Disclaimer

Game of Thrones is owned by George R.R. Martin/HBO

Fallout: New Vegas is owned by Bethesda

When the sun next rose over Castle Black, the inhabitants felt warmth in their chests. They'd driven off an ancient enemy, and they had the man who made it all possible organizing their efforts.

"I don't think we can win this."

The gathered lords paled at the Courier's words.

"We're facing an enemy with unknown numbers in reserve and who can literally wait us out for centuries. There's really only one way I can see us winning this, and it's pretty much off the table at the moment."

They were all quiet for some time, and it was Eddard who found his voice first.

"Then what do we do now?"

"…Whatever you would normally do in winter, I guess." The Courier shrugged, "Unless Leaf comes through at the last minute, you can all probably go back to doing… whatever it is you all do."

No one said anything, and the Courier shrugged again before leaving.

'…I can lose this fight,' The Courier slumped in his chair, idly playing with a dragonglass arrowhead, 'That's never happened before.'

His door opened, and he saw Leaf looking haggard.

"I'm guessing there's nothing new on your end?"

She shook her head, "Nothing of any true aid." She looked at the dragonglass in his hands, "…There is something I feel you must know."

"Yeah?"

"The origins of our enemy."

His hand stopped, "Well, anything you think might help."

She winced, "Before I speak further, I ask that you promise you will let me tell the story in full…"

Thunk

"That's not going to help."

Thunk

"What's done is done."

Thunk

The Courier pulled his head from the slight indent he was making in the wall, "Magic is fucking bullshit!"

Leaf winced, "We had no idea-"

"Every other bullshit thing in the Wasteland had an explanation, but oh no, this place has to be special! Wanna hatch a dragon? Burn a man alive! Oh, you need some extra hands? Make ghost copies of yourself! Ugh," He slammed his head into the wall, "At least the Think Tank had 'We've experimented for a hundred years' as an excuse for their nonsense."

"You… are not upset that we created the-"

"Leaf, I could scour the ocean's deepest abyss and I would not find a fuck to give about that… It would be super hypocritical, too." He sighed, "…I'm going home."

"What?" Her voice was quiet, and he turned to see her shocked face.

"Listen, I… I can't help anymore here. Either you get attacked or you don't at this point. Either way, I'm not going to make much more of a difference."

"The dragon-"

"-Isn't mine, and I'm still shocked he stuck around as long as he did. I mean I'll stick around for a week or two, but I don't know if Drogon will-"

The door flew open, revealing a haggard looking Lord Stark.

"Your dragon is gone."

He peered through his binoculars, and he could just make out Drogon's black form flying away.

"Son of a gecko whore." The Courier tucked the binoculars away, "Well, looks like I'm taking the 'scenic' route back."

It took little over a month to get back to Meereen, due to his promise of staying at the Wall for another two weeks and a few misadventures at sea, but eventually he managed to land with a weirwood sapling, a bottle of wine, and a headache. He marched through the streets as people gave him strange glances, and he climbed up the steps of the Great Pyramid straight into the throne room. Dany, Barristan, Jorah and Missandei were watching in confusion as he dropped his wine and sapling and walked towards Dany's throne.

"Alright, so-"

Thunk!

His shin slammed into the edge of a chair, and he went silent for a moment.

"…GAAAAAAH!" He grabbed the chair and hurled it back through the doorway, "What is with this crap!?"

"Trouble?" Daenerys asked and the Courier threw up his hands.

"I'm the hero, damn it! I shouldn't have to put up with this crap!" He turned towards her, "It's not bad enough those cheating assholes in the North can just wait me out, oh no, I have to sit here with my thumb up my ass if it turns out they have reinforcements!"

"Yes. We are truly grateful for your presence." It was mix of deadpan sarcasm and truth, "Now, what exactly is your problem?"

"Because the White Walkers are going to do the exact fucking thing again! They'll fuck off for a bunch of centuries, and come back when everyone forgets them again!" He slumped, "…How are things here? The Sons of the Harpy still a problem?"

"Somewhat. Daario has been clearing them out, but it was a slow fight until Drogon returned."

"Yeah. I'm guessing Barristan's been helping with it, organizing guards and whatever?"

"Much as I could." The elderly knight sighed, "I'm no less slow than I was in my prime, but they ambushed us. I'm still recovering, and handling paperwork." Barristan said, looking disgruntled at the last word.

"…Huh." The Courier left the room and returned with the chair he'd thrown before sitting down, "Well, what else happened?"

As it turned out, not much, but what happened… wasn't great. Someone had tried to lead an uprising, some butcher or another, but that was short lived. Still, they lost a lot of good men. Apparently, some slavers and even slaves had tried to lead a coup too, but again, short-lived. Daario, the son of a bitch, was the one who led that operation. Had to thank him for that at some point.

"…Fuckin' shit." The Courier sighed. He was staring up at the stars sometime later, in the room Dany had given him, "Not used this."

"Used to what?"

He didn't react as Dany sat next to him, dressed in… he wanted to call it a bathrobe , but it was probably something most people couldn't afford, "…Losing."

"…This really does bother you, doesn't it?"

"…There was always something. A lock, or a terminal, or something. I could talk people in to doing whatever I wanted and outshoot damn near everyone… These fuckers can just… wait me out."

"You've never been part of a siege?"

"A siege can't last for centuries. The White Walkers can just sit there, like assholes, just waiting, and we can't get anywhere near them."

"I'm sure you'll find a way. However, I think there's something that can't wait."

"…Ugh… Fine."

"…Well?"

"Dany, I don't know, okay? It started off me wanting to… stack the deck. You were just another card up the sleeve, the daughter of a madman, but one who could be used as a bargaining chip. Then I saw you were just a kid, and I had to toss about a dozen plans out the window and draw up a dozen more... You grew on me, like an adorable little fungus."

"…I am just going to take the compliment."

"But you gotta understand: I'm glad you're the queen n' all, but I'm not your dog. I'm not here to bite anyone's balls for you at the drop of hat." There was an awkward silence before Dany shifted in her seat.

"I... talked much with Ser Barristan Selmy and Jorah. Dealing with the situation at hand as well has given me some insight into things. You will not always be here to assist us, and I should not have treated you like you owed me anything."

"...Fuck. Fuck this, this is too mellow for us." The Courier sighed, "We're getting fucking old."

"You. You are getting old." Dany chuckled, "I am simply becoming an adult."

"In all the right places."

"...Why must you speak?"

"I'd stop if I could." He got up, "Right, I'm gonna... do, something. Maybe nap then help out for a week or two before I go visit my old place in Lhazar." He moved to a wine bottle and cup, watching as it slowly filled.

"As you wish." She got up, starting towards the door she'd come in, "I'm going to visit Daario for now."

"Mm." He watched his wine for a moment... before his eyes moved to a thousand yard stare ahead of him as the realization set in, hands frozen as the cup began to overfill...

Six practically collapsed in his bed at the saloon. It'd been a warm welcome and a huge party, but he was glad to have some alone time. He stared up at the ceiling as he went over everything in his head... and he didn't like that last time he thought everything was cool and settled, he ended up here. He liked being around here, sure, but he wanted to know what was going on back in Vegas, and he felt... weird. Sure he was getting all this shit done for everyone else but it was more like the director than the star of the show. Again, not the worst thing, but it was still weird, and he didn't like it. He sighed, curling up on his bed and starting to shut his eyes...

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK

"Either God or the Devil better be knocking, and they better have their fucking boxing gloves on." The Courier groaned as he opened his eyes, getting off his bed and moving to open the saloon's door. He saw no one but at his feet, of all fucking things, was a giftbasket. He stared at the package for a long moment before bringing it inside, "Lets see... Nuka... Cola. Mutfruit pie? Brahmin chee- What the Christ!?" The basket was mainly goods from the Mojave, but it was what was at the bottom that truly blew his mind. A thank you card for helping someone's son (who!?), and the Big Mountain Transportalponder.

He looked everything over again and found small scribble on the card: 'P.S.: BMT only has two.' What the hell did that mean? Two what, two uses!? He wasn't sure how long he was standing around trying to figure out what just happened, but eventually he managed to get enough sense to look over the 'BMT.' Where the hell would this even send him? He kept wondering and wondering until he eventually sighed, looking to the food that come in the basket, "...Fuck it, as good a last meal as any." He ate and drank everything that had come with the basket before stocking up on guns and ammo... and writing a few letters...

They stood, as they always had within the frozen hall, biding their time. The mortals would long forget their existence, that was certain, but what concerned them was their army. They still had a great many thrall, despite the losses, though they'd need a way to get more. It seemed they would have to turn to the beasts of the lands and to their great spiders to-

A bright flash of blue filled the chamber, and their hands formed the ice around them into weapons. When the light faded a figure stood, and they looked around before placing several round, green objects on the ground around them. The figure then raised their hands, pointing their forefingers at them with their thumbs pointed up, cackling madly.

"HELLO, FUCKOS!"

He stood atop the Wall (what a stupid name), pulling his coat tighter around himself before fishing his cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket. It took him a few tries to light the cigarette, but he happily took a drag once he managed. He breathed out the smoke as a young man in black came up to him, "Ser...?"

"Hm?" He didn't look to the boy, just staring out towards the horizon.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Have no fear: I'm not here to cause trouble. Simply waiting to see if a friend enjoys his gift." A mushroom cloud came to life in the distance, "Ah, so he did. You may want to plant your feet, by the way."

The man blinked as he put the cigarette back to his lips, "Why?"

WHOOMPH

The young man screamed as he was knocked into a wooden battlement, holding on for dear life as wind and force blew across them. When the wind died down the young man shakily held onto the battlement like a scared cat, and he let out a puff of smoke, "Shockwave."

The Courier wasn't sure where he was. He saw lots of blue... probably the sky. A twitch of his fingers and he felt sand. He slowly got up and checked on his... everything, really. He was out most of his ammo, he was pretty sure he'd lost a weapon or two, and he had a lot more holes in him than he did before. Still, he was alive. He found the Transportalponder, and while its glow was gone it was in one piece.

He tucked it away and slowly got up, pulling out some binoculars to scan the area. He was... well he could see a city out in the distance. Astapor maybe? He definitely saw big golden wings over there. He tucked the binoculars away, treating his wounds as he began to walk towards the city... and stop. He could go back... but should he? Did they really need him now that he was (90%) sure he'd killed the whitewalkers? Was his job here done, was it time for him to move on...?

"...Fuck that." He pulled out his canteen, taking a sip as he made his towards the city, "You fucks aren't getting rid of me that easily."