Daenerys flew Drogon out to a safe distance and turned to see the Dothraki make one final push into the mass of dead to get at the white walkers. She exulted as they finally broke through and started to cull the leaders of the undead army. Unfortunately, the white walkers were not without their own skills. The dragon glass did hurt them more than normal weapons; but, they were the source of power behind the army of the dead. Deep cuts and lost limbs were not going to stop them.

Every single one of the Dothraki were caught, overwhelmed, and killed. As were the horses. She turned Drogon around and was about to unleash his Drakarys fire breath when a feeling of unease befell her. In the next moment, the mutilated horses stood up, then to her horror, all of the Dothraki rose from the dead and mounted those horses.

“Oh, no.” Daenerys almost moaned as the dead army gained a very substantial force that was much faster than their walking dead. The dead army parted, almost as one, and the dead Dothraki rode their horses through the mass and over the various traps and trenches that had been filled by the walking dead. When they reached the trenches that hadn't been overrun, they merely jumped them and proceeded into the embankments that funnelled them towards the waiting troops.

They were wholly unprepared for a mounted assault. Even with a squad of unsullied and their pole arms, only the first few horses were taken down and then the dead Dothraki were on their feet and fighting within the pole arm's reach. The Northmen stepped in to help and pretty much got in the way of the unsullied, who were trained to fight with multiple weapons.

Little Lady Mormont, the youngest leader of their house and lands, was the first to be overcome by the new dead threat. The lady, the Northmen she led, and the unsullied stationed there at that choke point put up a valiant fight and took just as many of them out as they could, then they were swarmed and slaughtered. Their slashed and torn bodies were kicked aside and the dead army moved through the choke point unhindered.

“Nooo!” Jorah Mormont, Queen Daenerys' loyal servant, rushed to the spot to try and do something. He was quickly caught by a squad of unsullied and brought back to the staging area where he was supposed to guard Missandei and the others. He tried to fight them and they easily subdued him and sat him with the others.

“Unless you calm down, you're just about as useful as I am right now.” Davos commented.

Some of the other choke points fared much better and managed to retreat to their holding points. Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister, Beric Dondarrion (the resurrected man), Theon Greyjoy of the iron islands, and several heads of house in the North managed to retreat with a lot of their fighting men. All of the other heads of house met the same fate as Lady Mormont, mainly because they got in the way. Scores of unsullied, Northmen, and their commanders were lost in the rush by the dead Dothraki.

Sandor Clegane, or The Hound, watched the battle unfold from the parapet on the wall of Winterfell. Arya stood beside him and neither of them wanted any part of the fighting. They both knew that their skills were better used elsewhere and they both knew that the position they were in was gradually becoming worse. The army of the dead came closer and closer, even after the unsullied used their pincer attack to smash into the army on either side.

The dead didn't care if they lost tens of thousands of their brethren. It didn't make any difference. There were still a million and a half of them, thanks to the addition of the Dothraki. The dead pressed on and continued to push the defenders back. Catapults fired their loads and after nearly half an hour, the two remaining dragons added their firepower to the battle once more. Jon Snow and Tyrion Lannister observed the battlefield and they both came to the same conclusion.

“We're not going to stop them.” Jon said, with both surprise and defeat in his voice.

“You were never going to stop them.” Bran said and both men turned to look at him in his wheeled chair. “The most you could do was like Tyrion said. Whittle their forces down like a meat grinder and hope they don't gain even more dead on their way by.”

“What?” Jon looked at his brother. “I thought you said...”

“I never said we would win.” Bran said. “I only said there was a chance.”

Jon looked angry for a moment, then sighed and turned to Davos. “Order the troops to fall back to the barricades in front of the walls.”

“Are you sure that's wise, considering what's coming towards the walls?” Davos asked.

“We need to hold out for as long as possible and hope that they lose interest.” Tyrion said. “Not that they will. It's just a hope.”

“Order the retreat and start lighting all the trenches.” Jon said. “Get the oil ready on the walls as well. We're going to need it, if our forces have to retreat inside the walls.”

“What about the queen's dragon?” Varys asked.

“We have no way to get to it or a way to carry it back here through an army of the dead.” Jon said.

“I believe you've ridden a dragon. Why can't you do that again to get to it?”

“This is a battle, not a joyride.” Jon said and started to walk for the stairs. “I don't know how to fight on a dragon.”

Tyrion and Varys exchanged sad looks. The dragons were Daenerys' children and she was going to be very... upset... over the loss of both the dragon and all of her Dothraki.

The defending troops fell back, fighting the entire way, and made it back to the barricade. All of the dead horses had been taken care of, thanks to the sacrifices of the unsullied, so the army of the dead lost their temporary advantage. Unfortunately, they had already used that advantage to overcome nearly all of the field traps and were right on the retreating army's heels. Hundreds of unsullied died as they tried to hold off the mass of dead from overtaking their retreat, and their sacrifice was not in vain. They delayed the dead long enough for the troops to reorganize and start a counter-attack.

The barricade had choke points in it as well, and everyone concentrated their efforts on those choke points. Archers mounted the barricade and shot arrows with heads of dragon glass into the horde of dead. The unsullied were smarter this time and allowed the Northmen to take point, that way they could die, out of their way, and then they could take over and really form a full defense.

*

Jaime and Brienne fought bravely, side by side, as they headed one group of Northmen and opposed the dead army. Ten, twenty, then fifty dead were removed, and they fought on. It was endless. The sea of dead coming for them kept coming, no matter how many they killed. Jaime was tired and swung at a dead man, missed, and that dead man lunged at Brienne. She let out a scream as the dead hands gripped her around the neck and tried to choke her. Podrick had been lost earlier, so she no longer had a squire at her side to help her.

Jaime turned to help her and he was tackled to the ground. An unsullied pole arm sliced off the dead man's head and Jaime pushed the corpse off, started to stand, and saw a sight that gripped his heart. Brienne was on the ground and had three dead men on top of her. One choked her, one broke her arm, and the last had his hand inside her mouth to stop her from screaming and to stop her from taking a breath.

Jaime lost his composure and started to swing. There was no finesse, no thought, as he rammed his sword through the dead trying to kill her and he fought off half a dozen more before he got to her and knelt by her head. He was breathing heavily from the exertion and his hand reached down as he touched her face. It was cold and she wasn't breathing. She hadn't been breathing for a while because her lips were blue. The death of a knight was a hard thing for him to accept, especially since it was someone that had deserved the honor.

Jaime used his fingers to close her eyes and stood, looked at the carnage around him, then he shook his head and stumbled past the unsullied to let them take over his position. He didn't have the heart to fight anymore, because even though he would never admit it to himself, his heart had just died. He wished that he had taken the time to be with her like he knew she had desperately wanted him to, and now he would never have the chance.

Hands grabbed him and pulled him through the castle doors and brought him over to the group with their wounds being tended to. He sat down, his mind far away from where he physically was, and he wondered how things were progressing back in Kings Landing.

“I think... I need to go and see it for myself.” Jaime said out loud. No one paid him any attention as he shakily stood up and went to the back of the castle. He took one of the many horses there, loaded it with a few weeks of food and water, that he would have to ration out to last the two month journey, and he led the horse as he joined the throng of people moving in and out of the castle. They brought food, water, and weapon replacements to the troops, so he used that cover to get to the edge of their staging area and climbed up on the horse. Without so much as a goodbye, Jaime Lannister left Winterfell and escaped into the darkness.

*

Daenerys brought her two dragons back around and unleashed another breath of fire through the army of the dead. She was weary and Drogon was tired, and they needed to land and take a break. She flew over to the staging area behind the castle and landed, and Rhaegal landed behind her. She slid off Drogon's back and nearly fell, and she felt someone put their arms around her to hold her steady.

“Khalissi!” The young woman exclaimed.

“I'm fine.” Daenerys said to whoever it was and then walked over to where they were serving food. She ate, almost by rote, as she fought her despair over the loss of one of her children and also her blood oath and sworn people. She still had all of the Dothraki support people and their children; but, all of the warriors of age were gone. Her eyes drifted over the young boys and she hoped beyond hope that they lived to carry on the traditions of their fathers.

*

“Don't let them pass!” Jon yelled as he wielded his Valerian steel sword and cut through the dead like a hot knife trough butter. He had to adjust his swing several times so that he didn't hurt himself. He felt almost no resistance as the sword destroyed more and more of the dead. He hadn't thought of putting people that had Valerian steel at the head of the groups at the choke points of the barriers, and he looked over to the side and saw Jorah Mormont two places over as he swung Sam's Valerian sword.

Way to go, Sam. Jon thought and turned his attention back to the fight in front of him. As long as he stood his ground, none of the dead were going to get by him. He knew that would be very valiant... if he was the only one that they had to rely on. Not everyone had Valerian steel and not everyone was as good of a fighter as him. He knew they would have to retreat back behind the wall soon, and he wanted to delay that as long as possible.

The battle raged on, the dragons joined in again, and the tide of dead continued to move forward through the trenches of fire, the dragon's fire, and the hail of arrows. It all became automatic for the people fighting. Swing. Breathe. Swing. Rest. Swing. Breathe. There was no longer any need for thinking as the two forces clashed over and over, on and on, all through the night.

When dawn broke over the horizon, mounds of the dead were scattered across the battlefield. The unsullied and the remains of the Northmen retreated into the castle and they defended the walls from the relentless assault of the dead.

*

“We have to risk it.” Jon said as he and the remaining group leaders met before going back into battle.

“I will not risk losing another one of my children by trying to assault the white walkers.” Daenerys shook her head.

“Dani, please.”

“No.” Daenerys said. “I'll send them away before risking their lives again.”

“So, as long as they are safe, you'll send them out?” Sansa asked and Daenerys glared at her.

“They are the last dragons that exist.” Daenerys said. “If I thought they would survive and actually make an impact on the white walkers, I would ride Drogon in to decimate them.” She said and hid her pain over what she had to say next. “I tried that already, and not only did the white walkers survive, I lost Viserion.”

“Are you saying that dragon fire didn't harm them?” Tyrion asked, surprised.

“No, I'm saying we didn't get close enough to see if it would.” Daenerys said. “I won't take my remaining dragons into a situation that will get them killed for no reason.”

Jon sighed. “Then what do we do?” He asked and looked at the others. He saw a lot of the Northmen house leaders were absent, which meant they were dead, and Jamie Lannister, Brienne of Tarth, Poderick, Tormond of the wildlings, and his brother from the Night's Watch, the current commander Eddison Tollet, was missing as well. Jon looked at Sam Tarly and saw that he had a forlorn expression on his face.

“The catapults are out of ammunition and we are almost out of oil to burn the bastards with.” Tyrion said. “Unless you have some hidden magic talent that we don't know about, just like new whores in a brothel, we're about to get fucked.”

No one laughed, because they all felt that way. There was nothing else that they could do, except keep fighting... and then die when they were overrun.

“Perhaps I can help.” A woman's disembodied voice said from the shadows. Everyone in the room turned towards the dark corner as a red cloaked woman stepped out. When she dropped her hood, she revealed herself as Melisandre, the Red Priestess of R'hilor. She was very beautiful with her flowing red hair and her haunting eyes and nearly everyone stared at her with awe. Except for one person.

Davos stepped away from the group and approached her.

“Hold your sword, Sir Davos.” Melisandre said. “There's no need to kill me. I'll be dead by-HURK!”

Blood spurted out her mouth and she stared at the Onion Knight with disbelief.

“I swore upon the burned corpse of that beautiful little girl, Shireen, that the next time I saw you, I would kill you for her death.” Davos said and yanked his sword out of her chest.

Melisandre dropped to her knees and reached for him, almost in a plea. When she opened her mouth to speak, Davos turned his sword and whipped it across her neck. It cut her flesh right down to the bone and blood poured from her throat.

“We can't have you casting a curse on us now, can we?” Davos said and walked back to his spot slightly behind Jon.

Everyone stared at him like he had just killed them all.

“The only thing she could offer is death. Usually by fire, and I've had enough of that. Nothing she has ever contributed has led to good things. Ever.” Davos said as an explanation.

“Sir Davos.” Tyrion looked at the body of the Red Priestess and then back to the Onion Knight. “I asked for magic to intervene and she appeared.”

“Yes, and you have to ask yourself... why did she wait until now to appear?” Davos asked. “Why not last night, or last week? Why right now, when we seem to be at our weakest?”

No one could respond, because it did seem rather convenient.

“We don't need her evil magic. We have men and we have the thickest walls in the North. If history tells us anything, unless someone inside betrays us, we can hold the walls for as long as it takes.”

“Unfortunately, the walls will only last one more day.” Bran said in his cold and monotone voice. Everyone turned to look at him to see that he held Melisandre's ruby necklace in his hands. “The wall will be breached in the morning and the castle will overflow with the dead, both theirs and ours.”