The expedition had gone wrong.

"I don't have enough room for all of them on Viserion," said Saera, stressed, as she dressed and gathered her weapons. "The fastest way out is on dragonback but Jorah and I barely fit on the way here. How many of them are left? How many men do I need to carry out?"

Bran hummed, eyes going completely white for a moment. "Six," he replied. "Stuck on a small island and surrounded by the army."

"I need a large basket," said Saera, tying up her hair. "Or some sort of net that they can climb into quickly so I can fly them out. Bloody fucking hell now is the time I wish I had the other dragons!"

"We may have a net large enough to hold them," said Ser Davos from behind her. "They'll be packed tight but it's the fastest way to get them all out of there."

"Bring it to me," said Saera. "I will attach it to either side of the saddle and hope Viserion can hold them just long enough to get to the Wall."

"He's a mighty beast," said Ser Davos. "Surely–?"

"He's not as large as Drogon," murmured Saera. "I've never tested how much he can carry. I'll have to hope he's strong enough. Fuck. Fuck."

Viserion was not pleased to have dozens of Northmen surrounding him and trying to fasten the net. Saera had climbed onto the saddle, accepting the ends of each rope and securing them to either side, two long ropes letting the net dangle far enough down that it wasn't in Viserion's way and kept them from actually having to land on the icy island; Viserion's weight might break the ice.

"Sōves!" called Saera once the net was secured. (T: Fly.) Viserion kicked off the ground, the net dangling below his belly as they flew northwest, past Bear Island and into the frostfangs.

They flew low enough that they might manage to see a gigantic horde of corpses lingering around. At first the winds were too thick with snow, making it near impossible to see what lay below them. Then, a large mass came up ahead. As they neared, it became evident the mass was made up of small dots, bodies surrounding a circle where six even smaller dots remained.

"Drakarys," said Saera, pointing Viserion to the Army of the Dead, now converging on the island.

The fire blew out, incinerating the wights nearest the island as they circled, fire bursting out continuously until the net finally brushed against the ground. "Umbās," she commanded. "Kelīs." (T: Wait. Halt.) She yelled at the men below. "Into the net, quickly!"

They didn't waste any time. Jon guarded them as Viserion continued to blow fire at the wights. One by one their bodies filled the net until at last, Jon leapt in. Saera guided Viserion up and away, speeding back the way they came, their captured wight snarling as it felt itself being taken away from the others.

She was startled suddenly as an icy spear sailed past her head; a second earlier and it would have impaled both her and Viserion.

"It's the Night King!" yelled Jon from below. "Do not follow a straight path!"

Anxious, she guided Viserion in a zig-zagging pattern, as fast as he could with the extra load beneath them. Finally the snow became too thick, and no other spears came for them. Saera's heart felt like it might burst out of her chest.

I almost lost him, I almost lost my own life.

How she wished she and Daenerys could be here together.

Viserion seemed to be doing alright despite the weight of six men and Saera. She had him fly their group all the way back to Winterfell, where he hovered long enough for them to scramble out, then landed and roared, turning his head back to look at Saera.

"Iksan sȳz," she soothed, caressing his head. "Iksi sȳz. Īlin daor ōdrikagon." (T: I'm fine. We're fine. We weren't hurt.)

Only when he'd proved this for himself did he lean his shoulder down to let her slide off.

"What the hell happened?" she asked once Viserion had flown away to find something to eat; lately there were goats 'lingering' around, gifts from curious Northerners who wanted to see him blow fire. The Hound and Tormund had dragged the wight away for imprisonment.

"They found us," said Jon grimly. "We were attacked first by a... a wight bear. It took out most of our men. Then we were fleeing the army– we sent Gendry to call for help. My Uncle Benjen... I didn't even know he was still alive... he helped us find the island and it's because of him we stayed alive long enough for you to arrive."

"I'm so sorry," said Saera quietly. "Benjen was a good man. I heard he was a loyal brother of the Night's Watch for many years."

Jon nodded. "And now his watch has ended."

The spirits were low in Winterfell the rest of the day. Saera tried to brainstorm ways to make Viserion some sort of protective armor of his own; that spear had come too close for comfort. It would probably be way too heavy, but she wanted to try, at least something to protect his chest, belly, head, and neck.

"You're calling the armistice?" asked Jorah, entering her chambers that night once everyone else had gone to sleep.

"I have to," said Saera nervously. "The Three-Eyed Raven says the army is already too close. If we take King's Landing first, we risk the men being too far away when the time comes. Here, read this..."

He peered over her shoulder, reciting, "To the lords and ladies of Westeros, Saera of House Targaryen, The Slayer, The Sand Dragon, The Red Serpent, and your future Queen, calls you to the Dragonpit under an armistice to discuss the critical matter of the Great War with the Army of the Dead. Proof has been acquired of this threat and we must stand together to face it. No harm shall be inflicted on any side. Only talk of this threat will be allowed and nothing more. The presence of each head of the Great Houses is expected barring extreme circumstances, along with monarchs Euron Greyjoy - King of the Iron Islands, Jon Snow the King in the North, Queen Cersei Lannister, and Queen Saera Targaryen. This meeting will take place as soon as the last member arrives." He nodded. "Good, but why the Dragonpit?"

"I want to bring the wight to Cersei," said Saera. "I want that ugly corpse to invade what she perceives to be her home. I want her to sit there over the lands she believes she commands and feel filthy after she's seen that wretched thing. And on top of that, the Dragonpit isn't used. We won't be disrupting anyone."

She folded up the letter, along with several other identical copies. "I anticipate the following to be in attendance: Jon Snow, Euron Greyjoy, Edmure Tully, Robin Arryn, Cersei, and our council– myself, you, Varys, Black Fist, Kavarro, Jhiqui. Ellaria should not go, seeing as she killed Cersei's daughter. And Lady Olenna will probably refuse to attend. That's fine; they are our closest allies and we already know we have their support. It's the others we need to speak to, particularly the Riverlands and Vale to ensure they did not only mean to help us for the taking of their lands and Casterly Rock."

"Are you sure this will be safe?" asked Jorah. "You cannot trust Cersei."

"I don't," said Saera. "But I don't think we have a choice. We will bring our army with us... the men in the Reach and Dorne will tighten their formation around King's Landing. We won't be left undefended. Our armies will have the land, our ships and Euron's the sea. The same will happen when we do lay siege... Cersei will not be left anywhere to run. I have had Varys consulting with men and women who worked for years in the Red Keep, gathering information about all the possible tunnels and where they lead. I know a few myself, but there's only so much I can remember and I have no way of knowing if they've changed. We'll trap them if they try to escape."

She pushed the letters away, seating herself on the table and beckoning him closer. He approached slowly, smiling as she cupped his face and kissed him. "That is the last time I let you go anywhere without me," said Saera, caressing his head. "I don't intend to live without you."

"It won't happen again," he promised. "I swear it."

"Good." She hugged him tight. "Stay for awhile. I want to hold you."

She didn't need to ask him twice.

-

As soon as the ravens had been sent out, they started their journey. Sansa would stay behind watching over Winterfell, and had chosen to send a warrior named Brienne of Tarth with her squire Podrick Payne in her place. A ship sailed from Deepwood Motte, carrying Saera, Jorah, The Hound, and Ser Davos. They would stop at Feastfires to pick up Black Fist, Kavarro, Edmure Tully, and Robin Arryn, at which point they'd hopefully be followed or following Euron and his ships. They'd fetch Varys, Jhiqui, and whoever Lady Olenna and Ellaria chose as their substitutes in Sunspear, then continue the rest of the way.

Saera didn't trust Viserion to be safe as they neared King's Landing. She'd been given a letter at Sunspear, sent by Cersei, agreeing to the meeting. If she knew her at all, she was probably up to something; as expected. At Sharp Point, she mounted the dragon, and would wait for the others to arrive at the Dragonpit before she made her way there, giving herself a chance to check the formation of their armies around the city.

She planned to make quite the entrance.

As soon as she saw a final small group entering the Dragonpit, she descended, the attendees below pointing up as Viserion roared, making their presence known. As they flew lower, Saera could see Cersei, her golden hair very short, and a silver crown resting over her head. She was surrounded by guards, while Saera had brought only her friends and council members as protection. Cersei certainly seemed to expect something to happen.

Viserion landed across from the platform where red and gold tents had been pitched to shield them from the sun, arranged in the shape of a 'U' to allow them all to see one another yet still leaving room for their proof to be presented. Saera dismounted, having chosen to wear her armor so her weapons would be on full display. Jhiqui had done her hair with four braids– one for the Battle of Yunkai, one for the fighting pit in Meereen, one for Casterly Rock, and one for the Riverlands.

"Saera of House Targaryen," called Ser Jorah, a pleasant surprise. "Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. The Slayer. The Sand Dragon. The Red Serpent. The Dragon Raised by Snakes. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

She smiled, nodding her head. "Thank you, Ser Jorah." She marched right up to Cersei, who leaned back in her chair.

"You've aged well, old friend," said Saera, offering her hand. Cersei skeptically took it, watching as Saerea kissed the back of it as a sign of respect. "Don't worry..." she noticed how quickly the woman drew it away. "I don't poison people. My condolences, for the loss of your children. No mother deserves that pain, and children do not deserve such wretched fates. I played no part in it. I have heard stories of how sweet Myrcella and Tommen were."

"Thank you," said Cersei tightly, likely not believing she meant it. She could see Viserion directly behind Saera, glaring into her soul, warning everyone present not to make a single move to harm her.

Saera walked away after a brief nod to Jamie (and completely ignoring the Mountain, horribly disfigured after his fight with Oberyn), taking her place beside Euron, who smirked proudly at everyone who stared for even a second too long at the two of them. She nodded at the Hound, who went to fetch the wight they'd shoved into a wooden box; it was the only way to keep it quiet.

"Thank you all for coming today," said Saera. "I know the journey was long for most of us and I am sure Queen Cersei is a very busy woman. We are on opposite sides of this war. Everyone here likely desires to kill another member of this group. But today we meet on peaceful terms because there is something larger than us and than our war. A Great War. A war against the dead." She beckoned Jon forward.

"We are here to talk about living," said Jon, standing up. "The same thing is coming for all of us. A general you can't negotiate with, an army that doesn't leave corpses behind on the battlefield. I was told upon arrival that a million people live in this city. They're about to become a million more soldiers in the Army of the Dead."

"I imagine for most of them, it would be an improvement," said Cersei.

Jon frowned. "This is serious. We wouldn't be here if it weren't."

"I don't think it's serious at all, I think it's another bad joke. If I've been informed correctly, you're asking for a truce."

"Yes," said Saera.

"You wish for me to pull back my armies and stand down while you go on your monster hunt? You used to be afraid of lizards and flies yet now you ride a dragon and seek out the dead. And yet I'm expected to accommodate this, do nothing while you solidify and expand your position. Hard for me to know which it is with my armies pulled back until you return and march on my capital with four times the men."

"We won't be marching anywhere near here until the Army of the Dead has been defeated," said Saera. "I promise you this as someone who was once your friend–"

"And what does that promise mean, coming from a would-be usurper?"

Saera smiled thinly. "Perhaps you'll change your mind when you see our proof." She gestured to The Hound, who was walking up with the large crate strapped to his back. Jon was ready with dragonglass and an unlit torch.

The Hound dropped the crate, popping it open. At first, the wight did nothing. Made no sound, refused to emerge. He kicked the crate as hard as he could, the wight toppling out and screeching as it stood, beginning to sprint right toward Queen Cersei. It was held back from grabbing her by chains that The Hound pulled back.

The wight turned his attention to him, charging blindly. With one swipe of his sword, The Hound cut it in half. The body remained alive, starting to piece itself back together. The maester beside Cersei stood curiously, watching as the upper body crawled to retrieve its legs. The Hound struck down again, cutting off its hand to slow it down.

Cersei was white-faced and rigid as the maester took the hand, observing how the fingers still wiggled. He handed it to Jon, who offered a torch to be lit by Ser Davos. "We can destroy them by burning them." He lit the hand on fire, stopping its movement. The wight screeched loudly, thrashing around in pain.

He dropped the torch. "And we can destroy them with dragonglass." He held up the blade fashioned for him. "If we don't win this fight, then that is the fate of every person in the world." He ripped the wight up, stabbing the blade into its chest. Immediately, the horrible screeching came to an end.

"There is only one war that matters," said Jon. "The Great War. And it is here."

Cersei was looking around nervously, perhaps hoping this was all a trick. "I didn't wish to believe it when the King in the North first told me about it," said Saera. "But it would be foolish to deny this great threat, seeing what we did today. All of us have a role to play in this. Only we, united, can defeat them. Every fighting man and woman in Westeros, given their weapon of choice forged with dragonglass. Flaming arrows and barrels as well as my dragon combined with this... it may be our only chance of surviving. It won't matter who sits the Iron Throne if we turn into this."

"How many?" asked Jamie Lannister quietly, not having stopped staring at the dead wight.

"A hundred thousand, at least," said Saera.

Euron stood, and went to examine the corpse. "Can they swim?"

"No," said Jon.

"Good," said Euron. "I'm taking the Iron Fleet back to the Iron Islands."

Saera sat up. "Excuse me?"

"I've been around the world, I've seen everything, things no one here could even imagine, but this... this is the only thing I've ever seen that terrifies me."

She side-eyed Jorah, who tensed, hand tight on the hilt of his sword. "Then we make a request," said Saera. "That you take with you as many small children as you can, to keep them safe where the Army of the Dead cannot reach them. If we win the Great War, they can return to their families and not have ever been at risk. And if we lose... the next generation will survive. Do this, keep them safe, and we will be forever in your debt."

He nodded slowly, as if remembering now that he stood to gain a significant amount from the intended marriage if Saera survived. He was abandoning her when she needed him most and if she died, he'd have nothing.

"He's right to be afraid," said Cersei quietly once Euron marched off. "And a coward to run. If those things come for us, there will be no kingdoms to rule. Everything we suffered will have been for nothing. Everything we lost will have been for nothing." She looked Saera in the eyes. "The Crown accepts your truce. Until the dead are defeated, they are the true enemy."

Saera was about to thank her, even offering her Casterly Rock to keep her motivated, to show that she was merciful; she could deal with Lady Olenna and come up with a game plan later on to deal with this bluff.

But then Cersei added, "In return the King in the North will extend this truce. He will remain in the North where he belongs. He will not take up arms against the Lannisters. He will not choose sides."

"Just him?" asked Saera carefully. Cersei seemed so certain that without the Northmen, they wouldn't defeat her. It was an interesting ask, considering Saera was the one who wanted to take her throne. "What about me?"

"I would never ask it of you," jeered Cersei. "You would never agree to it. And if you did, I would trust you even less than I do now. I ask it only of Ned Stark's son. I know Ned Stark's son will be true to his word."

An interesting thing to ask, considering her son unnecessarily decapitated Ned Stark.

Jon looked around, confused. Saera nodded to him, wanting him to know he was free to choose whatever he wanted. They still had the Vale, the Riverlands, the Reach, and Dorne who would crush Cersei's army; it didn't seem the Golden Company was here yet but when they did arrive, Saera was sure she and Viserion could take all of them.

It would not be easy without the North, but it would still be possible. They would still win. It was better to give Cersei what she wanted now, have her provide men for the fight, and ensure she wouldn't capture the South while they were in the North.

"I am true to my word," said Jon. "Or I try to be. That is why I cannot give you what you ask."

Both Saera and Cersei sat up, surprised. "I cannot serve two queens," continued Jon. "And I have already pledged myself to Queen Saera of House Targaryen."

Fuck.

"Then there is nothing left to discuss," said Cersei angrily, getting to her feet. "The dead will come north first; enjoy dealing with them. We will deal with whatever is left of you."

"And what, pray tell, will you do if we lose?" snapped Saera. The Mountain immediately moved to shield Cersei, but Saera still shouted, "What do you have that will get rid of them? You don't have dragonglass; we do. You don't have a dragon; I do. And I hardly think your solution will be to join forces with my sister; she will burn you alive where you stand without a second thought. You have nothing against them and yet you think you can win? Your selfishness will be the end of you and all your people, Cersei. You will be the reason you all end up dead."

She began to walk away, her guards closed tight around her. Lady Brienne followed after Ser Jamie, intending to have a conversation with him; perhaps she thought he could convince Cersei to change her mind.

Saera turned to Jon. "I appreciate your loyalty, but if there was ever a time to bluff..."

"I know," he said tightly. "But I'm not going to swear an oath I can't uphold. Talk about my father if you want, tell me that's the attitude that got him killed. But when enough people make false promises, words stop meaning anything. Then there are no more answers, only better and better lies. And lies won't help us in this fight."

They left not knowing if Cersei would or wouldn't swarm the South the moment they were gone. It no longer mattered; there wasn't time to worry about that.

Once Saera had sent ravens offering the Iron Islands as a safe place for all the children of Westeros, she arranged for their armies to begin marching North, as fast as they could. They couldn't afford to leave men behind in the South this time. They had only to hope that Cersei would sit and wait until she knew their fates.

All the fighting men of Westeros save for those in the Iron Islands, Stormlands, and Crownlands were on their side. Wildlings, Northerners, and Southerners alike. Even those in the Westerlands who had seen Saera's mercy chose to fight when they realized how imminent the threat was. They wouldn't answer Cersei's summons to the capital. They would fight with Saera. For their children to still have this land, for their homes to be preserved instead of overtaken by the dead.

It filled her with pride but also with great sadness.

She had no idea what Daenerys was currently doing, but she imagined her anger was bubbling up, slowly and steadily. She'd come for them, either before they took King's Landing or after. Saera was sure their whole country would erupt into chaos whether they won or lost the Great War.

And there was no way to be truly ready.