Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Ice and Fire Novels, Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon TV shows. However, I decided to have a little play around with the characters. I do not earn any money from writing these stories, it is for my entertainment and is something I like to share.

My first attempt at writing a proper battle scene.

Warning for very graphic depictions of violence and death.

Jon X

The last person Jon spoke to was Arya. She was still on her way to light the first flame as her group of men were going to be the last to reach their posts, and she still had a good mile left to walk. She was going to wait until Jon circled the Unsullied and light her beacon, triggering the seven others to be lit before the Targaryen flag was to be released. Before all that was to happen was for Jon to kill the Dothraki. Unlike the attack on the Ironborn, Jon paid no particular ill will to the Dothraki. His hatred of the Ironborn had stemmed from Theon sacking Winterfell and he was their only redeeming house member, albeit long dead. The Ironborn had been an easy target as they were all holed up on ships, the Dothraki travelled on foot or horseback, and he hated the idea of killing the horses, meaning his tactics would have to also change. His plan was to attack the men on foot and try to scare the horses into dismounting their riders and allowing them to run away. The Dothraki had never harmed Jon, but they hated him for killing Dany, which he understood, however that made them a threat to his wife and sister. Therefore they had to die.

The lack of hatred for the Dothraki seemed to help Jon in his quest to hating what he was doing. He bore them no ill will so killing them wasn't satisfying, in fact it was horrifying. This time he didn't get turned on by it, the last thing he wanted was sex. When he burned the Ironborn, all he could smell was burning wood, this time it was burning flesh, turning his stomach. As Drogon dove down from the skies, Jon would close his eyes before uttering the dreaded word "Dracarys." only opening them once he knew Drogon had stopped his deadly attack. Jon had used Drogon's fearsome appearance and ability to sound terrifying to unhorse the riders, freeing the horses, who ran south and east in terror away from the flames, allowing Jon to target the men easily. Within fifteen minutes or so, most of the Dothraki were dead. There were a couple of stragglers running back towards the woods, which Jon refused to burn as he was concerned it could set fire to the northern section of the Wolfswood.

Satisfied that the handful of Dothraki left alive would either join the battle and die, or end up lost and be killed by some creature the person was not prepared for. Therefore Jon decided to head back and circle around the castle to force the Unsullied towards Winterfell and hopefully death. It was only as he turned around once more did he see something which disturbed him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. One of the Dothraki who had survived was setting the trees on fire, using one of their own torches. Despite Jon's best efforts to prevent the forest burning, a man with a torch was doing the job for him. Would anyone believe he hadn't accidentally set the wood alight? He just hoped the winds would die down and only a small part of the forest would burn, otherwise there would be even more trouble than the battles. But that would have to be dealt with later, now he needed to tackle the Unsullied and then they would have to find a way to stop the forest fire.

Jon returned at the highest speed he could tolerate on Drogon until he reached the Unsullied. Drogon roared in the air and Jon began to scorch the earth around their camp, following a line in an anticlockwise direction. As he finished his first circle of fire, he noticed Arya had lit her beacon, this meant the rest would shortly follow and it was just a matter of the men out in the fields waiting for him to raise the Targaryen flag. However, Jon needed to scare the Unsullied more, he wanted to burn their trebuchets to the ground, but he also needed to make sure Drogon wasn't hurt, as surprisingly they started to fire arrows at them. Fortunately for Drogon, he was bigger than the last time he had encountered the Unsullied, his scales were thicker as were his leathery wings. Arrows simply bounced off him. The same couldn't be said for Jon, although most of the arrows couldn't reach him. The ones which did whistled past had lost their speed and wouldn't have caused any damage other than a scratch.

Every time he burned the land, he pushed the Unsullied towards Winterfell, they didn't run as fast as he'd hoped, many stood their ground. However, he inched them in, further and further, he also attacked every trebuchet he could, he wasn't interested in destroying them entirely, just enough to render them useless. Within ten minutes of his campaign, he'd managed to destroy four of them and cause heavy damage to the other two which he could see. He spotted an unmanned scorpion, which surprised him, but that was also destroyed. The Unsullied were now fleeing, mostly towards the castle, but some were heading the other way. Now was the time Jon needed to get back in and raise the flag. He flew back to the castle through the secret entrance and dismounted.

"Good lad Drogon. You did well." he patted the dragon's neck as he dismounted. "You stay here and rest, look after those eggs for me." he added as he left the crypts to hear the sound of mayhem. He looked up at the battlements and the sky was dark with an orange hue, reminding him instantly of the battle against Mance Rayder and the wildlings at Castle Black. Men were running around with stones, barrels of tar and bags of nails, placing them on winches to lift them to the battlements.

"Three...two...one...lift..." he heard. "Loose..." came another voice. "Got it. Send it back down." all of the cries mixed together. He looked around to find the gatekeeper soldier he'd spoken to earlier, who was next to his post.

"Dorran, raise the flag." Jon called out. "And let The Queen know I'm back safely."

"Yes Your Grace." Dorran nodded, running towards the large tower. Jon ran towards the ladder which led up to his post, where currently Pod was standing.

"Pod, I'll take the north gate. You go to the west side. I need you to also keep an eye out for any fires in the woods." Jon told him. "If I need you back here I'll shout."

"Yes Your Grace." Pod nodded and left to go to his post.

Jon looked down at the chaos below. Some of the Unsullied had fallen into the trenches and had spikes through their bodies. A quick scan suggested there must have been at least an hundred bodies on the north wall alone. If this was replicated around the castle, they had taken out four hundred men without using a single arrow. The men around him were shooting haphazardly, which Jon knew wasn't the best way. Pod was clearly no Commander and had no idea how to organise archers, but Jon did.

"Hold fire!" Jon shouted, quietening the men around him. "Shoot on my command." the men stopped and looked at him. "Archers, nock yer arrows!" he called out at the top of his voice, as the men held their arrows in place. "Draw!" he lifted his arm up ready to give them the go ahead, firstly checking everyone was ready. "Looooooose!" he shouted at the top of his voice as a sea of arrows flew into the air and down towards the ground, mostly missing, but a few hit the Unsullied. Jon turned around and saw the Targaryen standard flying above the castle, this was the signal for the armies to enter the fight. This meant there was only a limited amount of time the archers would be able to take out the Unsullied and not risk hitting his own men. The faster they worked now, the easier it would be when the armies joined.

"Men, nock yer arrows." he shouted once more. "Draw... Looooooose!" he shouted as loud as he could, knowing his voice wouldn't last the night if he wasn't careful.

After twenty minutes of constant bombardment from the archers, everything went silent below. The Unsullied seemed to vanish, although it was clear they weren't dead, despite hundreds of dead bodies strewn over the land. Then out of nowhere, came a line of shields, lifted above the heads of the Unsullied, running towards the north gate, when they got there, it was met by a huge thudding noise.

Jon ran to the ladder which he had not so long since climbed and looked down. "Dorran, can the gate hold?" he cried.

"For a little while Your Grace." Dorran called back.

"Crossbows, fire at the shields." Jon called as the archers with crossbows began to shoot. "I need tar!" Jon called turning to the longbowmen. "I need you to use light your arrows and aim at the shield!" he told them as one of the soldiers rolled a barrel of tar over to him.

"Help me with this, I want it on top of them down there." Jon instructed.

"Yes Your Grace!" the soldier replied as he and Jon lifted the barrel.

"Nock yer arrows." Jon called out. "Draw..." he pushed the barrel of tar over the edge of the wall, its contents hitting the shields below, almost flattening them with the weight. "Looooooose!" he cried as balls of fire flew threw the sky like shooting stars. Most missed, but it only took two arrows to set the shields alight.

The battering ram was dropped and the Unsullied threw their shields aside and ran off, only to be replaced with another group of men covered with shields who picked up the ram and ran into the door once more.

"Rocks!" Jon cried as the men picked up heavy rocks from behind, which had been piled up, just in case this scenario arose. "archers, nock yer arrows, those with rocks, lift..." he lifted his own rock and waited for the Unsullied to close in. "Archers draw... those with rocks, drop!" he shouted, letting go of the rock. The rocks crashed down on top of the shields breaking them and flattening some of the men underneath. "Archers, looooooose." he cried as a flurry of arrows hit the men with the ram, killing all but one of the remaining men underneath. Their bodies now covered the ram, making it impossible for the Unsullied to try again, although Jon could still hear the sound of banging, which could only mean they were now attacking the south gate using the same method.

"Pod you take charge here." Jon called out. "I'll go and help Tyrion.

"Yes Your Grace." Pod said.

"Fer fucks sake, my name is Jon." he snapped at Pod, as he ran off, he was sick and tired of the arse kissing and titles, especially when using less words was better.

It took him about a minute to arrive at the southern gate, where he could see Tyrion was having the same problem he'd had with the northern gate.

"Need any help?" Jon asked.

"Now you come to mention it..." Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

"We've just stopped them getting in through the northern gate. Have you got tar?" he asked.

"A couple of barrels." Tyrion nodded.

"Use rocks first. That worked better. Use tar and fire as a last resort." he said as he and Tyrion organised the men to repeat the actions at the northern gate. This time the rocks were enough, to flatten the battering ram party.

"Thank you." Tyrion smiled.

"How many have we lost?" Jon looked around.

"Up here, none so far." Tyrion replied.

"Good, cus the army will be here any minute. Hold fire, only crossbows and specific targets. The men might need to fight on the ground." Jon explained.

"I'm not much of a fighter." Tyrion admitted.

"Go look after Sansa. Tell her I'm fine and not to worry. I'll blow the horn when I'm ready, then the longbowmen need to gather their swords and gather in the courtyard."

Tyrion smiled and shook Jon's hand. "Good luck. I wish you good fortune." he added. Jon simply nodded and returned to his own men, giving Pod the same instructions, except Pod would be joining the men in the battle on the southern wall and replacing Tyrion.

The arrows continued to fly until Jon saw men from the distance running towards them. "Hold yer fire!" Jon shouted and then blew on the horn. He climbed down a set of the multiple ladders which were placed along the wall, his men quickly following him down. Jon turned to Dorran. "As soon as we are out of the gate, close it, do not open it until the battle is over." he instructed.

"Yes Your Grace." he nodded.

"Men, shields up." Jon commanded. "Open the gates!" he instructed and Dorran began to open the gates wide. "Men, with me!" Jon shouted as he ran out of the castle, his men following with shouts and cries, clambering over the bodies of the dead men with the battering ram, into the ensemble of Unsullied, Freefolk, northerners and sailors.

Jon was a good fighter, and after such a hectic day, he should be tired, yet now he suddenly felt invincible. Probably a known phenomenon called battle-calm. The nerves go, all is clear and the enemy has no chance because he is so slow, or so it seems. Jon swept his shield left, taking a scar-faced Unsullied spear thrust, he lunged Longclaw forward and the Unsullied ran onto its point. He felt the impact run up he arm as the sword tip punctured the man's belly muscles, but Jon was already twisting and ripping Longclaw free, sawing through leather, skin, muscle and guts. The dying man's blood warm on his cold hand. Another Unsullied screaming in Jon's face, who punched him down with the shield's heavy boss, stamped on his groin, Jon killed him with Longclaw's tip into his throat. Another Unsullied came at Jon with a spear but Jon sidestepped and the man missed, Jon kicked him hard, then smashed his face with the shield's iron rim so that he fell face first into the ground. Jon drove Longclaw into the mans back, no care for honour, this was life and death.

This was their only chance to slaughter the Unsullied who had been foolish enough to attack Winterfell. To not consider the use of a dragon and to think a siege would work against them, or even trebuchets. The northerners and Freefolk might not be trained to their standards, but they now outnumbered the Unsullied two to one. The world was dark now, the moon rising in the night sky. The Wolfswood fire had become a furnace, glowing orange in the night sky. Jon knew the battle had to end soon if they were to have any chance of stopping the fire from getting worse.

The Unsullied seemed to have regrouped from their initial shock of the men coming at them. Now they were trying to create their standard phalanx formation, a slightly different tactic than that used by the northerners and Freefolk. However, although the Unsullied numbers were depleted and they were being attacked on two fronts, they currently outnumbered the men from the castle. Jon realised a shield wall would be their only option to resist them, a battle tactic he'd learned against his misstep against Ramsey Bolton. As a result this tactic had become a common training method both with the northerners and the Freefolk, one regularly practised.

"Shields!" Jon bellowed, and they touched shields. The Stark men were too few to frighten the unsullied, they would just come at them. And come they did. A thick line of men, shield to shield, orange light from the burning fire touching spear heads and swords.

The spears came first, but Jon and the rest of the front line crouched behind shields while the second line held their shields above their heads. Jon's men edged forward as did the Unsullied until the thunderous sound of of shield hitting shield, rang through the air. Jon lunged Longclaw forward which was blocked by a shield, Jon lunged again, he hit another shield, but this time Longclaw was stuck. Jon pushed back with his own shield, and twisted the sword free. A spear penetrated the shield wall next to Jon's ankles, which he promptly stood on and stabbed Longclaw over his shield into the face of one of the Unsullied. Jon twisted away, blood filling the mouth from his torn cheek, Jon took a half-pace forward, stabbed again, this time piercing his skull, like only Valyrian steel could. The Unsullied were pushing and stabbing with their spears, and Jon knew they just had to hold the line long enough to stay alive. The army of northerners, sailors and Freefolk would eventually overwhelm them from the other side and that would be their chance to attack.

"Hold the line!" Jon instructed his men, as he briefly lowered his shield slightly to attack, and slashed Longclaw at the face of an Unsullied soldier in front of him, grating on skull-bone, and drawing blood. He pushed against the shield and the dying man staggered back, who was then pushed forward by the men behind him, this time Longclaw took his throat and he was bubbling blood and air from the fatal wound. The dying man fell to his knees, and the man behind him shoved his spear forward, straight into Jon's shield, missing his face by only a couple of inches but stuck there. Jon wasn't the only one doing the killing, the Stark shields created a superior wall to that of the Unsullied, who were more exposed by their round shield. Their first line was already almost down and their own dying men were obstructing them. Their spears no longer able to reach the Stark wall.

More and more Unsullied came, climbing over their dead and continuing to stab at the shield wall with their spears. Jon hacked frantically at an Unsullied, trying to shatter his shield, while the man on Jon's right, was now on the ground, guts spilling through torn leather, and an Unsullied came at him from that side. Jon flicked Longclaw at his face, the Unsullied ducked, and poked through the gap again, this time tearing at Jon's leathers, scratching his side just above his waist. Jon shouted at the men behind to fill the gap, and stabbed Longclaw at the Unsullied soldiers feet, slicing into an ankle.

There was no longer any space to fight, it was too dark to see, just a grunting mass of men, metal hacking, stabbing, blood and death. Then the pressure suddenly eased. Davos, Tormund and Strygga came with their men, turning the attention of the Unsullied to them. The Unsullied turned to meet the new threat, and Jon rammed Longclaw out, piercing a man's shoulder, going in deep and grating against bone. The man twisted away, trying to snatch Longclaw from Jon's hand, but not counting on it being Valyrian steel, the blade slicing through his fingers. Jon pulled back and thrust the blade into the man's belly, twisting it and pulling. The poor Unsullied fell to the floor, his guts hanging out, blood everywhere.

"Let's kill these fuckers!" Jon cried out to a chorus of "Yes!" from his men as they rushed forward and cheered into the crowd.

The Unsullied were now completely disorganised and Jon's men pushed forward to the promise of battle-slaughter. Jon let Longclaw sing her song of death as he danced rhythm to the tune as he relentlessly cut down his foes. Losing count of the dead men he left in his wake and remembering little except the rage and exultation. Tonight was truly a night of fire and blood. Such was the exhilaration of battle, Jon couldn't even feel pain from the wound where the spear had pierced his leathers, nor when a shield hit him on his right shoulder, or when he was thumped in the face.

Jon and Longclaw were lethal that day. He would hammer the sword into a shield, which would throw the man off balance, Jon then thrust the Valyrian steel blade forward, pushing the man to the ground, stabbing him in the throat and go on to find the next man. Death came easy to those who tried to stop Jon. The Unsullied were going backwards, trying to escape Jon's line only to meet with the other forces. Jon looked around for one specific man who he knew he had to deal with, Greyworm. The moment Jon spotted him his focus was only on him, anyone who approached Jon would die quickly. He stabbed an Unsullied in the guts and pushed him into the smouldering remnants of a campfire, killing him while he screamed. Some of the Unsullied were now trying to flee, to no avail. However Greyworm continued to fight, still shouting at his men in High Valyrian to try to get them into some sort of formation, but it was too late, they were losing men fast, due to being severely outnumbered and the northern men being far more well trained than they had expected.

The Unsullied tried to regroup, they followed Greyworm who seemed determined to win this battle all on his own, or to attract the attention of Jon, who was his real target. Greyworm turned, eyes and saw Jon in front of him.

"You killed my Queen." he snarled, and the men in front of me moved aside as he came forward, his tunic drenched in blood, and part of his shield missing, his sword and spear blades now turned red.

"I know." Jon said. "She was going to kill me and my sisters, I couldn't allow that." he added, a sudden calmness washing over him.

"You are no family of hers." Greyworm spat.

"I am Aegon Targaryen. The son of Rhaegar Targaryen, and rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms." Jon said coolly.

"You bastard liar," Greyworm cried, dropping his spear instead his sword came around, but Jon caught it with his shield which was like being struck by a boar. He wrenched the sword free and a sliver of wood tore away from his shield, leaving a small hole.

Jon knew he couldn't parry, although the pain was dulled by the thrill of the battle, he was aware of the dull thudding pain in his shoulder. No matter how much he tried, he wouldn't be able to fight with Longclaw for long, he had to use his other skills. Jon was nimble and he was good at avoiding a blade, and until he got a clean shot, he was going to have to fight this way, although he couldn't let Greyworm know he was injured. He decided on a new tactic, getting Greyworm angry.

"Daenerys was a whore." Jon taunted him. "She would've killed you when she'd done with you. She didn't care. Freeing slaves was to make her look good. Men were just toys to her. Every man she claimed to love died."

"Liar!" Greyworm screamed and lunged at Jon, trying to throw him down with the force of half a shield. Jon I met him, shield to shield using his good arm, hiding his injury.

Seeing he had a clean shot, Jon swung Longclaw at Greyworm's head, but the blow missed by an inch. He leapt back as Greyworm swung his sword where Jon's legs had been. That was when Jon spotted Greyworm was also injured, which was why he couldn't get a clean shot. Blood was pouring from an open wound on his skull, nothing fatal, but enough to affect his balance. Jon lunged forward, hitting Greyworm in the face with his shield before piercing his chest with Longclaw's point, but Jon struggled to put any force behind it, his shoulder was beginning to affect his abilities, and despite it being Valyrian steel, the armour of the Unsullied remained in tact. Jon decided to aim lower as he could barely lift his arm, let alone keep his arm straight enough to pierce armour. With one downward stroke, Jon slashed through Greyworm's breeches, his right thigh and left calf. For a moment Greyworm looked stunned, then he fell to the floor, unable to stand as Jon must have sliced straight through to the calf bone, severing the tendons along with it. Jon hit Greyworm in the face with his shield, rendering him almost unconscious and unable to stop Jon in any way.

Jon bent down to Greyworm. "You know, she said you were free, and you were, as long as you did what she wanted. If you didn't, you would die. You are still doing her biddin after her death, but now you will join her." he said, standing up. He took Longclaw in both hands and slammed it through Greyworm's armour and straight through his heart, killing him instantly.

Jon pulled Longclaw from Greyworm's body and stood back to take in his surroundings. Dead bodies lay strewn all over the floor. The grass was now brown and red with shit and blood. The stench of death surrounded him, but he could tell they had won. The only surviving Unsullied were surrendering, their leader dead and the rest of their army defeated. He could see Davos, Tormund and Strygga rounding them up, to be placed in the Winterfell cells where they would be given choices. If any Unsullied wished to join the Stark army, then as long as they could be proven to be loyal, they would always be a welcome asset. Jon looked over towards the Wolfswood where the fire was now dying down. It was then he looked up and realised it had started to rain heavily, putting out the fire and turning the skies dark once more. In fact they were turning too dark. Then as the blackness engulfed him Jon neither saw or heard anything.

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Mandzipop.