Jon spins and turns, moving left and right at a fast pace eliminating newly risen wights blocking his path. Nearby, Samwell, Jaime, Brienne, Grey Worm, Tormund, Gendry and Mya pant to catch their breath before springing into action to fend off a resurrected undead such as Qhono, Eddison and Lyanna – whose eyes pop open with milky blue irises, piercing and lifeless ones. Others did the same with Jon pressing forward with Longclaw in hand and reached the courtyard; hacking through multiple attacking wights, not stopping for a moment until he entered a passageway. Once inside, he heard a voice through the screams and shouts.
"Your Grace, where are you going?! Daveth, get back here! Wait!"
Jon turned to see Daveth charging at multiple wights in front of him, swinging and twirling Stormbringer into the air, cutting down all in his path despite his physical condition. The White Wolf momentarily paused at the Young Stag's aggressive push, though he recognized the pathway he was taking. Daveth was heading towards the godswood by himself! But sensing there was trouble nearby, Jon glanced right to catch a slight glimpse of the Night King accompanied by its White Walker lieutenants heading in the same direction. Bran! He realized with a mix of fear and determination. Jon knew this wasn't good and rushed to join Daveth, dispatching those that try to stop them and dodging falling debris. He stumbled momentarily, but regains his footing and lurches through an iron gate that he slams shut behind him before launching further down the hall.
"*Raaaaaarrrh!*"
"DRAGON!" Oberyn shouted.
Jon looks up and spins before spotting the undead Viserion landing in the courtyard, raining down blue fire on the allied forces – the White Wolf barely escaped the torrent of blue flame blasting through the hallway. He soon finds himself quickly being pressed against a wall, panting and exhausted before peering around the corner to see Viserion sitting atop the castle walls. Fire burns everywhere and the undead dragon roars and shifts its decaying body, causing further devastation before sliding down into the courtyard itself.
The White Wolf pushes himself forward, slaying a wight and turns to run as Viserion unleashes another vortex of blue flame at Jon. Fortunately, he turns a corner to avoid the attack and presses against another wall. Jon had to get to the godswood and fast, but he couldn't move with Viserion blocking his path.
"*Raaaaaaaaaarrh!*" Viserion roared again. The undead dragon's head peers on the other side of the broken wall where Jon is hiding.
The White Wolf steels himself and stands up, facing the dragon with hands and sword at his side, yelling out a challenging cry – staring a long, cold hard glare into Viserion's glowing icy blue eyes as it opened its great jaws to unleash another blast. Bellowing with a mighty roar, Viserion reared itself up to attack until a dragonglass scorpion blot flew right past them – breaking Viserion's concentration. The undead dragon growled and roared again, turning its head to confront its new attackers: Oberyn Martell and two of the Sand Snakes, Obara and Nymeria. All three had gotten Viserion's attention and jumped down onto the courtyard, spears, daggers and whip ready.
"We'll hold him off!" Nymeria called out. "Help the others!"
"But you'll die—" Jon tried reasoning with them.
"IF THE NIGHT KING WINS, THEN WE ALL DIE! NOW GET GOING, SNOW!" Oberyn roared, twirling his spear ready to attack.
Jon hesitated for a moment, not wanting to leave anyone behind – but turned and sprinted towards the Godswood and didn't look back. As he turned and neared the location of the Godswood, the last thing he hears are the distant screams of Oberyn, Obara and Nymeria and Viserion unleashed a torrent of blue flame. The undead dragon roared in triumph and scampered off in the courtyard, looking for new victims.
"I'm sorry..." Jon said remorsefully. He steeled himself once more and pressed on until he arrived at his destination.
Jorah, Jaehaegon and Daenerys pushed their way through the burning wreckage of Winterfell, the former two cutting down undead Dothraki. Daenerys, gripping the sword she picked up, helped stave off their attackers. Although wounded, Jorah and Jaehaegon cover their blind spots to prevent wights from overwhelming their position.
"Keep pushing! We're almost there!" Jorah points to the godswood.
The trio pushes through multiple wights and eventually spot Daveth and Jon fighting their way to the godswood. But at the same time, however, Daenerys noticed the undead Viserion impeding their pathway. Exhausted and wounded, both Jorah and Jaehaegon stumble a bit and kill their respective wights, charging at them from behind and in front. Daenerys stabs a wight aiming for Jorah, parrying and forcing her blade up into its chest cavity before extending a grateful and comforting touch to her saviors.
Bellowing with a mighty roar, Viserion reared itself up to attack until a dragonglass scorpion blot flew right past them – breaking Viserion's concentration. The undead dragon growled and roared again, turning its head to confront its new attackers: Oberyn Martell and two of the Sand Snakes, Obara and Nymeria. All three had gotten Viserion's attention and jumped down onto the courtyard, spears, daggers and whip ready.
Daenerys, Jorah and Jaehaegon watched as the Red Viper and his bastard daughters moved to attack; although it was clearly a suicide mission, this offered a momentary distraction for the three of them to sneak past and make it to the godswood. "We have to help them," the Dragon Queen recommended.
"No Dany," Jaehaegon shook his head, gripping her arm. "They're doing their job so we can do ours."
"But—"
"Khaleesi, I know you don't want to leave anyone behind but we have to go," Jorah agreed with the Velaryon. "If we can't get to the Godswood before the Night King does, all will be for nothing."
Daenerys tried to say something, but couldn't muster anything. Instead, the Dragon Queen reluctantly chose to follow Daveth and Jon to the Godswood—sneaking past Viserion as the undead dragon proceeded to lay waste to the surrounding area. Turning from one alleyway to another, Daenerys eventually found her way to her destination.
At the Godswood, Theon and Olyvar take a few steps backwards, notching more flaming arrows and firing. As they readied more, more wights continue storming the godswood – whether they came from the crypts or were reanimated outside the gates of Winterfell and inner courtyard; some tackled a few Northerners encroaching on Bran, who remained in a warging state.
"I'm out of arrows!" Olyvar called out, picking up a dragonglass spear.
Theon reaches for an arrow, but realizes his bucket is empty and bats down a wight with his bow. One wight tackles him to the ground, but the ironborn kicks it off and impales the oncoming ghoul with his dragonglass spear. Olyvar grunted as he fought with every fiber of his being against the charging wights, helping Theon leveraging the wights away from Bran – having switched from hand-to-hand combat, they were in their element.
Both young men fight with all they have, slaying wight after wight that fell upon them with Bran continuing to warg – until a moment's pause fell over the godswood and the wights stopped moving and remained motionless, staring at them. Theon and Olyvar panted, looking over their surroundings before realizing it was just the two of them. Gwyn, Alys and Rodrik were overwhelmed by the undead forces, along with the rest of their guards—either they were dead, dying or missing in action. Before they could further process their situation, Theon and Olyvar felt the temperature drop even further to the point where they could literally see their own breath. Olyvar, however, shook slightly and gripped his weapon tighter. He knew what was coming; he had seen this before during the expedition beyond the Wall.
"He... he's here," he gasps.
"The Night King?" Theon inquired.
"The Night King," Olyvar confirms.
On que, both see the Night King and his White Walker lieutenants walking calmly towards Bran, leading a procession of wights behind them. Theon and Olyvar each land one mortal blow after another to keep the undead away from Bran until they double over, exhausted and gasping for breath before parting to see the Night King walking through until standing motionless amidst its followers as Bran returns to consciousness.
"I guess this is it," Theon concludes.
Olyvar gripped his dragonglass spear tighter. "Protect Bran Stark... at all cost," he replied.
"Theon," Bran calls out to get his attention.
Theon turns to look at him.
"You're a good man. Thank you," he continues. "And you Olyvar."
Olyvar turns to look at him.
"You served my brother-in-law faithfully for many years. You represent the embodiment of what House Frey can truly become. You should be proud."
Both Theon and Olyvar take a breath, shaking their heads and look down before turning back to face the Night King – spears at the ready while the Night King steps forward at the front of its assembly. Before either could charge, a booming sound broke their concentration.
"Theon, Olyvar! Stand down!"
The Night King, its White Walker lieutenants and wights look behind them to see Daveth standing before them. Staring down his adversary, the Young Stag noticed neither the White Walkers nor any of the wights were attacking him immediately – suggesting the Night King must be commanding them. He redirected his focus solely on the Night King's expressionless face, staring into its soulless eyes. Knowing full well that dragon fire couldn't destroy the undead supreme leader, it boiled down to close-quarters combat... armed with Valyrian steel or dragonglass. The White Walker lieutenants gripped their ice blades though they stayed their hand still.
"Next time make sure your enemy stays down," Daveth challenged and rushed.
Before he could make contact, the Night King sidestepped the Young Stag's attack and gripped Daveth's arm with one hand and his collar with the other and lifted him high into the air—staying his attack. The Night King swivels around and throws Daveth around, sending the King of the Seven Kingdoms to the ground hard again.
"Ngh!" he grunted.
"Your Grace!" Olyvar shouted.
"No, Olyvar...! Stay where you are!" Daveth groaned as he steadily rose to his feet. "You and Theon protect Bran Stark. I'll try to buy you as much time as I can."
"Not alone," a feminine voice called out.
The Night King noticed Daenerys armed with a dragonglass sword charging at him; because the Dragon Queen had no training, she was relatively predictable. Raising its hand up, the Night King utilized a magical wind-vortex to lift Daenerys into the air. Daveth rushed again, but the Night King sidestepped and tossed the Dragon Queen colliding directly at the Young Stag.
"Oomph!" they both grunted, the force of the impact sent them both back down to the ground.
The Night King stared down at his adversaries expressionlessly; the undead supreme leader again heard another yell coming from behind and sidestepped again. Jon swung Longclaw in a downward slash, but missed. Again, the Night King shot a powerful shockwave at the White Wolf's back—sending Jon face first into the snow next to Daveth and Daenerys. Thinking its adversaries were of no real threat, the Night King shifted its gaze to Bran—who remained sitting impassively waiting for it—and slowly walked on towards him. Theon and Olyvar again ready themselves, but stay their hand again when they saw Daveth, Jon and Daenerys stand up again.
"What kind of magic was that?" Daenerys inquired.
Daveth panted, clutching his chest in discomfort. "You said it yourself, Snow," he groaned. "If the Night King can create seismic fissures and severe blizzards, then it has control of the elements."
"Meaning we'll have a harder time trying to bypass his defenses," Jon grunted. Some of us had taken a brutal beating than the others so we're not exactly at our best. Our enemy doesn't tire or hesitate. This is going to be harder than I thought. "Stand your ground until an opportunity presents itself."
The Night King lowered down and pressed its hand onto the ground; after a while, a low rumbling was heard before the ground slowly crystalized... crackling was heard, and in a swift moment, giant ice spikes shot up out of the ground and quickly headed towards the trio.
"Watch out!" Jon shouted.
All three jumped clear to avoid the attack when the ice spikes stopped six feet in front of Theon and Olyvar who remained holding a stalwart defense. Daveth, Daenerys and Jon stumbled to regain their balance before being hit again with wind spheres and knocked down again. The Night King stood up and draws closer, cocking its head slightly. Daveth tries to get back up when the Night King grabs the back of the Young Stag's neck and raises him up; he grips the Night King's arms in attempt to free himself from the enemy's grasp but is thrown hard and fast against the weirwood tree.
"Gaahh!" he exclaimed in pain when his back hit the single heart tree, the force of the impact caused him to spit blood from his mouth.
"Your Grace!" Olyvar shouted; the Frey knight felt helpless at watching his King getting tossed around like a ragdoll and wanted desperately to help him. "Protect Brandon Stark... at all cost," still rung in his ears and he begrudgingly stood his ground in front of Bran.
Bran looks down at the Young Stag, who coiled in agony and tried to stand up again. Daenerys again tried to attack, but the Night King backhands her to the side. The Dragon Queen shouts and slides across the ground, rolling around before coming to a stop.
"Stay away from him!" Jon hollers.
The White Wolf circles around and attacks with Longclaw, though the Night King easily sidesteps Jon's multiple swings and punches him. After getting knocked down, Jon quickly gets back up and forcibly shoves the Night King, but is stopped in his tracks when the Night King easily grips the White Wolf's leather lamellar tightly and swings him across its shoulder and slams Jon to the ground.
"Gaah!" he grunted.
Daveth finally staggers to his feet and grips Stormbringer, ready for another attack. The Night King sees him and they meet eye-to-eye again, pondering one another. Eventually, the undead's supreme leader reaches back to unsheathe his weapon from its shoulder scabbard. "So... now you decide to get your hands dirty. Good," Daveth coughed, panting while he wiped the blood from his mouth. "Come, if you think you have what it takes to kill us."
As soon as the Night King unsheathed its ice falx, Daveth and the Night King rushed in crossing Stormbringer with the ice blade. The sound of Valyrian steel sang against the blade, but the Night King was surprisingly strong physically even Daveth stumbled before moving as fast as his battered body could to counter another attack. Jon got back up and entered the fray with Longclaw; the Night King sensed his approach and clashed blades with both until Daenerys arrived with her sword.
Soon enough, all three were engaging the Night King in close-quarters combat. Jon more often intervened to guard Daenerys as she was the most inexperienced in a fight before he himself could press his own attack. The Night King in the meantime was also demonstrating to be just as fast as it was powerful in terms of magic and physical prowess; the surface of its ice falx caused Longclaw, Stormbringer and the dragonglass sword to bounce off with swift fluidity before emanating a vortex-like shockwave to send all three flying backwards.
"Gaah!"
"Oomph!"
"Ngah!"
Now it was enough. Theon and Olyvar take a deep breath; both grab their dragonglass spears and then charge at the Night King with a battle yell, running the length of the clearing at full tilt. In a single motion, the Night King sensed their presence and raised its left hand up—jetting an ice scream from underneath them, spreading up their legs and stopping them in their tracks.
"Wah! Nagh! C-can't move!" Olyvar exclaimed.
"Grraah! Aaah fuck!" Theon cursed.
Jon groaned and rolled over. He remembered the events at Hardhome, he remembered the venture beyond the Wal... he remembered all the Free Folk, Night's Watch and friends he's lost to the Night King's army. If Longclaw can kill a White Walker, if can pierce through their armor just as easily, it can destroy the Night King too. At this point, there is nothing more strategical planning to be done—other than to have every abled-bodied person aiding in the defense of Winterfell. The ultimate fate of Westeros at this point lies in the hands of the team charged with killing the Night King. It'll take a miracle for all three to pull off at this point.
"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword," Eddard Stark's words rang through Jon's mind. All my life I've tried to live by those words, he thought. But you know something I've learned by now, fath— uncle? I'm not going to swear an oath I can't keep. When enough people make false promises, words stop meaning anything. Then there are no more answers, only better and better lies. I'm going to protect Bran from the Night King... no matter the odds!
With that, Jon soon found himself standing upright again—armed with Longclaw, staring down the Night King.
If we fail, the Army of the Dead will be an even greater threat to this world. Everything we've done, every sacrifice we've made along the way, will have been for nothing if we fall here. I won't let it end this way, Daveth thought. Sansa, Lyonel, Cassana, Torrhen, and our unborn child... I love you all too much. I promised you I'd come home, and I intend to keep it. I will not let the Night King hurt you. I. Will. NOT. Let him. Hurt you!
The Young Stag staggered to his feet, grunting and groaning—motivated by sheer willpower and determination. Raising Stormbringer high, Daveth readied himself for another attack.
You killed Viserion, one of my children. A lot of my people are dead because of you. We will hit you hard and rip you out root and stem, Daenerys thought. No matter how many dead you raise, I'll burn you all alive. When this is all over, all men, women and children in the Seven Kingdoms will live without fear and cruelty under their rightful Queen.
Daenerys steadily rose to her feet, the joints in her arms and legs ache from being thrown around – but her violet eyes remained locked on her enemy as her silver hair blew in the wind's direction. Gripping the dragonglass dagger, the Dragon Queen was not going down without a fight.
Unimpressed, the Night King utilized another round of powerful wind-vortexes which forcibly shoved all three to the ground – leaving them in a helpless position. The White Walkers continued watching the fight unfold... until one screeched and shattered to pieces. This caught the attention of Daveth, Daenerys, Jon, the Night King and other combatants to see who would attack from behind. More White Walkers and wights felled as a consequence, but Daveth and Daenerys were more taken aback when they see Barristan and Jorah taking down scores of wights with Heartsbane and Bastion.
"Ser Barristan! What are you doing?!" Daveth exclaimed with surprise and horror.
"Jorah!" Daenerys shouts.
Both men held their blades at the ready, outnumbered and determined to protect their respective sovereigns from the undead. Barristan readies Bastion and springs into action, being followed by Ser Jorah. Each took down score after score of wights despite their age; a wight slashes the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard behind one of his legs, making him fall to the ground. Daveth could only watch on helpless as his former mentor fights his way towards the center. Daenerys, fearing for Ser Jorah's safety, called out again for him to run away but her Great Bear doesn't listen. A wight pierces Jorah's armor, but stabs the ghoul back in return. Another wight attacks Barritan, who parries and forces his blade up into its skull.
They struggle to their feet and press onward. Jorah gores another two wights. Despite his advanced age, Barristan hacks and swings at multiple wights at once, grips one to use as a human shield to parry and cut down wights before a White Walker knocks him forward. Jorah staggers to his knees and regains his stance to continue the fight, but falls when one slashes a deep gash into his shoulder.
The scene taking place before Daveth's eyes brought for old, painful memories. Not just from Lannisport, but it reminded him of Eddard Stark's sacrifice during the Battle of the Blackwater. Try as he might despite being in pain, the overall weight of the Night King's wind-vortex holding down him, Daenerys and Jon were too heavy. He couldn't move an inch; all he could do was watch.
"NOOO!!" he shouted.
From experience, slaying a White Walker easily destroyed the wights it reanimated—lessening the number of undead assembled in the godswood. The Night King sensed the decreasing number of ground troops and glanced back at Barristan and Jorah making their way towards the undead supreme leader himself. Stabbing another White Walker, Barristan takes down another lieutenant before one slashes at the back of his knees, causing him to fall to the ground. Jorah moves in front of another to take the hit and is stabbed in the chest. Daenerys screamed in terror and tried to get up, but the wind-vortex still held her down.
"JORAH!!" she shouted.
Kicking the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to the ground, a White Walker brings an ice sword to stab the old man in the gut. Barristan shouted in pain, but brought Bastion upwards to shatter the lieutenant to pieces. A wight stabbed Jorah in the back, causing the Great Bear to exclaim loudly and dispatch the ghoul. Badly wounded, their efforts nonetheless seemed to garner the Night King's full attention as it was forced to cease the wind-vortex. Both Barristan and Jorah rushed the Night King, but in a single motion the Night King sidesteps, freezes them in place with an ice blast, generates crystalized ice spears in both hands and impales them through the gut. Barristan and Jorah grunt, looking at the Night King's soulless eyes and fall to the ground—the ice spears piercing their stomachs, twitching and look up at their respective sovereigns as blood pours from their mouths.
Jon felt the wind-vortex being lifted and allowed himself to stand up again with Longclaw drawn. Bran looks down, as did Theon and Olyvar. Meanwhile, Daveth and Daenerys's eyes widened with shock and their bodies shook; the two most important people in their lives felled after showing such a display of bravery to save them... snuffed out.
No... no... No, no, no, no, NO, NO, NOOOOOO! "YRAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" Daveth's anguish and rage rises at an incredible pace; he immediately springs to his feet and darts towards the Night King with Stormbringer raised in the air. Fueled by the pain of loss, being forced to witness another sacrifice themselves for him once again, appears to serve to act as a trigger mechanism to have him tap into his Baratheon near superhuman strength and adrenaline.
"RAAAAAAAHHH!!!" Daenerys screams in anger and lunges.
"GAAAAAH!!!" Jon bellows a war cry and attacks.
The night was long, and the battle going on had lasted for what felt like hours. From the beginning, the combined armies of the living—soldiers, militiamen, Dothraki and Unsullied—lose many, but each felled is a comrade, a friend... or dearest blood. And upon seeing their sacrifice, Daveth, Daenerys and Jon once again force the Night King to engage them in close-quarters combat. Fast and strong as it was, the Night King's expressionless face appeared somewhat surprised at the renewed vigor of his opponents. Daveth's swings are faster, harder and full of blood-rage. Daenerys, although inexperienced, was as flexible and graceful; whereas Jon demonstrated agility and swiftness.
Soon thereafter, the Night King soon found itself on the defensive as it swung its ice falx across but Daveth quickly ducked and rushed the undead leader with a shoulder charge, pushing it further away from Bran. Daenerys swung her weapon, bouncing off the ice blade which allowed Jon to rush in to strike the Night King's blade. After several blows, the Night King noticed its crystalized weapon starting to crack. It pulled back and went for the attack with speed and power; quickly, Daveth, Jon and Daenerys mustered their body's physical limitations to push the Night King back. Over and over, Stormbringer, Longclaw and the dragonglass sword caused more damage to the ice falx. The Night King appeared to finally have some difficulty and blasted all three of them back with another round of wind-vortexes. Daveth, Jon and Daenerys were thrown off their feet and landed on the ground hard, but they got back up.
Neither realized a faint wind passing through as they didn't notice Arya Stark jumping through the darkness into view with her dagger. In one swift fluid motion, Arya spun in the air and slashed the Night King's left arm before rolling around and landing on her feet. The Night King's brow raised in surprise as the dragonglass dagger burned its missing forearm and made holding the ice falx more troubling. Swiveling again into action, the Night King raised its right arm high, gripping the handle of the ice falx in preparation of a downward stroke.
"Now!" Arya shouts.
The Night King's eyes follow to the fast-approaching footsteps coming from behind, but by the time it turned around it was already too late. In perfect unison, Daveth, Daenerys and Jon thrusted all three of their blades forward with a grunt and plunged Stormbringer, Longclaw and the dragonglass sword deep into the Night King's torso where its heart was at—piercing the black armor. The Night King tensed up for a moment and shattered into tiny ice shards, raining down where it once stood.
One by one, the White Walkers explode into ice shards with the crowd of wights surrounding Bran, Arya, Daveth, Daenerys, Jon, Olyvar and Theon fall over, lifeless as rag dolls. The ghouls reanimated from the crypts were quickly reduced to a pile of dust and bone fragments. When the undead collapse, Daenerys scampers over to Jorah and cradles him in her arms with tears forming in her eyes.
"I... I hurt," he coughs weekly. "Khaleesi... forgive me..." Jorah tries to say something else, but goes still, his eyes glazed by death.
"No. No, Jorah, no, no... please no..." Daenerys sobs, burying her face into his neck.
Nearby, Daveth's frenzy ran its course and knelt down to nudge Barristan's body. His face is twisted with grief, tears for the first time threatening to etch his face in a mix of blood, dirt and snow as he tried one more time to look for any signs of life whatsoever. When the Young Stag saw there was none and he didn't move, Daveth was beside himself. Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and the man responsible for saving his life as a child during the First Greyjoy Rebellion—the only person to ever look for him until he was rescued—and the one who trained him on how to use a sword since he was 9 years old... was gone forever. "BARRISTAN!! REAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!" he shut his eyes tight and screamed in anguish, still cradling Barristan's lifeless body. Daveth's cries of pain at the loss of his former mentor was long and loud, screaming until his throat was sore.
Freed from their confinement, Theon tended to Robb whereas Olyvar stood over Daveth with a sense of sympathetic sadness on his face and placed a hand on his shoulder. Above, Drogon flew back down after having successfully shaken off its attackers and curled loosely around a crying Daenerys to comfort her.
Outside, the undead Viserion roared before suddenly collapsing into a lifeless husk near the bodies of Oberyn, Obara and Nymeria, leaving a whiff of blue flame to dissipate in the air. The horde of undead in the courtyard and those still circling around Winterfell trying to climb up the walls of Winterfell immediately start collapsing to the ground, falling away from those they were just fighting with many more tumbling from the battlements into the courtyard.
Pressing against the walls, a pyramid of wights collapse—rolling around on top of each other before hitting the ground; the waves of undead rushing around Winterfell drop like flies unresponsively. Tormund, Gendry and Grey Worm are stunned and take a moment to take in what just happened. They look around the courtyard and battlefield, the layout of the frozen ground littered with the lifeless mounds of friend and foe alike.
Nearby, Brienne, Jaime, Podrick, Mya and Dacey lean against the walls – dumbfounded at their sudden escape from death.
"Unbelievable... they did it," Mya whispered. "They did it! We won!" she hollered loudly.
One by one, the surviving soldiers, militia, Dothraki and Unsullied hollered and whooped as the war horns blared in victory. Swords, spears and bows were raised high in the air as the cheering continued. As the hurricane-like blizzard dissipated and the weather cleared, the sun started to rise in the distance.
Sandor comes out of a darkened doorway, accompanied by Vaeraleah, Melisandre and Ser Davos. They stop, bent over in relief, but Melisandre continues walking placidly out the gate down a snowy aisle into the cold air flanked by giant piles of the dead. Davos appears and watches Melisandre walking further away, but is stopped by Vaeraleah.
"Her purpose has been fulfilled, Ser Davos," she tells him. "Now it's time to say goodbye."
"What do you mean?" he asks.
Vaeraleah points to the ruby necklace around her neck. "Our amulet is the only thing that keeps us alive. We're older and more fragile than most people like to believe. Melisandre spent 400 years of her lifetime serving the Lord of Light whereas I spent nearly 700. And while my purpose is not yet done, Melisandre has finished our Lord's work and accepted her fate to die in this strange country. So now she must return to the earth."
The Onion Knight said nothing but returned his sights towards Melisandre, who sheds her red cloak and the ruby necklace around her neck. As the magical glamour glowed brightly red, it quickly faded into nothing. Her gait becomes unsteady and her red hair turns to snow white, her dress slides off her shoulders as Melisandre shrinks, rapidly aging countless years in a matter of seconds. Before long, Melisandre's knees buckle and collapses onto the ground – giving off a cloud of dust as her emaciated body dissipates into ash and blows off with the wind as the dawn finally arrives.
Although war horns still blow loudly and the survivors cheer victorious against the dead, the day was theirs but there were no songs left to be sung. They suffered many losses.
The Second War of the Dawn... was finally over. But at what cost to those left behind?