Chapter 137

                                    

                                          
Daenerys and I meet Jon and Tyrion on the wall and state out over the army. The soldiers scramble to get into formation. My heart clenches in fear as I think about the threat that approaches. I put my hand on my chest and try to control my frantic breathing.
                          
Daenerys takes my hand. Jon nods at us and we leave to go to the Dragons.
                          
We pass many frantic people as they all get into position for the coming battle. This is no time for me to panic. I need all my strength and concentration for this battle.
                          
Rhaegal and I will be fighting them on the field while Drogon and Visarion protect Bran. I cannot lose my composure now.
                          
We go to the Dragons and watch the battle for our time. All of us are silent. I don't dare look at Jon or Daenerys. I watch the Dothraki, they will attack first. I see their weapons start up in flames. Who did that? 
                          
The Dothraki let out war cries as they charge into the darkness, toward the army of the dead. My heart pangs as I think of Ser Jorah leading them. I pray to all the gods that he will be alright.
                          
I feel Daenerys take my hand. I squeeze it in response, but I don't look at her, I can't take my eyes off the Dothraki.
                          
The flaming swords make it easy to watch the horde as they part from the rest of the group. My throat feels tight.
                          
I turn to Daenerys and kiss her. "That's my cue. Stay safe. I will see you again. I swear it."
                          
She nods sadly. "Don't you dare die Nyla Firebearer."
                          
I pull away from her and Jon and I exchange curt nods. I can't think about Jon right now. It doesn't matter at the moment.
                          
I put on my helm and get onto Rhaegal's back. We take off toward the army and join the Dothraki charge, flying low over them as we approach the darkness.
                          
The rest of the army light the catapult stones on fire and fling them towards the wight walkers ahead of our charge.
                          
There are horrible inhuman snarls as the two armies clash, the dead are like a unanimous mound against us. They crawl and scramble on top of one another to overtake the Dothraki and their horses.
                          
I pull ahead of the Dothraki. 
                          
"DRACARYS!" 
                          
Rhaegal screams fire, I can see the army of the dead a little better as the hot flames light the area. My breath catches in my throat. The smell, the sounds, the fear that consumes me is almost unbearable.
                          
I swallow hard and continue to send scores of the dead ablaze with dragon fire.  
                          
The darkness is like a dark cloud all around me, I can barely see Rhaegal's head and neck ahead of me, and I can only see the enemy when I instruct Rhaegal to light them up.
                          
I've must have burned hundreds of them, but no matter how many I kill, ten times the amount seems to take their place.
                          
I see that they have stopped throwing the flaming projectiles, and I look back to see the flaming akrahs of the Dothraki quickly going out one by one. This isnt going well, I cannot protect them all. There are too many.
                          
Someone must have given the signal to retreat because I see the Dothraki start to turn their horses back toward the castle, I pray Jorah got away as well. Rhaegal and I cover their retreat, I try to burn away any dead soldier that tries to chase after the retreating Dothraki.
                          
I burn more and more, diving, instructing Rhaegal to burn the dead, and then pulling up again. There are so many dead. Countless of them, and only so many of us.
                          
Eventually, the army clashes with the Unsullied army, despite my best efforts to keep them at bay.
                          
The Undead are like waves as they wash over the Unsullied and their spears. I hear the cries of Daenerys' army as the wight's tear at their skin. The growls and the screams make me want to cover my ears.
                          
The army of the dead has now also started to attack the Northmen on the right of the Unsullied, and the Dornishmen on the left.
                          
The field suddenly lights up behind me and I see Drogon breathe fire upon the mounds of dead. I see a glimpse of Daenerys' silver hair as he rides behind me.
                          
I curse under my breath. It was my job to protect the army, but she must have seen how overwhelmed Rhaegal and I are. Shes left just Jon to protect Bran. But I am thankful for her help.
                          
Daenerys and I weave back and forth over the army burning hundreds of wights, but thousands seem to replace them.
                          
We fly the Dragons toward the forest, where the Wight Walker generals sit upon their undead horses, observing the battle from the treeline. I want to avoid them for the sake of the Dragons, one solid hit from one of those ice spears would no doubt mean a serious injury, or death, for Rhaegal or Drogon.
                          
The Night King must be among them, but I can't differentiate him from his generals, not at this distance, and it is possible that he is still holding back somewhere in the forest.
                          
The key to winning this battle is finding and destroying the Night King, that's what Jon told us, but...
                          
Suddenly, an endless wall of fog and Snow approaches us from the forest. I feel the temperature drop even lower than it is already, and I gasp as the icy air takes hold of my lungs.
                          
I see Drogon and Daenerys get swallowed up by the ice and snowstorm.
                          
"DAENERYS!" I call out to ger, but it's too late, suddenly all I can see is snow, the ice in the air slashes at any exposed skin. 
                          
I can't see anything, I can't even see Rhaegal's head. Only my hands and his back. 
                          
This must be the Night King's power, he brings winter with him. A storm like this isnt natural. 
                          
There is no telling where I am, how low or how high Rhaegal and I are flying. It's all I can do to hold onto Rhaegal's back as the wind pushes me side to side.
                          
I suddenly see tall evergreen trees below us. We've flown too low. Rhaegal's wings hit the tops of the trees and he screeches.
                          
"Up Rhaegal up!" My voice is lost to the wind.
                          
Rhaegal pulls up and out of the forest, but I still can't see anything, I can't tell where we are or where we're headed.
                          
Suddenly Drogon is right infront of Rhaegal and I, and the two Dragons practically run into one another. Daenerys and I bank the Dragons hard in the opposite direction of one another. I'm almost thrown off of Rhaegals back. I hope Daenerys is alright.
                          
It is impossible to do anything in this storm, and we're doing more harm than good at this point. I turn and fly in the direction of Drogon and Daenerys, and fly tightly beside her, I can barely make out her form, but she seems alright.
                          
The Dragons struggle to fly in the blustery wind and snow. It hurts to keep my eyes open, even with my helmet on, the cold air is stinging my eyes and freezing my breath. 
                          
"Daenerys! Dany!" I scream. It's no use, she can't hear me, I can't even hear me. My voice is lost in the storm.
                          
The storm has cleared enough that I can see the walls of Winterfell below us. The army is retreating back into the castle, The Unsullied desperately try to protect the retreat.
                          
The snow and wind constantly block my view of the battle, and I struggle to keep control of Rhaegal. This is bad. This is bad. This is bad.
                          
I see a yellow and orange glow from below, and I see the trenches around Winterfell light in brilliant flame.
                          
That was supposed to be one of the Dragons jobs, to light the trenches at the signal, but there was no way we could see the signal with the storm. Thank the gods the torches were lit anyway.
                          
It's a little easier to see now, and Daenerys and work hard to burn as many of the undead as we can. I feel exhausted already, my hands are bleeding from holding onto Rhaegal's spikes so hard, and I'm sure they are frostbitten as well.
                          
I look down and see the area around Winterfell is completely taken over by the dead, they are flooding in through the front gate, and the battle has moved into the walls of the castle.
                          
I barely have time to react as a javelin of ice is thrown toward Rhaegal and I.