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The silence was heavier than the noise of the battle.
For hours the only sound in Winterfell had been the roar of Maxims and the screams of the dying. Now the only sound was the wind and the crackle of wood.
Andar stood on the battlements looking down at the fields outside the castle.
They were black.
The snow was gone replaced by a sea of mud ash and bodies. The wights had dissolved into piles of bone and rot but the human dead remained.
"How many?" Robb Stark asked stepping up beside him. Robb's arm was in a sling and his crown was dented.
"Seven thousand," Andar replied looking at his ledger. "Four thousand Northmen. Two thousand Dothraki. One thousand Unsullied."
"And the civilians?"
"Minimal," Andar said. "The crypts held. The train evacuation saved the rest."
He looked at the smoke rising from the trenches.
"We won Robb. But we bled."
In the center of the courtyard funeral pyres had been built. Not just one or two but dozens.
Daenerys Targaryen stood before the largest pyre.
On it lay Jorah Mormont. The old knight had died in the second trench holding the line so his niece could retreat. His sword Heartsbane lay on his chest.
Daenerys did not weep. She looked hollowed out. She had lost her protector her oldest friend.
"He loved you," Sansa Stark said softly appearing at her shoulder.
"He loved the North," Daenerys corrected her voice brittle. "He died for this home not mine."
She stepped forward.
"Dracarys."
Drogon leaned down. His black scales were chipped and scarred from the battle. He breathed a stream of gentle fire onto the wood.
The pyre ignited.
Next to it Lyanna Mormont lay on a smaller pyre. The Giant Slayer. The fierce little bear who had emptied her revolver into a giant's eye before being crushed.
Jon Snow lit her pyre with a torch.
"And now their watch is ended," Jon whispered.
The flames rose high mixing with the smoke of the burning trenches outside. It was a funeral for an age. The age of magic was burning away leaving only ash and iron.
That night the Great Hall of Winterfell was packed.
It was not a celebratory feast. It was a grim meal of survival. The tables were filled with bandage wrapped soldiers drinking ale to numb the pain.
Daenerys sat at the high table. But she did not sit in the center. Robb sat in the center as the host and King.
The tension in the room was palpable. The common enemy was gone. The glue that held the alliance together had melted.
Gendry Waters sat at a lower table his arm around Arya. He was being hailed as a hero the smith who made the bullet that killed death.
Tormund Giantsbane raised a horn of ale.
"To the Dragon Queen!" Tormund roared spilling beer on his beard. "And to the little one who stabbed the Night King in the eye!"
The wildlings cheered. The Northmen cheered.
But Daenerys did not smile. She saw how they looked at Jon Snow. She saw how they looked at Robb. She saw how they looked at Andar.
They looked at them with love. They looked at her with gratitude but also with fear.
She leaned toward Tyrion.
"They do not see me as their Queen," she whispered. "They see me as a weapon they used and now wish to discard."
"Give them time," Tyrion advised. "They are mourning."
"I am mourning too," Daenerys snapped. "But I do not forget my goal."
She stood up.
The room went quiet.
"We have fought together," Daenerys said her voice ringing clear. "We have bled together. The dead are defeated. The Long Night is over."
She looked at Robb.
"Now we must turn our eyes South. Cersei Lannister sits on my throne. She betrayed us. She left us to die."
"Aye!" The Greatjon banged his cup. "The Lioness needs to pay!"
"Then march with me," Daenerys commanded. "The North has kept its promise to fight the dead. Now keep your promise to your Queen."
She looked expectantly at Robb waiting for him to kneel. Waiting for the validation of her title.
Robb stood up. He looked tired.
"We will march Your Grace," Robb said carefully. "The North remembers. We owe Cersei a debt of blood."
"Good," Daenerys smiled. "Then as Warden of the North..."
"As King in the North," Robb corrected gently but firmly.
The smile vanished from Daenerys's face.
"The war is over Robb," she said her voice dropping a terrifying octave. "There are no more Kings in the Seven Kingdoms. Only one Queen."
"The North is not one of the Seven Kingdoms," Sansa spoke up. "Not anymore. We fought for our freedom. We died for it."
"And my armies died for it too!" Daenerys flared. "My bloodriders. My Unsullied. My knight."
She pointed a shaking finger at the hall.
"Without me you would all be corpses in the snow! Does that count for nothing?"
"It counts for everything," Andar said standing up from his seat near the end of the table.
He walked toward the dais. The room watched the man who controlled the thunder.
"We are grateful Daenerys," Andar said dropping the honorifics. "We acknowledge your sacrifice. But gratitude is not submission."
He placed a hand on the table.
"The world has changed. Kings and Queens... they are old ideas. Like dragons. Like walls of ice."
"And what is the new idea?" Daenerys asked narrowing her eyes. "You?"
"Systems," Andar said. "Laws. Industry. The people in this room... they have seen machines do the work of gods. They won't go back to kneeling just because someone has a magic chair."
Daenerys looked at Tyrion. She looked at Grey Worm. She saw her hand drifting toward the knife on the table.
"I have the largest army," Daenerys said cold and hard. "I have the only dragons. I have the rightful claim."
"You have two dragons," Andar corrected. "Drogon is injured. Rhaegal is exhausted. And my anti air batteries are fully reloaded."
The threat hung in the air like poison gas.
Jon Snow stood up between them.
"Stop," Jon said. "Just stop. The dead are still burning outside and we are already fighting over a crown?"
He looked at Daenerys.
"We are allies. We are family," he added quietly referencing the secret Samwell had found in the citadel records but which they had not yet discussed openly.
"Allies honour their agreements," Daenerys said staring at Robb. "I came North to save my Kingdom. If you deny me my Kingdom then you are no better than the Usurper."
She turned and walked out of the hall. Her long silver cloak trailed behind her like smoke.
Grey Worm and the surviving Unsullied marched out after her.
The feast was over.
Robb sat down heavily.
"She will burn us," Robb whispered. "If we don't kneel she will burn us."
"She can try," Andar said.
He looked at the map on the wall. The map of the South.
"We need to get to King's Landing before she does," Andar said. "If she takes the city she becomes unstoppable. We need to take the capital. And we need to destroy the Iron Throne before anyone can sit on it."
"How?" Tyrion asked rubbing his face. "She can fly. We have to march."
"We don't march," Andar said. "We rail."
He turned to his engineers.
"Get the Royal Express ready. We are going to the capital. And we are taking the heavy guns."
[Quest Started: The Race for the Ruin]
[Objective: Reach King's Landing]
[Rival: Daenerys Targaryen]
[Enemy: Cersei Lannister]
[Time Limit: 10 Days]
Outside the snow began to melt revealing the blackened earth beneath. Spring was coming. But it was not bringing peace. It was bringing fire.
.…..
Author Note
Hi guys! Thank you for reading my fanfiction.
I'm continuing the story :)
100 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
120 Power Stones: 3 Bonus Chapters
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