Daenerys & Visenya...
The wind was their biggest opponent, for it seemed to trouble even the dragons. Their powerful wings kept them up in the air, but their vision was reduced, their senses overwhelmed, and that made them easier prey.
It was almost impossible to see around you, and through that unknown, anything could come at you without realizing it, until it would be too late.
Daenerys kept holding tightly onto Drogon's scales, unable to see or hear anything other than the blizzard. She was glad she was wearing her gloves, but the cold did not help. If her body was not filled with adrenaline from the battle and the fact that the Night King was after her, she knew she would have felt the cold.
She did not know where the enemy was, and she could not see him. She did, however, trust Drogon like she had trusted him when he saved her from the Sons of the Harpy. He was doing his best to keep her safe, although sometimes his reflexes proved to be of equal trouble as their opponent.
Another sharp turn...
The black dragon was forced into yet another manoeuvre, barely missing the attack from his undead brother. The wind was not helping when sometimes he had to go against it, nor the fact that he had not gotten any other orders on how to act.
His instincts were telling him to attack, but while his mother was on his back, he tried to fight them. Of course, that did not always work.
It was in those times that the Mother of Dragons actually thought how bad of an idea it was not to wear a saddle on her dragon. She could have strapped herself onto it, had a better handle, and not have to worry that one wrong turn could send her to her death.
As her hands almost grew numb from her deadly grip, an idea came into her mind.
"Drogon! Low!" she shouted above the noise caused by the howling winds.
The black beast heard her and started to fly lower, none truly aware of how close the undead Viserion was.
The winds seemed not to be that bad as they dropped in altitude, and despite the snow, Daenerys could see the fight beneath her. Since she saw no sign of Viserion, she chose to lead Drogon even lower.
"Dracarys!" she ordered the huge beast, a plan already in mind.
The black dragon opened his jaws and started to release a stream of fire, taking down undead ones and helping both the Dothraki and the rest of the Westerosi soldiers. Of course, she tried not to attack too close, for the armies had been mixed, and thus, she focused on the undead she could see outside of the fighting batch.
As Drogon flew above them and took big turns to remain close to the castle and the battles, his flames also changed direction and were now aimed at the undead trying to climb over every single wall of the castle.
She smirked in pride, seeing how much she could help, but her joy was cut short rather quickly.
Viserion appeared out of nowhere, striking Drogon by the side as his back claws pierced through the black scales.
The two animals let out roars, one of pain and the other of anger, as the bigger dragon tried to remain in the air but also fight back his undead brother, who was so eager to take him down.
The sudden attack made Daenerys almost slip, her heart aching at hearing her child shouting in pain, and she could even see the blood dripping from his flesh wounds. She was not sure what to do other than hold tightly and pray that Drogon would manage to free himself and fight back.
The Dragons were now in some sort of close combat, with Viserion trying to bite and claw Drogon, preventing him from attacking back... and he was being successful.
The Mother of Dragons turned her attention to the one responsible for everything, including the death of Viserion. She glared with hatred at the Night King, who was on top of her undead son, but the supernatural blue-skinned man did not once show any single expression on his face, nor did he have trouble staying stable on top of the fighting beast.
The animals fought not so far above their allies on the ground. The sight, if it could be visible, would be quite shocking, as claws and teeth were used in a rather brutal way. Their roars and sounds could be heard, however, and when the battle would be over, their blood would have mixed on the ground with the blood of the fallen soldiers.
"Hands off my niece!" a familiar voice was suddenly heard, and out of nowhere, Rhaegal attacked Viserion.
The Green Dragon spread his rear legs and delivered a few good wounds on the undead dragon, ripping away frozen rotting flesh before managing to dig the claws deep enough to draw a reaction from him.
His wings kept beating, keeping them in the air, and he wasted no time pulling his head back, avoiding a bite attack from Viserion.
Rhaegal seemed to be quicker and more focused on his attacks, a sign that Visenya had guided him correctly. The Dragon Whisperer was not sure how, but at that moment, she could feel her heart beating in sync with his.
They did not truly speak to one another, but their thoughts seemed to be connected somehow, with the Green Dragon giving full control over his actions, something rare for such a powerful beast.
Especially one that had never been truly ridden before, let alone in combat.
Visenya narrowed her eyes dangerously as her gaze met that of the Night King. None said anything, but the challenge was there.
In the end, it was the Dragoness who made the first move. She refused to let the dragons rip each other to shreds mid-air nor let Daenerys get seriously injured.
"Rhaegal, Drogon! Dracarys!" she shouted as loud as she could for the two beasts to hear her.
And they did.
The two siblings managed to angle their mouths, and bright orange flames mixed with black and green veins, respectively, started to form.
Viserion opened his jaws to release his neon blue ones, but it was not strong enough against the combined power of the other two.
The strong and powerful wave of fire formed almost a ball around them, the heat being felt by all of them in some sort of supernatural explosion.
Through this huge ball of fire that temporarily illuminated the sky, Rhaegal with Visenya were the first ones to fly through and start going higher and higher. Right behind them was Viserion, who had no rider.
The Night King had been somehow moved from both the attacks and the fire and, while unharmed, had been forced to eventually jump and land on the ground. He merely watched as the undead dragon did not obey him, primal instincts of survival kicking in by surpassing his control.
With more and more distance put between them, his attempts became futile, but that did not mean he did not have one last trick up his sleeve.
The last Dragon to fly through the flames was Drogon, who took an opposite route than his siblings. His wounds were fresh, aching, and bleeding, the animal not that willing to fly higher while his rider watched with worry in her violet eyes.
She did not order him nor try to push him, deciding it was wiser to stay lower and help the battle while Visenya kept Viserion away from the innocents and the control of the Night King.
Jaime & Brienne...
The undead seemed to have no ending, at least at first, but Jaime was certain their numbers were dropping. He knew that some had managed to reach the castle, but he had the utmost faith in the plan and the men left behind to handle and protect everyone else.
Suddenly, Daenerys with her dragon flew lower and started to help them. The Lion was not sure why, considering the plan, but he was not going to argue because it did help. It took down any undead they had yet to encounter and also those trying to climb on the walls.
"Duck!" Brienne shouted, and by instinct alone, he obeyed, only for her Valyrian sword to slice in half and destroy an undead that had tried to jump on his back.
"That was a close one," he commented as he refocused on the battle, deciding to let the dragon be.
Of course, a part of him did keep wondering, mostly thinking and worrying about his good-mother, who was up there, but there was no sign of her so far. Of course, with the blizzard raging on, he doubted anyone would be able to spot her even if she was flying right above them.
The sound of dragons roaring made many look up for a moment, only to see with difficulty that the undead animal had a good grip on Daenerys' black dragon. The roars, while animalistic, could easily be understood as those of pain, at least the ones coming from Drogon.
Daenerys tried her hardest to keep control of her dragon and somehow waited for him, hoping he would free himself when backup arrived. A third loud roar was all they heard before the Green Dragon slammed right into the undead one.
Now, all three of them were very close, huge claws being waved left and right while powerful jaws tried to snap bites out of each other.
Then, all three dragons opened fire at one another, creating this huge flaming ball in the air where the bright orange flames overpowered the neon blue ones. The light was so bright that it allowed many below them to see better for a moment and even avoid some undead skeletons that tried to sneak up on them.
A few seconds later, and Visenya with her dragon were the first to escape, followed by Viserion, while Daenerys flew in the opposite direction. Many, though, at least those who had been keeping an eye on the battle, took notice that the white dragon had no rider, and they knew that their biggest enemy and trouble was finally on the ground.
Now, all that was left was for someone to manage and take him down before he could reach Bran or the castle in general.
Little did they know that this was not going to be the case for them.
Not that far away from Jaime and Brienne, Ser Barristan was fighting the undead when the show of the dragon fight became visible. He could not help but often glance up at every little opening he had, not hiding his worry and fear that his Queen or his 'daughter' would eventually fall if this continued.
"Focus!" Lady Mormont shouted, taking down yet another undead creature.
The former knight nodded his head, his sword cutting down any enemy coming too close. Yet, he kept his eyes on the retreating form of the wounded Drogon, for Visenya had long flown up and out of his field of vision.
Loras & Trystan, Oberyn, Tywin & Kevan
The undead that were marching inside had doubled in numbers, the ground beneath our heroes slowly being covered by their dead and destroyed bodies, along with the corpses of fellow soldiers that had already perished.
Archers and anyone else that stood on higher ground fought valiantly against any undead that had climbed over the walls and tried to enter inside the castle or head for the Weirwood tree and Bran.
On the ground, Loras and Trystan kept fighting non-stop. Their arms were beginning to feel sore, their legs threatening to cramp, and more than once they had to look down in order not to trip on a corpse.
A sneaky attack took place when they least expected it, when among the undead skeletons, someone stood out. The creature was like them, frozen and skeletal, but different. His skin was a powerful blue, and he seemed different than the walking corpses around him.
The two boys knew who that was, for Jon had warned them. They were created from babies and were far more powerful, but also one of the undead army's weaknesses. If one of those creatures, those generals if one could call them that, could be killed, any other undead they created would perish.
The two young heirs looked at one another and nodded their heads before choosing to meet their new opponent in the middle.
"Cover us!" Trystan shouted to nearby soldiers as they charged, knowing too well that if they took that thing down, they could help the others.
Not that far away from them, Kevan and Tywin were in combat, occasionally helping Oberyn or being helped by him. None said anything, all three too prideful, but there were the quickest of looks between them from time to time.
Hearing Trystan shouting an order made Tywin look in his direction, only to see whom he and Loras had chosen to fight. Recognising why they did it, he gave a mental nod of pride for him and focused on his own opponents, ensuring that Kevan was not left uncovered.
Sansa, Arya & Tyrion...
Time was passing rather slowly for all of them, none able to tell what was going on above them with precision. Many had calmed down thanks to Sansa, but one would be a fool not to see their frightened looks or their innate need to flee either way.
The only one who was unaffected, but rather uneasy... was Arya.
"I should be out there. I can fight as well as the others," she argued, voicing out her thoughts while she walked up and down like a caged animal.
Ironically, that was how she felt, being trapped down there and unable to do anything but wait.
"Whatever training you had in Braavos does not make you a seasoned fighter. It is wiser to be down here, with us," Sansa said, keeping her voice normal, but she was slowly losing her patience with her sister, who apparently had not changed that much.
"You do not know that. I am fast and I can help them. At least I can be with Bran than stuck here."
Surprisingly, Tyrion joined their conversation, for he had been spying on them for a while but had chosen to just watch. Yet, with the tension between them growing, he decided to try his luck and maybe help his former 'wife,' who already had to deal with that much.
"I am sure you are, Lady Arya. Up there though, there are men and trained soldiers," he reminded her. "They are stronger and taller than you, for starters. However, they are currently dying, and you would join them rather quickly."
Arya did not seem to like his interruption or his opinion. This was between her and her sister, no lions had any place in it. His words made her scoff, for she knew how quickly she could take him down and he would never realize it.
"You don't know me or what I can do. And it's like you said, they are men." She stood in front of him, staring him down with hands behind her back. "I am no man."
I am no one, she thought in her mind.
Tyrion was surprised by her words and her tone, even by the way she was looking at him. This ruthless look, the tone she used... it reminded him too much of his father for a moment, and that actually made his stomach turn.
He gulped silently, looking up at her and, for a moment, a part of him warning him of danger. His mismatched eyes did not dare to look anywhere but her, afraid that she would launch at him before he could even blink.
"Arya," Sansa called her name in a more scolding tone, clearly worried that her sister might react badly.
All of a sudden, tremors were coming from the tunnels above them. A screeching sound that multiplied reached their ears, and panic started to spread between everyone else other than the trio.
The Dornish Guards exchanged looks in silence and got their spears ready. None in that tunnel truly knew what was going on, but all knew that was the sound of the undead skeletons.
And they were right...
The moment the Night King was forced to land, he took a good look around him. He could see his army failing, thousands being killed, and even two of his White Walkers perishing as well.
That did not phase him, though, for there was still something he could do. His soldiers might have been destroyed, but there were fresh recruits all around him.
He spread both his hands slowly and concentrated, somehow sensing every single fresh and not dead body existing. He remained where he was and simply watched as all those brave men, who perished during battle, started to rise once again.
Their skin was turning paler, and their eyes opened and showed the glowing bright blue irises to their opponents. Pieces of flesh and armour hung from their frozen bones, and hands started to lift their weapons.
The dead started to rise in the whole area, affecting not only the soldiers who fought outside the castle walls. Even those that had perished inside obeyed the call and got up, their numbers increasing and now proving to be a big challenge for our heroes.
Even the dead ones existing in the crypts below were not safe as skeleton hands and legs kicked and punched against stone tombs. The material was resistant, but the undead kept trying, loud screeches being heard all across the tunnels, working as a call for some of their brothers who were already out, to come find them.
Now, it was no longer random undead against living men.
Now, it was time to even the playing field.
Those who would remain standing would now have to face not only strangers but brothers, friends, comrades, and allies. Now, they would have to kill them again, and this time, the death shall come by their hand.
While the chaos took place and the odds were once again in favour of the Night King, he chose to march towards the direction of his prey.
He would deal with Visenya later, for he had not forgotten her.
With that marking on her cheek, he could still sense her, and he would eventually go for her. His priority, now, was the crippled boy that also bore his mark. His priority was the last person to truly have the ability to become 'The Three-Eyed Raven'... Bran Stark.