I Am Not a Woman, I'm a God - Jonerys [18+]

The fight has just begun, steady now, breathe, breathe

No summary. It's war. Anything more will spoil it.

Daenerys

It felt as if she'd only just closed her eyes when the call had gone out, and their terrified scouts informed all those on the side of the living they had only hours before war arrived on their doorstep. Ripped from her bed, dressed and ready with Missandei's help so quickly she swayed on her feet when she deemed her ready. No one near Winterfell nor inside the great grey stone Keep shouted in alarm as the final pieces were pushed into place, and she would almost prefer it if they did instead of the tension-filled murmuring in the room. Terror. It hounded her as they faced down their commanders, and she tried to memorize their faces, preparing never to see some of them again as Jon barked orders at Davos and Jaime Lannister.

"Davos, signal us with a torch if you need our support, and one of us will respond. Lannister, you're one of the few with Valyrian steel. You and those who wield it, your task is the most dangerous, and you must keep your wits about you." Jon clipped and turned to her. She nodded in agreement and turned her eyes to Greyworm.

"I trust your men are well prepared, Greyworm. You will be our first line of defense. If all seems lost, retreat, and we'll light the third moat to stem the tide while you catch your bearings. Understood?"

Her stoic commander gave a jerky nod as she offered him a tight smile and looked to Qhono.

"Ensure everyone has what they need and keep them back until they're needed. When I need you, I'll fly over to you. Don't allow any brave fools to rush in too early." She said in harsh Dothraki.

Qhono gave her a fierce grin and agreed. However, the glint in his eye made her stomach tense as he turned to mutter something to Missandei, who oversaw the proceedings, her brown skin ashen. Her honey eyes dull as they bounced between Greyworm and Qhono. Her heart bled for her friend. At least she would be able to know if Jon survived. Missandei would be stuck inside, waiting and wondering, her hope growing less tangible as the hours trickled away. Jon grabbed her attention as he eyed each grave face, and when he spoke, it wasn't the voice of the man unsure of who he was or who rasped words of love and worship in their bed. It was the voice of a King stepping into his power, and her firm expression turned to a sly, heated smirk as all in the room straightened to listen.

"It will get messy. You will face things your nightmares couldn't hope to imagine. You won't be able to think, only react. The lines must hold. Anyone who tries to flee will be considered a traitor to the crown and will face my blade if we survive this. I will come looking for you, as will the Queen. Understood?"

No one dared to defy him, and pride sparkled through her as she nodded her agreement when all eyes turned to her. Littlefinger hovered at the back of the crowd, his usual smarmy countenance nowhere to be seen as he watched on and didn't risk opening his lying mouth. At the same time, Jon repeated what they already knew, but she understood his need to ensure all went as smoothly as possible. Her stomach sank when Lyanna Mormont left with her advisors to take up her spot on the walls to fend off the dead with the quiver of dragonglass-tipped arrows strapped to her back. Jorah watched her leave with a longing look on his haggard face until she was out of sight, and his gaze returned to Daenerys. She offered him a small smile and hoped the girl would make it through.