Fianna
The Northern lady chuckled to herself rather audibly, reading the contents of the scroll with an amused grin on her face. Fianna's humour was enough to catch the attention of her aunt, who was seated across the table, eating her own dinner.
"What is it?" Daenerys asked interestingly, prompting Fianna to laugh again as she turned to face her.
"It's a scroll from my cousin Tiernan, I had wrote to him asking if he would like to rule over Baelfort instead of the Twins and his reply was rather... opinionated," she explained, setting down the scroll after rolling it up, her fingers skimming over the Bua paw print that sealed it.
"Why would you want him to rule over Baelfort?" She pressed, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"Robb and I will be returning to Winterfell, it feels only right. I'm offering it to Tiernan as he's the only surviving Bua left," she shrugged, a wistful undertone to her voice.
Daenerys nodded in understanding, before nodding her head, "what did he have to say?"
"He said," Fianna cleared her throat and unravelled the scroll again, "'My dearest cousin Fianna, I wonder if you grow restless at the thought of me not entirely relocating for longer than a week. To answer your offer, I will accept. The Twins are a rather dreary place, shockingly so, it's almost as if hundreds of Northerners hadn't been brutally slaughtered on this very land. I miss the Northern air and the Northern women - well, one redhead in particular springs to mind. I agree entirely with your suggestion to offer the land to Ser Brynden Tully, whilst Edmure rules over Riverrun. I do hope that when you decide to move to Winterfell, you will stay there. It's rather tiresome to upheave your entire belongings cross-country. Yours sincerely, your cousin and the only true Bua heir, Tiernan."
She was laughing again by the time she finished, once again confusing Daenerys. The blonde was rather perplexed how Fianna was not offended by his brutal words.
"It's the way in which we act around each other," Fianna explained, upon noticing how she did not laugh in return. "We have always teased each other."
"He sounds a rather interesting man, this Tiernan," Daenerys smiled softly, setting down her cutlery. "I'd love to meet him some day."
"Not a chance," Fianna shook her head, a smirk lifting up the corners of her lips. "Tiernan would take one look at you and make a crude comment, I can imagine something along the lines of 'I've got a dragon she can ride'."
Daenerys was flustered by the comment, cheeks blushing ever so lightly and bashfully casting her eyes down to her plate.
"Your grace," Tyrion interrupted, and out of habit, Fianna looked up to respond. It took her a second to realise that she was nobody's 'grace' any more. He was holding a small scroll, the seal encasing it capturing Fianna's eye.
It was one she knew well, had even received once or twice, the seal of the Night's Watch. Immediately following, it was as if a sheet of ice had been wrapped around her back. Fianna was filled with a sense of dread and panic, and despite being unaware of its contents, she knew that whatever that scroll said was nothing positive.
Daenerys' demeanour changed when she too noticed it, quickly looking towards Fianna before she took the letter into her own hands. She unravelled it roughly, all too anxious to read what was addressed to her.
It took her mere seconds to finish, and when she did, she shot up from her chair like a dragon into the sky, gesturing with her hand for Fianna to follow. Tyrion took the discarded scroll, eyes skimming over it before widening in horror. He knew instantly what the two women were prepared to do.
"Dany?" Fianna pressed, half-jogging to catch up with her. "What did it say?"
"We need to take the dragons and leave immediately," she spoke rapidly, not giving much of an explanation.
"We?" She repeated, mouth parting in shock. Surely Daenerys didn't expect her to fly Viserion? "Daenerys, tell me what happened!"
When she still refused to reply, the Northerner was left with no choice but to grab her arm and whip her around, her fierce eyes meeting icy blue ones - filled with panic.
"They're trapped above the wall, trapped by the white walkers," she finally revealed. It only took Fianna a second to think, before she too was darting off towards the cliffs, Daenerys having to be the one who would run to catch up.
"I'll ride on Drogon with you," she informed her, barely leaving room for argument.
"You can't, there won't be enough room for all of us and them to fit. You need to ride Viserion, you've done it before!" Daenerys half-pleaded, looking almost desperate.
They had reached the cliff now, the two respective dragons immediately soaring down to rest on the cliff head, where they so often did to see their riders.
"No, Daenerys!" Fianna refused, eyes wide with panic. She knew this venture was a bad idea. And now, they were arguing when they really did not have the time to. "I'm not ready! I wouldn't ride a horse into battle without being trained, nor would I swing a sword if I didn't know how to do it properly! I won't put myself and the others at risk."
"Fianna," Daenerys' eyes were wide as she gripped her shoulders, shaking her ever so slightly, "riding a dragon is not like those things. It's in your blood, it'll come naturally to you. Now, please."
Fianna wanted to fight her again, but it was pointless. Daenerys wasn't going to let her ride on Drogon with her, it was either the Viserion way or no way. And there was no way she was going to leave her husband to die.
"Stop, you two!" Tyrion had finally caught up to them, just as the two women were approaching their respective dragons. Fianna ignored the imp entirely, while Daenerys chose to respond.
"We have to do this, Tyrion."
"You can't! The most important person in the world cannot ride off to the most dangerous place in the world!" He refuted, following after her as she reached Drogon. "Fianna, for the gods sake you are a mother, don't leave your children orphaned!"
"They're not going to be orphaned they're going to have two parents, I'll see to that," Fianna argued, stepping onto Viserion's wing.
"They knew the risk when they left-"
"Because of your plan," Fianna whipped around to shot, eyes blazing with fury that had been building since Robb had left. "It was your idea to fetch one of the undead fuckers, and now you mean to leave the men behind?"
Realising it was pointless trying to convince a wife to abandon her husband for death, Tyrion turned to Daenerys.
"Daenerys, you can't win the Iron Throne if you're dead! You can't break the wheel if you're dead!"
"Fuck the Iron Throne!" Fianna roared in interruption, stepping further onto Viserion's wing until she neared his back, then mounting atop of him. She had only rode the dragon twice in her life, and could only hope it was enough.
"What would you have us do?" Daenerys asked, but Fianna tuned out their conversation.
Her blood rushed audibly in her ears, so loud that she wondered if anyone else could hear it. All that was running through her mind was the seconds upon seconds it took Daenerys to argue with Tyrion, was seconds that Robb was closer to death.
She wasn't sure she'd be able to handle losing him a second time.
Fianna saw from the corner of her eye that Daenerys was preparing to take off, and quickly she followed after her, Viserion soaring upwards into the sky and whipping air through her loose strands of hair and whistling in her ears.
She couldn't bring herself to feel the enjoyment of riding that she had felt the previous two occasions, for this time, a life was at stake. And her husband's one, at that.
-
Robb
It had likely been a day since they had become stranded on a frozen lake, and Robb was cold so long that he barely noticed it any more. Often he would have to move his lips, his beard having frozen up until the tiniest white icicles would form on the hairs.
He sat next to Jon, the two's shoulders pressed together in a desperate attempt for warmth. Heat seemed almost futile now - if they didn't freeze to death soon, they would certainly starve.
To distract himself, from both the cold and the gravity of the situation, Robb spent the hours reminiscing. He liked to think about the first time he saw his children, the first time they called him 'father', which in their childlike tone came across as 'fatha'. He imagined himself, seated in Fianna and his shared chambers, in front of the fire with their children in their laps. He would look upon Fianna and the two would chuckle about how they had reached his point, how glad Fianna was to have her wolfhound chase Grey Wind all those years ago.
Something told Robb their paths would have crossed none the less.
The growls of the white walker they captured had brought him out of his fantasy, brought everyone back to reality. They all stood to inspect the white, but another body laying down caught Beric's attention.
"Thoros," he murmured softly, bending down and giving the Red Priest a slight shake. Robb cast his gaze over his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh when he saw the man's eyes. They were cold, lifeless, and as dead as the creatures surrounding them.
He didn't find the point in grieving. It wouldn't be long before the rest of them, including himself, would be dead too.
"You can say it, you know," Jon voiced quietly beside him, just as Beric began to say a prayer for Thoros' soul.
"Say what?" Robb asked, voice hoarse from the cold.
"Say that you were right," Jon shook his head, gaze cast to look out amongst the enemies surrounding them. "If we had listened to you, we wouldn't be here."
Robb didn't move to deny him, nor stroke his ego, for there was truth behind his words. If they hadn't ventured north, four people would still be alive.
"Maybe you should have kept the crown," Jon suggested, getting up to stand before Robb could answer, but he wasn't intending to anyway. He pondered briefly how different the world would look if he had.
He would have left Dragonstone the first time Daenerys would ask for his fealty and his kingdom.
"We need to burn the body," Jon was saying behind him, ripping the flask of alcohol from Sandor's hands and using its remaining contents to pour onto the carcass, which was then lit by Beric's flaming sword.
Robb stood up, finally, not wanting to catch alight along with Thoros - although the prospect of heat was rather alluring.
"You always have a plan, Robb," Jon commented, rubbing his gloved hands together. "Please tell me you have one, now."
Robb looked up in confusion, surprised by his brother's comment. He fumbled with his thoughts for a minute, looking around once more at the scene that he had looked at for a day straight. Jon was right, Robb always had a plan. But his plans rarely stretched to cover a group of men stranded on an ice lake, surrounded by an army of legendary creatures.
They could try swimming under the ice, but the risk of not being able to resurface was too great. Not to mention, they'd have to shed their furs and coats to ensure they wouldn't sink - and subsequently freeze to death, walkers or not.
They could make a run for it - the creatures were somewhat dispersed, perhaps they could split past and outrun them, or hide after reaching a measurable distance away. But again, the risk was too great. For them to even attempt an escape, at least three quarters of the army would need to be wiped out.
"You killed that white back when we captured the other one, and all of them suddenly fell to the ground," Robb commented, eyebrows furrowing with interest as he regarded his brother. "Why?"
"I'm not sure," Jon shrugged. "Best guess is that he had been the one to turn the others."
"Is there any way of telling who these... shall we say, Lords are?" Robb pressed, eyes trying to discern a difference for himself.
"I don't think so," he sighed. They were interrupted by Beric approaching from behind, extinguishing his lit sword into the snow and then holding it high, angling it towards a group of walkers atop the mountain.
Robb had never really took notice of the fact this particular group of five were on horse back, while the rest travelled on foot. He wondered if that made them the superiors.
"We kill that one," Beric pointed the tip of his blade to the white in the centre of the group, who stood out amongst the rest with a sense of authority.
Robb bristled at the sight of him. He couldn't see his eyes, but he felt his gaze trained on him, something that made his skin crawl.
"He's the one who turned them all," Beric explained, and neither Jon nor Robb questioned it, knowing he was more attuned to the Lord of Light than the rest of them. "The Lord of Light didn't bring us back to watch us freeze to death."
-
The moment that they realised the ice had refrozen, they would likely mark as one of the worst moments of their lives.
The realisation had come about thanks to Sandor Clegane, who had found great humour in throwing rocks at the surrounding walkers and watching it break their bones without reaction. It would have been humorous in another situation, and Robb would have even laughed, but any hopes for amusement quickly shattered as the last rock to be thrown soared through the air.
It fell short of the walkers, landing on the ice a few feet in front of his target. Immediately, they tensed up anxiously, shooting to stand up and tighten their grip on their weapons.
For there was no splash of water, no crack of ice. Which could only have meant one thing. And for as dumb as they may have been, the whites didn't fail to notice it either.
Once the first walker stepped across the ice, it started a chain reaction, until one by one the front line of enemies began to disperse slowly across the ice, straight towards them.
"Oh fuck," Robb cursed under his breath, lifting his sword high and turning around to see if they were about to be surrounded on all sides - they were. Without having to be told, the group organised itself into a circle, each person with their own area to watch and defend.
Robb was the first to swing, as his target was closest to himself than the others. The dragonglass in his newly formed sword shattered the creature to pieces.
It wasn't long before he realised that he wouldn't be able to keep up with the influx of walkers, that one sword just wasn't enough.
Robb reached for his own sword, which he still carried on his back, hoping it would be strong enough for what he intended to do next. He whirled it through the air and brought the tip down to the ice sheet beneath, using enough force to break through it. Now with a hole in place, Robb reached for a large boulder that rested next to the rock, using all of his strength to knock it onto the tiny crack.
The force was enough, and the boulder fell straight through the weakened structure and spreading until a gaping hole prevented any more whites from crossing to his section. This left a solid quarter of the rock unreachable, and allowed Robb to move and help the others.
"Fall back!" Jon roared, unable to do anything but watch as Tormund was violently knocked to the ground and mounted by half a dozen walkers. Robb shook his head in frustration, and rushed forward to help, but a sudden grip on his ankle knocked him forward until he hit the ground, face first.
His tooth cut through his lower lip, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth instantly. Robb whipped around to see that, to his horror, Jon's theory that the dead couldn't swim may have been incorrect.
Three of the walkers who had fallen into the hole he created himself had emerged, gripping at his ankles and desperately trying to tug him back. He let out an angry shout, wiggling his feet until he got enough leeway to shoot his foot back and hit the walker square in the face, breaking his jaw clean off.
With one foot free, he used it to swing back around and knock the other walker back into the water. Immediately after being set free, he scrambled to his feet, realising he may have only worsened the problem instead of helping it.
Blood dropped from his mouth, soaking his chin, but he barely noticed. It was the only warm sensation he had felt in days. Himself and the group retreated back to the top of the rock, elevating themselves on a mini-mound. But it wouldn't stop them, for now, the whites merely clambered on top of each other to get up and reach their prey.
There was a split second where Robb debated letting go, letting the walkers devour him and end this prolonged death. But then he happened to look towards Jon beside him, and reminded himself why he came here at all. To protect his King. And his brother.
They met each other's eyes, unspoken words filtering through the air and carrying their shared thoughts. Jon's being "I'm sorry", and Robb's being "I know."
Almost simultaneously, they lifted their swords into the air, deciding that if they were going to go out today, they'd go out fighting until the last second. But before their blades met the walkers incoming bodies, they were interrupted.
With a roar that reached the heavens, and a saving grace that was just as almighty, the three dragons Robb had detested looking upon in Dragonstone soared through the sky above their heads, a breath of flame exhaled from their mouths and immediately ending the creatures it would have taken the men hours to kill.
Their heads tilted back, unanimous exhalations of relief. Even from Robb, who didn't fail to notice a dark haired figure sitting on top of one.
-
Fianna
Daenerys had made it look easy. And perhaps for her, it was. But in Fianna's case, she found the cold from their elevated height absolutely choking.
The closer North they got, the more her cheeks reddened and her nose stuffed with mucous. The icy winds that hit her ears and the back of her throat were mind numbingly painful, but Daenerys didn't appear affected. She probably wasn't, being so at one with fire.
It wasn't hard to find the group, all they had to do was look closely in on the flurry of dark figures that were all clustered together. Fianna knew she was too high up to make out individual faces, but she tried anyway.
With a firm tone and an authoritative voice, she spoke the world Daenerys had only taught her days before, praying that her pronunciation was correct.
"Dracarys."
A wave of fire unleashed from the beast beneath her, disintegrating dozens within seconds and leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. Every part of ice that the fire hit, the ice melted beneath, cool water extinguishing the flames.
Grinning through her painfully cold cheeks, she looked over at Daenerys, their two dragons circling each other for a moment before returning to blast the walkers beneath, clearing the area around the group so they could make a safe escape.
It was a different type of warfare, she realised. Fianna was accustomed to the weight of a blade in her hand, the exertion of running across the battle field and the occasional feeling of inferiority that came with her generally smaller size and stature. Something she could never increase, no matter how much she trained.
Sitting on top of Viserion, Fianna felt as if she were the strongest person for miles. She was above everyone else, and they were no match for her or her weapon.
Fianna leaned over and saw that Daenerys was lowering Drogon to the ground, likely to take the rest of the group upon his back. It made sense, for she had the largest dragon, and therefore more would fit.
Spotting a parade of walkers that were sprinting from the hills downward towards the group, she swung Viserion around and annihilated them. How she could so easily control the dragons movements, she did not know.
Fianna circled back around and kept an eye on the group mounting Drogon, however there was one distinct figure that was positioned a couple of feet away, despite the rest of the group already moving closer to Daenerys.
"Fuck," Fianna muttered, her head whipping back and forth between the direction Viserion was heading to and the one who was about to be left behind. She didn't need to have stellar vision to know who it was.
The lower she got, the more she could make out the reddish tones in the individuals hair, proving her suspicions that her husband must have been trying to become some form of a martyr by letting the others go first.
Her breathing hitched in fear, sending Viserion flying closer and closer. Robb continued to fight off the walkers around him, but the more he killed the more came, and as the others were now safely seated on Drogon - he became the prime target.
"Robb!" Jon shouted, beckoning his brother with his hand and worriedly watching as he failed to get any closer to Daenerys.
After slicing through another walker, the 'Night King' - a term Jon had used to describe him, caught his eye. He was still stood on the mountain edge, not at all phased by the fighting beneath enough to join in. For instead of joining, he had a spear in one hand, angled directly into the air and retracted backwards, ready to fire.
His gaze followed the direction in which it was aiming for, and it became immediately clear what, or who would be hit.
"Fianna!" He roared, the loudest he possibly ever had in his life. But she was too engrossed with the fact he was about to be left behind, to realise her own impending danger.
"Robb! Come on!" Beric called when he ignored Jon.
But Robb couldn't hear anything, not while he was in the middle of watching the long spear suddenly shoot through the air, hurtling towards an unsuspecting Viserion and embedding itself into the dragon's side in a fatal hit.
Fianna screamed almost as loud as Viserion, a roaring screech of pain and agony that filled the skies and surely cracked ice from its volume. Seeing that their brother was hurt, Drogon and Rhaegal followed suit, howling with worry as Viserion started to descend chaotically towards the ice.
Gripping the spikes in his back so hard her knuckles cramped, Fianna held on for dear life as he twirled through the air, spinning around and plummeting.
Robb felt as if a hole had been punched in his chest, or as if he were be one to be shot with the spear. He could barely move or think, eyes transfixed on the falling dragon - or more specifically, the brunette woman clinging onto it for dear life.
He was almost certain this would have been the last image of her he would see, and he'd have to explain to his kids one day that their mother died rescuing him.
Fianna herself could feel the dragon's agony, their emotional bond having strengthened over the previous days, solidifying it. Before, she wouldn't have cared less about dragons, and even considered them rather vicious. Now? She felt the loss as if it were her own.
The closer Viserion got, an eerie sensation filled her, where her mind cleared all at once. Almost as if she was calmed, knowing this was the end and that she was about to die. The blankness of her mind startled her, and he hurtled further, it was only within the last few feet that Fianna's grip slipped.
She landed, hard, on her left leg - and the sound that followed, which one might think was ice, was a crack vibrating through her entire body. A tell tale sign she had just broken a bone. But before she could even process the pain, the icy sheet beneath gave way once more, and all signs of daylight disappeared to plunge her into a dark abyss.
Daenerys let out a soft whimper of horror, eyes wide with terror and her lower lip quivering with unshed cries as she watched her one remaining relative and one of her children, plummet to their deaths. The expressions were similar on the rest of the group, who had all known the Lady, some even having grown fond of her.
"Fianna!" Robb let out a roar, ripping his sword through the air and dismantling another white walker, before starting to race toward the hole in the ice.
Viserion was dead, that was a guarantee. His large body had sank into the water lifelessly - and if the spear hadn't killed him, the fall would have. As much as he hated the creatures, he couldn't help but imagine how much worse the damage would have been if Fianna hadn't been on his back for the majority of the fall.
The hole she broke in the ice was a few feet from Viserion, only because she had fallen off in the last minute. At this point, sobs were ripping violently through Robb's throat, but it didn't deter him from sprinting towards her.
Jon and Daenerys were as frozen as the landscape, silently mourning the assured loss of a great woman. It would only last a second though, until Jon had began to notice the Night King happened to have a spare.
"Go! Now!" He roared at Daenerys, snapping her out of her daze as she reared on Jon with furious eyes.
"We can't leave them!"
"Look!" He shouted, pointing his finger towards the being, who was now stepping up to aim once more.
Daenerys hesitated for a split second, not taking her eyes off of the hole and begging for Fianna to resurface. But even if she had, it wouldn't matter, for if they didn't leave now they would all be dead.
Robb barely noticed the remaining winged beasts starting to depart the valley, nor could he bring himself to care. He flung himself onto the ground upon reaching the break, peering over the edge and plunging his hand into the bone-chilling icy cold water, hoping to find her close enough to drag her out.