Silver Stag

Strategies For The Undead

[Winterfell - Great Hall]

In Winterfell's Great Hall, the tension was evident as the leaders of the North and the Mother of Dragons gathered to discuss their plan of attack against the impending undead army. The weight of the impending doom hung heavy over their heads like a dark cloud, and the air was thick with the fear of the unknown.

"Why don't we just send out the dragons to reduce the size of the army before they breach the Wall?" Sansa Stark asked, her voice trembling with anxiety. "If we can diminish their numbers, it will be easier to defeat them."

Daenerys Targaryen hesitated, her eyes flashing with grief and guilt. "I...I can't," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Viserion died trying to fight them. I can't risk losing another dragon."

The room fell silent, the weight of Viserion's sacrifice hanging heavy in the air. Jon Snow, the King in the North, looked at Daenerys with a mixture of understanding and frustration. He knew that the dragons were her last remaining children, and he couldn't blame her for not wanting to risk losing another one. Even if Rhaegal was now technically his dragon.

But the need to protect the realm from the Night King's army was paramount. The living had to find a way to defeat the dead, no matter the cost.

"We have to try," Sansa said, her voice firm and resolute. "We can't just sit here and wait for the Night King to break through the Wall. We have to take action, no matter the risk."

Daenerys looked at Sansa, her eyes filled with admiration for her bravery. She knew that the Stark girl was right. They had to do something, no matter how risky it was.

"I'll do it," she said finally, her voice firm and resolute. "If Jon comes with me, we can send out the dragons to fight the Night King's army. But we have to be careful. We can't afford to lose any more of our own."

The room erupted into a flurry of activity as the leaders of the living began to make their plans. The fate of the realm hung in the balance, and they knew that they had to do everything in their power to protect it.

The Night King's army was coming, and they would not stop until they had destroyed all of the living. But the living would not go down without a fight. They would stand tall and fight with every last breath in their bodies.

The battle of Winterfell was about to begin, and the outcome would determine the fate of the realm. The living would either emerge victorious, or they would fall to the darkness of the Night King's army. The fate of the realm hung in the balance, and only timr would tell which side would emerge victorious.

As the sun set over the frozen tundra of the North, Daenerys and Jon mounted their dragons, Drogon and Rhaegal, respectively. The air was crisp and cold, and the snow crunched beneath their scales as they took to the skies. They flew over the vast expanse of the frozen wilderness, searching for any sign of the undead army that threatened to destroy all of Westeros.

As they flew, Daenerys felt a sense of awe at the beauty of the landscape below her. The snow-covered peaks and frozen lakes stretched out as far as the eye could see, and the wind whipped through her hair as she rode. She felt alive and free, and the power of her dragons coursed through her veins.

Jon, too, felt a sense of exhilaration as he rode beside her. The wind buffeted his face, and the cold air invigorated him. He had nevr felt more alive, and he knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

They rode their dragons, Drogon and Rhaegal, through the desolate landscape of the North. The air was crisp and cold, and the ground was blanketed in a thick layer of snow and ice. The two riders knew that they were on a mission of utmost importance: to find the army of the dead and destroy it before it could destroy the Seven Kingdoms.