Falling Like || Jon Snow

63| 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔫 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡𝔫'𝔱 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰

winterfell, the north

— WHEN THE HORN SIGNALLED THE ARRIVAL OF THE ARMY OF THE DEAD, NYMERIA'S BLOOD RAN COLD. That didn't stop her though. She and Daenerys moved swiftly across the grounds to where a full-grown, armoured grizzly bear awaited them. Nymeria helped Daenerys up before turning to the man behind her.

There were no words that could be spoken, nothing more than everything they'd already said. She threw her arms around Jon's neck and kissed him fiercely, pouring all of her fear and desperation and determination into the action. Don't leave me, it screamed. Don't you dare leave me. Then he was moving towards his northmen and Nymeria was climbing onto Wren's back in front of Daenerys, heading off out the back gate towards where the dragons waited beyond the castle.

Riding a bear running at full-speed was unlike riding a horse in that it was actually easier. Wren's shoulders took more of the flex from her movements than her back, meaning it didn;t shift so much beneath the ones riding her, and she was much larger, making it harder to fall off. When they reached the dragons, Wren halted with a huff, allowing the girls to slide to the ground. Drogon and Rhaegal glanced curiously at the bear, but after a moment of sniffing and greeting, it seemed they were being civil.

Then Wren turned to Nymeria, who held her fluffy face between her hands and pressed their foreheads together with eyes squeezed shut. Briefly, her mind flashed to that day North of the Wall, when she'd been alone and stumbled into that cave where that little tiny bear cub was hiding. Despite everything that had been happening all around, she'd raised Wren on her own, and she loved her. "Stay safe, okay?" She whispered. "And kick their asses." Wren grunted in agreement, giving Nymeria one more nuzzle before turning and heading back to defend the castle – or more specifically, Lyanna Mormont.

The pair of them climbed onto dragonback, and then they were flying high, swooping past the castle to a high ridge where they could land to overlook everything. As they watched, slowly, a single rider emerged from the blackness, approaching the Dothraki. No one attacked. An ally? Then, moments later, all across their lines, Dothraki blades caught flame, like the sword of Beric Dondarrion. Nymeria's brows went up. Melisandre. Then the Khalasar charged; a sea of small, glimmering suns in the darkness surging forward. Even from above, Nymeria could hear them howling as flaming cannonballs soared past above them. She'd never understood why the word "Dothraki Screamers" was so terrifying until she saw them in action. She did now.

Even still, when they seemed to hit a wall of darkness, her heart stuttered. The lights began to flicker out entirely too fast, one by one no matter how many dead were destroyed by the cannonballs. Their screams began to fade, the wind that swallowed them sounding more like a malicious, snarling creature rather than an act of nature. Then there was darkness. The dragonriders waited with baited breath for any survivors. Only a few came running back, more of them on foot than horseback.

Exchanging grim looks, Nymeria and Daenerys took hold of the dragons' spikes and lifted into the air. Below them, the shouts and screams of the living intermingled with the hissing snarls of the dead as the night King's army slammed into Winterfell's defences. Then Drogon and Rhaegal made their first pass, obliterating the front lines of the dead. The cold wind whipped at Nymeria's cheeks as she and Daenerys circled together, laying waste to at least a hundred wights with each blow.

Then, as they neared the treeline, she spotted them. Perfectly spaced apart, a long line of Walkers just watching astride their undead steeds. Nymeria's lip curled back, and she pushed her strength into banking Rhaegal around towards them, swooping lower for a clear shot. Too late, she saw the immense, thick storm clouds whipping towards them, hanging so heavy and so low they even threaded through the trees. She braced herself at the last second as Rhaegal screeched, swallowed up by the snow and ice and gusting wind.