Updated Jon Snow

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***

Through the snow-covered fields, leaving the impenetrable forests far behind, the two men trudged stubbornly forward. The thick layer of frost, created by the incessant wind, kept the travellers up to their toes in the snow, but sometimes there was a treacherous crunch, and a man fell through the snow.

John stopped, his lungs burning and his muscles stiff. He needed to rest and warm up, and he needed to eat, too, for as cynical as it sounded, Benjen Stark didn't need food, or his already meagre supplies would have run out long ago. In fact, if the half-dead man hadn't let his horse be killed, the food would have run out even sooner.

- Tired? - Benjen asked, approaching his nephew.

- I need to rest,' Jon admitted the obvious.

Benjen Stark had not changed much during the journey, except that the dead skin on his face had faded more, revealing blackened flesh in places. Despite his mind, the man was still a dead man, and his body was still decaying, so when Jon looked at his uncle's face, he was afraid to imagine what lay beneath his clothes. The wandering King of the North himself was as overgrown as Tormund. His hair was so tangled under his hat that it was easier to shave than to untangle it, and his beard was no better.

- Stark wasted no time, and soon enough the travellers took shelter in a shelter dug in the snowdrift, as the former scout had plenty of experience in making them.

They soon built a small fire, boiled water, and threw in a couple of strips of meat. Unfortunately, the supply of dry wood was almost at an end, and the fire would probably be forgotten at the next rest.

- You'll have to leave me behind,' Benjen reopened the conversation John was trying to avoid. - Don't grimace, you know that. We can't get there on our own, but you'll get there faster on a dragon.

- If he's still alive,' John replied. - We don't even know if he made it to ours. What if he fell apart on the way south?

- But he said he was strong enough,' Stark said, surprised.

- I could say I'm an incarnation of the Old Gods, but no one would believe me,' Jon countered. - Dûrnevir said the chains of the Perfect Rulers slept off him, but he himself once confessed to me that he'd been in the Cairn of Souls too long and it had become part of him. Simply put, Durnevir can't stay in the material world for too long, he would weaken and die. Before, when I summoned him, his freedom was limited to minutes. Now it's a matter of hours, or even days.

Benjen hesitated, for it was a matter he knew nothing about, unlike his nephew. John himself mentally went back to the day he had summoned the dragon.

***

They left behind the land of the Tenns, where Benjen had decided to sacrifice his horse, allowing John to regain his strength and replenish his provisions, which were almost exhausted.

During their long journey, John told his uncle about everything that had happened to him over the years. Among other things, he told him for the first time who he was now, and he told him about Dovakin's life and his deeds without concealment or embellishment. He spoke of the bloody battles he had fought in which the rebellion of the Storm Brothers had been ruthlessly crushed. Benjen listened in wonder at the powerful beings who could be called gods and with whom his nephew had made all sorts of deals. About his love for a vampire in that life and a wildling in this one. John told a lot of things that amazed his uncle.

- So who are you now? - Benjen asked.

- Jon Snow,' his nephew answered. - And Dovakin, who was bored with being dead and decided to return to the world of the living. I have absorbed them, become them both. I clearly recognise myself as Jon, but Dovakin's life is also my life.

- If I were alive, I'd have a headache,' Stark admitted.

- Believe me, my head would split in half,' Jon grinned.

- So you could summon a dragon? - Benjen asked after a short silence.

- I could, just for a little while,' John nodded. - But it seems I've lost that ability. My attempt to summon Durnevir at the Battle of the Wall didn't work.

- It's a shame,' the scout sighed. - I would have liked to see a real dragon.

- I've seen more than enough of them,' John grinned. - Usually they came to eat me, either frying me or freezing me to death. But, of course, the sight of a Durnevir taking to the skies....

John suddenly froze in place, his pupils dilated with amazement as Benjen stared at his nephew in bewilderment. He looked as if he'd remembered something important, yet infinitely simple.

- Idiot,' John said, except when he wasn't smacking himself on the forehead. - Stupid idiot! Idiot! Not in the sky, but on the ground! Of course you are! I was yelling at the sky when I should have been looking at the ground!

Benjen Stark watched the young man as he cursed himself. But then the self-curse wore off, and John, glancing round the snowy plain, shouted:

- Dur! Neh! Viir!

Benjen's eyes widened in amazement as he saw a flame of unearthly colour, a flash of powerful horns and broad wings, and a loud roar. But what happened next finally shocked the scout, and if he were alive, he would have lost his peace of mind.

The dragon spoke.

- 'You have finally summoned me, Kwanarin,' said Durnevir in a powerful voice. - I have long waited for this moment and believed that not even death could stop you.

- Did you recognise me, Dov? - Jon wondered, stepping boldly closer.

- Your Tu'um is unmistakable,' the dragon replied. - I've heard echoes of it before, but today I heard it loud and clear. You called me, and I am here.

***

That day Benjen was without his cloak, which he had to give to Durnevir as a kind of message. Jon had no idea if the dragon would reach the Northmen, nor did he know if Sansa and Bran were still alive, but he figured they needed some sign. He wasn't even sure what the drow had said about the dragon having the strength to fly to the men and help them. He could only believe it.

Could it be that here in Westeros, the chains that bound the dragon to the Cairn of Souls had loosened, giving the dragon more freedom? Who knows what the truth really is, at least Jon himself could only guess.

Now the King of the North was faced with another problem - he would not be able to get to the altar of the White Walkers, because he did not even know where it was. And now he would have to finally solve the question that Benjen Stark had raised a few days ago. In the scout's opinion, Jon should have summoned the dragon and left the half-dead man to rot and fled alone. If that plan failed, any hope of reaching the altar would be lost.

- I'm already dead,' Benjen urged his nephew. - If you succeed, I'll probably turn to dust. If you fail, the living will envy my fate.

- But you're suggesting that we leave you alone,' John objected. Or rather, the part of him that Snow left him. A more cynical Dovakin would have listened to Stark and left him alone long ago. Simply because he agreed with him.

- I've been alone for a long time,' the former scout replied simply.

John frowned unhappily. As much as he hated to admit it, Benjen was right, and the more sensible part of Jon was saying that this was the best option for them. By staying with Stark, Jon risked sharing his fate, but if successful, the tormented man would finally find peace. A cynical part of him whispered that he should act now, while he still had the strength. Almost certainly a hard fight lay ahead of him, and procrastination could rob him of the strength he would need in the future.

He could not delay any longer. He had to act and hope that the dragon would have the strength to do so. Having made his decision, John climbed out and shouted:

- Dur! Neh! Viir!

***

The hurricane came again from the north, even more powerful than the last time, blowing snow on wings of icy winds that had covered the Riverlands in a matter of days. The hurricane swept mercilessly across the Expanse before hitting King's Harbour and moving on to the Stormlands. And with it came news of the crowds of refugees that had come from the north, hoping to escape the terrible scourge that had struck their lands.

The dead.

It was as if an invisible dam had collapsed, and now news came from everywhere of a ruthless, relentless army that left no survivors behind and grew in numbers with each new day. The people fled in panic, unable to stop the nightmarish invasion that seemed to come from the worst dreams. A wave of terror swept across the North, and it had already begun to flood the lands south of the Isthmus.

Wycht armies were spotted in the Riverlands, and Daenerys Targaryen had no choice but to send troops, for not even a fortnight after the storm, the dead men were already known throughout Westeros.

- Has Lord Tyrion sent word? - The queen asked, while her advisers averted their eyes. All of them had once laughed at the dwarf's words and were even glad he was in disgrace.

- Not yet, Your Grace,' Varys replied. - It may well be that he has not even received your letter.

- Damn it,' Daenerys hissed, cursing herself in her heart. By not believing Lannister, she had let the situation get completely out of hand. Moreover, word spread like wildfire among the people of Westeros that the Northerners had warned the queen of the White Walkers and, in exchange for help, had even agreed to swear allegiance to her, but their words and pleas had gone unheard.

There was also talk of the true King of Westeros, the legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen, whom the Northmen continued to regard as their last hope for salvation. Rumours abounded about him, he was attributed incredible powers and was even said to have sent a real dragon to help his people, far more powerful and mighty than all of Daenerys' dragons put together. And the people had already begun to murmur against the queen, their thoughts turning towards the complete stranger whom the northerners believed to be their true King.

The Nords, as they had recently come to call themselves, had no hope for help from the Southerners.

- What do the Starks say? - Margaery asked. - Is their offer still on the table?

- Not anymore, I'm afraid,' the eunuch shook his head. - I wrote a letter to Sansa Stark, on the Queen's behalf, of course, and a reply came recently. She writes that the only reason we can unite now is to die together. Lady Stark believes our armies can only slow the White Walkers, not defeat them. She places her hopes only in the King of the North.

- And not just the North, apparently,' Theon Greyjoy said faintly, but he was heard.

- How much truth is there in these rumours? - Olenna Tyrell asked. - Lord Tyrion spoke of it, and now everyone does.

- I am sure the rumours are true,' Varys replied, and Daenerys noticed the Queen of Spikes' eyes twinkle strangely. - I've long suspected that Lyanna Stark had a child, but I must admit, Eddard Stark very elegantly deceived everyone by passing the baby off as his bastard. Smart move.

- But then he's the rightful king,' Lady Margaery said. - Prince Rhaegar was the queen's older brother, so his children have a greater claim to the throne.

- Only if Jon Stark is alive,' her grandmother hastened to intervene, noticing Daenerys' displeased look. - As far as we know from the rumours we've heard, he died in the Battle of the Wall and has not been seen since.

- Besides, we have a much bigger problem to deal with now, so I suggest we postpone the question of succession until better times,' Daenerys said. - That is, if we live to see it. Now we must decide what to do against the army of the dead that is coming from the north.

- Our sources tell us that only fire and dragonglass are effective against the dead,' Theon said as his sister continued. - Any other weapon is useless against them, and we can't supply our troops with anything else.

- But we could use dragons,' Varys suggested.

- But only against the Wychs,' Tyrion Lanister's voice rang through the vaults of the Small Hall. - The White Walkers have no fear of him, while they can kill a dragon and make it part of their army. Bran Stark warned me of that. That said, as long as the Walkers are alive, the invasion will continue. They are the linchpin of the invasion.

Those present jumped up from their seats as they looked at the dwarf entering, Jaime Lannister towering behind him. No one knew when the Imp had arrived in the capital, except Lord Varys, who didn't look particularly surprised. Since his absence, Tyrion had shaved off his beard and trimmed his hair, making the scar on his face more visible.

Jaime was dressed in Guards armour, and from his sheath he could see the hilt of a plain sword with a lion's head at the top. He had disposed of the Widow's Wail, which the Kingslayer had used to cut Cersei's life short, the same day Daenerys Targaryen had entered the capital. Where the sword was now, Jaime didn't know.

- Lord Tyrion,' Varys was the first to come to his senses. - We are glad to see you.

- You, perhaps,' the Imp shrugged. - The rest of us, not so much. But back to business. The dragons are undoubtedly powerful weapons, but if the White Walkers manage to kill them, they will be even more powerful.

- What do you suggest? - Daenerys asked.

- Honestly, nothing,' Tyrion replied. - The moment is gone, we've been caught with our trousers down. We have no weapons to defeat the Night King. We have a weapon, but we have very little chance of using it. In case you haven't heard, I'm talking about Valyrian steel weapons. It's as effective as dragon glass, but it's unlikely anyone can get close to the Walkers with it.

- Are you saying we're doomed? - Lady Olenna asked.

- My brother is saying that if you hadn't been so caught up in the power struggle,' Jaime said, 'we might have had a chance to prepare for the invasion. The Night's Watch has asked for help before, but no one answered. You've been busy.

Many of those present boiled with anger, but Tyrion was ahead of them:

- To be honest, when the letters from Castle Black came, I didn't believe it either, which I regret terribly now. But the fact remains that in our power struggles we overlooked a far worse threat, and now we are reaping the rewards.

- They are nothing more than words,' Daenerys said. - Do you have anything to offer?

- Ironically, our only chance now is to hold out as long as we can,' Tyrion replied. - We must supply our troops with all the dragonglass we can get. We'll need all the wildfire we can find in the capital. Dragons can only be used with great care and necessity. But in all this, we can only hold on, nothing more.

- That's it?! - Yara Greyjoy exclaimed.

- That's it,' the Imp nodded. - 'I have received word from Sansa Stark, and my ex-wife swears that Jon Stark is still alive. He's up to something, probably found a way to end the Walkers once and for all. Our job is to save as many people as we can, perhaps even sacrificing our own lives. I don't know if we can win, and we may never know, but there are no other options.

***

Far to the north a dragon soared into the sky with a small figure wrapped in skins on its back. Benjen Stark, who remained on the ground, could only stare at his nephew as he flew away on the back of Dürnevir and hope that he would succeed.

After all, there was no other chance.