[Chapter Size: 3200 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Arctic, 298 AC.

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Eragon flew above the clouds as they passed through many of them, while the temperature quickly dropped with them being outside of Artica and at an altitude where the wind began to grow strong, bringing the cold front from the North — but not that Jon and Eragon could really care about that, having their natural resistances.

Either way, Jon didn’t miss the chance to enjoy the ride with Eragon, something very rare in the past moons since they had to work with Valyrian steel and with Jon’s responsibilities to the realm.

They must have been about 10,000 feet from the ground as Jon looked at everything below him, like the snow-covered mountains and hills, with the dry forests.

“Maybe we should do this more often… buddy.” Jon couldn’t help but comment, as the sound of Eragon’s wings, the wind, along with the barrels strapped to the dragon, were the only melody for him there in the sky.

“Hoooo!” His dragon gave a small roar, seeming to agree.

“We’ll try, but once all our problems in the kingdom are resolved… we’ll enjoy more, and we’ll have company with the dragons almost reaching the age to be able to join us.” He spoke as Eragon seemed to agree silently, keeping his bright sapphire eyes on the sky ahead.

And so they continued for a while. Jon was in no hurry; after all, through his ravens, he could see the wights all scattered before reaching Mance’s men, seemingly waiting for nightfall for the first attack. But there was also an even larger group joining them, growing from 2,000 dead to 5,000 — and three White Walkers.

He could also see the scouts being killed one after the other as they were caught by surprise. It really looked like they would act tonight, while Mance would have to stop by the end of the day. Even though his scouts were disappearing, he had to prepare, with the idea that they wouldn’t have information about what they were facing.

Jon had sought some information about Mance inside Artica, beyond what the people already knew. Because he had passed through their tribes heading North while gathering everyone he could to fight to survive, there had been a forest witch who many years ago had left Mance’s camp and had stayed for some time, giving Jon some information.

After a few hours, Jon finally decided to stop as Eragon began to descend on a nearby mountain close to where he wanted, wanting to keep Eragon with all his energy when they started to act.

The enormous dragon struck the flat area that Jon had ordered Eragon to land on before lifting the snow with his weight upon reaching solid ground.

Eragon adjusted himself as Jon left his saddle, removing his belt while descending from his body and also falling into the snow. He headed to the edge of the cliff, having a better view — after seeing from the sky that here he could monitor Mance, being able to see a large group of ants in his vision, walking through the lands far away. It was Mance’s group, marching at a very slow pace toward the next stop.

It had taken Jon two hours to get here with Eragon, but Mance would certainly take a moon or more to get near Artica.

There was no way to see the ocean from here, after all it was still very far from the sea. Jon kept his eye down there for several minutes, thinking about the best way to act.

“I’ll meet with them as soon as they start to settle.” Jon decided, while looking at Eragon, waiting to do something.

“We’ll stay here for the rest of the day. Let’s take the chance and go to the coast, eat something, and return to wait here part of the afternoon.” Jon had decided, since Eragon wouldn’t eat anything for the rest of the day, and neither would he.

Mance was beginning to receive information that his scouts to the north had disappeared. He asked for more people to go check the situation — without getting too close — waiting to see what exactly was there that had been killing his men since yesterday. Not knowing the exact size of the enemy, he was worried.

Mance listened to his men, while Della looked at him, worried, from atop a horse — having an easier journey that way. He tried to organize as much as he could, hoping to reach the place they had sighted to set camp and prepare for an attack.

At the same time, Jon was near the sea, on a cliff, eating a fish after roasting it over flames he had made by gathering some dry branches from nearby trees.

He looked at the frozen sea alone when Eragon’s massive body came up from below the cliff. Jon raised an eyebrow at his dragon showing off. Eragon was in the shallower part of the sea, unable to submerge due to the barrels he carried. He flew a few meters, circling Jon before descending and landing in front of him.

Eragon opened his mouth and dropped dozens of fish in front of Jon, offering them to him.

“I already have enough here, eat them. You’ll need it more than I will,” Jon said, while the dragon did exactly that.

As soon as they returned to the mountain from earlier, Mance’s group was a little closer to the area Jon had imagined he would stop at — a large open space ahead of the group.

Eragon sat beside him while the massive dragon’s head served as a backrest. Jon sat on the mountain, pulling out Blackfyre and driving it into the ground.

It was still a bit strange to have that weapon with him, even though he had already fought many battles with it and taken the lives of great warriors.

Darksister, the katanas, and now Blackfyre — would he need another sword in his story? That was a question Jon found himself asking there, while keeping his gaze on the sword, which easily reflected the sunlight. Valyrian steel was unique and shone brighter than ever, as well as being much lighter than common steel. It never needed sharpening and never rusted — no wonder it was so coveted.

Jon then stayed there with Eragon, closing his eyes for a moment while taking a nap, as the sun began to descend in the West.

His eyes opened slightly as he sighed, checking on the dead, who were beginning to gather.

“Let’s move, the time has come,” Jon said, standing up. Eragon did too, shaking off a bit of snow that had fallen on them during the hours they had stayed there.

Jon mounted him and looked toward the space being filled by Mance and the others as they were setting up camp.

“Let’s surprise them a little then,” Jon said, and in the next moment, Eragon propelled himself forward, leaping off the mountain and quickly spreading his wings, stabilizing in the air and advancing downward — heading toward the area that should be about 20 kilometers from the mountain they were on.

“Any news from the north?” Mance asked his men.

“No, Mance… no man has returned…” his companion said.

“Damn,” Mance muttered. “Prepare for any attack! Tonight… we may suffer a major enemy advance…” he said.

“Aren’t we sending anyone else to the north?” another asked.

“To die? I don’t think that would be a good idea. After all, they’re all turning into corpses and will become more of them by going there…” Mance said.

The men agreed in the end. And Mance was about to turn back and check on Della, returning to his tent, when the dogs began barking beside him.

Finding it strange, she saw them looking up at the sky. More and more dogs began barking in that direction, and some of them seemed to emit sounds of fear. Everyone around Mance noticed the animals’ behavior and began to check what was bothering them.

It was at that moment that a large bird began to emerge. The sun was still in the sky, though it had begun to set on the horizon, and that allowed everyone to clearly see what was happening. The shadow of the creature grew, and they began to see that it was white, growing in size to the point that Mance widened his eyes, stunned.

That was no bird. It was something much bigger.

It made no effort to hide its presence as it advanced directly toward them. The animals in the camp were restless. The whimpering of the dogs mixed with the barking, creating a symphony of despair.

“What is that, by the gods?” one of the men beside Mance murmured.

When they finally realized what it was, they froze. That creature was bigger than anything they had ever seen. Its wings were immense, even from a distance.

At last, it arrived above the camp.

The men barely had time to cover their ears before a deafening roar exploded across the sky. The overwhelming sound made everyone shield themselves as the creature flew over the area. The camp descended into chaos the next moment.

“What is that?” Mance stammered, unable to answer his own men.

He had heard descriptions of that creature before. Even without ever having seen one in person, he remembered Maester Aemon speaking about them. When he served in the Night’s Watch, the old maester had always been a dreamer and spoke about dragons whenever he had the chance, always talking about the dream of seeing a living dragon.

Mance had grown up hearing those stories. But he never imagined he would see one with his own eyes.

The dragon began circling the camp, lowering its altitude. It was merely analyzing everything below. It was then that Mance noticed something peculiar: there was a saddle on its back.

If that dragon was being ridden by someone, then it wasn’t there by accident.

Eragon flew over the area one more time before Jon chose a proper place to land. He descended gradually, keeping enough distance not to scare them completely.

The landing caused snow to rise all around. The dragon remained there, still, watching them. It was clear he wanted something. Now, it depended on them to understand and respond to the call.

In the camp, the screams of women and children mixed with the sounds of restless animals and men running from one side to the other.

“Mance… what is that thing?” Della shouted, seeing the creature landed in the distance.

Mance was still lost…

“That should have been dead for hundreds of years.”

He murmured something inaudible, staring at the dragon, which now stood motionless, and seemed to be waiting for them.

It was obvious what it wanted. But what about them? Were they ready to answer?

“I don’t know exactly… but someone over there wants to talk to me…” Mance finally replied to his wife.

“You’re going to that thing?” Della murmured, stunned.

“I have no choice,” Mance decided.

If that really was a dragon, they were, at the very least, doomed… Even more so with the dead also coming toward them from the north.

“It’s him!” someone approached, running and breathless.

“Him who?” Mance turned to the man, recognizing him as the one who had informed him the day before about the southerners, and who had been driven from his lands.

“It’s the southern king! He’s here… probably came to kill us,” the man said, while Mance frowned.

“You’re telling me he had a dragon this whole time and you didn’t mention it?” Mance questioned angrily. That was not something anyone should be hiding.

“I… I didn’t even know…” the man tried to justify himself, but Mance just shook his head, frustrated.

“Enough of this. Let’s go check. If it’s really the King of Ártica, then he decided not to wait for me,” Mance said, beginning to walk.

“Mance, be careful,” Della warned, worried.

“Stay inside the tent. I’ll go with Mance,” Val said to her sister, who only nodded as she watched her head toward her husband.

Mance gathered a few more trusted men and headed toward the dragon. The camp was still uneasy, all eyes fixed on the creature that, for at least ten minutes, had remained motionless, simply waiting.

Along with twenty men, Mance advanced slowly, feeling the tension in the air. As they got closer, the creature’s eyes glowed an even brighter blue with the day darkening. It was an intense blue, as vivid as the eyes of the dead they fought — but in a different way, as it was clear this was not an undead.

But this dragon… was a little different.

Mance remembered Maester Aemon saying that dragons had two hind legs and wings, not four legs like this one. Still, the shape and size left no doubt: it was a dragon, and Mance didn’t want to take chances to see whether or not it breathed fire.

That’s when Mance noticed the figure on its neck. The expected one.

He watched closely as the man mounted on the dragon began to descend. Once his feet touched the ground, he walked ahead of the creature, which kept its eyes fixed on the approaching group, as if waiting for any hostile movement against its rider.

Mance couldn’t help his surprise at seeing it was a young man.

Even more impressive was noticing the armor he wore. The material was not unknown to him. He had seen something like that before — but on swords, never a full set of armor. It was the same type of steel he had seen, rarely, in tournaments or even when Lord Stark executed condemned men with his sword, Ice.

Mance quickly assessed the value of that armor. With what it was worth, he could reinforce his troops, buy supplies… even a castle. Seeing something like that this side of the Wall was, at the very least, unreal.

The young man analyzed the group in front of him. They were fifty meters away, approaching cautiously.

All eyes were on him, but their gazes shifted between the young man and the dragon.

They slowed their pace, but didn’t stop. When they were only ten meters away, Jon was about five meters from the massive dragon, which remained still, watching them.

“So you’re the one they call the Arctic King?” Mance asked immediately, sizing up the boy.

“Yes. As I’ve written in my letters, my name is Jon Ártica. And you, Mance Rayder, are the man known by your people as the King Beyond the Wall,” Jon said calmly, before continuing.

“But I must admit, it is surprising that a man who once served in the Night’s Watch became the king of the Free Folk. It’s a great accomplishment,” Jon said.

“You seem to know me… But I can’t deny that it is, at the very least, intriguing to hear the story of a boy who built a city in these lands, where once there was nothing but snow and monsters,” Mance replied.

“Uncle Aemon spoke about you,” Jon said, making a brief pause.

“About my journey… the gods guided me here. It’s not like I did everything on my own.”

“You had contact with Aemon from the Wall?” Mance asked, surprised by the mention of the old maester.

“No. Maester Aemon died many years ago… officially, it was a false death.

Aemon was transferred to my city and helped me build it for years…

He lives there, outside of his duties as a member of the Night’s Watch,” Jon replied.

“Either way, it’s strange to see a living dragon. I thought they had died hundreds of years ago,” Mance commented, while his group listened to the conversation in silence, watching with curiosity.

Mance continued:

“Anyway, why did you come to me?”

“Simple. I’m also watching the dead. And tonight, your camp will be attacked by a group of five thousand dead and three White Walkers. I’m here to help you,” Jon declared.

The Free Folk exchanged suspicious glances.

“Why? Aren’t we enemies?” Mance asked directly.

Even surprised by the number of dead mentioned, he still didn’t understand why Jon had come with his dragon… and alone.

“Because I don’t want you to die. I see no reason for us to become enemies.

And, besides, the Old Gods sent me to protect the people of the North and those beyond the Wall. So that you don’t become walking corpses, serving the Masters of Death.”

Jon made a brief pause before continuing:

“I’m not exactly a devout man, but I certainly intend to protect these lands.”

“Are you going to fight with your dragon?” Mance asked after a few seconds of silence, still digesting Jon’s words.

“More than that,” Jon answered.

“I want to deliver weapons for you to fight. After all, fire can be hard to manage in battle.

I’m here to deliver an effective weapon.”

“And what would that be?” Mance frowned.

No one there knew what kind of weapon could kill the dead or the White Walkers.

“Just wait a moment,” Jon said, walking back to the dragon as he grabbed one of the barrels tied down with chains.

He removed them, letting them hit the ground with force.

Jon then easily lifted the barrel over his shoulder and began carrying it to the front of the dragon, getting close to them.

With a swift movement, he burst open the lid of the barrel, which began to fall apart, revealing arrows spilling to the ground.

Jon picked up a few, examined them, and threw them to the group.

One of the arrows landed at Mance’s feet, who moved to pick it up.

His eyes locked onto the arrow — the wood was finely crafted, and the tip was made of a strange type of rock.

He had never seen obsidian before.

“What is this…?” Mance murmured.

“Dragonglass, as we call it. It’s fire made solid. It can even kill a White Walker, though hitting them is difficult.

However, you can fight a horde of the dead by shooting arrows from a distance with this material.

It will make defending the camp easier,” Jon said as he threw more and more arrows for the others to grab.

“Why should we trust your word?”

A blonde woman, young, maybe a little older than Jon, suddenly spoke while Jon looked at her for the first time.

“I’m not going to beg you to trust me. I’m simply saying I’m here to help.

Send a group north and check it out. Your men are being ambushed by the dead buried in the snow.

If you see any part of a body exposed, be careful.

But you can test it yourselves. I’m sure a group can take down a few.

You can see it for yourselves.

Either way, accept this as a gift from me.

This barrel has at least 2,000 arrows, and I have five more of these barrels.

Now, I will release the others, totaling 10,000 arrows…

Just prepare for the fight that’s coming. And I will tell you at the right time how to deal with the White Walkers.

Just protect your camp,” Jon said.

He didn’t wait for a response from Mance or the others. He simply turned around and began removing all the chains that held the other barrels, letting them fall heavily to the ground.

Then, without saying anything else, he mounted the dragon.

With a powerful motion, the creature opened its wings and took flight, disappearing into the sky, leaving Mance and the others watching.

There was still distrust from everyone after that encounter, but Mance couldn’t stop looking at the barrels in front of him, full of arrows.

‘If this is true… it really could save us from the attack that king said is coming… with five thousand dead.’

————-Nexts Chapters —————-

Chapter 256 – The Eyes of Death.

Chapter 261 – The Faceless Man.

Chapter 271 – Val.

Chapter 280 – The Winterfell Banquet 01.

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