A/N: Why hello lovely readers. I am back from the dead, and I bring to you this monster of a chapter. I must warn you that by the end of this you may be left with a ton of questions in your mind, but know that it was deliberate on my part, and this is not the end yet. I have a few more chapters under my sleeve and you will get the answers you need.

Okay, that's enough rambling.

Enjoy!

"Aegon and Daenerys. I am honored to finally meet you."

Jon stared back at the man who was standing beside his brother. His eyes were kind, face slightly wrinkled with age. He wore a simple cloak, no visible sigil pinned to it or any other indicator as to who he was. It seemed as though Bran had developed some form of a relationship with the man, as the two of them seemed to be speaking to each other with their eyes when they saw Jon and Daenerys arrive.

Flying above the Isle just a few moments ago, their initial instinct was to go towards the blue flames in the distance, but seeing two figures emerge from in between the trees just beneath them, they had to stop.

"Jon, this is Howland Reed," Bran explained.

House Reed. Jon tried to recall what he knew. The Southern most house in the North. Sworn to House Stark. Howland Reed; Lord of Greywater Watch. Saved Eddard Stark's life during Robert's Rebellion.

"I was there the day you were born," the man now looked him in the eyes.

Immediately Jon felt his pulse quicken, the vessel in his neck throbbing underneath his skin.

"Do you know what happened that day?" he continued. "At the Tower of Joy?"

Jon shook his head and Dany moved closer to him, her fingers brushing his before he grabbed on to them. He needed to hold onto her.

"The strongest fighter in King Aerys's Kingsguard. Who was he?"

"Ser Arthur Dayne," Dany replied. The Sword of the Morning! Viserys used to talk about his wondrous white blade. He said Ser Arthur was the only knight in the realm who was their brother's peer.

"Aye," Howland replied. "And where was he when Robert Baratheon crushed his warhammer into Rhaegar's chest at the Trident?"

Dany's eyes narrowed, images of her brother immediately flashing through her mind. She could almost hear the sound of his breastplate cracking, the rubies that adorned it sinking deep into the water.

"He would have been there," she spoke the words out of false hope. "He would have fought at his side."

"No, your Grace. If that were case, perhaps things would be very different right now," the man sighed. "But Rhaegar knew better. He sent his best swordsman to the Tower. To protect what mattered most."

"My mother," Jon finally spoke.

Reed shook his head. "To protect you."

"Of course he would want to protect his child," Dany said, her hand coming to rest below her navel. "Any mother or father would."

"It is more than that, Daenerys," Bran joined in. "He had two other children by Elia Martell. Little Rhaenys was pulled from underneath her father's bed to be stabbed over fifty times. And her brother Aegon, only a babe, his body thrown against a wall… Who protected them?"

"Bran that's enough," Jon glared at him. He didn't need to know the details of how his half siblings were murdered. He didn't need to know about his father's mistakes.

Reed took a step closer to the pair. "Can you believe that I was the one to bring Arthur Dayne down to his knees? I was not a fighter. Aye, I could swing a sword, but it was never my strength. Never what the Reeds were known for. I dishonored myself that day and I stabbed him in the back. But I did it so that Ned would live to take you home. I worked from the very beginning to ensure the child of ice and fire would be brought into this world."

Jon's frustration was evident in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but the man interrupted him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I did it for you the same way many in Essos fought for your existence, Daenerys." Howland's gaze now shifted to her. "You two may have lived on opposite ends of the world but your paths were the same, and it brought you here."

"I don't understand," Jon pulled away, now looking to Bran. "Tell me, brother, why did you leave Winterfell?"

"I had to," Bran replied. "To learn, to become stronger. I know so much more now, Jon. I can help you end this. But you have to listen, both of you."

"My children, Jojen and Meera," Howland spoke again, this time a hint of pain in his voice. "I sent them on a mission to set Bran on his path. My own son, my blood, sacrificed himself for the three-eyed raven. But he knew, and I knew; for I spent most of my life in this place, what had to be done so that you would be here today to end this once and for all."

Dany remembered seeing his children in her dreams not too long ago. She watched them, young and eager faces, swearing an oath of loyalty to Bran. You need to know what happened here, little Dawn had told her. Pay attention to what was said.

"Well then, we should get on our dragons and kill the Night King," Jon said. "We saw Viserion's flames from above. We can't keep standing here and talking while he burns this place to the ground."

"It's not simply about killing him. Your role is to restore the balance in the world, your Graces," the man smiled. "We can no longer have Winters and Summers that last for decades. We must dream of Spring."

Dany's brows furrowed as she thought about what Howland Reed said. She then turned around to face Jon, moving her hand to cup his cheek. "Do you remember what I told you about my dream, my love?" she spoke softly, her voice barely a whisper. "What Bran said when I asked him about the Night King?"

The realizations began to hit Jon, stricking him one after the other. "He wants his life back."

"But he will never get it back," Bran muttered. "That is our only advantage over him. We know it won't work. He has come here to seek revenge upon the Children, which he has done, but he will not be successful in his second goal."

Dany's grip tightened on Jon's hand. "I'm sorry, but are you saying that while we have been standing here, the Night King has been burning away the Children?"

"They knew he was coming for them," Howland told her. "They knew they had to pay for their mistake. We create our enemies, after all."

"We do need to get him off Viserion however," Bran continued. "The end will require a direct sacrifice."

Dany's nails dug into Jon's skin as she turned to face him, her eyes brimmed with tears.

He sighed as he stared back at her, suddenly feeling like he was losing his grasp on the little hope he still managed to hold for the two of them. It was so easy to forget about it all during moments where all he could see was her, where all he could feel was her warm skin against his, where all he could hear was her breath at the shell of his ear when she was asleep in his arms.

But he couldn't refuse it anymore. Not now, not after finding out how many lives were ceded for his own. He couldn't continue to ignore that he was brought back from the dead, that his mother and father died for him, that his half siblings were delegitimized because of him, that the honorable Ned Stark let the whole world think he was unfaithful to his wife to protect him.

I am the shield that guards the realms of men.

How could he allow himself to be lost in foolish fantasies where he was nothing but a husband to Daenerys Targaryen and a father to their children? Sometimes he would picture them in a small summer house in Essos, waking up to the warmth of the sun's rays against their skin, to the sound of little feet running around their chambers.

I am the shield that guards the realms of men.

The words held more meaning now than ever. The prince that was promised. He would live up to the name today.

Watching.

That's all he could do. Watch the past, watch the present, watch the future. Watch while those he loved died, watch while he forgot who he was.

A Brandon Stark of Winterfell.

No. Not anymore.

Perhaps one day.

Arya pushed his wheelchair through the snow as they tried to get a closer look at Jon and Daenerys. He could hear her talking to him, telling him off for leaving them, but his mind was elsewhere. He needed to focus.

And then they came to a halt, and he could hear her breath catch despite the deafening roars of dragons that filled the air.

"I want to be up there," she spoke only loud enough so that he could hear.

"I know," he replied, the knowledge coming from his own recollections of his sister. Some memories he had forgotten, but others were as clear to him as the present day. "If you had it your way all the lessons Maester Luwin gave us would have been about the Targaryens and their dragons."

She looked to him, her younger brother, her brows slanting upwards and her hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Their initial reunion after all those year was nothing like she had expected it to be, but every now and then Bran would let a few words slip that would remind her he was still in there.

"The dead one is stronger than the other two," she sighed, returning her gaze to the sky. "How can we help them from here?"

"I can," he told her. "I can help them. But you need to move me to one of the trees."

"Gendry," she called out and the man came to her side. She spoke to him with her eyes and he came to lift him out of his chair, carrying him to rest against the closest bark.

"You should turn your attention to them," Bran told them, looking to the distance where a small group of the dead emerged from amidst the trees.

"Finally," Arya's eyes lit up for a moment, but she turned back to look at her brother. "Will you be all right here?"

Bran nodded his head. "Go. There's quite a few of them."

"We can handle it," she gave him a sad smile, giving his hand a squeeze before she walked away.

He went back to watching.

Daenerys was tired. Perhaps it was because she was with child, or because she was weak from the injuries she obtained the last time she rode Drogon into battle. More likely, Dany simply did not want to accept the outcome of fight- she knew it had to end with Viserion's death. Although she told herself many times that this thing was not her child, although she fought him before, it remained difficult. For his features were too familiar, touches of cream and gold still visible in his scales, and if she lingered too long on his eyes she could see him as the same little miracle who hatched out of its egg to cling onto her thigh, unable to let go.

Dany could see Jon struggling with Rhaegal. They had plenty of time to bond, and she knew, she knew with all her heart that Jon was destined to be his rider, but something was holding Rhaegal back today. The fight should have been easier, should have been over already with two dragons against one, but it wasn't.

And then it hit her.

While she had Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion had each other. Of course she loved all three of them but a dragon will only take one rider after all. At the beginning she let them roam free, she let them come and go as it pleased them, wandering over the lands of Essos. But when a goatherd came to her courtroom in Mereen and laid his three-year-old daughter's remains at her feet, it changed everything. Her name was Zalla, and she would never forget it. She promised the father that her bones would be laid to rest at the Temple of the Graces, she told him that a hundred candles would burn night and day in her memory. But it wouldn't be enough, and she knew it. It was one of the hardest things she ever had to do, so against her nature and everything she believed in. The breaker of chained had caged her own children, and in that catacomb Rhaegal and Viserion only had each other.

"Dracarys, Rhaegal!" she could hear Jon shouting to no avail. "Dracarys!"

No, my love, that's not what he needs to hear.

"Rhaegal," she yelled, and with his green snout he turned to look at her. "Zūgagon daor. Ziry iksos daor aōha lēkia. Kesir gīmī."

He stared at her silently, and she couldn't tell if he understood her.

"Perzys Ānogār," she reminded him.

Her heart sunk when he let out an earth shattering roar, finally bearing his teeth and releasing his fire into the air. Jon smiled at her from afar, gratitude in his gaze. He may have been Rhaegal's chosen rider, but she was his mother, and that was a separate yet equally powerful bond that he could never bring himself to try and grasp.

The Night King was furious now that both dragons were attacking, and he charged Viserion at Rhaegal with all the strength he had. She flew after them, but Viserion had gone so fast his teeth had already dug into Rhaegal's neck by the time Drogon was able to push him off his now injured brother.

"Rhaegal, daor!" Jon screamed. "Sōves!" he urged him to keep flying but blood was pouring down his neck and he dropped slowly to the ground.

Daenerys hadn't been paying much attention to the ground until then and as she flew closer she saw that Arya, the Hound, Tormund, Berric, Jorah and Gendry were already there, circling Jon and Rhaegal.

She sighed in relief as she watched Jon step off Rhaegal's back, unharmed. She saw the blood from his neck begin to stain the snow but at least he was still moving. They will be all right, she told herself.

"Daenerys!" Arya yelled from below. "Behind you!"

Immediately she turned Drogon around and saw a pair of blue orbs flashing in the sky, coming closer to her from in between the clouds. Is this the end? she thought, feeling the impending doom in the pits of her stomach. He had cornered her- if she moved any closer to the ground the group would get hurt from the fires, and if she tried to fly higher they would clash together, and Drogon wouldn't be able to defeat Viserion on his own.

Suddenly, for Daenerys had to blink twice to make sure her vision was not failing her, Viserion stopped moving. His eyes had turned blank for a moment before returning to their original shade of blue, and the dragon remained static in the air. She looked to the rider and she saw the first emotion she had ever seen on the Night King's face - doubt

She would not miss the opportunity.

"Drogon," she whispered. "Nābēmagon."

And he attacked. He started by blowing flames at Viserion's stomach and Dany's eyes widened as the dragon did not falter. She held on as Drogon charged, grasping Viserion in mid air and pulling him to the ground, his teeth quickly moving to pierce the side of his neck. The Night King fell off Viserion's back first, and the dragon then trailed after him, dropping to the ground and spewing blue flame into the air, screaming and screaming. Drogon followed but made sure to land Dany safely before moving to finish off Viserion.

"Dany!" Jon called out as he saw her on the ground, rushing to her side. He surveyed her with his eyes first, then moved his hands to hold on to her waist. "Are you hurt?"

"No," she whispered, unable to keep her eyes off Drogon as he tore Viserion to shreds. "What just happened?"

Jon's eyes narrowed as he scanned their surroundings. "I don't kn-"

"Jon!" Arya's screams interrupted them. "Jon its Bran!"

They quickly ran to her side, joining everyone who had moved around the Weirwood where they left Bran. His eyes were rolled back in his head, and his body was shaking uncontrollably on the ground.

"Do something!" Arya yelled at Howland Reed, who stood by the tree, unaffected by what was going on.

"He will be fine," Reed reassured her.

"What's happening to him?" Daenerys demanded, kneeling down beside Jon, who was holding Bran's head to make sure he wouldn't injure himself as his body trembled.

"I've seen this before," Jon muttered, thinking of Orell and the Free Folk. What? You've never met a warg? Ygritte mocked him, for that and for many other things. "He is a warg."

Dany looked at him, confused. "A warg?"

"People who can enter other's minds and control them," he explained.

"What is he warging into?" Gendry asked.

"Viserion," Dany realized. "I saw his eyes change and then he stopped mid-attack. We wouldn't have been able to take him down otherwise."

With a final victorious roar from Drogon they could assume Viserion took his last breath. Bran then returned to them.

"Bran," Jon spoke, holding onto his brother tightly. "Bran thank you. You saved them."

He didn't respond, his gaze off in the distance.

"Are you in pain Bran?" Howland asked.

He shook his head.

"It's okay," Howland now looked at Jon and Arya. "He just needs some time."

Daenerys stood up and Jon followed her as she walked towards Viserion and Drogon. He saw the tears in her eyes and wanted to say something, anything to alleviate her pain, but he didn't know any words that could possibly make it better. Instead he entwined his fingers in hers, keeping a tight clasp on her as she stepped into the puddle of blood that was left on the snow, moving her free hand to close Viserion's eyes.

"Iksan sīr vaoreznuni ñuha gevie tresy," she whispered, still leaning against the dragon.

Jon gave her a moment before he took her into his arms, planting a kiss at the top of her head. "It's over now," he told her.

"No," she pulled back to meet his gaze. "It's not. Did you not hear what Bran said? There has to be a sacrifice."

He knew she was right. He wanted to tell her that she would live, that their child would live, that the sacrifice would be him, but he couldn't. She would never accept it. He knew she wouldn't even let him speak the words if he tried.

"Let's go back to them," he said. "Bran will explain things."

The Night King returned with his four closest companions, all riding their undead horses and holding ice spears in their hands. They were ethereal in their pace, slow but deadly, and there was a newfound determination in the Great Other's eyes that could not be ignored.

"You'll see better from up here, boy," Tormund said picking Bran up from the ground.

"He doesn't look like someone who's just fallen off a dragon forty feet above the ground," Gendry remarked.

"Well of course not, Waters," the Hound scoffed. "He's been alive for thousands of years did you think a little fall would kill him?"

"There's something behind him on that horse," Jorah observed, moving a few feet closer.

And soon they had all seen it. The Night King held a chain in his hand, attached to the leg of one of the Children. She was walking behind them, clearly struggling as she had to lift the heavy chain with her foot every step.

"They kept one alive," Jon said. "Why?"

"I don't know," Howland admitted. "But he has brought her here for all of us to see. He wants an audience."

"We have to stop him," Arya grew impatient.

"No, not yet, " Bran looked at his sister. "I told you, whatever he is trying to do, it won't work. Let him fail."

Daenerys walked away from the group silently without anyone taking notice. She strode closer towards the tree where the Night King was heading, but her eyes remained fixed on one thing.

Dawn.

It was her. She felt it in her gut the moment Jorah said there was someone there with them, but moving nearer she got the confirmation she needed.

She had been real all along, and she looked exactly like she did in her dreams- the silver gold hair that fell wildly across her shoulders, the piercing green-eyes that could stare deep into her soul. She was even more beautiful in person, but she was captured and chained... the last of her kind to survive. The guilt was clawing at Dany's skin. Had they arrived earlier perhaps they could have stopped him.

"Daenerys," the girl called out when she noticed her, eyes wide with hope. "Daenerys!"

The Night King turned around, pulling the chain harder so that she would keep moving.

I am sorry, Dawn.

She didn't even realize that the rest of them had followed her until she felt Jon's hand on her shoulder.

"Dany," he said softly, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek so that she would face him. "is that-?"

She nodded her head. She had told Jon all about her dreams.

"I don't understand," Arya came by their side. "Why don't we just fight them? There's only five of them, they have no dragon… we could easily take them."

"The Night King is not like the rest of them, Arya. He cannot die by dragon glass or Valyrian steel," Bran explained. "He will only fall when the magic of this place is gone as well."

Once again everyone looked to Bran like he was speaking another language.

"Just watch," Howland said, pointing towards the scene before them.

The walkers got off their horses, following the Night King and Dawn towards the heart tree at the center of the Isle. The Night King moved closer to the trunk, seating himself against it, the face crying red sap just above his head.

"By the gods," Howland spoke under his breath, realizing what was happening before everyone else.

The Night King broke apart his armor, tearing it at its sides to reveal the center of his chest where a piece of dragon glass pierced his sternum. He pulled Dawn closer to him, moving her hand to his chest.

"Of course," Bran spoke, eyes wide. "It all makes sense now."

Dawn wrapped her fingers around the edge of the glass with a heavy heart, for she knew the outcome of what she was about to do.

"If only it were that simple," Howland told Bran.

Before pulling the last of it out, Dawn turned to look at Dany, smiling at her with her cat-like eyes. "Be strong," she reminded her, and then returned to the task at hand.

The dragonglass fell to the ground, and the Night King closed his eyes in response, his fists clenched at his sides, hoping he would open them to find himself a as a man once more.

The other walkers moved closer to him, and one of them picked up the dragon glass from the ground, observing it in his hands.

Finally, the Night King opened his eyes, staring at his hands in disbelief, looking to his brothers for answers. Upon realizing that he had failed at his mission, he opened his mouth and screamed. It was the first time Jon or anyone had ever heard him make a sound, and it was the most inhuman and high-pitched noise that they had ever heard, and it as accompanied by a brush of cold wind blowing hard against their faces.

"Fuck," The Hound muttered. "Is that how they speak?"

The Night King then stood up from the tree, bringing his hands around Dawn's neck and holding her above him, her feet dangling in the air.

"No," Daenerys yelled. "Stop!"

The Walkers turned to look at her, glaring at her their deadly blue eyes.

Jon held her back, moving his hand to pull out Longclaw from its sheath. The rest of the group did the same with their own weapons. Perhaps it would come down to a fight after all.

With a swing of his sword, the Night King killed Dawn, putting an end to her entire species just like that. Her body fell to the snow with a soft thud before he turned to face the living, a wrath like no other unmistakable in his gaze.

"Bran," Arya grabbed her brother's hand. "Bran, tell us, what do we do now?"

"You can fight off the walkers, otherwise they'll just come in the way," he said as Tormund put him back down to rest against the tree. "But we need the Catspaw dagger."

Arya looked to him with perplexed eyes, staring between her brothers and Daenerys.

"No," she said once she realized the nature of the request. The dagger that the young wolf holds is key, Kinvara had said in their Great Hall. The promised one must wield the dagger.

She held onto the Valyrian steel with both hands, her voice beginning to waver. "No. There will be no blood sacrifice with this god-forsaken dagger. Don't tell me you believe that Red Woman."

"It's not about that. You have two weapons and Daenerys has none. Give her something to defend herself," Jon lied to her for the first time. "Please, Arya."

She hesitated but she removed the dagger from her belt, eventually handing it to him with trembling hands. She wasn't capable of refusing Jon.

"Now go, sister, we have no time," he said. "I will follow, I just need to make sure Dany leaves safely."

She nodded, giving his hand a squeeze before leaving to join the others who had already gone to fight the walkers.

"Jon," Dany spoke the moment Arya left, grabbing both of his hands with her own. "Jon, do you believe it? Is this really it?"

Tears began to fall down her face, and she made no effort to stop it. She kneeled down beside the tree, his hands still in hers as he followed.

He let go of one to bring it up to her face, wiping away at her tears with his thumb. "I love you, Dany. I love you more than anything. I am so sorry."

She pulled him closer and kissed him, an explosion of passion and regret. A few minutes later she forced herself to pull away from him, moving her hands to the Direwolf pin he gave her all those months ago, letting her cloak fall to the ground.

"What are you doing?" he stared at her in horror.

She was still crying as she undid the buttons of her dress so that the top part of her chest was bare.

"Dany, no," he quickly grabbed her hands.

"Why would you take the dagger if you didn't know this had to be done?" she glared at him. "You have to, Jon. You have to end this."

"Oh, Dany…" he pulled her trembling body into his arms, rubbing circles onto her back. "This is not how it's meant to happen. Don't you see? I would never. I could never hurt you, hurt our child-"

He held her shoulders, moving away so that he could look at her. "It's me, Dany. It's my blood that will end this. You know it."

"I don't."

He sighed. "You knew it all along, I saw it in your eyes the moment Bran said the dagger was my fathers."

Before she could object, Bran spoke, and perhaps it was the first time in a long time where there was a hint of sadness in his voice. "He is right."

Dany was crying harder now and she shook beneath his grip.

"Don't, love, please," he begged her, tears threatening to fall from his own eyes. "I can't see you like this."

Be strong, Dawn's voice echoed in her ears.

"I can't Jon," she said. "I won't."

Her hands grabbed his, trying to stop him as he pulled his own cloak off, but he was too strong for her. He pulled apart his tunic, revealing the scar just above his heart.

"I will not do it Jon," her tone was serious, frightening even. She was the blood of the dragon after all. "We swore our vows to each other at a tree just like this one. Have you forgotten?"

"Of course not," he smiled, placing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Dany do you know why I was brought back?"

"Don't tell me it's for this," she shook her head. "Don't tell me that you died and lived only to die again."

"That may be the case," he confessed. "But there is another reason. I lived again so I could love Daenerys Targaryen."

"Jon," she choked, her eyes and face red like rubies. "Please…"

Now he couldn't fight it, allowing a single tear to fall down his cheek. "When I stepped foot into that throne room in Dragonstone… when I saw you for the first time… it was like I found a missing piece of myself that I never knew I needed. You are mine as I am yours, Dany, and you carry a part of me within you."

"Our child will need her father, Jon," she begged. "I can't do this without you."

"You will be wonderful," he shook his head. "More than enough."

He held her hand forcefully, moving it so that her fingers were wrapped around the dagger underneath his own.

"Jon stop it, please," she yelled, trying to pull away, but he held onto her with both of his hands, bringing the dagger up to his chest, its tip only an inch away from the scar he wished to re-open.

"It's all right, Dany," he whispered. "It's all right."

And with one quick movement, he pushed the dagger into his heart with both their hands on the blade. He grunted at the familiar feeling of steel in his chest, and after that the world began to blur. He heard her muffled screams shouting his name, over and over again. He felt the warm blood pour out of his wound and onto the cold snow beneath him, feeding the roots of the Weirwood trees.

Eventually, he closed his eyes.

He expected to see nothing; he expected it to be like the last time. But instead of darkness, he saw light. He was back in that cabin with Dany on the first night they made love. He was staring at her, breathing deeply as he took her in- her flushed cheeks and plump lips, her pupils that had gone wide with love for him. Gods, have I made a mistake? He had accepted his death knowing he would feel nothing, knowing he would enter an abyss and forget who he was.

He was wrong.

He saw her, and it was agonizing.

He saw her, and it made him long to be alive again.

Arya was just about to run her Needle through one of the walkers when she heard the sound of a woman screaming. She tried to make out what the woman was saying but she couldn't linger too long, for she was in the middle of a fight, and although she knew how to spar with less than five of her senses, this was not a game. She needed to give it her all.

However, Jorah Mormont seemed to recognize the screams, immediately leaving to run towards them.

Arya tried to ignore it, looking back to Gendry who was in full focus fighting with his war hammer. He never left her side. Berric and Tormund were up against the Night King, and the Hound was fighting the third walker. The other two were already dead.

Suddenly, the ground started to shake, slowly at first, and then with such an amplification of intensity the red Weirwood leaves started to fall off their branches. Arya could have sworn that the faces carved into their trunks had begun to move as well.

"What's going on?" she asked, despite knowing it was another hopeless question she knew no one would have the answer to.

But then, in the matter of seconds, the walker she was fighting had fallen onto its knees, shaking and screaming as its body grew brittle, ultimately shattering into a million icy shards as it fell to the ground. She turned around and watched the same happen to the other remaining walker, and finally to the Night King himself.

The living stared at each other in disbelief, chests rising and falling in an effort to regain their breaths.

"What in the bloody hells-" The Hound was the first to speak.

The distant cries of thousands then filled the air, and she realized that all the wights that their armies were fighting around the Godseye would have fallen as well.

"It's over," Berric yelled. "By R'hllor, we've won!"

Gendry moved over to her, holding her from her shoulders, concerned that she was not smiling like the rest of him.

"Arya," he looked into her eyes. "It's over!"

Then why does it not feel like a victory?

She tried to shake it off, but she heard the woman's screams again, and this time she could not ignore it.

Her heart sank to her knees when she realized who it was.

Needle fell out of her hand and she ran towards the voice.

No, Jon!

Jon, please!

Jon, come back!