So this is it. The final chapter. Its been one hell of a ride man. I'd just like to say thank you all so much for reading this story and giving me feedback on how to improve it. It really means alot to me. Special thanks to theblackdeath, Veridisma, greaterfoo1, siouxfan for all the help and support. Enjoy :)

Jon

They had been back in King's Landing for three days, Jon and Sansa spending all of the time that either of them were not locked away doing their respective duties, with each other and their children, when one day during a small council session Jon Connington gave Jon a missive that had come from the Wall some weeks ago, writ in his uncle Benjen's hand, and detailing the crumbling of the wall and the oncoming invasion of white walkers and the death that they brought with them. At first most of the small council and the lords still in King's Landing were sceptical of whether or not this news was worth actually acting on, and some even went so far as to suggest that uncle Benjen was slowly beginning to lose his mind as Lord Commander. Jon had been outraged at that and had ordered that all the lords of the Seven Kingdoms begin martialling their troops, for war.

Of course there was one small problem, Lord Dickon and Danaerys were still in the reach fighting the Ironborn, at least that was what Varys' little birds were telling him, and so that was what Varys told Jon. Jon had sent numerous ravens to Highgarden, to Horn Hill to wherever they might be asking them to come back to King's Landing, but as of yet had received no response from either Lord Tarly or Danaerys, and he was beginning to worry. To further compound his worries was the fact that after two years of nonstop war, most of the kingdoms' armies were severly depleted and any men that were left of fighting age, would most likely be needed to help keep their families and their lands safe during the current winter, and as such would be reluctant to truly leave their homes and their families again.

Jon could understand that, really he could. He felt like his whole life had been one constant battle since that day they had learnt that Lord Eddard had been arrested. After two years of fighting and scheming, after having watched good men die in their thousands, all he wanted to do was simply stay in the Red Keep with Sansa and their children and never ever have to lift his sword again. But of course that was just a dream, just an illusion. He was the king now, and he had been raised to respect the Watch and to know that if the Watch ever requested help, it was his duty as a northmen, and now that he was king his responsibility to answer that call for help as best he could. So after much deliberating and arguing with his small council and his lords, he managed to assemble a host of sorts that would march north to help defend the wall and possibly the realm from the White Walkers.

The day before he and this host were about to march, he received a raven from Riverrun from Robb, detailing how Robb had recovered enough from his wounds that the maester at Riverrun had deemed it prudent it enough for him lead his men again. Robb had stated in that letter that as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North it was also his duty to ensure that the Wall was aided, and as such he was marching with the men from the Riverlands and with the northmen who had returned to Riverrun following Jon's coronation. Jon estimated that since the raven seemed to have been sent out weeks ago Robb was likely either at the Twins or near Moat Cailin by now. Whether or not he had taken Aunt Catelyn and Arya and Rickon with him or not Jon did not know, he only hoped that wherever they were that they were safe.

Then the day of his own departure for the Wall had come, and Jon had never felt so reluctant to leave, as he had then. The night before he and Sansa had spent as much time as they possibly could memorising each other, spending as much time trying to remember what other looked like, smelled like, tasted like, for if this was to be the last night that Jon spent with his wife he wanted it to be memorable, he wanted it to be special. The morning had come too soon, and Jon had woken to find himself in bed with his wife, his arms wrapped around her protectively, her head buried underneath his chin, her hair splayed across his chest, and he had felt such fierce love for her, that had she asked it of him, he would not have left for the Wall to fight a foe that might possibly be unbeatable, he would have stayed with her in King's Landing and watched their children grow up right before his eyes. But of course when she woke, she merely smiled and kissed him, and said not a word. Not a word till they had both broken their fast, and were changed and were standing in the nursery looking at their children, only then did she make him promise to come back to her, only then did she shed her tears so that her eyes were red and her cheeks were flushed. Only then did Jon solemnly swear that he would do all that he could to return to her and their children.

They had set out from King's Landing, Jon riding Serrax, his army commanded by Ser Barristan Selmy that afternoon, the snow littering the ground the sun a distant memory. Jon had left Lord Connington behind to rule in his stead, along with Sansa. Jon would sit the weirwood throne, that he had had constructed in the month following his taking of King's Landing. The throne that gods be willing his son and his son's sons would sit on for years to come. Carved from the weirwood trees in King's Landing and from the Isle of Faces, the throne had carved edges in it to represent the weirwood tree in the godswood in Winterfell, with its blood red eyes. Jon was confident that the city would be ruled well, that the realm would be ruled well in his absence, he had to say these things to himself to prevent himself from turning Serrax round and back to King's Landing.

The further north they got though, the less Jon feared for himself and his men. The more determined he became to end this threat that was plaguing his lands his people. The lands further north they went, were gripped in winter's firm embrace. The lands were covered with pale white snow, and the wind howled a mournful tune, blizzards delayed their progress so that it took them nigh on two months to make the journey to Moat Cailin, where upon arriving they found Lord Howland waiting for them. Lord Howland told them of how the Wall was crumbling into decay, of how the wights had breached its defences, and were crossing in even greater numbers south beyond the wall and how Robb had set up a defence in front of Winterfell, and was giving battle to them. He told them of how fire seemed to be the only way to really deal with the wights, and how a white dragon had helped curb the number of wights and had prevented their progress from advancing further south. For a brief moment Jon and his men felt hope bloom in their chests, if there was a white dragon here, could that mean that Danaerys and Dickon were here as well, the strength of three dragons could be enough to deal with the wights.

Any sense of hope was further enhanced when Lord Howland told them that the White Walkers were unable for whatever reason to cross the Wall, of how whenever one of them tried they would be crushed under a tonne of solid ice and would evaporate into nothingness. But then Lord Howland had gone onto speak of how, though the White Walkers may not be able to cross the wall they still had other means of wreaking havoc. Blizzards, snow storms, ice falls and giant creatures from a time beyond time were used by the White Walkers to crush and kill men and to weaken the strength of the Watch and weaken the strength of the wall, of how each time these attacks happened the Wall began to crumble a little bit more, and of how the dead black brothers would rise and attack and kill their former brothers and then march south to plague Robb and his men.

Once Lord Howland was finished explaining the situation to them, there was definitely a sense of doom and gloom about the men, but they marched north still. They continued to put one foot in front of the other. They did not flee when they came upon Winterfell, and saw the legions of dead wights trying to break through the shield walls that Robb had had constructed. They did not flee when their swords did little more than annoy these undead beings. They did not flee, they held their ground and were slaughtered by these creatures and when Serrax bathed the dead wights in flame, Jon knew that some of his men were also being bathed in flame, to die by the flames and not suffer a death and rebirth as a mindless creature, it seemed a better fate.

The advancement of the wights from the south continued for a disturbingly long time. It seemed that a year went flying by as Jon and Robb and their men and Serrax and the white dragon, Danaerys had named Viserion- who was still riderless- fought the wights, and killed them and bathed them in fire. Eventually no more wights came from the north, and the scouts they sent out to the north as far as Last Hearth and Long Lake, reported that there were no sightings of wights coming south from the wall.

Of Danaerys and Lord Dickon and their men and her dragon there was no sighting, and when the news of there being no further wights marching from the south became common knowledge a war council was convened. Their losses had been heavy, in the tens of thousands. All said that they would need to re garrison the Wall and stop the threat once and for all, but how they were to do this was the topic that seemed to stir up the biggest arguments. Some were in favour of splitting their force up and manning some of the other lesser manned castles such as East Watch or Shadow tower, whilst others argued for bringing their force all to Castle Black and holding it off there. Eventually it was decided that they would march for Castle Black and once they had assessed the situation there then decided what was to be done.

The snow and blizzards delayed their march north, and so when they reached Castle Black a journey that would normally take a few weeks had taken a month and a half. The scene that greeted them at Castle Black shocked and dismayed Jon. The ground was littered with corpses and burnt with ash, from where the fires had been lit. The wall was indeed crumbling; huge chunks of it were falling off and hitting the ground. There was a haunted and gaunt look in the eyes of the black brothers. Most of them were so thin, it seemed like they would die of starvation before the wights and white walkers took them. The reports Uncle Benjen gave them did little to assuage Jon's growing anxiety. Though the White Walkers were still unable to cross, their little minions the wights and giants did most of the work for them. The last uncle Benjen had heard from Eastwatch, had been three moons ago, when they had been assaulted by a fierce attack from a giant bull like creature with a crown upon its head. From what Benjen could gauge from the letter that had arrived, thousands of wights and these giant creatures had attacked Eastwatch, and Uncle Benjen believed rightly or wrongly, that the castle had been overwhelmed and destroyed, and that it was likely that these creatures would not be heading south but toward Castle Black.

When asked why he thought, the creatures would come to Castle Black and not try and advance further south, Uncle Benjen had replied that the White Walkers were not attacking anywhere else but at Castle Black. He was convinced that there was something in the home of the Night's Watch that the White Walkers wanted, that would allow them to cross the wall, and seeing as they could not get it they would send their minions to do the work for them.

It seemed that his suspicions were confirmed, for three days after Jon and the men arrived at Castle Black, the horned bull with the crown on his head and a score of wights and other giants began their attack of Castle Black. Unlike the wildlings, these creatures were more co-ordinated and seemed intent on out and out killing. Jon used Serrax to burn the wights to ash, but the giant creatures seemed unaffected by dragon flame, even when Serrax and Viserion joined together in blowing their flames on the creatures. At one point Jon feared that they too would be overwhelmed by the creature that was until the crowned bull giant tried to attack him, whilst he was mounted on Serrax. Jon unsheathed Blackfyre just as Serrax moved out of the way of the giant's fist. Jon urged Serrax closer and then the two of them were engaged in a fierce duel. Jon on Serrax's back and the bull giant with his club. They exchanged blows, hacks and swings. Cutting each other and bloodying each other until Jon found a soft spot in the bull giant's armour, his crown. Jon brought Blackfyre down in an arc on top of the crown and when Blackfyre broke the crown in half, the bull giant unleashed a mournful howl and soon dissolved right before Jon's eyes

It seemed some sort of spell was broken when the bull giant was killed. For its fellow monsters seemed to come to their senses and tried to flee back through the wall, but they were caught between dragonfire and the barrels of fire and the swords of the black brothers and the men of the seven kingdoms. The giants either died screaming as they were reduced to ash or they died with swords, spears and a various assortment of weapons through their bodies.

The joy at the defeat of such fierce a foe was short lived though. For no sooner had the men started cheering the defeat of the giants and the wights, then the sound of a horn being blown could be heard coming from the other side of the wall, followed by the roaring and screaming of what sounded like thousands upon thousands of undead things come to kill and destroy the lands. Sure enough as night fell, and the blizzards began again the giants, wights and even ice spiders came pouring toward the wall. Fire did some to break their relentless charge, but it did not slow them down for long. Soon they were pouring through the crumbling gaps in the wall, and fighting, killing and eating the men, the dying screams of the men could be heard echoing through the courtyard of Castle Black throughout the night. Serrax and Viserion bathed their assailants in fire and Jon used Blackfyre, and Robb used Ice and Andar Royce used Lady Forlorn, and some of the black brothers used dragon glass weapons they had found deep within the vaults of Castle Black, and the weapons had some effect, their assailants fell in great numbers but their assault continued, well into the early hours of the dawn, when suddenly they began to dissolve right before Jon and the men's eyes and disappeared into the ether.

The attack resumed the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that. In fact the assault of the giants, wights and other creatures seemed to last moons, each day more and more men died and were given to the flames so as not to come back as wights. Food became more and scarcer as the moons went by, till such a point that it became a choice between either dying through starvation, the cold or by being killed by the creatures that always attacked them at night.

Then Danaerys came. Riding on the back of her dragon Rhaegal, she came just as the attacks were beginning. Followed by a thousand or more men, and fire, a walking fire followed her, and it burnt through the wights, the giants and the ice spiders. It burnt through them all and reduced them to ash. But then the wall fell, it crumbled to dust around them once the fire had been extinguished and then all hell broke loose.

Death rode in on a pale horse. The White Walkers, no longer hindered by the magic of the wall crossed in great numbers, and with them came their wights, their giants and more horrible creatures. And they killed the men, slaughtered them split their bodies in half and then raised them up as wights to kill their former comrades, their former brothers in arms. Dragonfire did for the wights and the giants and the ice spiders as did the unnatural fire that followed Danaerys wherever she flew. Jon suspected that, Stannis's red woman was behind the fire. Some of the white walkers fell to the valyrian blades and the dragonglass, but more still remained to kill and rise up wights to feed their army.

Jon was one such victim. Fighting a white walker, whilst Serrax burnt a giant to death. Another White Walker killed Serrax once the giant was dead. Ripped him from the sky and tore him in two. Then both white walkers served to kill Jon, stabbing him with their ice cold blades through the chest and heart. Jon fell but he took one of the white walkers with him, cutting through the creature and splitting it from head to chest. Then he knew no more.

He floated through the air, unseen by those around him. Uncaring, all his burdens lifted from him, all the pain, all the death was gone he was at peace. Or was he? He had broken his vow to Sansa, he had died, he would not be able to come back to her, and he would not be able to watch his children grow. He felt something inside of him break into a million tiny pieces, he knew that if he could he would cry, but he could not.

"You must go back," said a voice behind him. A voice of iron, from a distant memory.

Jon turned round and looked for the voice, but could not find its owner. Another voice spoke this time, a more familiar one. "You must go back Jon, you're not done son. They need you."

Then another voice, this one he had never heard before. "You must return. You are the song of ice and fire. The one that saved the world in the Long Night. You must save the world once more. Or else this time darkness will win and death shall spread like a plague across the land."

"What if I fail? What if I die again?" Jon asked.

"Only you can tell if you will fail or die," said the iron voice. "Only you can decide what happens. You are the prince. You are the one, the songs, the books write about. You hold the key."

"Think of Sansa, son. You promised her you would always come for her. You can't let her down. Not now."

Then a feminine voice spoke to Jon, and he could have sworn he had heard this voice before somewhere, somewhere a long time ago. "You can do it. I know you can sweetling, I know you can."

"How?" Jon asked.

But before the voices could reply, he woke on a pyre of flames. The sound of voices chanting, praying, weeping, crying surrounded him, engulfed him. The battle still raged around him, men were still dying around him. Jon Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms, the father of the black, the last hero, sat up and got out of the fire, his sword in hand. He rode to meet death, fire and ice glistened around him.

Sansa

She watches Jon ride out King's Landing, her heart heavy and fluttering with nerves in her chest. Ser Donnel Celtigar stands behind her as she watches her husband and his men become distant specks on the horizon. Ser Leyton Appleton stands guard over her and Jon's babes as does Ghost. Jon had insisted on leaving Ghost here with her and their children, despite her protests. He said that Ghost would protect her and the babes against anyone and anything; he had been so adamant about it that Sansa had relented eventually and agreed to keep Ghost with her or guarding the children at all times. As she makes her way back to the Red Keep, she can't but help offer a prayer to the Old Gods and the New to keep her husband, and her brother and all the men who ride out to face death safe. She prays that her children will grow up with their father there to see them grow, not as a story, not like Jon's own parents were to him- though of course they were more the aunt and prince- she wants Jon to be physically there when their children, their babes take their first steps, say their first words, see their first name day, begin to do all manner of things that her mother and father were there to witness the both of them doing. She also prays that Robb and his wife Roslin will be able to live a peaceful live, that they all will once this war is done, and that they all come out of it safe and whole.

She knows Jon will do his best to try and stay to his promise to her, to come back to her and their children. But she can't help but worry that Jon will put the needs of his men and the kingdoms above the needs of his family. She can't help it but she also prays that Jon does not take it into his head to do anything heroic, that could cost him his life, cost Sansa her husband and her sanity, cost their children their father. She makes her way to the throne room, to sit on the weirwood throne that Jon had made before he came and rescued her from Petyr and, she knows that Jon would make a fine king, perhaps even the best king Westeros has ever seen, he only needs the chance to sit and rule for longer than he has had since the war began and ended. She sits on the weirwood throne, as Jon's representative, and listens as the petitioners come forth and present their demands and requests. More food, more water, more space, this person did this to me; this person did that to me. Sansa listens to what they say, and she tries to give a verdict that is as fair and as balanced as possible, though she knows that in some instances may not please all parties involved.

The more she sits and does this and sits in and listens to the lords speaking during the council meetings, the more confident she becomes. It also helps, she supposes that Lord Connington is a kind man as is Lord Varys both of whom are willing to help her learn the more subtle intricacies of court politics and the game, which still goes on even though most of the players are away fighting a war that might determine all of their futures. The citadel finally sends Maester Gormon Tyrell, to be the grand maester to replace Pycelle, and Sansa believes the man to be capable and friendly, and certainly much better at his job than Pycelle had ever been.

Ravens come infrequently from Jon, the further north he gets. But in each one he talks to her about the cold and the snow, and ends each letter by telling her that he loves her and their children and will do all he can to come back to them. Sansa has known Jon her whole life, so she knows to read between the lines and see what he does not write, that the lands are snow covered and littered with the bodies of the fallen, that he doesn't know whether this is a battle he can win or not. She prays in the godswood more often than not when Jon's letters come, praying that they give him strength to continue fighting to come home to her and their babes. Jon's last letter comes to her, when he is at Winterfell, after that there is no more letters and Sansa begins to worry. A year passes without any further contact from Jon or from Robb, and Sansa and the whole of the court begin to grow worried, they begin to wonder. When a second year passes, and there is still no news from the north, most of the court and even the hand begin to give up on the cause and begin preparing for the worst. Sansa though, she retains her faith she prays harder than ever in the godswood that Jon and Robb return home safe and sound.

Sometimes she misses her mother and Arya and Rickon fiercely, she misses the comfort of family. For though Margaery Tyrell and the other ladies of the court do provide some solace as do her Brandon and Lyanna, she itches for the comfort of familiarity, she itches for her mother's reassuring and soothing tones, and for Arya's fierceness and Rickon's wildness. She curses the snow and the White Walkers during such times, curses them for splitting her family apart, just as she cursed the Lannisters and her own foolishness when the Lannisters were waging war against her family.

Jon is not there when Lyanna and then Brandon begin crawling and then walking on unsteady feet. He is not there when they both begin running into Sansa's arms whenever they see her. He is not there when Lyanna first begins speaking, when she says "Mama," for the first time, and then when Brandon says "Papa" and Sansa cries silent tears because she knows that Jon is missing so much and it will be eating away at him, just as it is eating away at her. Jon is not there when Brandon and Lyanna see their first nameday, and a cake is made and the nobles of the court both wish them a happy birthday and sing to them. He is not there when they turn two and the court wishes them a happy birthday, and more and more of the men of court who were either boys or to old to go when Jon marched off to war, start trying to gain her favour. One of them being Margaery's Brother Willas Tyrell, though Margaery is the one dropping hints to Sansa, as Willas is still stuck in Highgarden and cannot pursue her on his own. Sansa plays nice, smiles at all their words but inside she rages, how dare they assume that just because Jon has not written back that they can assume he is dead.

All of that stops a month before Brandon and Lyanna turn three. A boy comes running into the throne room where Sansa is speaking with Lord Connington and shouts for all to hear that banners had been seen in the horizon, coming toward the city. The whole court seems to come live then and they all run out to the gates of the city, one woman- she thinks its Margaery- shouts that she can see the three headed dragon banner of House Targaryen and Sansa feels her heart lodge in her throat, she turns to look at Lord Connington and he merely shrugs, indicating that she should not get her hopes up. Then when Danaerys Targaryen comes to the gate and asks to be allowed entrance, Sansa nods to Lord Connington who shouts at the gateman, and the gate is thrown open, and Danaerys rides into King's Landing as do a thousand or more men, carrying an assortment of banners and looking gaunt and pale, like corpses. She cannot see Jon amongst those that pass her, though she can see his sigil- the three headed red dragon, quartered with a white direwolf on grey- when the party stops in the streets and people rush to greet the soldiers-the heroes who stared death in the eye and survived, their loved ones- Sansa rushes through the crowd looking for Jon, for her husband and she sees not a sign of him, she begins to panic.

She finds Ser Barristan, who looks several years older than he did before he marched north with Jon, and asks him where Jon is. He looks at her then turns round and points to a spot in the middle of the mass of soldiers, and there she sees her husband- her Jon- standing there his black armour caked in blood and mud and dirt, his helm in his hand, staring listlessly into space, Ghost who followed her down to the streets bounds over to Jon and starts nudging his leg, whining. Jon looks away from where he was staring, and first looks toward Ghost and then toward her, and the look he gives her nearly breaks her heart he seems so lost, so broken. She runs toward him and throws her arms around him, not caring about propeity, not when she has her husband back in her arms. Jon raises his arms and hugs her back, weakly.

She doesn't give him a chance to speak, though he doesn't try to. Instead she leads him by the hand through the throngs of people- all of whom stop when they pass by and cheer loudly for Jon- Ghost beside them and Ser Barristan following behind them, she leads him up Aegon's high hill and into the Red Keep and then through the Red Keep to her room, where Lady Ashara is alongside Ser Celtigar looking after Brandon and Lyanna, both of whom are playing with toys on the floor. When they enter the room, Brandon and Lyanna both stop playing and shoot up, wanting to run to her as they are wont to do, but they stay stock still when they see Jon standing- unseeing- behind her.

"Brandon, Lyanna, say hello to your father." Sansa says sweetly, trying to keep her voice calm, though she can feel her hear beginning to break, because of the hesitation on Brandon and Lyanna's faces. They nervously come up to Sansa hug her and then hug Jon quickly before running back to Lady Ashara. Sansa takes a deep breath before saying, "Lady Ashara if you could take Brandon and Lyanna back to their room. I would like to speak with my husband." Ashara nods and takes Brandon and Lyanna by the hand and leads them out of the room.

Once they have left, Sansa closes the door leaving Ser Barristan outside. When she turns round Jon is still standing clutching his helm, staring listlessly into space, and he is quiet so very quiet. Sansa moves to him and says "Let me undress you my love." Jon says nothing but he does not stop her as she begins to undress him, first taking his helm from him and laying him on the floor, then removing one piece after another of his armour and then removing his shirt and breeches till he is left in just his small clothes.

She guides him to the bed, where he sits down though he still says nothing. Sansa forces his legs open and then sands between them, running her hands through his curls, trying to soothe him and get him to speak. It seems to do the trick for he finally breaks their silence.

"My own children don't recognise me." He says it in a voice so achingly sad, Sansa feels her heart begin to break again.

"They were just babes when you left Jon, they will grow to recognise and love you just give it time my love." She says reassuringly running her hands through his curls.

"What if it won't do them any good, knowing me?" He asks.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not human Sansa."

"Of course you are, of course you are Jon stop talking nonsense. Your my Jon." She says.

He tilts his head up to look at her, and she can see so much pain and hurt in his eyes that she wants nothing more to kiss it all away, but she knows she has to let him speak, let him get it all out. "I died Sansa. I died and came back to life on a pyre the men built for me. I died and came back to life. I'm not human."

Sansa does not know what to say to that, she felt her heart clench painfully when she heard the word die, but then he is here with her. "But you're here now Jon, and that's all that matters. You kept your promise to me, you came back Jon."

Jon buries his head against her chest, she goes on. "What else happened Jon? Where's Robb?"

Jon mumbles his answer against her dress. "He wanted to stay in Winterfell afterwards. He said that he didn't want to come down to King's Landing to attend whatever stupid celebration the southerners and Danaerys planned. Roslin will be in Winterfell now with their son, and your mother and Arya and Rickon will be heading there soon."

Sansa replies, "You do not wish to attend the celebrations either, do you Jon?"

He moves his head from her chest and looks at her through his curls, his eyes stained red with unshed tears, Ghost wines softly beside them. "No, I don't. She can have her celebrations all she wants. She came late to the war, her and her bear and the Ironborn. She came late. We were losing so many men Sansa, so many men. And she comes in late to the war and fights with her savages and expects me to reward her. No I won't go to that pompous feast of hers. Nor will I reward her; she can go rot in Summerhall for all I care."

Sansa feels angry on Jon's behalf, and then asks. "What is it you want Jon?"

Jon looks at her, and says "You. I want you Sansa. I want you and our children to be safe and I want never to have to fight another war ever again. I want to spend the rest of my days with you and our children."

Sansa feels tears begin to well up in her eyes when she replies. "Then that is what you shall have Jon. We'll rebuild together." She means it, and she prays to all the gods she knows that she can make it happen.