Game of Dragonborn.

Chapter 153 - Heading to Deepwood Motte.

[Chapter Size: 2000 Words.]

Third Person POV.
North.

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There were men all over the area in front of Winterfell, while the open field to the North held the largest number of them, filling everything like ants.

A giant camp had been set up there, with tents covering the entire area. There were other camps around Winterfell precisely to prevent a surprise external attack or even a route of escape or an assault from the men holding Winterfell themselves.

Although there were dozens of wargs at that moment watching over all of this, it was a kind of security to avoid any situation that could result in a problem.

That information had already been around Winterfell for many days, and certainly, the men within the walls were scared. While there was that crowd of people,
it usually takes three times the number of those guarding a castle to carry out a successful siege — and here in Winterfell, there were no less than fifty times more men than inside Winterfell.

It was terrifying for the remnants of the Boltons. They even had the feeling of surrendering, but then they learned what had happened in Bolton territory. They knew their chances of survival were getting smaller and smaller when the smaller strongholds were all destroyed and the minor lords who looked after them were all mercilessly massacred. When the enemy army passed through the territory leaving a trail of chaos and death.

They could even, in a day, easily take Winterfell, but they hadn't done it. They just maintained the perimeter, waiting for some kind of order. Everyone knew that Daemon Targaryen wasn't acting without purpose. They just didn't have exact news of what he was doing at that moment.

They only knew that the last reports were that House Dustin had been brought down, and all the ironborn had been expelled or exterminated. Meanwhile, some groups had split off from King Targaryen to the West, hunting further in the Iron Islands.

Everything seemed calm, when at that very moment, in Winterfell, the roar came from the sky. With all the people on Winterfell's walls seeing the white mass approaching. It even seemed to be heading straight for Winterfell in a dive, while it roared, which certainly scared the people inside the walls even more, who tried to find any place within the walls where they could hide, in case that dragon began to unleash its white flames, as the rumors said — capable of simply collapsing walls. No one could survive such a creature.

The dragon approached above Winterfell, spreading its wings, gliding very close to its towers, almost touching them, leaving everyone within the walls with their hearts in their throats watching this, as it moved away flapping its wings a few more times and heading toward the camp, descending in an open area in front of the camp while it glided with its wings moving up and down, while the wind blew everything in all directions.

Only then did the dragon finally land, releasing an iron bar a little far from where it landed.

Jon looked on, satisfied, as he descended from the dragon. His men ran to him as soon as they noticed him. Daemon grabbed Theon with telekinesis and began heading to the camp, finding the group already waiting for him.

"You're here!" he was quickly greeted.

"I am. Where is Bak?" Daemon asked, as the man finally appeared before him.

"Leader, you've finally arrived!" said the man named Bak with a touch of cheerful sincerity. "Are we finally going to bring down the castle?" he asked excitedly, already tired of waiting.

They had enough to do the job with 40,000 men on this side of the wall, but Daemon had denied the attack, asking them to hold on.

"Not yet. I want to take care of something first. Anyway, any problems while I was away with the army?" Daemon asked.