A/N: Welcome back to my not-so-original fanfiction of what I think Season 8 of Game of Thrones should have been! You guys seem to be enjoying it, so here's another chapter.

P.S. Still looking for someone who can proofread!

The last of Queen Daenerys' army had arrived earlier that morning. These were the men that would fight off the army of the dead. Among these new arrivals where Sandor Clegane, riding a massive black destrier.

Jon stood on a rise overlooking the keep and all of his men. Beside him were Dany, dressed in thick, white furs, Davos, an Bran, who's eyes were white from warging. Jon waited until he came back, not wanting to interrupt him

"Was that the last of them?" Jon asked when Bran's eyes returned to their normal brown.

Bran nodded. "The Umbers are coming as we speak. I haven't seen any others."

Dany turned to the cripple boy. "No Lannister's?" she asked.

"They marched North, but not past the Neck," Bran replied. "They're holding up in Moat Cailin."

"So they are not coming to our aid?" Dany furrowed her eyebrows. "We should never have trusted the Lannisters."

Jon sighed. "The causeway can be slow going," he guessed, trying to think of some other reason that the Lannister forces could not march North. When nothing else came, Bran concluded that the Lannister army would not be joining them.

Davos flexed his shortened fingers and look out over the battlements. "It seems the golden queen wants to kick us while we're down after we've defeated the dead."

"And if we don't defeat the dead?" Dany asked, to no response.

Down in the training yard, Jaime readjusted his left-handed grip on his training sword. His actual sword, Oathkeeper, sat in its ornate sheath in his private quarters. The sword was Valyrian Steel, one of two swords forged from the greatsword of the Starks, Ice. The training swords was dulled on its edge and point, to prevent tilting injuries, but they still left bruises.

Opposite him, Brienne stood with her own training sword. They rounded each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. When nobody did, Jaime took the initiative.

He darted his eyes to the left but moved to his right. He jabbed his sword at Brienne, who had seen the attack coming and parried it effortlessly. Jaime swung at her again. When she went to block his attack, he quickly jerked his sword upward, tapping her on her arm.

Jaime backed off again, and they began to circle again. "You're getting better with your left hand," Brienne stated, keeping her eyes on his sword.

"Glad to hear," Jaime smirked.

"You're almost passable," Brienne swung her sword at him, which he blocked, surprising her. Jaime darted around her and tapped her on the shoulder with his sword.

"In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave," he mumbled quickly, under his breath. He turned back to face his opponent.

"What was that?" Brienne asked.

"Just a cough," Jaime said and swung his sword at her again. She blocked it and brought her own sword up to slash at his chest. He barely got out of the way but lost his balance doing so.

She jabbed at him, but he had already righted himself. He knocked her sword to the side, and danced around her, scoring another tap on her opposite shoulder.

"In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just." He said the words as quickly and quietly as he could.

"What are you doing?" Brienne asked, annoyed. She dropped her sword, signaling that their dual was done.

Jaime took advantage of her and tapped her again on the other shoulder. "I'm knighting you," he stated matter-of-factly. "I'm about to die on the front lines of battle without ever knighting someone. Well, anyone of value that is. Being the first person to knight a woman," he grinned. "That would be something on the pages of that book besides Kingslayer." And almost as he had forgotten, he added, "Oh, and in the name of the Mother, I charge you to protect the innocent."

"I don't want to be knighted," Brienne said.

"Oh," Jaime said. "But I think you do." He tapped her on the opposite shoulder for the fourth time. "In the name of the Maid, I charge you to protect all women."

"What makes you say that?" Brienne asked, trying to stay annoyed.

"Because," Jaime said, and swung at her again, only to be blocked when Brienne retrieved her fallen sword. She swung at him hard, and he just barely dodged the blow. They swung at each other, back and forth, until a small crowd had begun to gather around the pair. Eventually, Brienne slipped up, earning Jaime another tap on her shoulder.

"In the name of the Crone, I charge you to act with wisdom. Because," he continued. "You're a better fighter than me. Better than me left-handed, better than me with my hands tied, and probably better than me with my good hand. And yet," he grinned again. "I've scored five hits on you. One more, and you're a knight. That tells me something. You want a knighthood, and you want it enough to lose a fight against a cripple."

That set Brienne off, as Jaime had guessed. She charged at him, but he easily dodged her attack. They continued for a moment longer, drawing in more spectators. Finally, Jaime lunged at Brienne, who saw the attack coming and knocked his sword out of his hand. The training sword fell into the snow, and Jaime raised his hands. Then something caught his eye.

He pointed to a spot behind Brienne. "Is that… Is that Renly?" he asked, incredulous. Brienne turned to look, as Jaime knew she would, and he punched her, with his golden hand.

Brienne went down hard, and Jaime retrieved his fallen sword. He stood over her and tapped her on the shoulder. "In the name of the Smith, I charge you to bring fellowship to men. Rise, Ser Brienne of Tarth, a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

When the horns blew to signify the arrival of men from the Last Hearth, everyone in the tilting yard dropped their weapons and headed for the main gate of Winterfell.

Arya climbed on top of a wagon to see over the heads of the people in front of her. Riding through the gate, the Umber men were few and looked weary. Arya spotted Gendry, and Jon's friend Tormund, but was more focused on Beric Dondarrion.

"Cersei Lannister," she whispered. "Illyn Payne, the Mountain, the Red Woman," and finally, "Beric Dondarrion." Her list was growing short, which meant she had been doing her job.

Tormund greeted Jon with a bone-crushing hug, and the two laughed. "I wasn't sure if you would make it," Jon said, clapping the Wildling on the shoulder.

"We were close," Tormund said. "The army of the dead march only a day behind us."

"Half a day." Both turned to find Bran in his wheelchair. Jon nodded grimly.

"How many of them are there?" Jon asked his half brother.

Bran shrugged. "I don't know. A storm surrounds them. The wind blows my ravens away if they get too close. I feel him though, the Night King. He's coming for me."

Beric and Gendry dismounted their horses, and moved to the keep itself, with Arya trailing behind them. Gendry turned into an adjacent room, and choosing vengeance over seeing her old friend, Arya followed Beric.

Before Arya could get any closer, though, a mailed hand grabbed her from behind and slammed her against the cold stone. "Where are you going?" Sandor Clegane's raspy voice demanded of her.

"Nowhere," she responded, pushing the Hound away from her.

His laugh was like iron scraping over a stone. "You think I don't remember your little list?" he asked her. "My brother and I, the headsman, the king's guard and the queen, the old man at the crossing, Stannis' witch. And him." The Hound gestured to Beric, who was almost out of sight.

When Arya didn't respond, the Hound ground his teeth. "Well, he's off your list."

"Why?"

"Because I fucking said so," the Hound spat. "If he dies, you die."

Arya shrugged. "Maybe I should put you back on my list."

"You don't get it, little girl. I've seen what's coming. We're all on a list."

Samwell Tarly moved through the crowd, carrying a sword. He seldom used a weapon, knowing he wasn't any good with any sort. This sword was not for him, though.

When he finally found who he was looking for, Sam was out of breath and panting.

"Ser Jorah," Sam said. "I heard you were leading the Dothraki and the cavalry out in the sorties."

"That I am," Jorah said, fastening his belt.

Sam hesitated and looked back down at the sword he held. "I thought that you could use this." He pushed the sword into the older man's hands. "It's called Heartsbane. It's Valyrian steel. It used to be my father's sword."

Jorah looked puzzled. "But won't you need it?"

Sam chuckled nervously. "I'll be on the battlements, with burning pitch. I'm no good with a sword."

"Thank you, Samwell," Jorah said, taking the blade. He loosened it out of the sheath and gazed at the metal, folded back on itself again and again. "I'll wield it in your father's honor." When Sam sighed, Jorah asked, "What is it?"

"It's just that my father wasn't the best man. Not to me at least. He though me a craven." Sam chuckled again.

"You? A craven?" Jorah laughed. "A man who faced greyscale for a stranger? A man who came all the way north to face the dead? I'm sorry, Samwell, but you're no craven."

"My father disliked everything I was and wanted me to be everything I wasn't. He wasn't half the man your father was."

Jorah laughed again, this time bitterly. "My father had his faults. We fought many times in my youth."

"Over what?" Sam asked.

"Over everything," Jorah told him. "I rejected his traditions and his gods. He forced me into a marriage I never wanted. Before my exile, he wanted me to take the black, join him on the Wall. Your friend Jon Snow carries my father's sword. He tried to give it back to me, but in truth, I didn't want it. There's a reason I left it behind when I fled to Essos. I didn't want to be my father."

"I don't want to be my father either," Sam said. "When I stole the sword from my father, I thought it was my birthright. I even left the Citadel and came all the way here over something he had said to me. I actually think I came here more for his honor than anything else. But recently, I've been thinking of what kind of father he was, and what kind of father I want to be."

"The wildling girl," Jorah asked. "That's your son?"

"It is," Sam lied. "And a second child is in her belly."

Jorah nodded. "Most men want to be their fathers. Few of them have the courage to be better than them." Jorah looked back down to Heartsbane. "I'll carry this sword to honor you, Samwell Tarly, the bravest man I know."

Sam nodded and turned to leave. Jorah took the blade out of the sheath entirely and marveled at how balanced the sword felt. The grip just right, the weight too. He gave it a few practice swings, and almost buried it into the belly of the Imp.

"Woah," said Tyrion, raising his hands in mock self-defense. "Don't gut me before the battle's even started."

Jorah sheathed the sword once more and bowed to Tyrion. "I'm sorry, my Lord Hand."

Tyrion waved him away. "You were talking with Samwell Tarly?" he asked the exiled knight. "You do know what happened in the Reach?"

"Aye," Jorah said grimly. "I heard what happened. When this battle is over, Daenerys, Samwell, and I will sit down together and fix this rift. He's a good man, and he will be a great ally in the wars to come."

"If there are wars to come," Tyrion said.

Jon stood on the walls of Winterfell, overseeing the battlements that were being put in place. Trenches were being dug, and barricades set. Ghost stood by his side. The direwolf had grown in the years that he Jon had had him. He was now twice the size of a large wolf. Ghost stuck out his tung as Jon rubbed his head.

When Sam came, Ghost ran to his side and waited for the fat boy to pet him. When he did, Ghost ran off.

"Sam," Jon grinned, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "How are you?"

Sam nodded. "I've just been to talk with Ser Jorah, and I've given him my father's sword. I bet it'll be more valuable in his hands than mine." He chuckled bitterly.

Jon laughed but didn't say anything.

"Look, Jon, I've been meaning to ask you," Sam said. "Wouldn't it be safer if Gilly and Little Sam were down by the boats?"

Jon sighed and looked back over the wall. "Sam," he said. "We need all the help we can get. Gilly's proven that she can take care of people, we'll need her help."

Sam sighed alongside his friend. "It's just… they're important."

"Everyone is important, Sam. If I let Gilly and Little Sam go, then everyone will want to go. Nobody will stay." When he saw the distressed look on Sam's face, he added, "The ships are only a days ride away. If we retreat, I'll see both Gilly and Little Sam safe. I promise you, they'll be okay. Come, we have to rest for what's coming."

In the Great Hall, a fire was burning, with only a few people sitting around it. They sat in silence, watching the flames lick at the wood beneath them. Each of them held a glass of wine, despite the fact that they would have to be ready to fight at moment's notice.

Tyrion and Jaime sat next to one another in the center of the semi-circle. Around them were Davos, Brienne, Podrick, Jon, and Tormund. Bran sat in the corner of the room by the fire, his eyes white from warging.

"It's strange, isn't it," Tyrion said, breaking the silence. "Everyone here has either fought the Starks at one time or another. And now we sit in their castle, ready to defend it. Together." He looked at Jon. "I mean no offense."

Jon smiled. "None taken."

"At least we'll die with honor," Brienne said. They all sat for another silent moment, gazing at the flames.

"I think we might live," Tyrion stated with a chuckle. A smile cracked on Davos' lips, and soon everyone was chuckling together. "I'm serious," he said. "How many battles have we survived between us." Tyrion turned to Davos. "Ser Davos Seaworth, a survivor of both the Blackwater and the Battle of the Bastards."

Davos raised his hands. "All without a shred of combat ability."

Tyrion turned to his brother. "Ser Jaime Lannister, fabled hero of the Siege of Pyke."

Jaime raised his hand to cut Tyrion off. "And the fabled loser of the Battle of the Whispering Wood."

"Here here," Tyrion said with a smile. "Ser Brienne defeated the Hound in single combat." Brienne raised her own glass with a smile.

Tyrion turned to Jon. "Jon Snow, the fabled bastard of the North. Survivor of the Battle of the Bastards, and of the Battle for the Wall. It also might be worth noting that you were killed."

Tormund raised a horn of mare's milk. "For my people," he added with a gruff nod.

Jon smiled and clinked his glass with Tormund's horn. Both of them drank.

Tyrion moved onto his former squire, Podrick. "Podrick Payne. Survivor of the Blackwater, where he saved my life." Tyrion raised his glace to Pod, who raised his in return.

They sat in silence and watched as the flames grew ever lower. "We should get some rest," Jon said. "For what's coming."

Davos nodded in agreement. "Aye, and we're all out of wine."

"How about a song?" Tyrion suggested. "One of you must know one."

Everyone shook their heads. Tyrion had just gotten up to leave when Podrick started to sing, surprising them all.

"High in the halls of the kings who are gone

Jenny would dance with her ghosts

The ones she had lost and the ones she had found

And the ones who had loved her the most

The ones who'd been gone for so very long

She couldn't remember their names

They spun her around on the damp old stones

Spun away all her sorrow and pain

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

They danced through the day

And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall

From winter to summer then winter again

'Til the walls did crumble and fall

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

Never wanted…"

When Podrick was finished, everyone was quiet. The flames in the fireplace had died, leaving only smoldering embers and charred wood. In the corner of the room, Bran's eyes changed from white to their normal brown.

"He's here," Bran said.

A/N: Well that wraps up this chapter! Hope you guys enjoyed it. Just some notes, I wanted to change Brienne's knighting scene just because, and I think that was pretty good. Also, I just had to keep the original scene of Podrick singing, because it was probably one of my favorite scenes from that season, maybe the entire show. I added Jon because I felt like he should have been there, you know? Well, the next chapter should cover the battle for Winterfell, so stay tuned for that.