[Chapter Size: 3700 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Arctic, 298 AC.

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The mist invaded every place, seeping into every surface and opening — whether the crack of a tree trunk or the mouth of a cave. The cold wind tended to fill everything, while the low-temperature smoke began to freeze anything that wasn’t yet covered by northern ice.

The freezing mist was the first part. Soon, the snowstorm devoured everything in its path, making anything disappear into the sea of snow within the whirlwind. The North had turned into a colossal wave of storm — an apocalyptic scene — and the snow had made mountains and forests vanish into its center.

They were finally there.

In front of Arctica.

The sun began to fade on the horizon, and it had only been three hours since it had risen, as the city received its last rays of light, which struck the Great Tree and the tallest buildings. The people — the Arcticans — were restless in the midst of it all.

There were no more open shops, nor families strolling through the city. The only sound was the strong march of soldiers, forming ranks as they moved toward every corner of the kingdom.

The sound of boots was rhythmic, the giants’ steps the loudest, echoing through the streets. The soldiers of Arctica continued marching, while people from all around watched them from their windows, seeing the entire army clad mostly in Eldenmetal armor — but the gazes, beyond turning to the army, were also drawn to the mighty storm in the north, and at times, to the last traces of the sun.

Arctica was in idle silence that night. The war was there, and it would begin in just a few hours, once the enemy reached the city gates.

Among those gazes, a teenage girl was looking out her window, while the sunlight still touched her face. The window’s reflection showed the storm coming from the north, covering all the mountains.

“Are you worried, my granddaughter?” an elderly woman asked as she entered the room, while the young girl blinked and turned her eyes from the window to see her grandmother coming in. She immediately went to the table, lighting the crystal lamps that began to illuminate the house as the sunlight faded.

“How could I not be, Grandma?” the girl murmured, while her owl let out a small sound — the animal to which she was bonded as a warg.

“I know, but you must have faith. The king, your parents, and all the soldiers of Arctica will protect us,” said the old woman with a serene voice.

“I’m sure they will… But they gave us weapons! What if they break through the wall? I’m scared, Grandma… My father and mother are out there fighting. I want to help, but at the same time, I’m so afraid that I feel like a coward,” said the teenager, her voice trembling with worry.

“Yes, they are, and everyone is afraid, Lilka. You’re not the only one. Even the soldiers and many others who try to pretend otherwise, but we are Arcticans, remember that,” replied the grandmother. “The weapons are for the last resort. After all, the king always worries about his people. He thinks of every scenario — it’s no wonder he gave us weapons and filled our food stores. He doesn’t want us to be at the mercy of the dead if something bad happens. At least we’ll be more prepared.”

The girl nodded silently. “I hope Dominique and Vlad are okay… Dominique has no one at home, his father is also fighting in the army,” she said.

“Have faith, my dear,” replied the woman, while the girl nodded, turning on more crystals and lighting up the house.

Outside, the lights of the houses began to turn on one by one, as the last rays of the sun hid on the horizon — as if the sun itself were announcing its final visit before disappearing behind the dark clouds that came with the storm.

It wasn’t just that family’s house that began to light up — every home in Arctica within the city started to glow little by little, as more and more light crystals were activated.

The city soon began to shine as on any other night in Arctica, but the atmosphere remained the same: there was an absence of all the joy the city normally radiated. As darkness seeped into the city, only the lights from the houses remained.

People were allowed to go to the shelter beneath the city or stay in their homes, as long as they didn’t violate another’s property — there was a decree that no one could invade homes unless the dead breached the city. Crimes such as theft, murder, and rape would still be punished in Arctica, and offenders would be judged with full severity.

People crowded into the main hideout or ended up staying alone with their families inside their homes. At the same time, training had been provided to the population: if the kingdom truly found itself in danger, authorities could enter houses to seek shelter and food. But invading already occupied places by force — especially killing or raping — would be punished by death after the war or even during it.

The soldiers were the city’s only symphony. In the windows of the royal castle, members of the royal family observed the movement; the eldest son and his brothers looked out the window as the city began to glow.

There were about sixty royal guards remaining in the castle, all ready to protect the royal family.

“I remember this,” said Brandon, rubbing his arms and looking somewhat fearful, remembering all too well what had happened when he entered that raven and took its eyes, while his father fought the undead at Mance’s camp further north.

His brothers looked at him with concern as his eyes returned to the wave of dark snow in the distance, dimly visible due to the lack of light.

“Don’t worry, son. Your father has been preparing for years to deal with these monsters. You’ve seen him triumph against them before, haven’t you?” said his mother, as Ygritte touched the boy’s head and kissed him in a tender gesture.

She would not take part in the war; she had agreed with Jon that, even though Ygritte was one of the best archers in the kingdom, she would stay to protect the family.

Daenerys was also in a corner of that room, finishing lighting the last crystals there, while the entire castle began to glow as the servants activated the other lights.

Despite the comforting words, Loki, Lyanna, Jaehaerys, and Brandon — who were looking out the window — could not help but watch the scene with a certain caution. Hiyori held Brandon in her arms, her expression worried.

“Jon is already downstairs. We should say goodbye,” said Rhaenys, approaching them with Visenya in her arms as well, while Ygritte looked at her and nodded. Aemon and Laena were in the arms of the handmaids beside the room.

Daenerys came closer, holding her Aegon in her arms after taking him from Missandei once the room was prepared.

“Let’s go,” said Ygritte, and the children nodded.

None of them looked cheerful — they all felt fear at what they were seeing, even more so now that the sun was setting and the mist was thickening, darkening the horizon and making the scene even more dangerous, for they could no longer see what was coming.

They entered the corridor, and a line of giant wolves was already waiting for them, the beasts pressing against the children as if to comfort them, a way to try to cheer them up.

“Hey, it’s going to be all right,” said Hiyori, trying to pat Jaehaerys’s head, who only nodded without any enthusiasm.

They descended to the great entrance hall and found Jon discussing matters with the royal guards. The place was full of direwolves — all belonging to Jon’s children — waiting there for them.

Jon was wearing a black armor — the one he had prepared especially for this day. It was the official armor of the King of Arctica, forged by his own hands. The helmet hung from a hook at his waist.

He still had his personal stockpile as a reminder of his past battles, kept in his private armory as relics of his trials and wars, alongside his swords.

Jon kept his hand on Blackfyre, gripping the hilt as he spoke with the guards about the final preparations. Soon, he turned his attention to the family approaching.

The wives had traded their dresses for reinforced leather clothing. His children still wore ordinary clothes, but Jon couldn’t help but notice Loki with a dagger strapped to his waist — a Valyrian steel dagger that should have belonged to Jon.

Seryna, Val, and Arya stood with Jon, all wearing Valyrian steel armor forged by Jon himself.

Arya wore a silver armor with shoulder plates shaped like roaring wolf heads. At the center of her chest was the symbol of Arctica, and above it, on the shoulder, the emblem of House Stark — just as Jon bore the crests of both Houses Targaryen and Stark.

Seryna wore a darker armor, along with her war hammer forged of Valyrian steel. It was a heavier piece, but it didn’t bother her in the slightest, as she held the massive weapon firmly in her hands. Robert Baratheon would have been envious of her weapon and armor.

Val, in turn, wore a bluish armor that looked almost silver. She had some difficulty choosing the design, as Jon had shown her many prototypes — a new concept for her, since all the men north of the Wall only had fur armor; seeing metal had only been with Jon and the members of Arctica who owned such pieces. She herself had never imagined wearing anything other than her leather armor.

If Jon had known Norse mythology, he would have said Val wore a Valkyrie’s armor. She had chosen the base model herself and made some modifications, which Jon personally executed, adjusting the structural details to ensure the armor remained strong and efficient.

All the women also had helmets at their waists, ready to wear when the war began.

“Erik, you will remain on guard the entire time. I want you to keep watch and stay with Talker and Valoyr to rotate shifts,” Jon ordered. They were the three wargs who would be keeping watch outside their shelter.

“We’ll keep your family safe, my king. Don’t worry,” replied Erik, bowing, accompanied by the two guards who stood with him.

Jon nodded, satisfied. Then he turned to the rest of the family, who had now descended the staircase and gathered on the same floor. He looked at Loki before anyone else.

“You took that dagger from my armory, son?” Jon asked, while the boy looked a bit startled before nodding quickly, timidly waiting for his father’s scolding.

“Yes, Father. I don’t want to be unarmed. I want to protect my siblings,” he said. Despite his timidity, his tone was firm, and Jon smiled proudly.

“Of course, son.” Jon approached and knelt before him, touching him gently with his Valyrian steel gauntlet. “Protect your siblings. You’re the eldest; you must look after all of them,” he said before feeling someone hugging him tightly.

When he lifted his arm, he found little Lyanna trying to crush his armor with all the strength her small body could muster.

“Kepa… will you come back? Promise?” she asked, her eyes shining with tears ready to fall. She looked frightened — perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea to let the children see the approaching storm; they all seemed terrified.

Jon touched her gently, since he was wearing armor, and stroked the back of her head. “Everything will be fine. Daddy will come back. Didn’t I promise you that before?” he said with a smile, and she nodded.

“Now come here, give me a hug,” Jon asked, turning to her. The girl grabbed him, and even without feeling her father’s warmth because of the armor, Jon showed affection with a kiss on her head.

“Listen to your mothers and the royal guards, okay? Don’t leave that room. You and everyone will be protected.”

“They… they won’t invade, will they?” she asked, with some fear.

“No. We’ll do everything to make sure that doesn’t happen. But if they start sending birds from the sky into Arctica, you’ll be safe in there, understand?” he said, and the girl nodded.

Jon continued comforting his daughter for a while, while Loki was scooped up by Seryna, who hugged him tightly and covered his little face with kisses.

“You know what to do, Loki,” Seryna said seriously to the boy, who nodded silently, making a face at his mother’s kisses.

Jon passed by Brandon and Jaehaerys, hugging them before turning to his wives, kissing and embracing each one of them. The mothers held the babies in their arms, with the help of the handmaids.

Seryna shared hugs with everyone and Arya joined in, until Val embraced them in farewell.

“We’re leaving now. The army is waiting for us,” Jon said at last.

“You’ll be gone for the next few hours?” Rhaenys asked, approaching Jon again, even after she had already said goodbye. She didn’t seem ready to let him go.

“We have to deal with whatever problems arise first. Those demons could very well launch their first attacks from the sky or send smaller assaults. We just want to be prepared,” Jon replied.

“All right, just come back soon.” She hugged him once more and kissed him, pressing her lips to his. As she pulled away, she kept her hands on his face. “Come back to me. Come back to us.”

Rhaenys remembered her father lost in prophecies; in the end, he had been right to say that his son would be that promised prince, the one who would stand against the darkness. As the red priests had confirmed. “It’s always been you,” she recalled him whispering the stories of the long night and the promised prince when she was very young. “Now kill those bastards and come home before dinner.”

Jon smiled before stepping away and walked over to Aemon, who was also standing there, waiting for his family to arrive.

“Stay safe too, uncle,” Jon said, since he had asked Aemon to stay with his family in the banquet hall inside the castle. All the servants and their families had been invited to remain in the banquet hall as well. Everything they needed — food, weapons, fresh water — was hidden there, beneath the castle; there were even tunnels that led straight to the sacred wood, all strongly sealed by roots with mechanisms that only the royal family could remove, but no one else could open.

Moreover, there were enough resources to last for years; the roots and reserves of the vault served to replenish the crates with fresh food and ice. Jon knew that if something extreme happened, his children would be safe along with their relatives. That was why he left Ingrid in charge of one of the exits — a precaution far beyond what he had ever expected to use during the war, but Jon wanted to be prepared for every scenario. And his family’s safety would always come first.

“May the Gods be with you,” said Hiyori.

Jon turned and walked out along with Lancelot and three more royal guards, leaving the sixty behind to stay with the royal family. Seryna, Val, and Arya followed as well, and as they left, carriages were waiting for them; several horses and thirty-six royal guards would accompany the princesses. Eragon was also in the courtyard, waiting.

He looked at Lancelot. “I want you to escort them to the north. I’ll go with Eragon to speak with the commander, and then I’ll prepare the rest of the kingdom.”

“So it shall be, my king,” replied Lancelot, while Seryna, Val, and Arya made their way to the royal carriage.

Jon mounted Eragon, and the dragon swiftly took off toward the north.

As he ascended, his view of the kingdom revealed soldiers preparing their positions — many archers were stationed on rooftops. There were at least thirty million arrows tipped with dragonglass, a number that should far exceed that of the enemy. They had resources, soldiers, and a strong defense. They should have a great advantage in the war, but there was still one problem: they needed to eliminate the Night King, and for that, they would have to enter the storm.

As he looked toward the horizon, already darkening with the fading sun, Jon saw over ninety thousand men preparing, marching back and forth, adjusting their weapons, and taking positions as ordered.

Jon landed near the hall that had been built for strategic meetings behind the army. As soon as he dismounted from the dragon, the men greeted him with respect:

“My king!”

“Let’s speak with Ducken,” was all Jon said as he walked ahead, leaving Eragon behind and heading toward the structure, his armor seeming to gleam amidst the darkness, with light crystals glowing all around like lanterns.

Ducken soon appeared outside as soon as he saw the dragon approach. He waited for Jon to come closer. Beside him stood Karsi, Ducken’s wife. Jon had offered shelter for their daughters inside the royal castle, alongside Jon’s own household servants, since both parents would be at war. There was no safer place than there — and in a way, Jon was like a godfather to the girls.

“How are they?” Jon asked, noticing some animals pacing with their wargs. Some growled, restless, and their companions tried to calm them.

“Nervous, my king,” replied Ducken.

Jon nodded. “I understand. Show me how things are.” He also greeted his uncle Benjen, who was there as well.

They entered together into the building, where a large model of the region was laid out across the table.

“We are distributing the troops as best as we can, Your Majesty. Ninety thousand men will remain here. We’ve left ten thousand in the city center, prepared for any aerial attack. Twenty-five thousand are stationed on each flank of the kingdom, also ready to defend the south if necessary…,” explained Ducken. “But we need to move some troops to the right, since the canal in the eastern part of the kingdom is interfering with the movement of the twenty-five thousand positioned in that sector.” The general of Arctic pointed toward the east, where the canal opened to the sea — it would be impossible to cross it to the north.

“Place ten thousand more there. We’ll take them from the main forces; we can manage with eighty thousand men fighting here,” Jon ordered.

Ducken nodded. “We have about five hours before they arrive, my king.”

“The time has come, then. You know what to do. It’s time to open the northern trapdoors,” said Jon. Ducken nodded silently.

After talking a bit more with Ducken, Jon’s uncle, and the other leaders, Thor also joined the meeting, discussing details about formations and contingencies. Jon then turned and left the tent, allowing Ducken to continue his work.

A massive beast passed by everyone as they made way for it — a wolf so large that even among direwolves it looked like a Fenrir, the result of Jon’s excessive genetic modifications over the years to prevent its growth from ever stopping.

Ghost, standing three meters tall and six meters long, approached Jon — he had left the wolf at the camp the day before, and now the beast would fight by his side.

“You’re back, big guy… I’ll call your companions too,” Jon said, patting the metal plating, since the wolf wore full Valyrian steel armor, with horns and bladed claws forged from the same metal to shred anything in its path.

Jon left Ghost behind and mounted Eragon once more before taking off, flying toward the southern part of the kingdom.

Within minutes, he was already soaring above the Dragon Mountain, greeted by an immense roar from Vezofēdrur, still on the ground below. The other dragons answered from their platforms with powerful roars.

Jon landed on the main platform, the largest of them all. As soon as Eragon settled, several dragons tried to approach, sharing the space before welcoming him respectfully.

“Hello, Strawberry,” Jon said with a smile to the red dragon, who came running to him, letting out a joyful roar beside its siblings.

“This will do,” Jon murmured, pushing his thoughts aside as he turned his gaze toward the southern region, now shrouded in darkness.

In that region, there was no snowstorm approaching — everything seemed peaceful. Though he couldn’t see all the way to the Wall from there, there shouldn’t be anything in the south now, not when the dead were surely concentrating in the north.

Jon wondered if the south was also being affected by the days that ended so early. The sun now lasted only three hours, and he wondered if the other side of the world faced the same time cycle — twenty-one hours of pure darkness. There was no way to know.

He opened a few potions he carried in a small pouch tied to his waist along with his helmet, uncorked them, and began to drink — three green-colored potions.

Soon, his eyes began to glow, and a faint, powerful aura emanated from them as he observed all the forests in the southern part of the kingdom. The sensitivity awakened all the animals around him. The multitude of wolves immediately lifted their heads and began to howl, while the shadowcats roared and the bears stirred in their caves.

The dragons were no different. Jon, now wielding his ability to control animals with greater strength than ever before — a level that should have been impossible for any warg, even the three-eyed raven said to have a thousand and one eyes — expanded his dominion over as many creatures as he could.

He would use every resource possible to protect Arctica.

Soon, thousands of wolves emerged from the forest, accompanied by bears and shadowcats. More than seventeen dragons took flight, tearing through the sky with their mighty roars, ready to defend the kingdom.

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Raccoon Here:

I might have gotten Jon’s armor wrong — I think I made it white. I’ll have to reread it, but I don’t have the head for that right now. If anything, I’ll change it later. I’m not feeling too well right now, so if I made any mistakes, please let me know.

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