Prologue

“I can't believe this.” Lady Sansa said as she stared at the crow paper that the Maester of Winterfell had just given to her. “Jon is bringing an army of over 100,000 people here.”

The Maester stood awkwardly behind her. “They are marching north from Dragonstone, so they should take about six months to get here.”

Sansa sighed. “The North can't support that many people for any extended period of time.”

“With what Jon and Bran say is coming, we won't have to worry too much about feeding them all.” Arya said.

Sansa gave her a withering look that only bounced off Arya's stoic exterior without impact. “That's not something to look forward to.”

Arya shrugged. “He's bringing an army to defend the North, just like he promised.” She said. “Bran told us that it will take the army of the dead just over six months to get here.”

“So, if we're lucky, Jon will get here just in time to help fight.” Sansa said. “If we're not lucky...”

“Then it won't matter.” Arya said.

“This came with the message as well.” The Maester said and took out another piece of paper, this one unfolded to be a full page of parchment, unlike the small missive of Jon's note.

“What is it?” Sansa asked as she looked at all the scribbles of directions and nonsensical drawings on it. “I can't understand what this is supposed to be.”

Arya looked over her shoulder. “Those are field traps.”

“What?” Sansa looked at her sister in confusion.

“They are traps you set up in preparation for an encroaching army.” The Maester said with a smile to Arya for guessing it correctly. “Trenches, open pits, wooden spikes, covered pits, moguls and little hills and embankments to stop an army from moving quickly over open terrain.” He pointed to each thing. “It's an ingenious use of all the dirt the traps would produce.”

“What are we supposed to do with this?” Sansa asked. “We don't have trained men that prepare these field traps.”

“That's what the directions are for.” Arya said. “We have six months to convert the lands around Winterfell.”

“Who made these plans?” Sansa asked.

“It doesn't say.” The Maester said.

Sansa looked at the paper and then sighed. “Very well.” She handed the paper to the Maester. “Make as many copies of it as needed and inform the men to start making these traps. If it will give our people even a chance to survive, it must be done.”

*

“I'm glad you rejected that man's idiotic plan to retrieve one of the wights, my Queen.” Tyrion said as he observed Daenerys' army prepare to travel the 1,460 miles to Winterfell, which would take almost six months. “Not only would it have been a waste of time, I sincerely doubt that it would make my sister listen to reason.”

“Jon is not an idiot.” Daenerys said, a little perturbed at her Hand's comment. Unlike him, she was watching the Dothraki people prepare the long supply train and wagons they would need to feed the troops for the six month journey.

“I didn't say that he was an idiot, just that his idea was.” Tyrion said and gave her a slight smile. “Of course, if you did ask me for my opinion about him...”

“You can keep your opinion to yourself.” Daenerys said. “I need an adviser for this upcoming battle, not a gossiper.”

“Some of the best army strategies have come from gossip.” Varys said before Tyrion could.

“So, what would the gossip from an army of the dead be about?” Daenerys asked, curiously.

“After listening to the wildlings and Jon talking, the dead apparently never need to rest or sleep, so our estimation of them taking just over a year to cross the land of eternal winter from Hardhome to get to Winterfell, is now reduced to half that.”

Daenerys looked at her advisers and then at Jorah Mormont. He gave her a slight nod to confirm the change in the amount of time they would have to reach Winterfell.

“Hasten our departure.” Daenerys ordered. “I won't break my word to help defend the North over a small matter of a few weeks.”

“Yes, my Queen.” The three men said.

End Prologue

****

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

A gathering of the leaders for the defense of Winterfell stood in the war room around a large table of wooden blocks that represented their available forces and the enemy they would face. None of them had seen so many blocks on the opposite side before. Thanks to Bran's use of crows to scout, they had an accurate number of the dead that would be coming for them.

Almost 3,000,000 dead.

Half of the people in the room had groaned in despair at the number. With the men of the North and Daenerys' army, they had a scant 130,000 viable warriors, which meant that they were facing a force that was over twenty times their size. They stood there and stared at the table for several minutes before someone spoke.

“Please tell me you completed all of my field preparations.” Tyrion said. “I saw the embankments and the slight hills and depressions; but, I couldn't see any of the traps.”

“You sent us that?” Sansa asked, surprised.

“Who else do you know that can work things like that out?” Tyrion asked. “I hadn't expected this number of foes to fight, however.”

“Everything is covered in snow.” Arya said and ran her finger over the lands in front of the small model of Winterfell. “Almost all of them are concealed that way on purpose.”

“We have maps for you as well.” The Maester said and handed out maps to all of the commanders. “As long as you stick to the strategy and stay in your assigned areas, you won't be in danger of getting caught in them yourself.”

Everyone turned and looked at Daenerys with slightly worried faces.

“The Dothraki will follow my orders.” Daenerys said. “Although their fighting style makes them appear to be a mob that attacks randomly, it is actually a useful tactic to harry the enemy and demoralize them.”

“Which won't work on the dead.” Jon said. “That's why they are to circle around and try to cull the white walkers before their army reaches the gates of Winterfell.”

“The army will lose a lot of its power if the white walkers are defeated quickly.” Bran said from the side of the room. “Unfortunately, he's had decades to build up his forces. With all of the sacrifices and abductions from the wildlings, he now has close to 1,200 white walkers.”

“And if any one of them survives, so will their part of the army.” Jon said and looked at Daenerys. “Your Dothraki are the fastest attacking force we have. I hope they are up for this.”

“They would have gone after them already if I hadn't restrained their enthusiasm.” Daenerys said with a smile. “If we didn't have to wait for the army of the dead to enter the field of battle to leave the white walkers undefended, they could have already been culled.”

“We're going to need that enthusiasm.” Tyrion said. “We can place unsullied in these trenches.” He said and had to use a stick to point. “They are behind the trenches with spikes, and we can make a stand there and kill as many of them as we can. Once those positions start to be overrun, which we know will happen and have planned for, the unsullied will retreat back to the next series of trenches and continue to remove as many of the dead as possible.”

“I can't believe that we are about to fight a war of attrition with an army of the dead.” Davos, the Onion Knight said. “Is this even possible?”

“The women and children will be safe down in the crypts.” Tyrion said. “It's completely enclosed and easily defensible.”

“You're putting the women and children into a crypt full of dead bodies?” Brienne of Tarth asked. “Are you crazy?”

“Crazy like a dragon.” Tyrion said and laughed. “Most of them have been dust for decades. I've had several squads of unsullied opened every tomb and internment to check them and burn the remains.”

Sansa, Arya, and Jon gave him angry looks. The only one who didn't react was Bran.

“Don't be stupid.” Tyrion said. “They didn't drag them all into a pile. They did each one individually and left the ashes where they lay and sealed them up again.” He said and they relaxed. “Sansa, please assign some Northmen to guard the crypt during the battle. I would have used a squad of unsullied; but, they make the women and children nervous.”

Sansa waited for a moment and then nodded. She appreciated that he had asked her and not Jon.

“Now, because of the way the embankments are set up, once the dead get by the trenches, they will be funnelled down into much smaller and manageable fronts.” Tyrion said and looked at the commanders of those units. “Keep your men focused on the task at hand and we should be able to handle the majority of the dead before those positions are overrun as well.”

“Is your strategy to continuously fall back?” Arya asked.

“No. It's to continuously whittle the enemy's main force down, like a meat grinder.” Tyrion said. “Using this method, most of our forces will barely have anything to do, except replace the tired men in front of them and take their turn hacking down the dead.”

“What about the catapults?” Jon asked.

“They are medium range and won't come into play until the battle is well underway. We can't risk hitting our own men, so they have been aimed to hit and scatter just outside the trenches.”

“That's a little shortsighted, isn't it?” Davos asked with a smile.

“Ha. You're so funny making fun of my height.” Tyrion said. “Our big hitters, namely our three powerful dragons, will be constantly strafing the enemy as they approach.” He said and pointed to where the best spot to do that was. “The catapults will be holding the dead back just enough to give the dragons large targets to hit.”

“What happens if the dead reach the walls?” Sansa asked.

“Not if. When.” Tyrion said and everyone looked at him with surprise. “Plan for the worst, remember?” He said. “I saw the triple trench you put around the moat. We can't fill them with water, since it would probably freeze... unless we add oil to them.” He said with a smile. “We can even have squads on the walls with barrels of it to spray on the dead, then light them on fire.”

“Won't that make thousands of running torches?” Davos asked.

“Winterfell is defended by a huge granite wall that's 40 feet high and is almost twenty feet thick.” Tyrion said. “Even a dragon's fire breath would have a difficult time getting through them.”

“A dragon would just fly over them.” Daenerys said.

“It was just an example of what amount of fire would be needed to break the walls, my Queen.” Tyrion said. “With the archers we have positioned on the top of those walls, we can defend the castle against any force, even the dead, for several days.”

“Unlike the dead, we need to rest.” Jon said. “We can't be constantly fighting without relief.”

“Like I said before, I've designed this battlefield to give us the most advantages and the enemy has none.” Tyrion said.

“What about their giants?” Jon said.

“Ah... about that.” Tyrion said and gave Daenerys an odd look, almost as if he was apologetic. “Thanks to Sir Davos' being the best smuggler in the realms, I may have left King's Landing with... a secret or two.”

“I'm not going to like this, am I?” Daenerys asked as she squinted her eyes.

Tyrion motioned to Davos, who left for a few minutes. While he was gone, Tyrion took out a bundle of old and dry papers. He carefully took off the wrapping around the bundle and unrolled the pieces of parchment.

“No.” Daenerys said, almost in a whisper as she saw what the papers had on them. Davos came back in and dropped one of the six foot long metal bolts onto the table, right next to the plans to build the heavily modified catapult called a 'scorpion'.