A/N: So, between having a friend pass away and my computer deciding to shit itself this chapter was a slog to get done. But it's here now and hopefully things can get back on a semi-regular schedule. As always, those of you who followed, favourited and reviewed this story...you're golden.

DAVOS

What surrounded Davos Seaworth could best be described as a white hell. After all the days he had spent trudging through the stuff, Davos would never have thought in a thousand years that he would ever have to worry about fire while surrounded by so much snow. But between dragons and fire priests, the Onion Knight found that fire had been chasing him and his people ever since the Rainwood.

Ash covered his face and clung to his clothes, the stench of burnt flesh filled the air he breathed. His head rang, his ears buzzed and it was all he could do to stand amongst the carnage that raged around him. He blinked, found his centre and tried to push his way through the madness that was the dying gasps of battle. There was a thud against Davos' head, and he accidentally bit his tongue with the jolt. Suddenly he felt something wet and sticky rush over his ears and down his neck and when he touched at it, his hand came away bloody. The Onion Knight frowned in confusion and shock before he felt darkness envelope him.

He could not say with any real certainty how long he lay in the realm of oblivion, but when sense returned to Davos he was laid out in the snowy mud afflicted with a splitting headache and near-constant tremble that plagued his movements. Davos felt his stomach's contents rise to the back of his throat as he struggled to his feet and it was a goliath effort to smother his urge to wretch. It was only once he had oriented himself that Davos took note of the world around him, realising that the sounds of violence had faded and that all around him was nothing but smoke and death.

The carnage was grotesque and the stink of burnt flesh did nothing to help Davos' weak stomach. He wandered through the thick misery, bleary and confused until he spotted a familiar figure; Sarella Sand. The Dornish girl looked little better than Davos felt, but she seemed to have some sort of purpose as she moved through the burnt and wrecked ruins of their encampment. Davos followed her wearily until they came to a gathering of soldiers and commanders who were in heated discussion. The Onion Knight felt his spirits lift considerably when he saw that Stannis was among them.

His weary eyes scanned the huddled mob, despair slowly creeping back into the corners of his mind. There wasn't the slightest sign of Rhaenys, even among the dozen or so dornish faces in the crowd. By every God, I pray that all of this wasn't wasted effort. Davos' attempt to swallow was met with little success; his woollen tongue clung to the roof of his mouth as he looked around desperately. What hope is there without the Daughter of the Dragon?

Davos blinked again. People were talking around him, voices rising in heat and vitriol and after several moments of incomprehension he realised that there was an argument of some sort going on between the surviving commanders.

"I saw the bloody thing go down!" Davos recalled with some effort that the man speaking was a Yronwood, though he couldn't for the life of him bring forth the man's name. "The dragon is surely dead, just like any chance we had of casting the madman from the throne!"

The man's assertions were met with a mixture of grumbling that sounded mainly of solemn agreement.

"Both dragons fell from the sky," retorted a Cafferen man, "if Rhaenys is dead then there is every chance that Aegon is with her!"

The squabbling that broke out only grew louder and Davos could see hope die and the idea of desertion foment before his very eyes. The Dornish and Tyroshi seemed especially disheartened, vestiges as they were within the shattered ranks of the once sprawling army in a land utterly alien to them. He breathed in the horrible, ashy air and spat into the snow. Fire and Ice had seemingly united to destroy them.

"Enough." Stannis' command cut through the debate, hushing the crowd. The Baratheon was bloodied and covered in the ashes of his fallen comrades, but that only served to make him seem even more fearsome as his cold blue eyes regarded those around him. "Whatever the case, we gain nothing by remaining here amidst the corpses of friend and foe while the snows build up around us. Enough men saw the dragons fall to the east, so we shall send a search party out to see for ourselves."

A few men opened their mouths, as if to offer some kind of argument. Stannis' glare was enough to make such debates stillborn. He turned to the others and barked an order for them to fetch the fastest riders they had left so that they might leave right away before turning to regard Sarella Sand, who stood motionless and unseeing of the world around her.

"My lady, you've spent enough time around dragons that you might be of some use if the creature is wounded," he gestured dismissively, "you'd best accompany the riders."

Sarella gave no indication that she had heard the man, but then blinked in pained confusion. "What? No, there are things…" she looked about in a daze, "my sisters…I need to…lay them to rest….Tyene worshipped the Seven…I need to…" she trailed off, voice growing faint as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. "Seven…prayers…"

There was no sympathy on the weathered and scarred face of Stannis Baratheon, only the deepest of frowns as he regarded the small Dornish woman. "There is no time. Utter whatever prayers you want on your way to the Dragon."

"No, you don't understand," a terrible hybrid of grief and rage flashed across her ebony features then, "I won't leave without-" her words were cut short as the large and bony hand of Stannis reached out and grabbed a fistful of her cloak, lifting her an inch off the ground as he leaned in, quiet fury colouring his face.

"Your sisters are dead, girl," Each word was said with the cold sharpness of a slap to the face, "prayer won't bring them back to you."

The Baratheon released her without another word, giving her one fleeting look of disdain before he turned to give out further orders. Davos watched the girl slowly gather herself up from the ground, tears still trailing down her face even as she followed the others over to the horses. His heart ached for the girl, who was still something of a child and who had lost so much in one instant, but he knew Stannis had the right of it.

They went to work clearing as much debris as they could and slowly began the process of preparing for travel. It was a small mercy that they had already been well on their way when Aegon attacked that much of the gear and material that survived was already packed away and ready for transport, and despite the devastation across the army, the old ruined keep and the few wagons stored within had been untouched by the fires. The Mother hasn't completely abandoned us…

The collection of Dornishmen had ridden out with Sarella Sand and they carried with them the collective hopes of the survivors. If Rhaenys and her beast were alive, then there was a chance at salvation for the Seven Kingdoms. Doubt and blunt realism stained his mind, but the Onion Knight knew they weren't useful and cast them far away, holding onto the image of the dragon inside his heart as though he could will it into existence with sheer belief.

It was difficult to tell the time inside a blizzard, but whatever light they had begun to quickly fade and the cold crept in worse than ever. Stannis ordered the men to fall back inside the walls of the ruined keep to make what shelter they could.

Though there was reluctance from most of the men to have anything to do with fire after having just survived a demonic inferno, the cold got to such a state that none put up much of a fuss when camp fires were lit.

The atmosphere was solemn as they all sat about in the dim. Ancient battles and the passage of time had ravaged the ruin worse than Davos had originally thought and as he surveyed the crumbling stonework he realised that it was a small miracle that the structure had not come down during the chaos of battle. With a sense of exhaustion that was threatening to overwhelm him, Davos found a spot tucked between a wagon and one of the walls that was mostly snow-free and settled in.

He drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours, but eventually the dampness began to chafe and wearily he decided to move closer to one of the camp fires. Despite the smell of smoke being enough to make him want to wretch, Davos felt his body relax almost immediately within the caressing warmth of the small flame. He had almost fallen back into the realm of dreams when he heard the softest of voices. At first it sounded like a breeze, but he could faintly make out words that carried with them lulling emotion. They were not words sung in any tongue that Davos was familiar with, but he had spent enough time around Marya and their boys to know a lullaby when he heard one.

The Onion Knight followed the sound to its owner and couldn't hold back the stunned expression that no doubt danced across his face. The Red Woman sat a little ways away from him, seemingly unconcerned by the cold in her simple red silks and looking as pristine as she ever had. Her expression told a different story however, her crimson gaze was fixed upon the little campfire as she sung softly, a strange kind of distant melancholy set in around her eyes and mouth. Despite his misgivings about the woman, in that moment he felt something akin to sympathy for her.

Davos listened in silence as the woman's soft and otherworldly voice took him on a journey through the dark, the gentle notes rising and falling like waves in the ocean. It can't have been more than a few moments, but for the old smuggler it felt like a small eternity of peace amongst a frozen nightmare.

His eyes snapped open suddenly as the melodic voice was cut short. Lady Melisandre seemed to grow pale, her expression stricken. Davos made to ask her what was wrong, but then he heard a sound that could have only come from his darkest nightmares.

Around him men were woken by the commotion and the noises only grew louder and drew closer. It sounded like nothing human, though Davos could not say what manner of creature would have created such a shriek. There would be no bears and shadowcats out in such a blizzard and they certainly would not be drawn towards such a large group of men.

From amongst the darkness a lone figure emerged. Squinting, Davos saw that it was a man, moving in with a strange and unnatural urgency towards them, blood covering his features and hair obscuring his face. One of the soldiers went over to the man in concern, but instead of responding to any of the soldier's worried questions, the lone man lunged forward with animalistic fury, burying a blade into the other's neck and tearing his head clean from his shoulders. The figure looked up at them then, eyes glowing a horrible blue as an inhuman shriek escaped its bloodied mouth.

As the headless body collapsed to the ground, Davos own body felt weightless. The stone ruins around him began to spin, surrounding him in a cold and ominous prison. His disembodied feeling of being distant was quickly anchored by the grim reality of more dead things emerging from the night.

The screaming of horses and the shouting of men came from all directions as more and more blue eyes began to litter the night. Violence erupted like pus from a wound as the shuffling dead men rushed forth with animal ferocity, cutting down anyone and anything in their path. Surprise and unfathomable fear dulled reactions and slowed the counterattack of the men. Things grew madder still once the freshly dead began to stand back up and join their murderers in attacking the living. But from amidst the chaos Davos caught sight of the red woman.

Melisandre was still speaking in the same foreign tongue as before, though now she was chanting to the high heavens, moving towards the mass of terrible and twisted creatures with a torch in one hand and flask in the other. Taking a long pull from the flask, the red woman suddenly spat forth its contents at her torch, causing the flame to spray outwards as though she were a dragon and not some mad priestess from a distant land.

Dozens of the corpse creatures found themselves caught aflame and in their mad jerking movements caught their kin as well, until a good wave of the creatures were shrieking demonically as the horrible magic that animated them burnt out. To the men watching, the effect was immediate. Seeing that fire brought these creatures true death was enough of a motivator to get them to take torches, flaming arrows, and even a few flaming swords. Davos for his part grabbed nearby torch and helped the others in herding the dead back towards the breach.

There was a kind of unreality to being so close to beings worse than anything that could have come from Davos nightmares, but the onion knight forced himself to ignore his rational mind and operate on instinct. Eventually the dead were driven back, and a few practical minded men pushed out an old wagon and set it alight with what pitch they could find, effectively creating a barrier of fire between the living and the dead.

Though they did not approach the flames, the dead did not especially retreat either. The rotting corpse men stood as silent sentries, unmoving and unseeing, yet very much a threat.

"They are not moving, but this is not the end," Melisandre's voice cut through the numbness of Davos mind, her red eyes locked on the creatures waiting in the dark, "There is still at least three Others out there, White Walkers commanding these thralls. This will not stop they are dead."

Davos worked his jaw, trying to command speech. "How do we do that…my lady…fire?"

"These are demons of ice," The woman shook her head, her expression grim. "They are the essence of cold and regular flame will not harm the way it does the dead."

Davos felt is stomach lurch. "Then what do we do?"

"I will consult the Lord for answers and hope that he is forthcoming."

Not a single man in that camp could keep themselves still after that, not with the dead so close. They continuously fed the bonfire they had created at the breach of the ruin, using every piece of timber they could find to keep the evil at bay. Davos couldn't help but feel that it was folly, a stalling tactic at best and that doom surely awaited them all. A third of the men had been slain in that attack and at the Red Woman's behest the survivors had thrown their fallen comrades into the flames to prevent them from joining the blue eyed ones.

Despite his ever increasing experience Davos had not grown accustomed to the sight of burning friends. He paced about; doing what he could to keep himself occupied in an effort to ward off the defeatist thoughts, tending to the wounded and gathering what timber he could scrounge and it was amidst that menial task that Stannis Baratheon found him.

The Lord of Storm's End ushered him up into the partially collapsed tower of the ruin, the two men walking in silence until they reached the top of the stairs. Since most of top chamber had crumbled away it was little more than a partially roofed balcony that overlooked the snow fields to the east.

"What do you see, Ser Davos?"

Davos blinked. "I see…darkness, my lord," he chewed on the inside of his mouth before adding, "I see the night."

"Look to the horizon, or at least your approximation of it," Stannis pointed vaguely east, lifting his arm just a little, "the night sky."

The Onion Knight did so, squinting in the way he used back when he was at sea but there was no land on the horizon this time. The thought sent another pang of melancholy through his body as he thought of so many times when had gone out sailing with his boys, enjoying the warm caress of the sea air and their joyous laughter as they watched the waves. The memory threatened to consume him until his eyes adjusted and he saw what Stannis was referring to. Colour…there is colour amongst the darkness of night…

"The dawn…" even saying the words felt uneasy given how never-ending the nightmare seemed to be, "the dawn is coming."

Stannis nodded. "We're perhaps little over two hours away from it and when it arrives we will be ready," he gazed down at the dark fields beneath them, "this is a siege, Ser. We shall survive this by outlasting our enemies, as we always have."

An instinctual deference made Davos hesitate, but he knew that Stannis valued his council so he outright gave voice to his fears. "My Lord….what we face…they aren't like men, we cannot outlast them, not truly. They do not eat or sleep or tire like our forces do…even if we were to escape this tiny scrap of sanctuary, we'd not get far, not when the days are as short as they are. We don't even truly know that such weak sunlight would do anything other than slow them."

"He is right," once again Lady Melisandre seemed to materialise from out of the darkness itself, the ruby at her throat pulsing. "There is no escaping this evil, not without that dragon and the Queen. There is no other way to kill those White Walkers and their scores of dead."

Stannis scowled. "Out in that madness? They might well be dead for all we know."

"The girl and her beast live," Melisandre insisted, "R'hllor has shown me as much in the flames, and that is why we must act. Your riders are with them but if they are to help the creature regain its strength then they will need my help too."

Davos couldn't keep the doubt from his face or voice. "Every demon from every hell lies between us and the dragon."

"Not every demon," Melisandre looked at him with something akin to pity, "the Wall has fallen, that much is clear, but R'hllor has shown me fighting elsewhere. The enemy is divided and what we face here is perhaps a third of its total strength. It could be possible to slip past with few enough people on healthy mounts-"

"You can't," Stannis interjected, "you wouldn't get ten feet before they'd cut you down and add you to their numbers."

"The alternative is that we get whittled away here," Melisandre did not even bother to hide the frustration that she was surely feeling. "In the end, the army of the dead will grow whatever we choose. But if I can survive long enough to reach Rhaenys…"

Davos was about to voice his objections, to point out how it sounded that the woman was simply trying to save her own neck, but a sudden scream quashed his complaints. The three of them hurried down to the snow-filled courtyard and witnessed chaos unfold as men rushed about with fire and steel in hand, desperate to fight back a new wave of dead that had somehow pushed through the fire that served as barrier at the breach. Dozens of corpses were being used to smother what flames they could even as their kin crawled and trampled over their smouldering remains.

The air around Davos seemed to shift as Stannis assumed his role of commander and began barking orders, his sword drawn as he directed archers to aim their flaming arrows at the rushing hoard. Whatever magic drove the undead seemed to make them particularly susceptible to even the smallest amount of flame, quickly engulfing the mindless thralls once hit. The archers managed to keep enough distance between the dead men and their living counterparts long enough for the armed warriors to properly equip themselves with whatever flaming implements they could find, some even taking up burning pieces of wood from the campfires and jabbing them like crude spears.

After what felt like several eternities they managed to staunch the flow of dead and went about building up another fire to keep them back, though it was now apparent that even that was no real measure of defence.

"We haven't the kindling to keep this up for much longer," Davos spoke the words without really thinking, but once they left his mouth he felt the last of his hope go with them. "This is it."

Marya, forgive me. He could see her smile even now, could hear the beautiful sound of their boys playing and laughing together. If only I could hold them one more time…

Their numbers had been halved during the last attack, and what fire they had was quickly being used up in burning their dead. It would only take the White Walkers one final assault for them all to be overrun, for their flames to go out and for their corpses to join the horrible blue eyed army. That was truly what troubled Davos most. Death, as unfathomable as it was, could perhaps be seen as a natural thing but there was nothing natural about the ghouls who served the White Walkers. That is what the worst of the seven hells looks like…

"Lord Stannis!"

The voice belonged to a breathless soldier who rushed towards them, covered in blood and soot. "My lord, the men have…we've found something in the wagons!"

Stannis looked murderously at the young man. "Whatever is in those damned wagons means less than nothing boy," he gestured dismissively, "chop the bloody thing up and use it to feed our fires."

"My lord…you'll want to see this," he did not even wait to be chided by his lord, but instead bid them to follow him as he rushed over towards the few remaining wagons. Davos, Stannis and Melisandre followed with reluctant curiosity until they came upon the source of the commotion.

It was the green light that caught Davos attention first, the unnatural emerald glow that seemed to pierce the darkness of night. It was almost mesmerising at first and the old sailor found himself fixed in place as a strange warmth seemed to emanate from the glowing green jars. Only after a moment did logic return to his brain and Davos realised what he was looking at. Wildfire…

There was an exhale from Melisandre, a sound that might have signified relief of some sort in any other person. Stannis however, merely regarded the substance with cold calculation, gently reaching out to take one of the jars in his hand as his hawkish gaze took in every detail before returning it.

"Would this hurt the dead?" His stormy blue eyes locked onto Melisandre, "would it hurt their masters?"

Melisandre pursed her lips, but nodded. "Even the Great Other himself would feel the burn from this."

Stannis gave a single nod, turned on his heel and moved back towards the tower. Davos watched him uncertainly for a moment, taking note that the aura of harsh command had left the Baratheon, and decided to follow him. He fell into step with the Lord of Storm's End, though Stannis barely acknowledged him as he made an ascent up the ruinous tower. Stannis climbed until he reached the balcony, where he paused for a moment before finally deciding to take a seat on the final step, his whole body slouched in defeat. Davos felt great unease and stood two or three steps below, watching carefully as the fearsome man he served for years sank into vulnerability.

"I never expected much out my life," there was an uneasy breath and a slump of shoulders, "I've known since I was a boy that if happiness and joy were real things then surely they meant for other people and not one such as I," his mouth twitched, "I did my duty and I was given a wife who was not unpleasant, children who had goodness in them….and now look at where we are. I will die here in this frozen hell."

Davos felt a blow in his chest at the blunt admission of defeat, but something else stirred within his soul and after a few heartbeats he moved to sit beside Stannis. "The first time we met, all those years ago during the Siege I asked why you refused to yield Storm's End," he couldn't help but smile, "you told me that it was your duty to hold the castle in Robert's name."

"He was my brother and Lord of Storm's End," Stannis sighed. "I had a duty to protect our home."

"If I might be so bold…regardless of birth or status…I think every man has a duty to make this world a better place," Davos smiled sadly, "and I think you are one of the few people who has the power to do that, even now. Even here."

Stannis was silent and still as his blue eyes studied Davos. It was a small thing at first, the way the leathery and worn face of the Baratheon seemed to soften, the way his eyes lost their boiling rage and frustration, the gentle upturn of his mouth as a genuine smile began to form. In that moment Stannis Baratheon looked every bit the descendant of kings.

"Davos…thank you," he held out a hand, "thank you for your service to me all these years," he bowed his head slightly, "….and for your friendship."

The Onion Knight felt a swirl of furious emotion in his heart at the acknowledgment , but before he could give voice to anything Stannis was already on his feet, making his descent down the ruins. Davos followed him, somewhat unsure of things, but feeling a change in the air as he watched the Baratheon move with purpose towards Melisandre.

"You'll have your opening," he told her, "but we can only spare the one horse."

Melisandre's red eyes searched the storm blue of Stannis before nodding. "Thank you."

"Prepare yourself then, be ready to leave the moment we have begun our charge," his eyes narrowed in resentment; "You and that dragon had better make this all worth it."

Once again the big man did not wait for a response as he moved to address the remaining collection of men who stood by the fire. They looked up at Stannis with an expression of desperate hope and grief-stricken fear. Stannis own face looked as though it had been crudely carved from granite and showed as much emotion.

"All of you, ready your arms and your horses," Stannis turned his cold gaze over the men, eyeing each and every one of them, "If you cannot find a horse for yourself then ride double with one of your fellows. And get to work hitching those wagons up; we cannot leave even a single container of wildfire."

There was a murmur of confusion that cut through the assembled men, each of them struggling to comprehend the latter command. Davos could see the thought process, knew they were all asking themselves the same questions. Why do we need to waste time with the wagons?

Davos knew the grim truth. Aside from the Red Woman, not one of us will live to see the morning…

"My lord?" One of the men stepped forward, pale-faced and with eyes that were glassy with fear, "wouldn't it be better if we left the damned things? They'll only slow us down when we try and make a break for it."

"There will be no escape," Stannis announced, "our goal is to deliver the wildfire directly in the heart of the enemy, and send each and every one of them to the seventh hell."

It seemed at first as if the men had not heard Stannis' command, all of them looking at him with eyes full of utter incomprehension. But the moment was fleeting and confusion gave way to rage and despair, voices rising in shock protest. Davos felt himself uncomfortable standing next to the source of their ire, but Stannis seemed unfazed by the contention.

"There is less than a hundred of us and for every man that dies it only serves to feed our enemy's numbers," he gestured to the bon fire that was steadily burning itself out under the snowfall, "our only defence is feeble and limited under their assault and once it's gone we won't even be able to properly hurt them. We are far from any nearby keeps, and even if we weren't, we have no way of knowing that the Northerners haven't also been consumed by this scourge," Stannis voice rang out in the cold night air like a funeral gong, "there is no one coming to save us and we cannot save ourselves."

Even to Davos, it felt like a blow. He liked to think that his years had given him some measure of sense about the natural order of things, but he could not banish the churning in his guts or the burning heat in the back of his neck. I'm afraid, Marya. Will I ever be able to see you again, even after this? There are so many things I should have told you…

The man who spoke before looked ready to wretch but kept his watery eyes on Stannis. "So this is it? This is the end…." He swallowed with some difficulty, "we've lost… Mother have mercy on us all…"

"The Mother has no mercy," Stannis replied, turning to regard them all, "if the Gods do exist then they are indifferent to the joys and suffering of men. They will not lift a finger to help any of us, no matter how much we cry out for them," His blue eyes shone with a sudden fury, his voice rising to eruption, "it's true, all of our lives will end here today, yours, mine…all of us. But what of the people you love in this world? What about their lives? The dead will continue on unabated and Gods will not save them…but we can. Here! Today!" the voice was like rolling thunder as passion filled the Baratheon's body, "We can ride out with enough Wildfire to ensure that even those ice bastards die screaming! We will destroy our enemies and save the ones we love…AND WE WILL SHAME THE GODS FOR THEIR APATHY! WE WILL SHOW THEM OUR FURY!"

In that moment Davos felt his frustrations boil within his veins; a lifetime of anger and regret on the unfairness of life churning away. When he looked at the men he could see that same rage burning within them, hotter than any torch, any campfire. Even as the snow continued to fall, even as it only grew colder, they all moved with purpose as they saddled up their horses and took a jar of Wildfire each to carry on their person. It seemed as if time had melted together and every moment soaked into the next until finally he sat on his horse at Stannis side along with the rest, watching as the men used snow to smother the last of the fire defences. Davos could not see in the unrelenting darkness, but he felt the evil out there waiting for him. Evil that was coming for him, his wife and his children.

Stannis drew his blade and shouted in a voice that was a storm incarnate, "Ours is the fury!"

The Onion Knight knew that those were no longer just the words of the Baratheons, but of every living man desperate to avenge themselves on a cruel and uncaring world. Once Stannis gave the command they charged out into the cold oblivion. The scream of outrage that burst from his throat and throats of the others sounded to Davos like the sweetest chant of triumph. Soon the rotting and wretched monsters were upon them in an ocean of blue eyes, but it did not matter. A dagger carved into Davos side and a rotting toothy mouth bit a chunk out of his sword hand, but it did not matter. Still they charged into a frozen hell until finally Davos caught a glimpse of brilliant emerald where Stannis had once been. He closed his eyes and allowed warmth to take him.