Chapter 186 — Shut Out Beyond the Walls
With the deployment settled, Daenerys mounted Drogon and set off at once for the North, accompanied by all three dragons.
---
At Winterfell, Jon Snow had already arrived the day before with the remnants of his forces.
But he was stopped outside the gates.
The man holding Winterfell—Ramsay Bolton—refused him entry.
His excuse was simple:
He had received no orders from King's Landing to admit the Night's Watch alliance.
Standing before the castle he had grown up in, now occupied by another, Jon felt the urge to storm the gates and take it back by force.
But he couldn't.
Not now.
Far to the north, the army of the dead was advancing—slowly, relentlessly—closing the distance with every passing hour.
Responsibility outweighed emotion.
---
Ramsay's scouts had already confirmed the truth:
The Wall had fallen.
The dead were marching south.
He didn't doubt Jon's warning.
But surrender Winterfell?
Not a chance.
Not after everything he had done to claim it.
And with King's Landing's stance still uncertain, Ramsay had no intention of opening the gates without explicit command.
So Jon and his forces remained outside.
Waiting.
Watching.
Hoping.
The Night's Watch had sent countless pleas for aid in the past.
Only Stannis Baratheon had answered.
No one else.
Now that the Wall had fallen and the dead marched freely, Jon didn't know whether the great houses would finally believe the truth.
If they still refused…
Then everyone here—Northmen, Night's Watch, wildlings—
would die.
And rise again.
When the army of the dead crossed the Neck, their numbers might swell beyond three hundred thousand.
At that point, no army in Westeros could stop the coming winter.
Only now did Jon truly understand House Stark's words:
"Winter is coming."
Where the Night King marched—
winter followed.
---
Even south of the Wall, the temperature had begun to drop sharply.
The cold wasn't natural.
It was being carried forward.
Jon couldn't help but feel a chill at the thought—
The Night King wasn't just leading an army.
He was changing the world itself.
"I think I just saw a raven fly into Winterfell!"
A soldier's shout broke Jon's thoughts.
"I saw it too—it was definitely a raven!"
Jon narrowed his eyes and looked up, but saw nothing.
This wasn't the first time.
Ravens had been spotted entering the castle repeatedly.
Yet the gates remained shut.
Even so, soldiers kept watching.
Waiting.
Not necessarily for the gates to open—
but for news.
From Dragonstone.
From King's Landing.
Would they send help?
Or abandon them like before?
An hour passed.
Still no movement.
Hope began to curdle into despair.
Some soldiers even started thinking the same dangerous thought Jon had earlier—
If the gates won't open…
Then break them.
Jon glanced around at the uneasy alliance—Night's Watch, Northmen, wildlings.
Their emotions were fraying.
He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep them in check.
Soon…
They might not listen at all.
"Look! What's that?!"
A sudden shout rippled through the camp.
Everyone turned.
In the sky—
three dark shapes were growing larger.
"Dragons! It's dragons! The Queen of Dragonstone is here!"
The realization spread like wildfire.
Jon stepped forward, his heart lifting.
If the Mother of Dragons had come—
if her dragons were here—
Then even without King's Landing's support…
There was still hope.
From above, Drogon and Daenerys took in the scene.
Winterfell still stood.
The army remained intact.
They had not come too late.
Spotting Jon below, Drogon descended without hesitation, landing in the open ground before him.
The sheer size of the dragon stunned the army.
Whether Night's Watch or wildlings—
almost none had ever seen a real dragon before.
And now—
one stood before them like a living mountain of flame and shadow.
Though they couldn't understand why the other two dragons were so much smaller than the black one, it didn't shake their confidence in the trio in the slightest.
With three dragons now on their side, they simply couldn't believe the Night King could survive beneath dragonfire and tearing claws.
After stepping down from Drogon's back, Daenerys Targaryen looked at Jon Snow and the people beside him, frowning slightly.
"Why are you all out here? Why haven't you entered Winterfell?"
The question made Jon, already a little embarrassed, feel even more awkward.
He glanced toward Winterfell and replied, "Ramsay says he hasn't received any orders from King's Landing. He won't let us in."
Hearing that, Daenerys's expression darkened with anger. She was already displeased with Cersei Lannister for agreeing to send only half her forces—and even demanding Jaime Lannister's release.
Now it seemed that even her subordinate at Winterfell was obstructing the fight against the dead.
It had been nearly ten hours since the agreement was signed. A raven should have reached Winterfell long ago.
If the gates were still closed, there were only two possibilities—either King's Landing had deliberately delayed sending the message, or Winterfell had received the order and refused to comply.
Neither was acceptable.
"You wait here," Daenerys said to Jon.
Then she turned, climbed back onto Drogon's back, and had him carry her straight toward Winterfell.
Inside the castle, Ramsay Bolton had already been informed of the dragons' arrival.
An hour earlier, Jon's men hadn't been mistaken—a raven had indeed flown into Winterfell.
It carried news of the truce between Dragonstone and King's Landing, along with explicit orders to open the gates and admit the Night's Watch and the incoming allied forces.
Ramsay hadn't expected King's Landing to actually send troops north. He had originally planned to abandon the castle once he confirmed the size of the army of the dead.
But now, the situation had changed too quickly.
He knew that once the gates opened, Winterfell would no longer be his—and worse, he and his men would be dragged into a war against the resurrected dead.
He wasn't afraid of fighting living enemies.
But the Night King's army… that was something else entirely.
He had been hesitating, trying to think of a way to avoid facing them, when his men reported that three dragons had arrived outside the castle.
At that moment, his heart sank.
He had heard of the Dragon Queen from Slaver's Bay—but he hadn't expected her to reach Winterfell so quickly.
Standing atop the walls, he watched as Daenerys spoke briefly with Jon before mounting her dragon and flying directly toward him.
A bitter taste rose in his mouth.
The dead were terrifying enough.
Dragons… were no better.
As the massive shadow loomed closer, even someone as bold as Ramsay nearly took a step back.
Drogon landed.
Daenerys stepped down and walked straight up to him, her gaze sharp.
"You are Ramsay?"
"Your Grace… yes," Ramsay replied, lowering his head slightly with an obedient tone.
[What a performance.]
Watching Ramsay's composed, respectful act, Drogon couldn't help but scoff inwardly.
He knew exactly what kind of twisted, monstrous mind hid beneath that pale, handsome face.
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