Artos Stark

The Long Night

Artos could only recall feeling panicked a few time in his life. When Bran fell, when he had to leave Sansa and Alastor in the capital, when Dany and Ned went missing, and now as he handed over if sons to Tyrion and Missandei to be locked away from the dead. The air around them seemed to drop in temperature by the second and Ned whimpered for his father as the doors were locked tight. The sound of the heavy bolts sliding into place replaced the panic with rage. Something was coming for his family and he knew he would fight the Gods to keep the safe.

Artos had talked Jon into taking his place on Rhaegal, he knew he would be little use in the air. As stupid as it sounded he wasn't scared to fight against twenty men with little odds of survival, but he could live the rest of his life fully content if it meant never letting his feet leave the ground again. Artos stepped up and mounted his horse next to Jorah. Dothraki, Unsullied,Wildlings, and North men behind. He was waiting to give his command. The wind had slowed to a stop and and their army shivered at the rigid cold. Thick clouds cover the moon and stars making it near impossible to see and all the sound of wildlife had died down. Artos could hear teeth chattering and his heart pumping blood through his veins. Dragon screeches ripped through one ear to the other as the anticipation created a think fog around his mind.
"Oh, for fuck's sake. You took your time." Artos heard Edd mumbled behind him. He didn't bother turning to see who he was talking. He was more content on straining his eyes to see the tree line across the field.

As the first of them were spotted Artos clicked his tounge and Beast lifted his nose to the air to let out a haunting howl. At the signal the Dothraki lit their blades with wildfire yipping and hollering as they raced forward. He felt Ice glide from its sheath as he kicked his horse forward. Ash fell around him from burning boulders that flew over head and Beast and Ghost growling from either side of him made the unruly part of him flourish. The ground quaked as the boulders hit in front of them and the smell of burning hair and flesh filled Artos nose as he cut the head off a wight that approached him.

Artos was pulled from his trance as Jorah reached over grabbed his reins yanking his horse back the way they came. It was then Artos noticed of a handful of Dothraki running along side them. Thousands turned to less the a hundred.
"Grey Worm!" Artos called out jumping down from his horse to take stand next to the man. Grey Worm's expression turned sour as he pulled his helmet on nodding to his king and friend. The dead broke through the veil of inky black to the dim light the fire allowed. The front line collapsed at the weight and they were piled over. Artos couldn't hear anything over the snarling coming from the mass as he fought to keep himself on his feet. Warm blood from the men around him coated his skin and clothes as the did his best to help them back to their while keeping himself alive. He once thought the cold had kept the smell of rot away but with as many of them around it burned his nose with every breath he took.

Artos felt a wave of heat behind him and his heart drop as the true number in front of him was reviled by dragon fire. It didn't matter that the old and young were locked away. If this many made it though the gates they would tear Winterfell to the ground. A blizzard like wind replaced and warmth that they felt, blowing ice and snow harshly into Artos eyes. He lifted a hand to wipe it away. His eyes snapped open as he felt a blade glide through his skin, a young boy had fallen over on him sinking his knife into Artos right side. He grabbed the boy pulling him to his feet.
"I'm sorry." The boys sobbed over and over again looking down at his knife logged into his king's side. Artos shook his head pulling another blade from his belt handing it over.
"Watch who you put this one in." Artos growled out pushing the boy behind him and further away from the danger. He the tore part of his shirt tying it around the knife to keep it in place. White fogged his vision as he pushed himself forward. Artos knew the adrenaline was covering the pain he would normally be feeling.
"Back to the gates!" Artos shouted as loudly as he could. There was little use trying to fight out here. They couldn't see three feet in front of them. Artos made his way back to Grey Worm as the men ran to safety.
"Your men your call." Artos told him between heavy breaths. Grey Worm looked down at the subtle drip of blood hitting the snow at Artos feet.
"You go." Grey Worm told him nodding to the wound. Artos wanted to argue but he was starting to feel the painful throb working it's way up his body. Making his way towards the gate ushering people along he looked up to the sky. Fear filled him when is couldn't spot Dany nor Jon flying above them.
"Sandor go!" Artos shouted pushing the large man back forward as he turned to fight again.