This chapter has been edited due to content. I made minor edits in this chapter. If you want to see the unedited version GO HERE.
A short distance to the East were the beginnings of the Last River. If I closed my eyes I swore I heard it off in the distance. If one were to go West and over the mountains, one would end up in Bear Island. Those simple facts calmed my mind so focus could be given to the present. Jon was besides me, also on horseback, as we made our way to the Night King's army.
Bran hadn't said the Night King would be at this location, but that a large portion of the dead would be. Part of me wanted to fulfill my destiny and another wanted to hide from it. Beyond the Wall I had been afraid. The cold and fear had affected me as much as anyone else. My honor was the only thing that kept me from running away from fear. Well, honor and love.
"You're scared." Jon said as the two dragons let out a roar.
Drogon and Rhaegal seemed to be more than eager. They were finally having a chance at revenge. Finally having a chance to kill those that had taken their brother. Not for the first time the thought came if they could actually kill Viserion. While many saw these creatures as nothing more than beasts, they could actually feel. They could understand much more than a mere pet.
Ghost let out a howl that mingled with the dragons' roars. For a brief moment he walked with us and then went off. I didn't need to turn my head to see where he'd gone. The direwolf would be making sure the army wasn't about to be ambushed. The sigil of House Stark either liked that duty or was trying to distract himself. Direwolves also understood much more than a common animal.
"Of the dead?" I asked and tried to get away from the topic. "Sometimes I dream about being trapped on that island."
"You know what I mean." Jon retorted. "Dragons are our greatest weapon against the dead. It's the reason I ride Rhaegal. If I can defeat my fear, so can you."
"You have Targaryen blood in your veins. The fires of Old Valyria is in your entire being. I am a pure Northerner. There is nothing but snow in my veins."
Ghost let out another howl and the dragons let out another series of roars. They were communicating with one another. It must be the first time this had happened. No other time in history would it have been able to occur. Dragons hadn't come to Westeros until the Targaryens and by that time Direwolves hadn't been sighted for quite some time.
"Jon's right, you are scared." Arya said as she started walking by us. "It's silly to be afraid when Daenerys told you that you were Drogon's father. She hasn't been wrong yet."
"And Sansa said you were able to touch Drogon." Jon added.
"Merely touching a dragon doesn't mean I can ride one." I retorted.
"Don't talk about you not being pure enough to ride a dragon. You sold people into slavery and fled into exile to escape execution. By helping Daenerys Targaryen you redeemed yourself. You're not the same man as before."
"I know that. But that doesn't erase my sins. There is nothing within my power to make things right."
"No one can change the past." Arya retorted. "But that doesn't mean you're bound to it. I have done things that I regret. It's useless to wallow in the guilt of things that cannot be changed."
Arya Stark had briefly joined the ranks of the Faceless Men. Those assassins were more than deadly. Their history went back to slaves who refused to be conquered. Some theorized that they were the cause behind the Doom of Valyria. If that were so it wouldn't surprise me. The Faceless Men seemed to have powers unknown to any mortal man.
Since she had gained enough respect to be let free, that must mean she had done things. Or maybe all she did was train. Something had frightened her enough that she didn't dare return.
"I killed." Arya continued. "At the time I thought all my killings were right. Maybe they were. Maybe they weren't. The point is that I have done things I've regretted. I've made choices that shouldn't have been made."
"You're much stronger than me." I argued.
"You just lack conviction."
I wanted to argue with the girl but I couldn't. In her eyes there was a darkness I couldn't comprehend. It was certainty of a kind only found in those much older. Yet in that darkness there was kindness or else she wouldn't have returned to Winterfell. She wouldn't have decided to help her family when there were so many left to kill.
There was silence as the journey continued. Arya fell back and it was only Jon beside me. We grew tense as we felt the winter air becoming colder. There is a special kind of cold that surrounds the dead. It is a kind that grips you and threatens to take your sanity. My horse grew uneasy and it took all my strength to keep it from running off. Ghost howled loudly which stopped the majority of horses from crying out.
"Do you see anything?" I asked Jon and he shook his head.
Drogon and Rhaegal flew down low as if anticipating White Walkers. The dead were close by and I prayed the Night King was far away. I didn't know how to be Azor Ahai and if I died then all would be lost. It fell to me to kill the foul creature. If only my days and nights of testing my powers had gone anywhere.
A herd of deer ran past us. For a moment I feared they were wights. A sigh of relief left my lips when I saw their eyes. They weren't dead and were merely trying to outrun the horrors behind them. I took Longclaw from its sheath and prepared for battle.
"Dragon!" Arya shouted and I looked up.
In the sky was Drogon and Rhaegal, but the Stark girl hadn't been referring to them. A hulking form went through the clouds with undead wings and blue eyes. Though I couldn't see him, I assumed the Night King was seated on Viserion. The creature was still beautiful yet he was twisted. It angered me to think he was no longer in control of himself. His mind was the Night King's now. If only there was a way to reach Viserion and convince him to turn on his new master. But that was only a dream and one that could never be.
The hooves of Jon's horse quickly became lost because of the distance. He was rushing to get to Rhaegal, a much more suitable mount at the moment. He was now going somewhere I couldn't follow. As I forced my mind away from such thoughts, I found myself in the middle of a battle. It was taking every part of my leadership to keep my men in line.
"Remember to aim for the White Walkers!" I yelled out. "Without them, the wights will have no power!"
That was much easier said than done. The first wave of wights rushed at us. While they appeared numerous, it seemed a pitiful amount. What had they been on their way to do? What castle were they really after? Winterfell or someplace else?
The archers ran to areas that were elevated enough to see across the battlefield. A few soldiers followed them as they would need protection. Myself and the others formed a line. I was out in front while those with Valyrian steel stood on either side of me. Behind us were men with dragonglass edged weapons, dragonglass daggers, and regular steel. Hopefully this would be enough to give us a victory.
We clashed against the wights. They were of women, children, and young boys. Either the Night King wanted to lessen our morale or he was saving the larger wights for another purpose. I didn't feel good as I sliced through a young girl. Nor did I feel good as I killed a woman.
Around me there were screams of terror and bravado. The arrows must have gone through at least one White Walkers as a few wights just fell down. A few people cheered as they sensed victory on the horizon.
"Do not cheer!" I yelled out but didn't know if I could be heard over the chaos. "There are still more White Walkers to kill and wights to deal with!"
One of the men wasn't cheering for much longer. Instead of cheers, the next sound that came out of his mouth was a faint gurgling sound caused by a spear going through his throat. A man beside him had a wight wrapped around his neck. With gritted teeth I chopped off the first man's head. I tried not to think as I cut into the wight around the man's neck.
The man had hardly a moment to think before the fight continued. I would've called it a battle but there was too much chaos for that. It was like a tavern brawl. We wanted to move forward but were forced into retreating. Yet we couldn't do so too fast or else the dead would sense our weakness. Though it felt like they already had.
"Archers!" I yelled and a few muted voices replied. "Dammit."
Only a few were left which meant we had the rest of the army to deal with. I looked up briefly to see three dragons fighting in the air. If Jon managed to win or drive back the Night King, we could live to fight another day. The army of the living was prepared hence we hadn't been killed yet. Were we winning or was that my mind trying to protect itself?
"Arya!" I yelled out to the Stark girl.
She was screaming for blood. At points, like this one, I was unsure of if she was aware of her surroundings. If she understood the danger or if she was too in love with the battle. She had just killed a wight and a soldier had died for her victory. It wasn't a callous thing, merely something that happened during battles. The problem was she seemed to be paying no mind to the fallen man.
Just as I was about to go to her, I was distracted by my duties. There was enough strength now to drive the dead back just enough to gain a few seconds of respite. So that opening was taken and Arya was forced out of my mind. The guilt of allowing her to die couldn't overtake me at this moment.
I ducked as Ghost jumped over my horse to get at a wight that had gotten through our barrier. The direwolf didn't wait for a thanks as that must not matter to him. Many dead started to break through and I did my best to keep the living alive.
"Arya!" Gendry yelled and I looked for the pair.
I was unable to see Arya but could see Gendry. A young woman's voice shouted so Arya must be alive. The Baratheon bastard was going towards her when a wight came to him. Unlike the others this was one with power. He was a large man and his muscles were evident even amongst all of the decay. Gendry held up his war hammer in an eagerness to fight. His powerful weapon was tipped with Valyrian steel and dragonglass. His war hammer was more than a match for the dead.
While I was fighting my own battle, I glanced at Gendry's fight. They were an even pairing with the other wights trying to get at the bastard. The wight picked up a fallen sword and swung at the bastard. I could see clearly that Gendry would not be able to dodge or parry it. If he died then the living's supply to Valyria steel would be fully cut off.
I felt a fire in my chest and breathed a sigh of relief. The feeling of Lightbringer was not one easily forgotten. Without thinking of how to use the weapon, a flame leapt from my chest to the wight attacking Gendry. The flame expanded and engulfed the enemy. Gendry gave me a nod of thanks and then went off to fight. I pushed away my confusion as contemplation could cost me my life.
My horse found a small location away from the fighting. From this place I could have a better understanding of the battlefield. I could see the many connections that could lead to victory. My eyes drifted up to see how Jon was doing. Drogon and Rhaegal were putting up a good fight against the Night King. With Jon might just win the war here. Maybe the title of Azor Ahai was useless.
Drogon broke away and allowed Rhaegal more maneuverability. As both were about to kill the undead monstrosity, everything went awry. A minor movement of Viserion's wing forced Drogon to keep his distance while pushing Rhaegal closer. The undead dragon bit the living one's neck. The green dragon did his best to fight, Rhaegal's apparent calmness indicated this was not the first of such attacks, but to no avail.
I imagined Jon holding on for as long as he could. Maybe he would attempt to kill the Night King. Maybe he would succeed. My mouth yelled out but I couldn't hear any sound coming from it. Nothing else caught my attention except the winter wind that started to attack me. It became colder as if the Night King was laughing at me. The other thing that caught my attention was the illusion of Jon becoming more visible. There was a curse or a scream leaving his lips, but the wind was too loud for me to hear anything. Holding onto Rhaegal must have nearly killed him as he was bruised.
To my surprise Jon came crashing into me and there was enough pressure on me that I could hold on to him. To my utter shock he nor I was dead. He looked at me with eyes that didn't seem to register anything around him.
"Jorah?" Jon finally managed to ask. "What are you doing up here?"
Up here? I finally took note of my surroundings. No longer was my steed a horse but Drogon. I laughed loudly as I thought about what must have happened. In my fear I had called out to Drogon and he had taken me as his rider. Then we had made our way to get Jon. I looked down and saw Rhaegal's lifeless form go crashing down. Up above was Viserion who seemed to be allowing me to recover my senses. That was either an honorable act or a sadistic one.
"Get behind me." I said shakily and Jon obeyed my orders.
Now that I was aware of my surroundings, I was nervous. The distance between Drogon and the ground felt greater. What if I fell? What if I died up here? Jon kissed me gently on the neck and a sense of calm ran over me. The gods had declared me Azor Ahai and so it was my fate to kill the Night King.
Drogon responded to my tiniest movements. He understood what I wanted. He gathered some wind under his wings and attempted to ram the Night King's steed's stomach. Viserion pulled his wings close beside him and rolled away. Once he was a safe distance away he gained altitude. The moment he was high enough, he dove at me.
Height! Of course! This battle was taking place in a much larger arena than I was used to. I had to think constantly about more dimensions than I was used to. Every time I had a chance at getting higher, I took it. Jon remained silent and merely focused on holding on. Over time I could see why Daenerys liked riding Drogon. Riding a dragon was an experience no words could describe. This excitement meant everything to me.
As the battle wore on I tried to focus on the power within me. How I had saved Gendry and killed Euron Greyjoy wasn't something that could be done consciously. So I gave up on the endeavor. Against my efforts, Viserion was able to rise above me. He dove down and then brought his claws forward to dig into Drogon's back. A flame leapt from the arrowhead and went after the Night King.
Drogon twisted and flew up. I expected to see the Night King and Viserion dead, but that wasn't the case. Probably due to the wicked creature being so powerful, he was able to dodge my flame. I prepared for him to increase his attacks but he flew away. Had I scared him that much? If I were in control of this power could I actually hit the Night King and that's what he was afraid of?
Daenerys' child breathed heavily and so I was forced to watch the Night King fly away. Soon I would kill him. Soon I would learn how to use my power and kill him. I felt Jon's tears as they hit me. My own were preserved inside of me until it was safe to let them out. Drogon let out an angry roar. He was promising vengeance on the Night King for his two dead siblings.
"Rhaegal will be avenged." I promised Jon. "As will Viserion."
"I never thought I'd become so close to him." He replied. "Maybe my Targaryen blood affects me more than I know."
"You are a Stark and you will always be one. The only thing your Targaryen blood did for you was to connect you to Rhaegal."
"And now he's dead."
"The pain will pass, my love."
Jon grabbed me harder than before and I knew it wasn't because he was afraid. Right now he needed someone else to be his strength.
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