After Jon's company left, Daenerys and Sansa went about preparing the rest for war. Even with their final count of dragonglass being a bit shorter than they'd thought there was still enough for everyone, even those wielding valyrian steel. Gendry managed to finish another batch of weapons for the lords. Some got two, but they were always smaller weapons, leaving most with the same amount of steel bar the rare greatsword or Gendry's valyrian steel shield he made himself as a test.
Both women did their best to keep themselves occupied, working on projects or training, waiting for a raven that would never come. They knew he wouldn't be reach the Wall for a while, yet Daenerys found herself wanting to take Drogon and fly out to help or at least check on them. Sansa helped quell her some, but she was starting to feel anxious herself.
Sansa was making rounds with Sam and Rickon, preparing him for the day they left him in charge when everything went dark. At once the world looked up to watch night bleed from the sun, coating the planet darkness.
Worried murmurs gave way to panicked talking and frightened screams. Sansa stared at the dimmed sun and felt her stomach twist until she was nauseous.
The Long Night had come.
With that she knew the Wall had fallen. She thought of everyone she'd met at Castle Black, all the free folk they'd sent to Eastwatch, all trapped beneath the ice. As she started to picture Jon among them she took a breath and shook her head. She'd doubt him this time, think he hadn't made it. He would've had to run the horses ragged to get there by now, barely slept most nights and took only quick stops.
Drogon and Viserion letting screeching roars which seemed to make Ghost howl from wherever he was hunting.
Daenerys rushed out of Winterfell and stared up at the blackened sky, her regal mask breaking as fear overcame her. She was shaken from it when she heard footsteps and turned to see Sansa leading a small group toward the Godswood, so she moved to join them.
"Sansa," she called out, making the woman glance at her.
"We're going to find Bran," she told Daenerys.
Relief flooded Daenerys as she ran to Rickon's side, walking beside the boy and following Sansa to the weirwood Bran spent most of his days beneath.
That relief vanished when they saw the boy sat in his chair, his eyes clouded white with tears down his cheeks. Any emotion from the withdrawn boy was surprising, but to see him crying made them think the worst.
"Bran," Sansa called out, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"He never wakes when I call him," Rickon said frowning at his brother.
Thankfully they didn't have to wait long for Bran to take a breath and blink, his pupils returning as he sat up and looked to the group gathered around him.
"It… The Wall fell," he said somberly. "Jon he's… I don't know."
"Oh gods," Sansa gasped with a hand to her mouth as Daenerys clutched her chest.
"He fought the Night King. He broke Longclaw and stabbed Jon with it. Thoros, he sacrificed himself to stop the Night King from killing Jon, but he left and… he made a Horn of Winter and brought down the Wall. That was when the sky went dark."
"What happened to Jon?" Daenerys asked clutching Sansa's hand.
"When the Wall started breaking up he told everyone to get off the ice but there were all these wights on him, holding him when they broke the cracked ice and he sank with them. I couldn't see him after that, only that Arya and the others got off before it all broke and managed to get away from the Wall. But Rhaegal dived in and Jon was on his back when he came out, but I couldn't see if he… I couldn't see if he was okay."
"He'll bring him back here," Daenerys said looking to Sansa. "He'll bring him to us."
Sansa squeezed Daenerys' hand, hoping she was right.
The sun had set, leaving them in total darkness if not for the fires being lit throughout Winterfell and the camp around it.
When the moon had risen over the horizon was when they heard the roars and howl telling them Rhaegal was close. Sansa and Daenerys rode out at the head of a group surrounding a cart filled with blankets and whatever they might need to treat everything Bran described.
Ghost met them in the clearing where Drogon and Viserion sat, waiting for their brother along with the rest of them. A roar drew their eyes north, Drogon and Viserion answering it with their own roars.
Rhaegal came into view and sank to the trees, landing as gently as a large dragon could. He looked to Daenerys, Sansa and the others gathered as Drogon and Viserion let out an odd whine watching their brother sink flat against the ground, presenting his back for them to see the small black cloaked figure laying between his spines.
"Jon!" Sansa called out, rushing to Rhaegal's side with Daenerys.
In all their visits with the dragons she'd only touched Viserion, but Rhaegal made no motions to pull away as she and Daenerys climbed onto his back. Even against the warmth of the dragon a chill lingered around Jon, his back still damp as they pulled him from the dragon's back and carefully made their way back down with him.
They set him on the ground on his back, both women on their knees as Rhaegal raised his head and look at Jon with an odd trilling noise. Ghost hurried to his side, laying beside Jon and licking his hand. Sansa looked at the small hole in his spaulder and frowned, reaching for his neck. It felt like she'd held her fingers there minutes, but after a few seconds she felt his pulse and looked to the others. "He's alive!"
Davos steeled himself along with Gendry and Rickon, rushing toward the dragon to help the women lift Jon and carry him toward the cart. With some distance from the dragons the others helped lift him onto the blanket laid across hay. Daenerys joined her in the cart as it was pulled back to Winterfell, helping Sansa remove his cloak and armor, putting another blanket over him. The dragons took to the air where they circled over Winterfell while Ghost followed them.
The courtyard parted as the cart came through the gate, taking them to the steps of Winterfell where the riders dismounted and carried Jon to his room. Sansa and Daenerys stripped his damp cold clothes while Wolkan treated the wound on his shoulder.
Once he was stitched they piled furs onto him and stoked the hearth to make the room as warm as possible. Daenerys and Sansa sat on either side of him, their hands holding his under the furs. Rickon stared at Jon's pale face before looking to the sword belt Sansa had removed.
He walked over and grabbed the scabbard, holding it as he pulled Longclaw's hilt but found barely half the blade when he removed it. That garnered gasps from the others in the room, including Gendry, who walked over and examined the blade when Rickon handed it to him.
"It would take hundreds of years to make it this brittle," Gendry said flicking his finger against the uneven tip.
"You can make him a new one, right?" Rickon asked Gendry.
The smith frowned, handing Rickon the broken sword. "I could use dragonglass from one of the daggers."
Sam looked between them and shook his head. "He wouldn't want to take a weapon someone else could use for his sake… Use Heartsbane."
"Your family sword?" Sansa asked.
Sam nodded, looking to Brienne. "Your sword was one of two made from Ice, correct?" When she nodded, he turned to Gendry. "Heartsbane is a greatsword as well. Melt it down and make him another."
"Sam," Sansa whispered.
"It's of no use to me," he assured. "I'd say let him have it whole, but I'm sure he'd prefer something like what he had, so remake it as you see fit."
Gendry stared at him for a moment before nodding. "I could have it done by sunrise."
"Don't rush," Sansa said quickly, making them pause and look back to her. "Bran said the Night King retreated and we should have some time before we need to march. We'll let Jon recover. And if you can, use the rest of Heartsbane to make a second sword so Samwell isn't defenseless."
"I doubt I'll-"
"You were the first to slay a White Walker, likely in centuries if not thousands of years," she cut him off firmly. "You'll be regent to Rickon. Let the second sword be a reminder to any who question your place or worth until we return and I'll commission another sword for House Tarly."
Sam wasn't the only one who seemed shocked by her declaration, spoken in a purely queenly voice. Daenerys looked upon her with pride.
Gendry gave her a nod. "I'll make him what I can from the remaining steel, your grace."
When Gendry and Sam left the room, Rickon turned to the bed. "What will we do with Longclaw?"
"I think it's best we let Jon decide when he wakes," Daenerys suggested.
Sansa nodded. "She's right. We'll wait until he wakes."
Eventually the room emptied, leaving Daenerys and Sansa thankful they'd chosen larger mattresses, making it easier for them to sleep beside Jon. Even through the furs he'd been so cold laying next to him, but by morning it had lessened and color had begun to return to his flesh.
The sun had risen and the night remained when they woke. They broke fast in his room alongside Rickon while Bran went to check up on Arya and the others making their way back to Winterfell.
The sun was beginning it's descent when Jon's eyes blinked open and he found his wives sat on the edge of his bed beside one another. A weak smile tugged at his lips, but it quickly sank as he looked from them to the window where no light came through despite hearing the sounds of people moving about.
"Arya and the others?" Jon asked looking to them.
"They made it," said Sansa. "We only lost a few of our men."
"And Thoros," Jon added mournfully, looking back to the window.
"That wasn't your fault," Sansa said holding his wrist, hoping to regain his attention.
"I failed," he said quietly. "I failed everyone."
Daenerys shook her head. "You haven't. You're still alive."
"Even if you weren't I doubt that'd stop you," Sansa said with a somber smile.
"He brought down the Wall. He took away daylight. He broke Longclaw." Jon sighed, looking to them. "How am I supposed to beat him?"
"With us," Daenerys said grasping his hand. "You don't have to do this alone."
"Whatever Melisandre says this isn't something you have to face alone," said Sansa. "We're a pack, all of us."
Looking at them both he felt the shame shrinking. "Is Bran keeping an eye on them?"
"He looked in on them this morning," Sansa said rubbing her hand up and down his arm soothingly. "They're coming back here."
Jon grunted as he sat up, ignoring their brief panicked attempts to stop him. "I need him to look for Edd and the others. The men from the Shadow Tower too."
"I'll ask him," Sansa assured, "but you need to relax."
"I can't," said Jon. "He won't."
"He is," corrected Daenerys to Jon's surprise. "Bran said that bringing the Wall down, taking the daylight, it made him weak so he's retreated to regain his strength. We have time for you to heal while the rest of us prepare."
"I should be preparing too," Jon argued.
"You've been preparing since I first saw you at Castle Black," Sansa said brushing her hand through Jon's curls. "Rest and heal for now. Westeros will need it's king at full strength if he's going to end the Long Night."
"You have two queens," Daenerys reminded with a smirk, "we can handle looking after you and preparing the realm. Trust in us."
Jon looked to them, sitting forward and pulling them to him in a tight embrace they returned. "I love you both," he whispered.
Sansa nodded against his shoulder. "So do I."
"And I," Daenerys agreed, her right arm beneath Sansa's left.
Sansa saw them as a pack, but Daenerys saw them as the three heads of the dragon. They were stronger together, and together they would make it through the Long Night.