[Chapter Size: 5100 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Arctic, 298 AC.

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“You look very well, my husband,” Seryna commented as soon as the carriage stopped, while she raised her hands and adjusted Jon’s clothes a little, who gave her a slight smile.

“Are you trying to reassure me, wife?” Jon asked in an amused tone, while Loki watched them curiously from the side.

“You don’t need it, but I want you to feel good, Jon.” She said in a voice full of tenderness as Jon gazed into her blue eyes.

“I hope I am, dear,” Jon replied, and then received a gentle kiss from Seryna.

“The people need to hear you. The moment has come,” she said lightly.

Jon nodded, as he moved his hand and a knock on the door made it open.

“Your Majesty,” said the royal guard as he made sure to step out first.

The sound of the crowd echoed as soon as the door was opened, not because they saw Jon, but from the great square — something that had already been happening before Jon set foot there, merely muffled while they were inside the royal carriages.

Jon nodded to his men and turned toward the carriage door, while his son was next to step out. He helped him down with an outstretched arm.

“You’re getting very strong, Loki,” Jon said as the boy laughed.

“Nothing you can’t handle, right, husband?” Seryna said with a playful laugh. Jon extended his hand to help Seryna down carefully right after, while keeping a smile to answer her earlier question.

As soon as she touched the ground and adjusted her blue dress, Jon turned toward the other carriages with the queens stepping down and went back to Lancelot.

“How are things?” Jon asked the guards.

“Everything is as planned, my king. No disturbances beyond what the crowd is doing in the square, and a few fights, but the Arctican guards are taking care of it. Now, everyone is waiting for you,” Lancelot replied, while Jon gave a slight nod.

Jon waited for Seryna to compose herself, while the rest of the family was already out of the carriages — wives and children. They waited without being seen by the people, protected behind the platform and a white mass in front of them.

On the platform that separated the royal family from the immense crowd of Artica, Eragon lay like a cat, observing everything. But his eyes turned back behind the platform as soon as they arrived.

Eragon was calm, unlike most dragons — even those of Arctic. He wasn’t a dragon who was bothered by the presence of others. He was gentle, as long as no one tried to climb on him or hurt him. He didn’t mind having people nearby, nor standing before the crowd of Artica — about three hundred thousand people gathered in the huge square before the sacred grove. Jon had requested his presence there for the speech.

As Aemon had suggested weeks earlier, Jon had decided to speak to the people. It was time to inspire the population of Artica, after all, the war was right before them.

“Let’s go,” Seryna said with a gentle smile, and Jon picked Loki up in his arms, moving forward to join the others.

Jon and Seryna went ahead, meeting the rest of the family who were finishing getting down from the carriages. They walked along the side of the platform until they found the stairs to climb up. Eragon, with his colossal body, partially blocked the entrance behind them, so they chose another free one.

“Eragon!” Loki shouted excitedly, while the dragon kept his head turned toward them the entire time since they had arrived.

The dragon, unable to respond in the human tongue, still seemed to understand the human greeting and released a breath through his nose, which made the rest of the children start calling out to him as well. Jon smiled.

Some guards were already on the platform.

“My king, everything is ready,” announced one of the royal guards.

Arya was also approaching, along with Benjen.

“The people are waiting for you, my king,” Arya said with a smile.

“It seems so. Well… let’s get started with this,” Jon said.

They began climbing the stairs, and finally, the figure of the king appeared before the crowd. Shouts and exclamations echoed when Jon appeared, flanked by the royal guard. Nearly all one hundred soldiers were there, forming a living wall in front and on the sides of the platform. There were also the ministers, waiting for the royal family.

The exclamations continued until they turned into a collective roar, while Jon positioned himself at the center of the stage, under the attentive gaze of the crowd. His family stood behind him, with him at the center, the four children who had come standing before their mothers, in anticipation.

Only the babies had stayed at the castle, under the care of the queens’ ladies-in-waiting, servants, and two royal guards assigned to each of them.

Artica did not have major problems with assassins, much less with direct threats to the royal family. It wasn’t as if Jon and his family had the unconditional love of the entire population — after all, there was some envy from certain people, even if it was insignificant. But assassins? There was no such danger. Even so, Jon never neglected security — not even in times of peace. From the beginning, he wanted everyone to always be protected.

All the ministers.

Ducken – A Human, Commander of the Army of Artica and responsible for the kingdom’s security and military training.

Brynden – A Human, Responsible for information and intelligence reports.

Thor – A Dwarf, In charge of production and manufacturing (references to the building of the wall, ships, glass, and new structures in the city).

Seraphine – A Child of the Forest, Minister of Magic and Arcane Affairs, including the sacred groves and serving as a bridge between the religion of the old gods and the kingdom.

Kiera – A Human, Minister of Justice and Law, responsible for law enforcement and city patrols.

— A Human, Minister of Finance and Treasury. He had left the fleet after the negotiation with Braavos and returned to Artica, but had since been managing the relationship between Artica and the city of Braavos.

Haran – A Giant, Minister of Agriculture and Natural Resources.

Aemon – A Human, Responsible for the academy and the integration of educators.

Darius – A Human, Responsible for the diplomacy of Arctic.

Junly – A Human, Responsible for the internal and external trade of the kingdom.

Mance – A Human, Responsible for the civil organization of the kingdom.

Leaf – A Child of the Forest, Responsible for the religion of the old gods.

All the Ministers, responsible for the decisions made alongside the king for the paths of Arctic, were also gathered there, forming two rows — one on each side of Jon, extending to the edge of the platform.

Jon, in turn, let his eyes wander across the entire horizon — humans, giants, dwarves, and children of the forest among that vast crowd.

The message he would give that day was meant for all the people: the message about the war against the dead. The entire kingdom of Artica knew that this moment would come — even before its very foundation.

Everyone there was united by a single idea: the hope of surviving what was to come. In the past, part of that people had followed Mance, under the illusion of fleeing and surviving, seeking to secure a future for their children south of the Wall. But Artica had been born from a different idea — not that of fleeing, but of fighting. To fight against the enemy out there, against the cold, against the storm, and against the darkness approaching.

Jon took a step forward, passing between the ministers, while his family remained behind them. He walked to the edge of the stage, and with each step, the noise of the crowd lessened. The shouts ceased, the air grew heavier, and when he stopped, the silence was almost absolute.

His eyes fixed upon the people before him — civilians and warriors from the military ranks, men, women, and, especially, children. That was what struck him most: seeing so many children and babies, some crying amidst the silence. Never before had there been so many living children north of the Wall as there were now. It was ironic — at the very moment when the danger of extinction drew near, life flourished beyond the Wall.

Jon kept his steady gaze upon his people, studying each face, each expression. His emerald eyes seemed to pierce into the soul of every one of them — even the giants averted their gaze for a moment before looking back to see if the king was still watching them.

It was not intimidation. Jon did not wish to impose fear. He wished to understand. He wanted to know the people of Artica — his people.

Then, a slight smile appeared on his lips. He turned, looking toward the ministers behind him, some of whom swallowed hard upon meeting the king’s gaze — a feeling much like that of the crowd. And even those already accustomed to it, after so many council meetings in that Senate chamber, still felt its weight — for the gaze of the king’s magical eyes always left its mark.

Jon kept his smile, and his eyes turned toward his family. Seryna watched him with tenderness, wearing a sweet smile — the kind of smile that seemed to understand his thoughts without him needing to say a word. She had always been the queen who understood him the most. In addition to having the calmest and most serene personality among all the others. She only lost to Daenerys in sweetness, but she was still the most positive of them all.

She would give birth in a few days — perhaps a week, two at most.

Jon looked at Loki, who stared at him with eyes shining with admiration in front of Seryna. The boy saw his father standing before a crowd of three hundred thousand people — the king of them all. And, perhaps for the first time, he began to understand what it meant to be a king.

Jon was pleased with whatever the boy could learn at that moment by watching him there.

His eyes turned to Ygritte, who, upon meeting his gaze, displayed a slight twitch of her lips — a restrained, almost ironic smile.

“What is it, Jon? You’re silent and staring at us with a smile… Talk to them…” her look seemed to say, as she arched an eyebrow, silently questioning what he was doing there before everyone.

At Ygritte’s feet, Lyanna watched her father with a curious and goofy look, struggling not to laugh at seeing him so serious. Brandon, beside her, had the same gleam in his eyes as Loki. He had already seen his father be respected every day, but seeing him silence so many people before him — more than Brandon could ever count — was something entirely different, something incredible.

Jon’s eyes left the children and moved to Rhaenys, who was smiling brightly at him.

Jaehaerys was watching him too, just like his younger and older brothers, and his two eyes shone — each one showing pride and admiration for their father.

Daenerys, his fourth wife, meanwhile, kept an open and radiant smile, her eyes full of interest, admiration, pride, and above all, love.

Hiyori — always more reserved — wore a discreet, almost closed smile, as if holding back the urge to laugh, but her green eyes revealed affection and respect as she looked at Jon, not to mention that her eyes also carried love for her husband.

Val, whose expression was naturally firm, was also there. She wore a dress that, despite her initial resistance, she had agreed to wear — probably after insistence from the other queens, who seemed to love dragging her toward the more feminine side of things. Still, Val stared at him with seriousness, her eyes fixed on the king.

His eyes then found two other family members who were also present: Benjen, who wore a satisfied and proud smile, and Arya, who carried a mischievous grin on her lips, as if anticipating what was about to come.

Jon turned toward the royal guards. Each of the ninety-two soldiers stood firm and alert, with Lancelot at the front, wearing a proud smile for commanding the personal guard of the king and his family. Ben Viskote, Stone, Ziller, Tarsio Frost, Karmen, Jill, Buri, Trinsmy, and the others were also among the men clad in Valyrian steel armor.

Then Jon raised his eyes — and there were Eragon’s colossal sapphire eyes, watching everything from above. The dragon was also looking at him. Jon had placed him there not only to draw attention but to help him, to inspire the people. He knew that the giant dragon didn’t mind the noise of the crowded square — he could even nap there, indifferent to the commotion.

Jon turned back to the crowd. Silence settled once more, stopping any louder whispers that had begun as soon as the king turned his back. For about two minutes, the king simply observed — staring at each face, each gaze, as if trying to record everything in his memory.

He wanted to remember the result of his life.

That was what he was now. No longer the boy cleaning manure in the stables of Winterfell. No longer the target of Lady Catelyn’s contempt, nor the bastard many had blamed for Robb’s mistakes.

It hadn’t been much more than ten years since then — and now he stood there, before three hundred thousand people, surrounded by those he trusted with his safety, his secrets… and those he loved above all else. His family, people for whom he would not hesitate to give his own life.

Once, he had lamented believing he would never be anyone in life. Today, he was a king.

Once, he had regretted believing he would never leave a legacy to the world. That he would never want to bring a bastard into the world, not wanting any child to endure what he had. Today, he had five wives — and soon would have six — and more than eight children, with another on the way in just a few weeks.

He had always insisted he didn’t want a child to suffer for being his, that his son might look at him with disdain for his father’s status. But today, he received admiration — from Loki, Jaehaerys, and Brandon — all always seeking his approval, always acting in hopes of making him proud or simply to earn his time. Today, he also received the unconditional love of his eldest daughter. No matter how much trouble she caused or how often she pushed her parents to their limits, Lyanna loved him deeply. Jon had never imagined he would feel something so pure until he lived all of this.

There had been a time when he believed himself alone, when he thought even his family didn’t like him. Now, he found himself surrounded by Aemon, Brynden, Rhaenys, and Daenerys — his paternal family. Arya and Benjen were also there, part of his maternal side.

And that was the result of his life. Something he needed to preserve and protect, no matter the cost.

“You know…” Jon began, and his voice echoed across the square. He used magic in his throat, projecting the sound so that everyone could hear him clearly — something no other ruler in the world could do.

A few timid whispers spread through the crowd, but they ceased as soon as the king continued to speak.

“I have never achieved anything in life without effort. Just like many of you — or perhaps all of you already know — I was merely a frightened boy, living in a castle south of the Wall.”

Everyone knew he was a Stark, even before knowing he was also a Targaryen. He had always claimed to be a Stark — an heir of the blood of the Kings of Winter, who fought against the darkness thousands of years ago. And still, the people had accepted him. They simply did not fully understand the concept of being a bastard — they didn’t believe that a family would favor other children over him simply because he was born of another woman, not the mother of his “brothers.”

“I lived my life until the age of eight namedays without great expectations. I believed I might do something useful, but nothing extraordinary. Perhaps I would become a good warrior if I were lucky with the sword. Perhaps I would become more than a bastard — more than a stain upon the honor of the man I once believed to be my father.”

Jon paused briefly, taking a deep breath.

“However, something changed when the gods entrusted me with a task. A mission given to a simple child without much expectation for the future, who had spent most of his life confined within his own home.”

“When the gods gave me the mission to reach the Wall, I began my journey through the North. I made companions, and I made enemies. I set the North into a small war against slavers at that time. It was unbelievable that a boy of my age was doing all that — being just an eight-nameday-old child then.” Jon’s name had become known throughout the Seven Namedays, though it seemed more like a myth at the time.

“There were many blessings the gods granted me — and I went into hiding to train. At that time, I met the famous giants of the realm such as Wallyk, Wuual, Kypyl, Huyys, Carruuyi, Tuuuxy, and my first queen, Seryna. Our general Ducken and one of the greatest blacksmiths of the realm, William, also became my main companions.”

“I spent months learning, evolving, strengthening myself with the knowledge that the gods had given us. When I resumed my journey, I was already stronger, and my companions had also become stronger. We then continued toward the Wall.” Jon paused briefly, the wind cutting through the air of the square.

“When we reached the Wall, we crossed it. We had to force our hand a bit against the Night’s Watch. And when I reached the heart tree that the Night’s Watch uses… the gods gave me a new message.”

“They knew that the people beyond the Wall would be doomed, for the South would never accept them under normal circumstances. Even if they learned about the White Walkers, perhaps most of the North would already be dead by then. That is why the old gods made me search for a place — a land where we could build a home so that the people from beyond the Wall could survive.”

“We advanced through the far North in search of this place, and we found it here, under this very sun, on this soil where all of you now stand. We chose this land to be our kingdom — our fortress against the evil that lies beyond.”

“When we came here, perhaps we were ten thousand or more. I don’t quite remember the exact number, but together with my trusted companions, we began to found this place. Artica began as a small nomadic tribe until it became the ground upon which we would build a kingdom.”

“At that time, the gods also granted me a vision — the vision of finding a lost race of dwarves, hidden between two mountains. They gave me the honor of helping our kingdom grow. They integrated completely, joined Artica, and today they are part of us — as beloved companions, as brothers.”

“The construction began from a small thirty-meter tree, which became the Grand Weirwood, nearly two hundred meters tall, that all of you can see behind me. The kingdom began to expand. We managed to recruit more and more people — and giants from outside the realm’s borders, offering them shelter. We also found the children of the forest when we arrived here. It was they who, back then, planted the sacred grove that you see behind us today.”

Jon paused, turning his gaze toward the immense tree that rose behind him. Beneath its roots, there were hundreds of other sacred trees — many the same size as the one that once stood in Winterfell, where the children of the forest lived and raised their offspring.

“The Great Tree is the heart of the kingdom,” he continued. “It grew alongside the children of the forest, the dwarves, the giants, the men, and the women present here. We built the city, then the farms, the walls to protect us from enemies, and finally, the canal that would connect us directly to the sea — so that no port city would need to be built beyond our walls, serving as our kingdom’s link to the outside world.”

“Thanks to the efforts, especially of the giants, we made great progress,” Jon said with pride. Even with tens of thousands of men working on the kingdom’s construction, it was the giants who made everything easier — carrying the stones, the wood, the earth, and the massive blocks alongside the mammoths, while the dwarves, masters of engineering, designed and raised each structure.

“Artica had no resources at first. So we began our trade policy — we made contracts, we sold and bought, bringing the name of our kingdom to the world for the first time. We did not want to be an isolated people, and we needed resources. And we obtained them fairly.”

“I myself took part in those journeys,” Jon continued. “Those who accompanied me from the voyages to Westeros, to Essos, reaching even the far side of the world, know what I speak of. You should be proud of that, because almost no other fleet has sailed so far. No other group has done as much as we have done in so little time at sea.”

Jon lifted his chin, the wind brushing against his face.

“I spent about four or five years traveling around the world along with other Arcticans and part of my family,” he continued. “It wasn’t a short time — but what I brought back left a legacy that propelled the growth of Artica. And that is why, today, this kingdom is what it is.”

“Today we are here, and I can assure you that, in all the places I have traveled, no people live better than the people of Artica. None are more intelligent, stronger, or more dedicated. Even the nobles of other kingdoms would envy the lifestyle you have built if they saw this place.”

Jon smiled as he said that — and there was no falsehood in his words. The quality of life in Artica surpassed that of any other place in the world. People had food in abundance. Since the king introduced livestock into the forests within the walls, they began to reproduce rapidly. After a few genetic improvements that Jon himself had made to them with his powers, meat had become a common good, accessible to everyone — no longer a luxury reserved only for nobles or the hunter families south of the Wall.

While in Westeros most of the population struggled to eat meat, in Artica it was part of the daily diet. Fruits, vegetables, and grains were equally plentiful. Only seafood was scarcer, as they were not accustomed to fishing. But the farms never slept, and even in that frozen desert of the far North, the land never ceased to yield.

“Not even the great cities of the South could say the same,” Jon added with a touch of pride.

But it wasn’t only in prosperity that Artica stood out — it was also in strength.

“And I say this: no place in the world has an army as powerful as ours,” said the king, raising his voice. “We have technology, weapons, and warriors of all races — humans, dwarves, and giants — fighting side by side. Trained over the years for anything that may come.”

Wildfire had become a terrible weapon in the hands of the Articans. In addition, there were dragons — and entire squadrons of warg warriors mounted on bears and shadowcats, fearsome creatures trained especially for combat.

The army was vast and disciplined. It counted around twenty thousand riders. In his two great voyages across the continents, Jon had brought back more than eleven thousand horses — three thousand from Essos and eight thousand from other regions of Essos — always choosing the finest breeds, stallions descended from the bloodlines of the khals themselves, the mounts favored by the greatest Dothraki, representing power and prestige.

But what truly made Artica unique was its diversity.

The kingdom was not made up of just four races. Here there were humans from all corners of the world — from the Northern realms to the far South of Westeros.

Some of them were former prisoners captured during the naval battles of the Redwyne fleet. Over time, they were freed and ended up building new lives there. Many were young, without families in Westeros, without ties to the past — and Jon had given them a chance. They could not leave the kingdom, but in Artica they found something they had never had before: they could study and live as well as the rest of the people — with purpose, safety, and peace.

There were also the teachers — scholars from Dorne, the Reach, and various Free Cities of Essos. They had come on temporary contracts to educate the people, but even now, with the end of their five-year agreements approaching, few wished to leave.

And with the imminent war preventing travel — deep down, most simply didn’t want to depart from Artica. They had fallen in love with the kingdom and with the lives they had built there; some even had wives and children now.

Besides them, there were Braavosi, former slaves from Slaver’s Bay, people from the East, from the lands of Yi Ti, and Dothraki.

Jon had every reason to be proud.

Artica gathered people from much of the world — a blend of cultures, races, and histories. Though most were composed of the free folk and Northerners from beyond the Wall, everyone there shared the same ideal, the same flame: to survive, to prosper, and to defend the home they had built together.

“Artica has become a beacon of hope for all of us,” Jon said, and his voice echoed through the square, filled with conviction and restrained anger. “A fortress, a gift from the old gods. We built it so that we could live better — so that our children might live better, and their children after them.” He paused. Enough talk of good things.

“But now our great trial has come.” He took a step forward.

“The enemy is out there. And he comes to destroy us.” The words fell heavy as steel. The silence of the crowd was almost suffocating upon hearing them.

“We, as one people, will be the first to face them — the first of all humankind. Because even if they defeat us, they will continue south. But know this: destroying us will not be an option.”

Jon drew and raised the sword, Blackfyre, which hung at his waist, and his voice grew stronger, trembling with fury and pride.

“They will be defeated before they even come close to the Wall. Before they even look toward the South. The South doesn’t even know what’s happening here — and perhaps they never will. They will hear rumors — and most will not believe them. They will think we are plotting something, or hiding. But it doesn’t matter!”

He struck the tip of his sword against the wood beneath him. The metallic sound echoed like thunder.

“It doesn’t matter if we fight to save the hides of those damned southerners! We are here now! And we cannot choose whether we wish to fight or not. It is us — we are the ones who will face the White Walkers! We are the ones who will fight the Long Night!”

Jon’s voice was like a roar of wind, cutting through the square, yet he continued — firm as ice.

“And we will win. Because we are Artica — the most powerful people in the world!”

The crowd held its breath.

“And Artica kneels before no one — not before men, not before monsters, not before mythical creatures! The only time we will ever bend our knees will be before our gods — whether under the gaze of the heart tree or after death!”

The final words came as a reminder to everyone.

“Our work until now has been to build this place — a refuge, a home. Now, our duty is to keep it. To fight for it. To protect our families, our children, and the generations yet to come. And I…”

Jon lifted his face, his emerald eyes gleaming.

“I will be on the front line. Leading our warriors. I will be the first to cross my sword with the White Walkers. And I hope you will stand with me!”

ROOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR

At that moment, the roar of Aragon, the dragon, shattered the air — a deafening sound that made the king’s children cover their ears. The ground seemed to tremble beneath the creature’s power. When the roar finally ceased, the silence that followed was absolute. A silence almost deadly.

Then, from somewhere in the crowd, a shout rose. Then another. And another.

In an instant, the sound filled the square — more than two hundred thousand voices roaring in unison, crying out the name of Artica, striking weapons, raising fists and banners.

Jon blinked, and the world before him turned into a sea of fire and ice, passion and courage.

Artica was ready.

Ready for what was to come.

Ready for war.

Jon smiled — a cold, proud smile — as his eyes turned to the north, ignoring the people behind him. He ignored his family, his dragon, and even the immense tree that rose there before him.

His gaze seemed to pierce through mountains, forests, and snow-covered valleys, until it found the storm — a wall of wind and darkness slowly advancing southward.

Within it, only shadows — broken here and there by hundreds of thousands of blue eyes, glowing in the ice.

And at the head of that army of the dead rode a peculiar group — dark figures mounted on pale horses.

The Night King was among them.

For a brief moment, as the blizzard roared in the distance, the King lifted his face and seemed to look south — as if he could feel another gaze meeting his own.

Green eyes met blue eyes, separated by lands and storms, yet bound by destiny.

And in that instant, the war for the dawn was about to begin.

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