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Kill Them All.

Grey Worm was walking towards the shattered throne room when he saw the ragged figure of Jon Snow stagger forth, dropping his sword onto the snow clad stone with a hollow clatter. He frowned and increased his pace as he noted the blood on the large northerner’s hands.

“Where is our Queen?” he demanded.

Jon looked at him, tears in his eyes.“I killed her.” He paused and gathered himself. “I surrender myself……”

Doubtless he would have said more but his breath and voice was swept away by the impact of the spear ramming into his belly, pushing him backwards and into the battered wooded doorway as the weapon pushed through the oak and beyond.

Grey Worm turned to the men accompanying him, “Bring the Dothraki.”

It took a little time for the current leaders of the horsemen to be found and arrive, they had not hurried for they were proud men and now they sauntered up. They were brothers, powerful and arrogant killers and as they approached they took in the scene and the impaled man without initial concern.

“Ho Spearman!” The older of the two called out, “What has this one done now, does he no longer please our queen in bed!?” Both laughed at their own joke.

“Our Queen is dead,” Grey Worm had not taken his eyes from the killer since the moment his spear had gone into his guts but now he turned away. “He has killed her.” His voice was flat, a simple statement of fact.
The Dothraki issued a series of curses as they drew their blades and moved closer.

“You are her Blood Riders, you know what must be done.” He turned back again to Jon Snow as he continued. “We must Kill them all.”

“It will be done and then we shall return for this one.”

They strode away with purpose and Grey Worm turned to the stone like faces of his nearby men. Six good men were assigned to guard the wounded killer and another pair were dispatched to the cell of the dwarf.
“Take his tongue and then bring me his head.”

........
The Northerners camp was open and almost unguarded, many of the men still sated with drink, loot and sobbing women. The few sentries were disgruntled and unprepared when the Dothraki struck and turned the snow red with the blood of all in their path, screaming their hatred and angers at the death of their queen. In their wake strode the Unsullied, their spears claiming all that had escaped that initial brutal charge. The northern army died never knowing why.

.....
Sam Tarly was humming happily as he flicked the reins of the lumbering cart horse to try and increase the pace a little, his small cart almost overloaded with his own weight and that of the books and stores it carried. It was a good day, a little cold but the world was a good place – he was a nobleman now, no longer beholden to the Watch or the Great Library, his luck had, once again held good. Kings Landing was not far and he looked forward to seeing how the siege had progressed.

Then he heard the screams, at first he thought it was screams of fear but then he recognised them as the defiant call of the predatory horsemen the Dragon Queen commanded. As they crested the hill in front of him, cutting at fleeing men as they did so, blood spraying high into the air and a ferocious joy write large in their features he knew his luck had finally run out.