Chapter 449

The snow had passed, and the sky was clear.

Soft hues of pale blue and light purple streaked across the eastern horizon as dawn broke—a rare and long-forgotten sunrise over the Gift and the Wall. The morning reveille echoed alongside the smoke rising from breakfast fires, painting the horizon in vibrant colors.

The soldiers who had fought in the bloody Battle of Long Lake couldn’t see the sunrise immediately, their view blocked by the Wolfswood and the Lonely Mountain. Instead, they watched as the eastern sky shifted colors like a magician’s tricks, until the sun finally leapt over the mountain ridges, bathing the world in golden light.

Good weather wasn’t unheard of at the Wall or in the Gift, but under the shadow of the White Walker threat, even a rare sunny day had served only practical purposes—like drying bedding—rather than offering a moment of joy. But this morning was different. For the first time since their victory, the weight of dread that had pressed on every heart in the Gift was lifted, and the first sunrise after their hard-won triumph was a radiant, clear day. Survivors of the battle stood in awe of the godlike beauty of the dawn, exhaling plumes of frosty breath as they thought, This sunrise will be etched in our memories for years to come.

Even the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch took a moment to savor the sunlight. But unlike the soldiers who could now relax and enjoy the day, Aegor found himself burdened with even more tasks to attend to.

After breakfast with the grief-stricken queen, who was mourning the loss of one of her "children," Aegor witnessed a somber and majestic scene: one dragon cremating another. The lifeless body of Viserion, the white dragon, slowly collapsed and turned to ash under the blazing green flames spewed by Rhaegal. What remained were charred black dragon bones and shriveled fragments of scales scattered across the battlefield.

Aegor ordered the dragon’s bones buried and marked with a monument. If the Battle of Long Lake were ever commemorated as a historical site, the "Tomb of the White Dragon" would undoubtedly be its centerpiece. It would serve as a stark reminder of the battle’s brutality and a testament to the Targaryen queen’s sacrifice for the North, strengthening the legitimacy of her claim to the throne.

Of course, this assumed she would ultimately win.

...

Daenerys had originally intended for Drogon, her "eldest brother," to perform the cremation, but the black dragon had suffered grievous wounds during the battle. After being struck down from the sky, Drogon had fought fiercely against a horde of wights on the ground. His adrenaline had carried him through the fight, but by the following morning, he was clearly unwell. He couldn’t fly, his head hung low, and even his once-boundless appetite had vanished. His body temperature had dropped alarmingly, and he appeared listless.

“Dragons love warmth. The climate in the North is too cold—it’s hindering Drogon’s recovery,” Daenerys said, her voice laced with anxiety. Having just lost one dragon, seeing another in such a state was unbearable for her. “But he’s in no condition to fly south. We must find a way to keep him warm.”

Keeping him warm wasn’t difficult. The Night’s Watch and Gift forces had marched south with over five thousand men, and though they had lost hundreds during the battle, there were now surplus tents, blankets, and furs from the fallen soldiers. These materials could be used to sew a massive "blanket" to cover Drogon and preserve his body heat.

“I’ll see to it immediately, Your Grace. There’s no need to panic—Drogon will recover,” Aegor reassured her, careful to show no signs of reluctance. “But… even if he can’t fly, can he walk? This open field offers no defensible position. If he can manage, we should move him to Last Hearth for shelter and recovery.”

“No,” Daenerys replied firmly. “Even crawling would strain his injured wings and exhaust him further. He won’t make it.”

“Then we’ll build a sled,” proposed Maccio, one of the Gift’s engineers. “A massive snow sled, large enough to carry Drogon. The dragon isn’t as heavy as he looks—nowhere near the size of Aegon the Conqueror’s dragons. The King’s Road is wide and flat, and with the thick snow, it should be feasible.”

Aegor had no desire to see Drogon survive; a grounded dragon was far easier to manage than one flying unchecked across the sky. But he didn’t dare show any hesitation in assisting the queen. Nodding without pause, he said, “Then it’s decided. I’ll give the order immediately. We’ll use every available resource to construct the sled.”

...

Perhaps fearing the remaining dragons or wary of Aegor’s unpredictable moves, Robb Stark led the Northern army south on the second day after the battle. With this undecided force out of the way, the Gift forces could operate freely. They still had ample supplies and equipment from their march south, and with many wagons now emptied, they had the materials and manpower needed to build Drogon’s sled.

As Maccio had suggested, Drogon, though large, was far lighter than the legendary dragons of old. Estimates placed his weight at two to three tons—not insurmountable—but his irregular shape posed logistical challenges. Unlike grain or other goods, a dragon couldn’t be divided among multiple carts. Aegor’s forces had to construct a massive, single flatbed sled, properly distribute the load among beasts of burden and manpower, and ensure the dragon remained secure during transport.

Fortunately, Drogon, despite his injuries, was still obedient to Daenerys. Once the sled was completed, loading him onto it posed no major issue.

After a full day of trial and error, including several failed attempts, they finally cobbled together a functional "super sled" resembling a multi-hulled ship. Soldiers worked in shifts to clear the road ahead, while dozens of oxen and horses, along with hundreds of men, pulled and pushed the sled. Under clear skies, they managed to cover over twenty miles each day, and after two grueling days, they reached Last Hearth.

However, what awaited them was unexpected.

Instead of the abandoned, desolate castle they had expected, Last Hearth was largely repaired and fortified, its gates shut tight. The walls bore the black-and-white sunburst banners of House Karstark.

The Karstarks had arrived first and taken the castle.

...