Game of Dragonborn.

Chapter 43 - The Winterfell Banquet 02.

[Chapter Size: 2000 Words.]

Third Person POV.
Somewhere on North.

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The explosion of the dragon falling in the middle of Wolf's Forest startled many nearby animals. Wolves, squirrels, and other rodents, along with birds, fled as the white dragon landed.

Jon looked satisfied with the landing as he climbed off its back, jumping a few meters onto the ground, which wasn't as freezing as beyond the Wall. It took a few hours, but they had finally arrived near Winterfell, at least close enough that no one would see a dragon. Jon ensured that no one was hunting nearby with his magical eyes.

"Well... we'll have to part ways here..." Jon turned back to the dragon, and she looked at him as if displeased.

"You can't follow me... not this time. After all, they'll try to kill you, and that wouldn't be good for either of us, because I would have to interfere..." Jon spoke calmly.

The dragon's only response was a snort, while Jon shrugged. "Now I have to head to Winterfell. It's a shame I don't have a spectral horse, so I'll have to go on foot. I hope to arrive by the middle of the night..." he murmured, turning back to the dragon a second time with a much firmer tone.

"Remember, don't follow me this time. That was my last warning. Wait for me here. I'll be back in less than a week. Besides Winterfell, hunt for food in the forest or along the coast, but don't go near any towns, especially Wintertown, which is nearby." Jon tried to warn her once more, making sure the dragon would remain obedient.

The dragon seemed to growl at him, showing her teeth, appearing displeased with Jon's tone, but she eventually turned her back on him and lay down right there.

Jon saw this and said nothing more, turning as he began walking toward Winterfell. Hours passed as Jon continued his solitary walk through the Wolf's Forest. Winterfell was preparing for another feast, as the Stark family once again hired all the bards and entertainers they could to entertain the king at the castle. Once again, the place was filling up in preparation for the celebration.

"Mance... how long should we wait...? We've already been here with the southerners for several moons... At this rate, by the time we return beyond the Wall, everyone will be walking corpses from the cold shadows!" A man, dressed like a commoner, with a disheveled appearance, returned to Mance, who was in a corner of Winterfell while the King-Beyond-the-Wall was tuning his lute.

"I know I've already looked at the king enough... as I wanted, and I've already made my decision that we can't count on the understanding of the south. But I wanted to take one more look. However, it seems there's nothing more to do here... we'll leave soon..." Mance said, focused on tuning his strings to play another night for the king, southern nobles, and those from south of the Neck.

"For me, we can stay as long as Mance wants. The southerners really know how to make delicious food and good beer. I've never eaten like this before..." A third man from the group of six spoke up.

"Stop being foolish... we don't belong to this land. The southerners would kill us if they knew who we are..." the first man spoke again. "At least not until we've crossed the Wall with the entire tribe."

"Speak more quietly, Jarl! We can't let anyone hear that kind of talk!" Mance immediately complained as he looked at the men passing by them.

"Sorry... I just want to leave. The southern king is weak, and the Starks aren't the fierce wolves we thought they'd be. We can defeat them! I want to get everyone across the Wall soon," Jarl commented.