The Great War: A Game Of Thrones Story

“Fall back!” Jon yelled. “Forget them, capture the White Walker.”
Brienne sheathed her sword and took hold of the dragonglass lurcher that has been dangling on her back. She arranged the metal atop the wood the way Gendry had taught them. The White Walker was coming for her. Why Me?
The White Walker moved towards her still, advancing; leaving a trail of dead men in his wake. She hadn’t used the lurcher today… she loathes the sound it makes when fired; she couldn’t afford going deaf for any period of time in the middle of a battle.
Jon had earlier exhausted his on the wights. The way he used them, sometimes, she thought he enjoyed it. But the White Walker kept coming for her… and she fired.
She saw the moulded glass bore a hole in his chest. Then he stopped and slouched.
“It didn’t work.” She tried to yell above the clanging of swords and shouts of fighting men, “It doesn’t work on them.”
The White Walker raised his head like her shout woke him from reverie. He, again, suddenly started moving towards her. She also started moving backwards; too scared to take her eyes off him and not minding she might step on a corpse and fall. He broke into a slow run. Brienne turned the lurcher upside down, holding its mouth like she would the hilt of a sword.
“arrrrggghhh” She charged, then swung the butt of the lurcher down, hitting the White Walker on his right leg from the side with all her might: sweeping him off his feet. Brienne swiftly jerked her leg to kick him away before he reached the ground. She felt her leg sink into his leather mail as she kicked his chest and plunged him farther right.
The sun betrayed Long Claw’s presence. She caught a glimpse of Long Claw before it slashed the White Walker mid-air. Jon unmounted from his horse before the shattered bones settled on the frozen ground.
And more rumblings of bones followed like a wall crashing to the ground. The wights were all dead. Like they weren’t dead before, she thought. Brienne looked at what remained of the White Walker: everything was there but apart. All parts of him shattered into irreparable bones except his head, legs and one hand. His leather mail laid on the ground covering a few bones. It was as they walked out of  Wolfswood that Jon explained why the lurcher doesn’t harm the White Walkers. Gendry made the dragonglass impure so he could forge them into weapons.
It’s Winterfell. The whole army had retreated to White Harbour a week ago when they heard about the Wall. They are at Winterfell to transport the newly forged weapons and escort Lyanna Mormont’s army from Bear Island to White Harbour. They have been waiting for a day and half. The weapons are on their way to White Harbour, led by Gendry. Jon had insisted they wait another day for the Mormonts.
From Winterfell, they could see a few wights roaming in the snow like they have been cast out from the pack. Ser Jorah hammered that they are spies. Dany had said the large army of the dead were still at the bank of The Last River when she flew scout six days ago from White Harbour with Rhaegon. It took the combined voice of Jon and Jorah to force her to stay back at White Harbour because an army, no matter how small, needs a symbol of authority to keep them in line.
They had ambushed the ones they just battled with in the Wolfswood to clear path for Lady Mormont and her army. They lost five men and their bodies were carried back to Winterfell to be burnt.
They woke up the next morning to the blaring sound of the horn. Lyanna and her army can be seen from Winterfell. But separated by a small army of the dead –  snow-ridden wights.
Almost two hundred wights standing outside the gate of Winterfell. A small hill separates them from another army of wights twice that number standing still against Lyanna and her army. On the hill stood two White Walkers. Ser Jaime suggested that they  sneak out the back to White Harbour since they are just fifty men strong( fifty-one if you count Arya.)
“We cannot leave Lady Mormont behind,” Jon preached. “She’s sworn allegiance to me and she’s part of us. The only way to get them through is to kill the White Walkers. If just one.”
“How certain are you that those White Walkers raised them?” Brienne wanted to know.
“I know how they move. You’ve seen it. The White Walkers lead the ones they turn to unite under the Night King.” Jon responded.
Jaime asked, “Then why are the Mormonts not fighting the wights from their end?”
It was Ser Jorah who answered him. “The Mormonts are not proud people but they love their territory  They would rather return to Bear Island than lose men to the dead. They are safe from all these at Bear Island.”
After much haggling, Jon took off his cloak and asked his armour be brought to him.”I need six men. Six good fighters who can cut me through the wights outside Winterfell to the White Walkers.”
“Are you mad?”
“What?”
“No, you can’t go.”
“That’s a stupid thing to do.”
“You’re the King in the North.”
“I’m not going to let you do that.”
“It’s too risky.”
“Even if someone is gonna go, not you.”
All fifty men disagreed with Jon’s plan. Jorah vehemently chorused that if he “falls, the North divides.”
Jaime had a better suggestion this time. He cleared his throat. “I have been training some men on defence. I can pick out six men who can lead…” He hesitated and looked down.
“Lead you out?” It was Brienne.
“Me.” Arya blurted. “He meant to say me. They can get me to the White Walker to kill him… or both.”
They were out in an hour but not without shouting, spitting and cursing on which plan works best. All eight of them. Arya in the middle, two men in front, two to her left, two to her right. Jaime behind. All armed to the teeth with weapons made of dragonglass: grotesque swords and shields taller than Jon. She laughed at the thought of that… promising herself to tell Jon when she gets back to Winterfell. She could still smell him on her from the last embrace he squeezed into her before he opened the gate himself for Jaime and his six to lead her out.
The men’s shields kissed each other in the side. Arya in the middle, two men in front, two to her left, two to her right. Jaime behind. Not forming a perfect square because Jaime is positioned where two men should be. Although, he was broad enough to fill up the spot. Inside the formation felt like being kept in a wardrobe. Just that this wardrobe had no roof. And the men were inside the square, their shields facing outside. Protecting their body and hers.
The dead were on them as soon as they were outside. Advancing, Jaime and his six slashed and pierced and cut. She held tightly to  Needle and her Valyrian dagger in their sheaths as she moved with them; dragging her feet along the snow.
Then they stopped. The dead had halted their movements as they were too much on them. She could tell that they were halfway to the hill.
“Dragonblast!” Jaime commanded. Each man had two dragonblasts in their bags. Jaime asked the man to his right to hold down his(Jaime) shield with his left hand. The man to Jaime’s left told his partner same. The wights were desperately trying to climb over the dragonglass laced shields; making her small space tighter.
Jaime and the other man brought out one dragonblast each. Arya had seen the dragonblast work before. Gendry used the whole of two days explaining every new weapon to them.
Both men twisted the knob at Jaime’s count and threw them out. Arya thought they had thrown them too far.
Jaime and the other man returned to their shields and before she could finish spelling Winterfell in her heart, she heard the sound. Like a loud piercing scream. The dragonblast had exploded; hurling tiny pieces of sharpened dragonglasses to every part. She heard few of the glass colliding on their shields. Once the noise was out, she looked through a small gap between the shields to her left. She could see a lot of wights laying on the ground. Most lifeless. Few trying abortively to get up.
“Move, Move.” Jaime urged. They moved really fast, tightening the square. Arya almost fell as they climbed over wights going forward. When it appeared that Arya no longer needed protection as no wight was close enough, they broke the formation. Arya instantly felt goose pimples rising in all parts of her body. The cold made her miss the square formation. They started running towards the hill. They ran so fast she thought the White Walkers would run for their lives. She could see few wights staggering towards them. The wights kept increasing in numbers like the windy snow was giving birth to them – she wasn’t sure where they were coming from.
They were at the foot of the hill when Jaime shouted “Shield!” and they returned to formation, all panting in staggering unison.
They form the square the way they were, just that this time, the wights did not surround them.
The only thing between them and Winterfell are the wights –rapidly increasing in numbers. The only thing between them and the White Walkers on the hill is… nothing.
“Let me go… now.” Arya’s voice sounded muffled. The wights had stopped moving. Almost a hundred of them. Jaime gave the command and the formation was broken into a straight line against the wights: the tip of their shields buried into the snow and their jagged swords sticking out.
Jaime looked back at the White Walkers on top of the hill. He could now see a man — a wildling, he could tell — tied arms and legs lying on the snow-riddled hill. Half of his body covered with snow. He must have been there all night. Jaime thought. They didn’t see him from afar.
It was Tormund.
Tormund saw Jaime and his six let out a White Walker when they broke the formation. He watched the White Walker climb up the hill – weakened and struggling. “Really?” Tormund was disappointed. “You want to exchange him for me?” His shout could reach Jaime.
Jaime was confused. “Who are you?” he shouted back.
Tormund knew at once it was Jaime Lannister, the twin brother to the Queen. The only thing everyone in Westeros is good at is describing someone to perfection.
Tormund returned his gaze to the White Walker as he climb up to his captors.
His lead captor, standing on the edge with sword in right hand, had dropped his guard when he saw that it was a lookalike climbing up to him. Tormund could tell that he no longer feel threatened. The released White Walker he thought Jon had sent in exchange for him finally reached the top of the hill. He stood right of his lead captor, staring at his captor, while his captor still faced Winterfell, looking down at Jaime Lannister and the six men.
His other captor is far behind on the hill… beside the frail horse that dragged him along all through the night.
Suddenly loud thuds were heard; approaching gradually from either sides of Jaime and his six. Tormund’s heart sank. He knew at once what was going to happen next.
And they were there – the dusty breeze circling around them.
Jaime had never seen a giant before: not to speak of a wight-giant. One to their left. One to their right. Wights in front of them.
Jaime shouted, clearly frightened, “Arya, we have to get out of here.” Arya turned to look at him. The White Walker’s face(the one Brienne and Jon had killed the previous day) is starting to wear off.
“Bloody Hell,” Tormund gasped as he saw the released White Walker’s skin wear off slowly. It was a girl: he could see from where he laid.
Arya turned to look at Jaime when he called out. Tormund’s lead captor turned his head right to look at her.
Tormund expected the worst. He saw no expression on his captor’s face when he saw that it was half girl, half Walker standing beside him. Still facing Winterfell, his captor carried his right hand with the sword to the left in an attempt to swing back to cut off her head. But the hand never returned. Arya pushed her Valyrian dagger under his arm into his mail armour as gentle and quick as a cat. His sword fell to the left. Arya removed the steel and up… she stabbed him under his chin and before Tormund could blink, she pulled the steel up his head; shattering his skull and shortly all of him shattered to pieces to the ground. So did the wights to the left and to the right. All down to pieces of bones.
Tormund begged, “Cut me loose. Please.” His other captor was already on her: swinging his sword up to land on her. She rolled over the bones and picked up the fallen Walker’s sword to block the stroke. She removed her already sheathed Valyrian Steel and threw a stab at his belly. When she pulled it out, he knelt… not quite dead.
Seeing that all the wights separating them from Winterfell and those separating Lyanna’s army from them had fallen, she didn’t bother finishing him off.
Tormund pleaded again. She rushed to where he laid.
Tormund saw her… she was a girl to the left, a White Walker to the right; down to the skin of her face. She cut him loose. The giants are now running; closing on Jaime and the six men at the foot of the hill. One from the left, one from the right.
Both giants are hoping to crush Jaime and the six in the middle, it seemed. Jaime called for formation and they were back to how they protected Arya.
Arya ran down the hill, Tormund followed, but not closely. The giant to the left sees a girl, Arya. The blue one to the right sees a White Walker running down the hill. The blue one slowed down his run, not taking his eyes off the White Walker descending down the hill. Arya was closer to the blue one to the right. As she approaches the foot of the hill, she slides across. He almost stepped on her as she slides down the hill on her knees crossing the foot of the hill. He stopped… and as she slides across, she slashed his foot with her Valyrian dagger. Then jumps up to her feet without no much of a support.
They heard a crack. The giant to the left was already on Jaime and his six when Jaime shouted “Break!” And the seven dispersed.
Three to the left, four to the right. The giant went in between them. Not able to halt, he crashed into the other giant and they both fall to the ground. They all heard the loud crashing sound as the blue one give way into pieces when he hit the ground. The other giant swimming on top of his remains.
“Let’s go.” Jaime yelled. Tormund ran down, jumping over the giant’s legs. He joined them as they raced hard for Winterfell. The Mormonts have all started riding hard towards Winterfell too.
And suddenly, they all heard it. The living giant gave a loud roaring grunt and there was no play in it.

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