Falling Like || Jon Snow

56| 𝔞𝔫 𝔦𝔠𝔶 𝔭𝔩𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔢

north of the wall

— NYMERIA DIDN'T FEEL MUCH LIKE SLEEPING THAT NIGHT. The others slowly but surely fell into their exhaustion, but she remained alert. Perhaps under different circumstances she'd actually be able to feel her exhaustion, and she'd decided she'd probably sleep for days if they ever made it back, but when the dawn broke, her eyes were still fixed calmly and darkly on the dead men. Only the lake stood between them, and that could change at any minute. She'd prefer to be awake when that minute came.

Jon and Jorah were the first to arrive at her side by the island's edge. Jon looked over her features, but her eyes never left where they watched something high in the rock face. "He's here."

He followed her eyes to find the Night King himself was indeed watching them from above, astride his dead horse. "What's he been doing?"

"Watching us." She replied simply. "He knows it's only a waiting game now."

Jorah breathed out a long huff that appeared in a small, icy cloud before him, nodding. "We'll all freeze soon."

"The water will freeze first." She shook her head. "Maybe if we went after the Walkers, we'd have a chance, but they know that. That's why there's an army standing between us and them."

"There's a raven flying for Dragonstone." Jon spoke with more confidence than he felt. "The dragons are our best chance now."

"No." Beric approached from behind. "There's another." he pointed his sword straight up at the Night King. "Hill him. He turned them all."

Slowly, the others all came to stand alongside them as well while Jon shook his head. "You don't understand."

"The Lord brought you back. He brought me back. No one else. Just us. Did he do it to watch us freeze to death at the edge of the world?"

"Careful, Beric." The Hound warned. "You lost your priest. This is your last life."

"I've been waiting for the end for a long time." he glared out at the dead king. "Maybe the Lord brought me here to find it."

"Every lord I've ever met's been a cunt." the Hound muttered. "Don't see why the Lord of Light should be any different."

Nymeria began pacing, and Jon couldn't tell how long it went on before he heard the sound. They both turned to see the Hound had launched a rock at the dead, knocking one's jaw clean off, but the wight did not move. He muttered under his breath before picking up another rock, only this one fell short. Jon's eyes widened. Nymeria sucked in a breath as it slid right over where the ice should have been broken. And the wights saw it too. "Oh, fuck." muttered the Hound.

They drew swords as the first one braved the path across the ice. It held firm. More followed. Nymeria readied her spear, and the fight began. The numbers were nowhere near even, but the living had the advantage of higher ground and a defendable position. Although, claiming that they had any advantage at all was a lot like stumbling through an open field in an electrical storm. It was searching for hope where there was none. There wasn't a moment through any of it to search through the fighting to see who was still alive and who wasn't. They could only fight as hard as possible. Dodge that sword, block that knife. Kill, kill, kill. Aim to kill death with every stroke as it crawled towards you with taunting eyes before it could sink its claws into you first. Nymeria spun her spear in wide arcs, sweeping wights away, striking them to the icy ground, slashing and stabbing at them with renewed ferocity.

"Fall back!" Jon shouted finally. "Fall back!"

There's nowhere to fall back to. She thought. Still, she began retreating towards the island's centre, never letting her guard down. Then a panicked shout caught her attention, and she whipped around. Tormund. From all sides, he was under attack, barely keeping the dead from tearing into him with only his bare hands.

"Fuck." It was a stupid idea. A really stupid idea. But she charged forward anyway, abandoning her spear and pulling daggers for close combat, slashing at as many of the wights around him as she could. For a moment, it looked like they might be fine working together. Then something gripped the back of Nymeria's coat, yanking her backwards and practically throwing her back towards the ice. Her cry was cut short with a pained grunt and cough as her back connected with the ground. Tormund was attempting to make his way over to help, but he was struggling now that he was fighting alone again.

Not far away, her cry had also caught Jon's attention, whose blood ran cold at the sight before him. Nymeria reached desperately for her daggers, just barely out of reach as a wight dragged her back by her legs, another rushing at her from the other side. "Nym!"

Straining, she abandoned her pursuit of the daggers and swung around towards the wight dragging her, pulling a small knife as she did and burying it deep in the creature's neck. Without Dragonglass or Valyrian steel, the wight wasn't dead, but it froze as the blow was struck, giving her a precious few seconds to roll away. She looked up suddenly at the wight still coming at her... just in time to see it crumble, cut through with her own dagger. In its place stood Jorah, brandishing the Valyrian Steel weapons. Not wasting a moment on grudges, she took the hand he offered, letting him pull her back to her feet before handing her back the daggers. Following him hurriedly towards the centre, she noticed with some relief that Tormund was still alive too, fighting alongside the Hound. She kept on swinging, kept cutting. Every time one dead man fell, there was already another trampling over its bones, taking its place. It was a battle they could never win, but she'd be damned if she was just going to lay down and die. Grandfather would never have. He'd fight to his last breath, no matter the odds.

Then she froze. She felt them before she saw them. Saw the blazing flames in her mind before they ever appeared before her eyes. "GET DOWN!"

The wave of flames overtook everything, and the deep and guttural war cry of a dragon filled the sky. When they could see again, all three beasts were flying overhead, a beautiful sight as they wreaked fiery destruction on the White Walkers' army, Daenerys astride the largest of her children. Drogon landed on the island, spitting fire at any wights who dared come near.

As the others began climbing onto his scaled back, though, more wights began to approach from behind. Jon readied Longclaw once more, fighting them off, Nymeria just a couple paces behind him with her daggers. Someone shouted her name, but her ears were ringing with fury, and all she wanted was to take it all out on these monsters.

Then the unthinkable happened. An ice spear flew through the air with deadly accuracy, and Viserion's side suddenly exploded with flames. He screamed so horribly it tore Nymeria's heart in her chest as her wide eyes followed his falling form through the sky, blood pouring from his wound as the fire died, splashing over the ice and snow. He struck the lake hard, finally coming to a stop at its edge. He fell silent, then sank beneath the cold water's surface, leaving everyone in horrified silence. Nymeria's eyes burned when they turned on the Night King, but they widened when she saw him wielding a second spear.

"Go!" Jon turned, cutting down the wights that crossed his path as he started back towards Drogon. "Go now! Leave!" he cut his way towards them until three dead tackled him from the side, and the ice gave out beneath.

Nymeria's scream was a mangled sound of horror and pain that needn't bear a single word in its hollow depths to be understood. Without a thought, she rushed forwards, daggers slid into her belt, and she dove after him.

"Nymeria!" Daenerys shouted as she disappeared beneath the water's surface. But she had no choice but to take to the skies as the Night King took aim again, and it was too late for anyone to go after them.

Then something unexpected happened. From somewhere above, Rhaegal suddenly let out a particularly loud roar, before diving swiftly downwards. His claws sank deep into the ice, tearing it apart, but steady and strong wingbeats brought him soaring high again, two figures clutched in his grasp. Jon did not appear to be conscious, but Nymeria gasped, shaking water out of her face and staring up through sopping hair at the dragon carrying her with wide, shocked eyes.

The group atop Drogon's back seemed to let out an almost collective sigh of relief, and the dragons pressed on through the freezing air, back to Eastwatch. Back to the security of the Wall.