The Lost Dragon | Game of Thrones

Chapter Fifty

In the darkness of night, everything was still. Hammering could no longer be heard within the armories, children's laughter could not be heard echoing throughout the courtyards. The chill from the night, was not what sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest of men – it was the certainty that their deaths could be within mere hours. 

The Night Kings army was only hours away, and there wasn't a soul that felt still within the castle. 

Violet's breath misted out into the nights air, as she nervously exhaled. Her ice cold sword sat freshly polished and unused on her back, and a quiver of freshly carved arrows sat beside it. She watched out as soldiers rushed around in preparation for the fight to come, fathers saying goodbye to their daughters, mothers saying farewell to sons. It was a grim sight, and Violet's heart was slowly breaking at the realization that so many of these people wouldn't survive the night.

"I'm scared, Jon." Violet breathed out, turning to the best friend at her side. His large black cloak was billowing in the wind behind him, and small snowflakes could be seen twinkling in his raven locks of hair. 

"We will hold the north. We have to." Jon responded, turning his body to face Violet. She would very rarely openly admit fear, so her confession stirred something within Jon that was unpleasant. 

"We aren't prepared." Violet sighed out, turning to look back towards the formations of soldiers that were lining the walls. "We barely have a plan. The only comfort I have is the fact that we sent away everyone who couldn't fight." 

Lady Olenna had graciously opened her home in HighGarden to protect all of the northern citizens, elderly, children, anyone who decided against taking up arms. That included Sansa, Sam, Gilly, Bran, and surprisingly Ellaria – she and Oberyn's daughters were escorting them along the kings road.

Winterfell also received several new fighters to their ranks. Brienne of Tarth had arrived with Podrick, they had been aimlessly traveling the countryside after Tyrions escape from Kings Landing. The Hound was received three days prior, he had been caught by Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarion. They had hoped to claim the bounty on his head in the capital, but the realization of the army of the dead quickly changed their plans. 

Now everyone waited. Waited for the imminent death that could be thrust upon them. 

"My Queen," Violet heard over her shoulder, and turned to see Oberyn standing behind her. She passed a nervous smile his way, she was too anxious to fight back at her preference to be called friend. "Dorne is waiting on your command." 

Violet sighed, watching as Jon took his leave of her with a gentle squeeze of her arm.He rushed down the steps and over to the Winterfell fighters that surrounded the courtyard. 

"I'm bloody awful at this." She mumbled, sinking her head to her chest. Her hands gripped the icy wooden railing until her knuckles turned white, and a gentle glove covered hand soon found it's way on top.

"None of us want to die, today. But we are all willing to die for the country we love. It has it's shit holes and bastards like any other part of the world, but it's our home. We're protecting what we love today." Oberyn spoke gently, a hidden fear buried deep in his gullet. Violet could feel the trembling in his hand, it was as if he were talking himself into this fight just as much as she. 

"I want to keep everyone behind the walls as long as possible." Violet answered, turning her hand over to give Overyn's a squeeze. "I'll light the trench the second we know the army is here, we sent Bran to safety so we can't exactly know when for sure that is." 

"Who is that?" Oberyn mumbled, squinting his eyes to look at the two figures who approached the gates from the snow covered field. 

Violet's eyes widened as she took in their appearance, and she cursed loudly. "Why the fuck did he come back here?"