Game of Dragonborn Chapter 154 – Entering Winterfell

[Chapter Size: 2000 Words.]

Third Person POV.

North.

...

...

Daemon approached as the gate was opened, rising with the sound of chains dragging it. Imdiately, upon getting closer and entering the place, he was received by Lord Glover in the middle of the courtyard along with so people from the castle.

His gaze was full of caution. He didn't know what to expect from Daemon, and the dragonborn couldn't bla him for that. The man seed to want to maintain his posture.

"Lord Glover, I noticed the ironborn are giving you trouble," Jon approached with that comnt, while the man stared at him for a few seconds before swallowing hard.

"It's true... But now it's your dragon that's giving them trouble," he said, emphasizing what the presence of that creature ant.

Jon shrugged. "Well, I don't need to hold back to exterminate those vermin."

"We've heard about your actions in the kingdom... You might even destroy all the ironborn, but that doesn't change the fact that you brought two hundred thousand wildlings here. Do you really think the North will accept that? After all, the North always rembers." He replied with admirable courage in front of the man who had so many unimaginable feats behind him.

"They'll learn to accept it..." Jon said calmly, not expecting to deal with another close-minded Umber. If the Glovers were a problem, he would have to deal with them.

"Maybe the Glovers can't accept it," the man muttered in front of him.

Daemon smiled at him. "Then the Glovers will be alone in front of the entire North. After all, most of the North supports right now. And those who didn't support ... well, you must've heard." That sounded like a threat, but Lord Glover said nothing and waited for him to continue.

"I'm massacring ironn, traitors, and Boltons. So, it would be wise if House Glover didn't want to beco an enemy of the North as well. Especially when you and your sons are the only Glovers currently in the line of succession for Deepwood Mote," Jon said calmly.

At that mont, the man seed so offended by this that he couldn't hold back.

"You can't just co here and threaten everyone!" the man began. "I knew your mother, boy. I t her when I was young. She really was an admirable girl that everyone respected and loved. And I didn't think twice before going with my brother to war to try to rescue her alongside our late father. However, you didn't respect the Glovers and many other northern n when you brought so many wildlings here. Our enemies for millennia!" He muttered, but Jon wasn't offended.

"I don't think we're going to resolve anything so easily. But either way, I don't have ti to deal with you right now. You can be sure that, when you see what's coming from beyond the Wall, you'll thank for having the 'wildlings', as you call them, on our side... and not fighting in favor of those creatures trying to kill every other living being," Jon said calmly.

The man wore an expression of confusion, not understanding where Jon was going with this.

"Either way, I'm here only to deal with the ironborn. And also to inform you that your presence is required in Winterfell, as soon as you take care of the damage caused by this scum. You must go to Winterfell like all the lords of the North."

"You want us to swear loyalty?" the man murmured.

And Jon didn't deny it. "Yes, as I said, the North... for the most part, is with right now. I want to see who will join against Stannis. After all, I can see who my enemies are and who my allies are. The enemies don't worry , Lord Glover, but I want to see who's with ." Jon said before starting to turn away, not caring about the servant bringing bread and salt—he wouldn't stay in that castle.

Even ignoring the confusion of the n behind him as he walked back toward the gate, he had to give credit—at least Lord Glover received him and confronted him face to face.

Daemon preferred soone being honest with him, voicing their dissatisfactions, rather than soone trying to flatter him in search of benefits. But that was a natural trait of the Northerners. The North had a culture where people were more genuine and even more faithful to their oaths. The South was a bit more concerning, but he would deal with that in the future. For now, he needed to sort out the North.

Leaving once again through the gate without speaking to anyone else, Jon called Winter, who was waiting at a distance, and she quickly ca when called by her rider.

Jon was mapping the area with birds in the sky while, as he mounted Winter, he quickly surveyed the region, his eyes turning white for a mont before returning to normal.

"Let's go, girl. We've got a few more of those straggler camps to destroy."

With that, Winter spread her wings and took off, flying away from Deepwood Motte.

Their assaults gave the ironborn no easy ti in the region. The camps began to be quickly reduced as the day went on. The arrival of the dragon was sothing no one expected. While they were already upon them, unleashing her white flas, the n scread—just seconds before freezing and being destroyed.

Winter continued for so ti, while more and more ironborn were destroyed and began to flee into the Wolfswood.

Jon did not hold back their extermination, demonstrating how a dragonrider should have acted in ancient tis, devastating the ironborn with a certain cruelty.

He managed to destroy most of them and decided to move elsewhere. It was still early afternoon, and although Winter was a bit tired, she wanted to keep going.

He headed for the coast that sa day, flying over the entire Wolfswood, finding the ships scattered in several points along that side, stuck on the cold shores.

Surely, they hadn't expected this. He could hear their screams as Winter dove down, burning ship after ship, along with the camps of so of the ironborn on the beaches guarding the vessels.

He had destroyed more than fifty ships without giving them a chance to escape. He simply weakened the Greyjoy fleet and kept destroying the camps near the ships themselves. He only had difficulty destroying them when there were hostages, with the ironborn enslaving people. But they began to collapse when they saw their ans of transport being wiped out.

They panicked, and even the slaves themselves managed to revolt in so places.

Alert, Jon left the coast and flew out to sea, while a few ships sailed here and there.

He just didn't have the heart to completely annihilate them, knowing there could be Northerners imprisoned inside. But he didn't stay away either, and as his dragon roared, he sent them into panic. He wanted them to carry the news to Pyke of what was happening in the North right now.

His gaze even turned to the horizon, toward the south. He wished that maybe, he would simply fly there with Winter and destroy everything upon arriving at the Iron Islands. But no, he needed to do it properly: rescue the people who had been taken. And he needed n for that.

Even so, he flew again toward the south, finding the sea path leading to the castle. He descended, finding more ships and devastating them one after another.

He knew that, at this point, the ironborn no longer had any strength in the North. The remaining handfuls were beginning to scatter, trying only to survive, haunted by nightmares of a dragon flying overhead.

Jon then turned Winter and advanced toward the center of the North once more.

He stopped halfway when he saw a group heading for Winterfell—the sa one he had been with until this morning—while briefly speaking with Val, surprised to see him.

When he returned to Winterfell again, it was no surprise to find the white flag flying over Winterfell's walls. The Bolton n had surrendered the mont they saw the dragon returning, flying above the towers of Winterfell like a harbinger of death.

Jon landed near the main gate, looking sowhat disappointed, thinking it would've been interesting to storm Winterfell. Ironic to him, too.

"Well, I want all Bolton n imprisoned. They'll be sent to the Wall," Jon said without rcy as the gates were opened.

The Night's Watch would be very pleased with a large number of new bodies, as Jon had provided so many new recruits.

It seed cruel, even though they had surrendered, but there was no other option, given there were forty thousand n against two thousand. Not to ntion there was also a dragon and a demigod among the first group. Surrender had been the only option aside from inevitable death.

Jon was satisfied as he ordered thousands of free folk to march into Winterfell, opening the gates at that mont, quickly capturing all the Boltons and taking them out of the castle.

And, as expected, the protests began as soon as they heard their sentence.

"Wait, please! Let us serve you! Don't send us to the Night's Watch!" the Bolton n shouted.

"You speak as if you had another choice. You could use a bit of pride. Either way, you'll be serving the North more than ever now. Ramsay Bolton is dead, his father fled south, and you have nothing left. At the very least, give so purpose to the rest of your miserable lives by protecting the realm," he said.

With that, Jon left them, walking past the endless lines of bound n, heading into Winterfell.

Once again, he was in that castle. The sa castle he had been in over a year ago, when he left through the gates after stealing a horse from the stables, leaving behind his final words to his little cousin.

There was a maester, once sworn to the Boltons, standing there to receive him. He had been taken from the Dreadfort and brought to Winterfell. That was how Ramsay had seized the stronghold.

The man was clearly looking at Jon with great fear, knowing he had destroyed his forr ho. He couldn't imagine the power of a dragon—until the mont he received word that the Dreadfort had beco a pile of frozen stone.

"What do we have here?" Jon looked at the man.

He was the only Bolton they had spared. There were several servants. Jon rembered Winterfell well... even a certain older woman.

The old nanny.

Ignoring her for a mont, his attention returned to the maester.

"Welco to Winterfell, Daemon Targaryen, my na is..." he began to murmur, and Jon couldn't tell whether he was being respectful, cheerful, or dying of fear, as he simply lowered his head, avoiding Jon's gaze.

Jon interrupted him before he could continue stating his na. "Well... It's a bit surprising to return to my old ho," Jon said in a tone devoid of joy, before passing the maester and continuing into the castle.

At last, Winterfell was his. When there was no Stark, they always said it was important to have a Stark in Winterfell. Perhaps now he was the Stark this place needed.

Ironic.

He wondered what his mother would say if she could see him now, and that thought made Jon imdiately change direction toward the narrow entrance to the crypts.

Without speaking to anyone else, he simply continued, descending into the place, grabbing a torch and lighting it with a small magical fla. It was ti to see sothing he hadn't done when he was first in Winterfell.

Jon mocked himself. He wondered if he was afraid. He, the Dragonborn, afraid of seeing his mother's tomb for the first ti? Hesitant, maybe?

But it didn't matter. Now he was there, and he followed the entrance to the first level of the crypts, heading toward the statue of a young woman who looked nothing like his mother alive, according to the visions he had seen.

-----

Raccoon Here:

I don't rember Jon visiting his mother's tomb the first ti, so I thought it was fair for him to take this action.

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