travel the same paths as he once could, no longer swim in the river of time, yet he could still see where that river met its end. Still see the moment it stopped flowing. In that, he was alone, for those whose job it was to maintain that river cared not. They had lost themselves while he had found his true calling.

As they passed over lands he had not traversed in many men's lifetimes, he felt the wavering of the power in the distance in front of him. It was just as he had known it would be. As he had foreseen it would be. All the signs pointing him in the same direction as they had all those lifetimes ago. For some they'd been ignored, the Children, the Ravens, the Gods themselves, for him they'd never been nor could they ever be. As to do so was to bring about the doom of the world.

"Irxys, Axar," he called through the link he had with his generals.

"Yes, my king."

"The time has come for us to part, you have your orders."

"They'll be carried out, my king."

No more words, no platitudes. He'd not wish them well or tell them to be safe. They were dead things, they needed no such comfort. What he'd asked them to do would be done and he'd not see them again, not even when he won. He knew that, they knew that, and unlike the living, they marched without fear or doubt. Those emotions were only ever to be his. For while he'd been a man once, while he'd had a soul, they were not and had none. Just. empty vessels filled with all he'd given them and no more, he was not a god and never sought to be, that was his enemy's domain.

They didn't sleep, didn't rest, for they had no need to. The march simply carried on and as they covered more lifeless ground, he raised more men for his army. Setting his soldiers to dig up the graves of the dead as they passed over them. At one time, when he'd felt the time was drawing ever closer, he'd looked to the men and women who'd made this side of the Wall their home. He'd looked and had thought about bringing them to his side. To end their lives and raise them anew. Had it not been for his fear and doubt, then he'd have taken many more of them than he eventually did. Yet the thoughts that he'd see the realm of men join together to stop him before he was truly needed, had stayed his hand.

He didn't doubt he had been right not to do so. Nor did he fear that he'd need them now in the battles to come. No army could stand against the one he'd gathered, no man would stand between him and his enemy and none would deny him his victory. Defeat couldn't be contemplated, it was not an option, and not even his kinsman would stop him from doing what needed to be done. Feeling the anger begin to wash over him, the rage that dared to be released, he tried to concentrate on what he could feel from the Wall and beyond.

There was magic, strong and powerful and it surprised him to feel so much of it. Some he knew came for the three beasts and one at least was tied into the place that magic had originated from. Another seemed to mix that magic and magic he knew all too well, while another was the same as his own, as old as the ice beneath his feet. The last had been magic that had been given as his own had, magic that should never have been shared. Magic that he'd bring an end to.

" You left me with no choice." he shouted "You will not do what is needed."

" So you decided to take it into your own hands to do so?"

" You dared to presume to know our minds?"

" To name yourself our equal?

" I name myself nothing, but the will that you've lost," he replied.

" Then you are a fool and need to be blinded."

They'd taken it from him, the ability to swim in the river, forced him to simply be a bystander to it as it flowed by. A part of him wondered if they'd not would he still have found himself traveling to the same place. Would it still have led him to where he knew it did? It raised a question in him that he'd long dismissed. A worry that he'd long ignored. Doubts that he'd no longer allow to raise their heads. Now as he marched and got closer to his destiny, he felt them at the back of his mind.

Had the future been changed?

Was the path still the same?

Was his destiny what he believed it to be?

Was he in the right?

He forced down those doubts, shook them free from his head, and let the clarity of his convictions wash over him.

He was right.

He'd always been right.

It had been them who'd refused to see.

The path ended where he decided, not them, not the other, only him.

When he saw the Wall in front of him, he felt something he'd not in many a year. With his hand raised in the air, he bid his army forward and then he and his elk joined them. The time had come, all he'd seen had come to pass and it was up to him to see that no more of it did. Destiny sang to him and its song was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.