[Chapter Size: 4000 Words.]

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Pessoa Thrid POV

Westeros, 295 AC.

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Jon returned to his camp after the banquet while the party continued a little later with the nobles getting more drunk.

The next day he woke up and had the first meal with his group in the main tent.

“Jon!!” Arya approached him excitedly as she sat next to him. “I’m going to participate in the archery tournament!” She exclaimed, finally having the chance to celebrate with him.

“What, the little one is going to participate in the tournament?!” A dwarf stood up from his bench in the hall, asking loudly, which seemed to have caught everyone’s attention.

“Yes, Jon got me into the tournament!” She complained.

“Hahaha! That’s very good!” The dwarf raised his mead mug, something he used to drink all day long.

“Arya!” A giant sitting nearby also said in a deep tone, cheering for Arya.

People seemed excited in the tent about the chance of Arya participating in this tournament.

“They seem excited…” Serena said beside Jon.

“Yes…” Jon grumbled and picked up his cup in front of him while Arya looked quite happy with the attention she was receiving and raised her cup up.

Everyone noticed this and started to calm down as their king asked for their attention. When things finally settled, Jon decided to speak.

“Now that you know we have Arya to participate, I can add one more archer from Artica to the tournament since if they let us participate freely, we would fill the tournament with Articans and not give the southerners any chance to win any placement in the tournament.” Jon said as a wave of laughter sounded through the area.

“So let’s be fair too, all those who want to participate in the tournament, let’s have a small tournament among our best archers present and the one who wins will be the archer who will represent Artica.” Jon said while everyone nodded.

“Can I participate?!” One of the giants spoke, and Jon looked at him, understanding why he asked. After all, this giant was a specialist in long-distance combat. It was this giant who shot the incendiary arrow at a group of thousands of wights many years ago while they were returning from Winterfell. “Stone, giants cannot participate… But we will have a much bigger tournament in Artica as soon as we return.” Jon spoke calmly while the giant looked a little sad but nodded as another patted him on the back to support him.

Since giants could not participate and dwarves were not particularly fond of archery, despite having their own long-range weapons, only humans would participate while the group nodded to that, with some interested in participating.

“What a drag, archery seems boring, would they accept an axe thrower?” Tormund raised his voice while some laughed at his question.

“Do you only serve to throw axes, Tormund? Maybe they will accept it if you can throw an axe as far as an arrow!” the dwarf exclaimed, laughing loudly.

Tormund looked at the dwarf with a mocking smile. “Ah, and what do you know about throwing, little man? I bet you can barely throw a stone!”

“A stone? I’ve thrown a mead jug off a man’s head twenty meters away and hit a target smaller than your ego!” the dwarf replied, banging his mug on the table while some laughed at that.

“Twenty meters? Hah! I threw an axe from the top of the Wall of Artica and hit a running wight!” Tormund replied, crossing his arms.

“Well, that may be true, but I doubt you can hit the target after drinking as much as I do!” the dwarf responded, raising his mug in challenge.

“Let’s make a deal, little friend,” Tormund said, leaning in. “After the archery tournament, we’ll have our own tournament. You with your jugs and me with my axes. The loser buys the drinks for the entire night, and it has to be ours; southerners don’t know how to make good alcohol!”

The dwarf smiled, accepting the challenge with a nod. “Done, big guy. I hope you have a lot of gold because you’ll need to buy many rounds!”

“Let’s settle down, everyone,” Jon finally said, interrupting the discussion while everyone paused to listen to him. “We will have our small tournament today since the official tournament will be tomorrow, so be prepared after the midday meal.”

He spoke while his group nodded. They continued breakfast after that, and Jon went for a walk around the camp with his wife. He did not go to Highgarden because he wanted to stay with his people.

Arya continued training, more than ever, trying to prove her skills in the tournament, the first official one she would participate in her life. He ended up spending the rest of the morning with the two wolves while calling his birds to spend some time with them after being so busy for many days.

“Beautiful as always,” Jon said to Phaenix and Bleufire, landing on his arm without hurting him.

“…” Jon did not respond while he petted their heads to avoid stating the obvious.

“Thinking about bonding your children with our child,” Jon said, hoping they would also have their own bonds, expecting them to inherit a large part of their powers, although he believed they couldn’t do that with everyone. After all, Jon received direct powers from the gods, but if they had just a little bit of them, they would do very well.

“Another one?” Serena couldn’t help but smile at this. “You already intend to bond them with a pack of wolves as soon as they are born. What’s next, a dragon?” She joked.

“I haven’t found any eggs to do that yet, but of course I will bond them with dragons. Eragon can’t be lonely forever, can he?” Jon said, still looking at his eagles.

After that, they returned to the tent for their midday meal, and the camp set up the small tournament with some Articans participating, wanting to represent Artica in the tournament.

The competition was quite simple, while a soldier, who was not among the royals, ended up winning the contest.

“You managed to win, Eldric,” Jon praised him. Eldric was a man who grew up in the northern forests, the son of a hunter and a healer from his tribe. From a young age, he learned the art of hunting and survival before joining Artica at the age of 21, showing great talent and learning quickly. In a few years, he became an excellent archer. No one was very surprised that he was the champion among the entire camp.

“Thank you, my king. I will bring victory over the southerners!” He affirmed, raising his bow, and Jon nodded.

“That’s good. It’s getting dark, let’s have a feast and prepare for tomorrow,” Jon announced as they prepared everything for the party.

While the camp held their festivities, drawing attention as the dwarves made noises that even their neighbors could hear, in the castle, Renly was sitting on the balcony drinking wine.

“You see, they know how to have fun,” an elderly voice said beside him, and Renly looked at Olenna sipping tea in the evening breeze while many banquets were happening in various camps outside the castle walls. They even canceled the castle’s banquet to save it for tomorrow after the tournament.

“Yes… what strange people… My brother would surely love to be there,” Renly admitted.

“Even though that boy offended him years ago with the royal decree story?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My brother doesn’t stay angry at a Stark for long. You know he is soft with that family…” Renly said.

“I highly doubt he would do that if he really knew…” She murmured softly so Renly couldn’t hear. She sighed and spoke loudly again, “So, you put my grandson in for that sword?” Olenna questioned.

“That sword will be mine. You will see,” he said confidently.

“Have you seen him hold a blade? If he does half of what he’s capable of with a sword in a joust, you’ll have to give a large amount of land to that boy. Stannis will not be happy with that,” she commented with a smile.

“I still have confidence in your grandson that he can win against Jon Artica. Besides, my brother has nothing to do with the Stormlands; I have the lands by right that my brother, the king, granted me,” Renly said.

“Alright, just don’t speak so loudly. Haven’t you heard the rumors of Jon Artica being able to enter animals and spy on us and control them?” She said, waiting to hear what he thought about that.

“Another nonsense, no one does that, Olenna.” He spoke, and she shook her head discreetly, quite disappointed.

“Do you think he will be an ally? You almost created a war for us. And he is right, if they indicated an attack, we could not gather the men of the realm before he could bring down Highgarden…” She admitted.

“Perhaps I was wrong and thought I could play with him, but he proved more dangerous than I thought. Besides, he can be a future ally; after all, a friend with great friends has great power. Even if I lose my lands, I can still gain his friendship more easily.” He said and looked at Olenna. “Perhaps this will greatly facilitate the chances of your granddaughter becoming queen by my side.”

“…” She did not respond immediately, sipping her tea calmly until she finished. “I hope so…” She replied, looking towards the noisier camp with a huge bonfire.

The dawn light finally arrived as the camps began to wake up for the great day of the archery tournament. Everyone seemed to start their day like any other, but there was a great concentration of people gathering in the middle of the tents where the small tournament arena was, with Tyrell men organizing the place for the day’s celebration.

Jon spent the morning as he did the day before, eating with his family and people, talking with them and organizing who would stay as camp guards while part of the group went to the tournament.

In the afternoon, people began to head to the location, which filled up every moment for the start, which was to begin shortly. The place was packed with nobles, commoners, and bards seeking inspiration for new songs.

“Let’s go,” Jon said as he rode a horse, not wanting to enter the crowd with the wolf, which would not end well. His group soon followed, with four giants accompanying them, making people not want to have problems with him.

They passed through the tents of other nobles, who stepped back, seeing the giants who had put on their armor again, making the ground shake with their steps.

Renly was excited for this event. Although archery is not the most popular event in Westeros, it would still be interesting. “Has my guest not arrived yet?” He asked the Renly family gathered in the main podium as he looked at the podium reserved for Jon.

“We have sent some servants to inform them, my prince,” Willas replied.

“Don’t worry, he has just arrived,” Olenna responded calmly as a huge uproar began at the arena entrance, with people running away, fleeing from someone arriving. Soon all the nobles in the stands looked stunned at the giants arriving, standing out in the Artican group led by Jon.

Entering the tournament grounds and heading to where the Tyrell servant had indicated before leaving the camp.

“They know how to draw attention…” Garlan couldn’t help but comment, looking at those giants as he always did, wondering how he could defeat such a thing alone.

They continued as Arya returned to Jon. “The nobles stay in the stands, the main nobles in exclusive podiums with roofs to protect them from the sun, and the commoners stay in the middle of the field…” Arya observed.

“Yes, that’s how southern nobility works…” Jon said as she nodded.

“King Artican, you can enter… but I don’t think those giants can join you…” A servant organizing the seats returned to Jon.

“That’s fine… They will stay beside the podium,” Jon said, as there was a space between the podium and the stands where his group could stay.

“Good thing we brought drinks!” A dwarf exclaimed as the nobles looked strangely at them, carrying drinks, and with the giants, no one would try to approach the group.

Jon went to the podium and sat next to the prince of Westeros. “It’s good to see you, Prince Renly,” Jon said as Renly smiled.

“Likewise, I hope to see your two representatives making history,” he said.

“They will,” Jon said confidently as Seryna sat next to him, and Arya remained standing, not joining them due to her participation in the tournament.

“Hm? Are you that confident? How about a bet, 1000 gold coins if your sister and your champion lose.” He said, not really believing that Arya could stand out, so he focused on the man Jon had chosen to represent him.

1000 gold coins caught the attention of many people there, who looked at the conversation with interest, waiting to see Jon Artica’s response.

“1000 coins… How about 10,000 coins?” Jon raised his bet tenfold, while Renly was a little disconcerted by this.

“10,000 coins…” People seemed to gasp at this; it was a very large amount.

Jon saw that Renly was still a bit stunned and decided to increase his chances even more. “How about this, Prince Renly, if my man wins the tournament, you will give me 10,000 coins, and if he loses, I will give you 100,000 gold dragons, how about that?” Jon spoke loudly enough for everyone in the nearby podiums to hear, while some people in the stands also seemed stunned by that.

The Hightower and Redwyne families looked at Jon with wide eyes at such an unfair bet. “Hahahahahaha” Someone started laughing amidst the brief silence, and Olenna couldn’t help but find it amusing.

“This is really interesting, so you have that much confidence in your man. The Tyrell family will give you 10,000 gold coins if your champion wins the tournament.” Olenna spoke while Mace stood there with his mouth open, seeing his mother make such a bet.

“Alright, I am so confident that I will give 100,000 gold coins to each of you two if I lose.” Jon responded while Seryna didn’t seem to care much, but her husband seemed to be enjoying this.

“Quick, quick, write this down!” A bard shouted to another with a paper, as this bet would make a good song to entertain all those nobles who looked at Jon, wondering if he crapped gold or something.

“Well… this is really unexpected.” Olenna, who had her confidence, had to lose her composure a bit with Jon offering 200,000 gold coins in a bet while her family looked at Jon as if he had grown a new head.

“1000 gold coins…” Renly, who had remained silent, looked at Jon. “Alright, if you are so confident, I will give 10,000 gold coins!” He exclaimed.

“Participants of the tournament!” A herald began to call in the stands for the people who would play. Everyone had their own bow. Jon asked them not to use Weirwood bows as it could be claimed they had superior weapons, so they took their regular bows.

“I will win!” Arya exclaimed and pointed at Renly. “You better get the money ready!” She declared, and although many expected the prince to be offended by this, he laughed.

“Hahahaha. I look forward to seeing that, Lady Stark, let’s see your performance then!” He said as Arya began to descend from the podium and joined the other competitors, with Eldric keeping her safe from anyone who might bother her.

Not that anyone would mess with a legitimate daughter of a high noble of Westeros, but there was still mockery, having a child competing among them. The tournament was open to anyone who could pay the entry fee, although the Articans could only have two participants because they didn’t belong to this kingdom, not that Jon was worried about that, as he could still showcase the glory of his realm.

The space was huge, with targets that could be moved at various distances, starting the tournament with the closest and increasing the distance as more and more people were eliminated until only the last one remained.

People were getting excited while Renly asked for wine and talked to Loras. The nobles, dressed in their fine clothes, conversed among themselves in the reserved areas, watching the preparations and placing bets on who would win the tournament, wondering if Jon would leave 200,000 coins poorer.

Among the commoners, the atmosphere was one of pure celebration. They crowded in the open areas, eating caramel apples and drinking whatever they had in their hands, cheering and shouting in anticipation of the event.

The Articans were not left behind, as the dwarves distributed all kinds of expensive drinks among them. The bards were scattered throughout the arena, trying to earn some coins, especially from the nobles.

A bard approached Jon’s podium. “King of Artica, it is a pleasure to meet you. Could you listen to a song?” He asked, catching Jon’s attention while the judges were examining the competitors’ bows.

“Yes.” Jon nodded, curious to know what a bard from Westeros would sing for him.

“You know, I met you a long time ago, and you caught my attention from that day. Every story about you, I always listened carefully, so it is an honor to meet you. Let me start my song, one that I learned many years ago!” He said and began to play his lute.

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North of Torrhen’s Square,

Where winter makes everyone endure.

A small family lived,

With their harvest, so pure,

They still had hope in life.

An unexpected situation, one day,

A lost child, with mastery.

His appearance enchanted, magical eyes,

Green charm, imploring Gods’ blessing, mesmerized.

The boy negotiated for a map,

With eyes turned north, in a trade that shook.

A pact made between the families,

With hands in the earth, a harvest would start,

Green and vast, larger than rumored.

Ow! Little Jon!

With a hand in the earth, wealth would come!

Ow! Little Jon!

Even before the situation, eagle eyes saw him as a flame in the dark!

Ow! Little Jon!

With his small stature, nothing stopped him!

Ow! Little Jon!

With courage and effort, he protected those he loved!

Ow! Little Jon!

With a bow, wrongdoers wept.

Ow! Little Jon!

Blessed with horse, eagle, and giant wolves, his claws haunted,

His legend made any bandit tremble in their pants!

Ow! Little Jon…

With great surprise,

The farm celebrated.

But faced with abundance,

Danger appeared, a disaster.

When the boy showed his swordsmanship,

His eagle screamed, threats approached.

Jon was frightened by something so horrible,

Thus was born,

The battle of 12 bandits, 5 farmers, and a boy.

The boy was scared,

While farmers asked him to flee,

But Jon refused to depart.

With a horse,

To the east, he moved,

Farmers hoped that, in the future, it would be said that the boy survived.

12 bandits in ecstasy,

With the farm in sight, they ran.

Facing fatally trembling farmers,

The leader of the bandits smiled wickedly.

12 horses trotted toward the farm in a singular manner,

The ground feared as farmers sweated, fearing for their home.

But not all was lost,

In the face of danger, something happened.

The euphoria of the bandits ceased,

Their horses fell to the ground, surprised.

In the situation,

All stunned, without reaction!

A horse’s laugh echoed,

And a boy at the feet, revealed himself.

With eyes near death, they announced,

Strength and magic finally unveiled!

Ow! Little Jon!

With a hand in the earth, wealth would come!

Ow! Little Jon!

Even before the situation, eagle eyes saw him as a flame in the dark!

Ow! Little Jon!

With his small stature, nothing stopped him!

Ow! Little Jon!

With courage and effort, he protected those he loved!

Ow! Little Jon!

With a bow, wrongdoers wept.

Ow! Little Jon!

Blessed with horse, eagle, and giant wolves, his claws haunted,

His legend made any bandit tremble in their pants!

Ow! Little Jon…

With 3 bandits out of the fight, now 9 remained.

They showed themselves enraged,

With Jon, determination and mind they strained.

Grabbing his bow,

He would show with mastery that he could handle.

The bandits attacked in fury,

But an arrow interrupted them with bravery.

At 80 meters away,

An 8-nameday-old boy would cause nausea.

For, even a boy, he hit the first one who deserved.

Scared, the anger continued,

But the boy did not stop.

With arrows he launched,

2 more, he hit precisely.

Attacking another 1, his arrows ran out,

In danger, his animals helped him.

His eagle saved him from death,

And his horse led the bandit to fate.

Without energy, the boy stood,

But seeing his friends in danger, he did not stop.

With his horse, he mounted,

Seeing distracted enemies, he trotted.

In a leap, with his little sword, another, he killed.

Without energy, his end was certain,

But the magnitude of the giant wolf, from the ancient legends of the North, revived, clever.

Ow! Little Jon!

With a hand in the earth, wealth would come!

Ow! Little Jon!

Even before the situation, eagle eyes saw him as a flame in the dark!

Ow! Little Jon!

With his small stature, nothing stopped him!

Ow! Little Jon!

With courage and effort, he protected those he loved!

Ow! Little Jon!

With a bow, wrongdoers wept.

Ow! Little Jon!

Blessed with horse, eagle, and giant wolves, his claws haunted,

His legend made any bandit tremble in their pants!

Ow! Little Jon…

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The place became quite silent as Jon looked at him surprised, the song he hadn’t heard since the FrostRoar square more than six years ago.

Margaery, who loved this song when she was little, looked at Jon with admiration in her eyes. Even Loras admitted that he loved this song when he was younger with his sister.

“This is unexpected,” Jon said. “Give him a thousand gold coins for doing this.” Jon requested while the nobles were shocked at Jon giving so much money for a song.

“Thank you very much!!” The bard was extremely shocked by this, while accepting the money.

Jon nodded and turned to a royal guard, “Don’t let anyone else get close; I don’t want a bunch of bards here asking for more money.” Jon warned and watched the man leaving with all that money after an Artican tossed the sack of coins. “Also, keep an eye on him; I feel something is wrong with him, and I don’t want him to die from people trying to rob him. When that happens… bring him to the camp.” Jon warned, and his royal guard spoke to someone else who called for another guard, and the two followed the man.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The herald called again, while everyone paid attention to him, ending all their conversations.

“All the competitors are ready, so let’s start the tournament. I hope you enjoy and are satisfied with our champions!” He exclaimed while the group of archers began to step forward with their bows in hand and arrows in their quivers. The first targets appeared at 20 meters.

Among them, Eldric had a puffed chest and a confident look. The smallest person among them, looking like a dwarf, Arya was there in the middle with a fearless posture, ready to aim her bow and easily hit the target.

“Go Arya!”

“Go little one!”

“ARYA!”

The Articans soon took over the sound of the stands as men, dwarves, and even giants cheered for the 11-year-old Arya Stark.

Racoon here:

[Chapter Size Without Music, 3300 Words.]

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