Guest Chambers of Visenya & Tywin, West Wing — Winterfell, The North
Night had long spread over the North by the time Visenya made her way into the castle and towards her chambers. Her muscles felt sore and her mind was mentally exhausted from all the intense emotions.
Flying with Rhaegal had helped her, keeping her away from everyone and allowing her to sense the freedom she had long exchanged for the chains around her neck; all in the name of protecting the realm and the future of her family.
Daenerys eventually joined her, flying on top of Drogon, and the two of them spent some time in the air; watching the sun setting in the distant horizon. Even after they landed their dragons, they did not speak of the incident that took place.
The Mother of Dragons asked her aunt once about the dream of her mother dying but after that, did not bring up the topic; since it was clear that her aunt carried a heavy enough burden on her shoulders.
Instead, they talked of anything else and Visenya soon found her mind relaxing. The stories of her niece and her adventures and the feeling of warm rough scales against her back offered her much-needed comfort.
The sun set early above the North and when the sky was dark, she made her way back to the castle with her. They bid their goodnights and she headed for her chambers, suspecting Tywin would be expecting her.
If he wished to argue about her just leaving like that, she was not in the mood and she would stop him before he could truly start.
To her surprise, though, that did not seem to be the case.
Instead, when she entered her chambers; she found him standing by the fireplace with a goblet in his hand. Upon hearing the door opening, he turned his head to look at her and she could not see any anger or annoyance in his golden-flecked green eyes.
"You are finally back," he pointed out as he left the goblet by the table and walked towards her.
"I apologize for taking so long. I did not have the mental strength to come back," she confessed, no longer ashamed of showing some weakness to him.
She was so tired at that moment, she did not truly care nor did she bother to hide it. She headed for the chest with her clothes, wishing more than anything to just change into something else and lay under the covers; even if her blanket was made of animal pelts.
Tywin, though, did not seem willing to comment on that. Instead, he stopped by her side and started to help her undress; as if he could see the mental strain in her eyes and who said he couldn't.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, his eyes always keeping an eye on her as if she would faint on him again or something else would happen.
"Exhausted of this... game... of everything..." she confessed, looking at the ground in front of her feet as Tywin worked to help her change.
He had never truly done that except for when she had the arrow wound, but even then, she did most of the work and he helped. Now, he seemed willing to do it fully on his own and she did not fight him; somehow finding this little action rather sweet and warm.
"As you should be, as all of us should be," he agreed, once he had helped her change. He was already in simple breeches and a tunic, having long changed and simply waiting for her in the silence of the room. "Come," he gently guided her towards the bed that was not that far away from them.
Lifting the covers, he waited for her to lay on the bed first and then he followed suit; before covering them up all the way to their waist. This time, though, he did not spoon her from behind like he usually did.
This time, he faced her and gently pulled her closer to him until their legs were entangled and her hands were folded and pressed against his chest. Their faces were now much closer and he had a full view of her face and her unique eyes that still shone with so much mental strength, determination, and pure stubbornness; despite everything that had taken place.
None said anything and they merely watched one another in silence, since no words were truly needed in that moment. Instead, Tywin brought his hand towards her and gently caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers.
His fingers were rough from all those years of handling a sword, but the move was done with the utmost care. His eyes were primarily focused on the dried-up wound on her cheek, caused allegedly by this Night King during the vision.
One would be a fool to not see the darkness behind his gaze, for he did not take it well when another man laid a hand on his wife; no matter the reason for doing so. He did not comment on it and remained gentle with his moves, despite the feelings of anger against the undead army leader of the Far North.
The sweet movement and his presence seemed to lullaby Visenya and it did not take long before her eyelids felt heavy. The lack of proper sleep all those months was catching up to her and as she was about to welcome sleep, she mentally prayed she did not have any dreams; at least for that single night.
Before she knew it, her breathing had gone quiet and so did her mind as her body started to feel heavy. The feeling of Tywin's fingers against her cheek was the last thing she could focus on before she fell into a deep slumber.
Her husband, on the other hand, did not join her for quite some time.
Instead, he spent his time gently caressing her cheek and watching her sleep; as if expecting her to wake up any time now, gasping for air after seeing yet another prophetic dream.
Tywin was not a man that spoke a lot, let alone so openly, but what he told Tyrion a few hours prior; nothing was a lie. He had been present, almost, every night that she woke up from a dream and more than once did he find himself hating that ability of hers.
Like Visenya said, it was more like a curse than anything else. He spent 20 years watching it affect his wife in more ways than one and the worst part, he could never truly help her. The only thing he had ever managed to do was to secretly give her milk of the poppy or nightshade in her drink, without her knowing.
Only then, did he manage to gift her with a peaceful night but he could not do it all the time for there was a risk of addiction or immunity. So, he did it occasionally when the lack of sleep was too great and so were the risks when it came to her health.
A part of him truly wanted to do more but it was in those moments, that he was reminded just how human he was; much to his dismay.
At least until now, Visenya only had those dreams to deal with but there seemed to be no rest for her. First, those damn dragons and now the undead, putting her right in the middle of more drama and trouble than she deserved.
As he watched her sleep, so peacefully despite all the burdens she carried; he could not help but think of their discussion after she confessed about the Red Wedding. She kept insisting that he had done so much to help and save her but to him, it did not feel enough.
He made a mental note, right there, that he would survive this upcoming battle and then take her away. One way or another, he would find a way for them to return to Casterly Rock and handle the affairs from there.
He would give her back her freedom and her happiness, which she had so openly and selflessly sacrificed for him and his family; on more than one occasion. He would do a damn good job in protecting her and he would finally put his foot down.
She had suffered enough and undead armies, prophecies, or dragons be damned. He was not going to let her pass through anything else, never again.
He gently pecked her forehead and pulled her even closer to him, eventually, after spending so long watching her; he closed his eyes but kept his guard up.
Tywin was never a man to be that kind of a light sleeper. He did not sleep deeply but in the past, he did not wake up with almost any noise or disturbance of the bed. Yet, he taught himself to adjust and become this kind of light sleeper, to ensure that he could hear her when she would wake up at night and always know where she was.
In order to be able to be there for her, when the dreams would simply become too much to handle on her own.
Great Hall, Winterfell - The North, Westeros - 3 days before the Great Battle
The enemy was almost outside their door with less than three days before it would arrive. Since they did not need to eat or sleep, they were covering ground fast and their numbers increased by any innocent clueless person they would find while heading for Winterfell.
Our heroes, however, were finally ready. They had a well-formed plan that they all ended up agreeing to, while the armies would be partially mixed to better use the specialties of each soldier.
Their very first defence would be the three moats that they had dug.
They were not that deep but were filled with wood and pieces of dragonglass. Between them, only narrow passages were left and thus the enemy would have to push one another or pass through them in low numbers.
Once they did, they would meet with the disciplined Unsullied; who had their spears and shields ready. Along with some Dornish soldiers, they would make sure to take down any wight that would manage to approach them.
Of course, they would not be left defenceless since archers with flaming arrows would be positioned on the walls above. Barrels of oil were next to them to dip the arrows while torches would allow them to ignite them before sending them to the enemy.
By the left and right flanks of the castle, two different armies had also been agreed to exist. The very first on both sides would be the Dothraki, who would use their dragonglass-tipped arrows to attack the enemy from the side and try to reduce their numbers.
They would charge directly into them and then they would retreat away from the castle, hopefully making at least some undead follow them and reduce their concentrated numbers.
Two huge army groups would have been placed also at the flanks and they would charge at the spreading and already attacked undead, weapons of dragonglass ready to take them down as quickly and efficiently as possible.
The right host was a combined force of Free Folk, Reach, and Westerlands' soldiers that were proficient either on horseback or with a sword, mace, and any close-range blade. They would be commanded and led by Lady Brienne, Tormund, and Jaime.
The left host was a combined force of Northerners, Riverlands, and Vale soldiers; with similar proficiencies as their right counterparts. Blackfish and Lord Royce would be the commanders of that force but both sides had the same role in this battle.
Behind the main gates, a combination of Westerosi shield carriers and Dornish spears would wait for any undead that would try to enter the castle. The Dornish would be quick to attack and then hide behind their companions, whose shields would help prevent any bites or lethal attacks from their enemy.
The rest of the men that had been left and were not placed anywhere else, would be under the command of Kevan, Tywin, Visenya, and Mace with Trystan and Loras as their seconds in command. They would hold back anyone who would manage to bypass the first line of their internal defence.
Last, since Bran was the main target of the Night King, he would be placed by the weirwood tree. The Children of the Forest had agreed to remain by his side, using their special explosive tricks to take down any undead.
Jon and Theon would also stand with him, ready to defend him and take down the Night King; once he would finally arrive.
Tyrion, Sansa, Arya, and anyone else who could not fight, would be placed in the underground tunnels close to the crypts with Dornish men ready to defend them. If worse would come, they had multiple exits to escape and be safe.
"So, we can all agree that this is the best course of action?" Jon asked and looked around at the gathered Lords and Ladies, once he was done going over the agreed plan.
Many heads were nodded in agreement, a rare sign. While tensions were still high between them, it was not as bad as before. Time spent under the same roof and now having to work side by side, made many see that they were not that different from one another in some situations.
"If I may add a last idea," Visenya said and once she was given a head nod, she stood up. "About the barrels of oil you mentioned," she started. "Eventually the arrows will run out but the oil most likely will remain. I am not aware of what those undead creatures can do but I would not be surprised if they could climb walls."
"What do you suggest, Dragoness?" a Southern Lord asked her.
"Before the archers retreat, spill the oil on the walls. If they manage, ignite it and let it burn. It won't be for long but will keep the enemy away for some time and allow the men to pull back," she suggested.
A few hums were heard from the men around her, who thought of the idea carefully. No one truly had thought of the enemy climbing the walls, since they seemed rather mindless creatures, but one could never be too safe with them.
"I am with the Princess," Oberyn said, not surprising anyone by the fact that he sided with Visenya. "Why take the risk when that oil will be useless either way?"
As the men in the room agreed, Visenya nodded her head faintly in gratitude and then sat down once again. This had been quite common in the war meetings, especially the last few.
She would be one of the few who would speak often, suggesting plans and ideas based on previous battles. Sometimes, like with the oil, she proved to show that she was thinking outside the box and her intelligent mind was truly shining in those situations.
Daenerys took notice of how many Lords were willing to listen to her in the end and even praised her faintly for her ideas. They had respect for her and that respect kept growing as she even found a solution about the two hosts by the flanks to be made in a way that reduced internal hostility.
What had surprised her, were the titles they would address her aunt by.
Only Prince Oberyn would call her Princess, even though she no longer held that title, but he insisted. No one corrected him, no one seemed to mind even though Jon was technically King and she was a Queen.
Of course, the majority called her Dragoness; which apparently had been some sort of title or nickname given to her across the years. While it had a nice ring to it, reminding everyone that Visenya was still a Dragon even though she married a Lion; it made Daenerys feel... odd.
She was also a Dragon but she was barely acknowledged as anything such. Most Lords did not speak to her, nor seemed to go quiet when she wished to suggest an idea. They looked at her like an outsider, giving her different looks than they gave her aunt.
She had tried to approach them but she only ended up seeing what both Jorah and Tyrion had warned her about. The lords did not want her around and they made it clear every single day that they had already chosen a Dragon to listen to, even though it did not truly rule them; and that dragon was not her.
"What about the Ice Dragon?" a Northern Lord asked, making Daenerys snap out of her thoughts and focus on him.
"It is the Night King's biggest asset but he is not the only one that has a dragon," Jon answered and turned to Daenerys.
The young Targaryen understood what he was talking about and she smiled faintly, thankful that Jon was passing her the ball so she could speak.
She stood up with all the grace she could master, something that often paled with the manners and grace her aunt seemed to have.
"We have two dragons. We can offer air support with dragonfire and handle the undead dragon when he arrives," she said, although not everyone seemed to be fully relieved by her words.
"And what if the Night King rides the undead dragon? What then?" Lady Mormont said, standing up. "All that plan is good but the Night King can just fly over our heads and attack our soldiers inside."
"She has a point."
"We can't defend against such an attack."
Whispers started between the many Lords, who understood her idea and agreed with her. That was a part of the plan they had not discussed and honestly, they did not seem to have thought about it until now.
"Then we fight him!" Daenerys said, slamming her palm on the wooden table and earning the attention of the crowd. "We have two dragons and two dragon riders," she said and to the surprise of many, she turned to her aunt.
Visenya offered a smile and stood up once again.
"We do," she agreed. "If the Night King tries to come from above, we will make sure to smack him to the ground so the rest of the army can deal with him."
Her niece smiled in return.
"We can help you from above and also keep the undead dragon occupied, ensuring it stays away from you and ruins the plan."
People exchanged looks, thinking about it, but there was not much they could argue about. That was a solution to their problem and perhaps the only solution they could have in this case.
With Visenya also on top of a dragon, some Southern Lords felt more relieved and trusted the plan more. If her niece could not do her job right or even chose to retreat, they knew the Dragoness would fight for them and defend them until the very end; they believed in her and never stopped doing so.
As they all nodded, the two Targaryens sat back down but their smiles remained.
They had come rather close after the whole Vision incident, going for rides together or just talking. Daenerys had not asked her much about it and quickly dropped the topic once she realized it was not the best for discussion.
Instead, the two of them just spent some time together; like how an aunt and her niece should. Although, since the battle was almost upon them; it meant that those little good times would soon come to an end.