Chapter 192 – The Battle Begins
The commanders from Dragonstone knew better than anyone just how terrifying Drogon's speed and defense had become.
They had believed there was nothing left in the world capable of truly threatening him.
None of them had imagined the Night King could wound him so easily.
"Drogon is confident he can kill the Night King," Daenerys Targaryen said firmly. "You don't need to worry about that. Focus on dealing with the wights and White Walkers."
Drogon wasn't only the soldiers' source of confidence.
He was hers as well.
And the confidence of every commander in the room.
Daenerys felt it was necessary to repeat his words aloud. If even the generals lost faith before the battle began, how could they expect ordinary soldiers to stand their ground?
Hearing that Drogon believed he could kill the Night King, the mood in the hall visibly lifted.
After finalizing defensive deployments, everyone dispersed to prepare for war.
When Drogon returned to the undead army, he found that the Night King had once again turned toward Winterfell.
Drogon couldn't tell whether the Night King intended to continue his march south—or if he was following Drogon's scent specifically.
Flying above the army once more, he saw that the Night King had vanished back into the blizzard.
Careful not to expose himself recklessly, Drogon circled behind the army instead. Only after noticing the wights gradually changing direction did he relax slightly and begin drawing them away from Winterfell again.
The Night King clearly hadn't given up on killing him.
Otherwise, he wouldn't still be following.
Sure enough, after trailing Drogon for some time, the Night King used that spear-shaped artifact again, empowering another ice spear attack.
This time, Drogon caught the faint blue glow within the storm beforehand and managed to evade it in time.
Half a day later, realizing he still couldn't bring Drogon down, the Night King once again redirected his army toward Winterfell—perhaps drawn by the enormous concentration of living souls there.
Left with no choice, Drogon risked flying close to the outer ranks again, burning through another wave of wights to slow the advance.
The Night King naturally didn't appreciate having his army slaughtered.
Two more ice spears followed.
Only one posed any real danger.
And so the cycle continued.
For half a day, Drogon repeatedly harassed the army—baiting, burning, retreating.
By then, he estimated the infantry reinforcements were close enough.
He gradually reduced the frequency of his attacks, allowing the undead army to advance in fits and starts.
A day later, Drogon returned briefly to Winterfell and learned the infantry would arrive within another day.
Then he immediately flew back north to continue his deadly game of hide-and-seek with the Night King.
Another day passed.
The infantry finally arrived.
Only after delaying the Night King for half a day more—giving the exhausted troops time to rest—did Drogon return to Winterfell for good.
Night fell.
Outside Winterfell, two massive trenches had been completed, lined with sharpened stakes and wooden barricades, forming layered defenses before the castle itself.
In the distance, the storm advanced together with the army of the dead.
Closer.
Closer.
Cavalry formations waited before the trenches, tense and ready to charge at any moment.
On the battlements, Daenerys and Jon Snow stood side by side, faces grim as they measured the distance of the approaching horde.
At the front of the cavalry ranks, Melisandre grasped the curved arakh of a Dothraki rider, murmuring prayers beneath her breath.
The blade gradually glowed red.
Then—
Whoosh.
Flames burst across the entire weapon.
And not just that blade.
Starting from Melisandre's position, fire spread outward like a wave, igniting weapon after weapon until every cavalry blade blazed with fire.
"Trebuchets ready!"
On the walls, Jon shouted the command.
"Fire!"
Burning boulders soaked in oil were hurled into the darkness.
The flaming stones smashed through clusters of wights, scattering bodies while setting countless others ablaze.
Across the advancing army of the dead, patches of fire suddenly erupted everywhere.
Seeing the defenders launch their attack, the Night King finally gave his command.
The wights surged toward Winterfell like a tidal wave of death.
But before they could get far, thousands upon thousands of dragonglass arrows rained down upon them.
Every wight struck instantly shattered into chunks of frozen flesh and bone.
A few minutes later, the arrow storm ceased.
Then the Dothraki khal Jhogo roared and led the cavalry charge straight into the rushing undead.
High above the battlefield, Drogon watched the flow of battle and decided the timing was right.
With a powerful beat of his wings, he shot skyward before diving directly toward the Night King at the rear of the undead host.
Watching Drogon streak into the distance, Daenerys Targaryen climbed atop Rhaegal, who had already been waiting upon the battlements.
The Night King had long noticed Drogon circling above Winterfell.
Seeing the black dragon charge toward him, he took an ice spear from one of the White Walkers beside him, removed the spear-shaped artifact hanging from his neck, and once again unleashed that terrifying blue aura.
Then he hurled the spear.
The instant Drogon saw that familiar blue light flashing through the blizzard, he slowed his dive and twisted aside, narrowly evading the projectile.
The spear missed.
But Drogon didn't stop.
He continued charging directly at the Night King.
Another ice spear came hurtling toward him.
Drogon dodged again.
Now he could clearly see the Night King standing amidst several White Walkers.
After two failed throws, the Night King still didn't give up. Another White Walker handed him a fresh spear, and he immediately launched it.
This time, the spear came too fast.
Drogon knew he couldn't fully evade it.
Instantly shrinking his body mid-flight, he twisted sharply to the right and continued diving.
The Night King's icy blue eyes narrowed slightly at the sudden transformation.
He reached for another spear—
But Drogon was already upon him.
In a flash, Drogon expanded back into his full size.
One claw seized the White Walker handing over the spear, crushing both the weapon and its owner into mangled shards of ice and bone.
Then Drogon unleashed a torrent of dragonfire point-blank.
The White Walkers behind the Night King exploded into burning ash instantly.
But the Night King himself remained standing within the flames.
Unmoved.
Untouched.
Just as Drogon had expected—
His dragonfire alone still couldn't kill him.
After nearly uselessly bathing him in flame, Drogon threw back his head and roared toward Winterfell.
Then he lunged forward with his claws.
On the walls of Winterfell, hearing Drogon's roar, Daenerys slapped Rhaegal's neck and took off together with Viserion toward the undead army.
The two dragons swept low across the battlefield.
One after another, streams of dragonfire carved through the tightly packed masses of wights charging the cavalry.
The pressure on the riders instantly lessened.
The cavalry surged back and forth through the isolated pockets of undead, their flaming blades hacking apart wights while igniting them at the same time.
After clearing the area around them, the riders launched another charge into the undead ranks.
Daenerys coordinated perfectly from above, repeatedly using dragonfire to split apart incoming waves and reduce cavalry casualties.
Only after two full charges, when both horses and riders were nearing exhaustion, did the cavalry retreat behind the trenches.
The surviving wights that slipped through the dragonfire began rushing toward the defenses.
Meanwhile, gripping the Night King in his claws, Drogon finally realized his flames hadn't been completely ineffective.
The Night King's frost-covered armor had curled and blackened in several places.
His once statue-like face now resembled melted wax, its sharp features partially warped away.
Even the icy blue glow in his eyes had dimmed.
Caught in Drogon's grip, the Night King suddenly released a wolf-like roar from deep within his throat and reached for the ice sword strapped to his back.
Drogon wasn't about to let that happen.
Using his right claw to pin the Night King's arm in place, he ripped the ice sword free with his left claw and hurled it aside.
Then, without hesitation, he snatched the spear-shaped artifact from the Night King's neck as well.
Drogon wanted nothing more than to tear the Night King apart with brute force—
But the creature's strength was monstrous.
Even with all his power, Drogon could only bend the Night King's body, not break it.
Just as Drogon prepared to blast him with dragonfire again, he suddenly felt something crawling across his body.
Turning his head, he saw countless wights abandoning their assault on Winterfell and charging toward him instead.
Several had already climbed onto his back.
Drogon knew very well how even ants could bring down an elephant.
He violently shook his body, flinging the wights away, then beat his wings and launched back into the sky.
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