Snow Falls Hot

12

Enith paused when she entered the council room. Everyone became aware of how she didn't walk through the door like the rest of them. Instead, she was staring at the table that held the map of Winterfell and the pieces that represented the armies ready to fight.

"Enith?" Daenerys asked— this being the first time she'd ever seen the other Targaryen look somewhat frazzled.

She didn't respond and when Daeny called her name again, still no response. Sansa walked over to her sister. Everyone frowned when she suddenly jumped under the touch. Enith's eyes snapped up from the table and to Sansa who watched her with concern.

"I'm fine," she said. "Do we have a plan?"

None of them looked like they believed her. She took a deep breath and approached the table, touching the piece closest to her hand.

"What did you dream about the other night?" Bran asked.

The others looked confused. Bran stopped looking at the table and looked at the woman.

"You're magic like I am, it is hard to understand you entirely sometimes. So, I want to know what did you dream about the other night?"

"Death."

"Well isn't that reassuring," Tormund said.

"I saw dragons fade and wolves die, rivers froze over until the fish couldn't move. Trees withered and deer starved and a lone raven, his feathers started to freeze over as he flew... Bran, he's always been after Bran."

"Who has?" Jaime asked.

"The Night King," Bran said. "He raised most of the wights, he and his generals."

"Well what does he want from you?" Sam asked.

"My memories."

Enith nodded slowly. "This has happened before..." she whispered.

The others around the table watched as she began to move the pieces around while she spoke. They noticed her eyes were both focused and unfocused at the same time— looking like she was seeing a thousand miles deep into the map.

"It's a dance. Every Three-Eyed Raven, every Night King. He cannot have darkness if the memories of a world with light exist. If Bran is dead without another three-eyed raven ready to take his place, then we lose. There is no more seeing the possibilities, no more going back to the past to try and rewrite our present. This is our last chance. The best chance that the Three-Eyed Raven saw in defeating the white walkers has brought us to Winterfell. Time has been rewritten for some of us to make sure we were here and we cannot lose."

"So everything has happened for this? I lost a hand for this?"

Enith laughed, still with a thousand yard stare.

"No Ser Jaime, some things are your own stupidity. But you pushed Bran, I went to Valyria, Tyrion found Daenerys, Arya went to Braavos, Jon became a crow and befriended the Free Folk..."

Her eyes returned to looking at them. Everyone looked down at the table to see what Enith had done. The pieces were rearranged with armies mixed together and marks set on the actual castle. She looked at Jaime and then Jon— the two she trusted as actual strategists in war.

"I don't know if it's a good plan, I've never properly planned a battle before... This just seemed correct."

They narrowed their eyes in scrutiny as they checked the map. Nodding their heads and only moving two pieces each, they approved. Arya pointed to one of the dire wolf pieces.