[Chapter Size: 4600 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Arctic, 299 AC.

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A week had passed since Jon returned from south of the Wall with the Stark children and the others, while they and those who accompanied them were adapting to Arctic.

Obviously, in the middle of a war, they could not enjoy what the kingdom would normally offer, with people kept in collective bunkers beneath the city or in their homes, as they preferred.

The war had already passed its peak; even so, it was still not safe for people to move through the streets of Arctic; it could still be dangerous.

Soldiers continued to be deployed inside and outside the city. Guards were everywhere on the inner side, with more advanced crossbows in their hands, waiting for any enemy attack coming from the sky. Likewise, the army on the outside was also positioned on the three sides of Arctic, with the South being the only side where the White Walkers were not launching their attacks.

In one week, there were three attacks. The dead attacked every two or three days, but they were no longer as intense as before. Probably, their forces were running out.

They could even have some hope at this kind of pace, if they still had the army they had at the beginning, before the massive wildfire explosion destroyed a significant part of their forces within the fog.

The Stark children went through some changes. Rickon was sad about what happened to his father and in Winterfell, but soon began to regain his spirits; his sister was always present, and Cassandra was there for him as well.

He did not need to fear anything there and soon adapted well, not yet forgetting that there was still a brother and a sister in the south of the Neck, or the horrors he saw, but his sadness was no longer predominant. He found himself in a safe place; even beneath the castle, unable to go out, he got to know Jon, his family, and the other people better, all kind to him, allowing himself to open happier smiles and more laughter.

Bran received help in the first days, with the castle staff carrying him from one place to another. However, Jon looked at him in a peculiar way during the first two days, before ordering someone to take measurements of his hips and legs.

Bran did not understand at first, but he went to Bran the next day, saying that he was creating something that would help him in this initial moment. Two days later, he said that something was ready; he had created a kind of wheelchair after studying him, making it custom-made for Bran.

He created the design and asked the dwarves to create the parts in the forge, which would make it much easier to move Bran around than carrying him from one place to another.

On the fourth day, it was already ready, giving Bran a notable surprise when he saw a chair that moved with just a push, since it had steel wheels. As long as the ground was level, there would be no problem for him to move by himself. After all, Bran could do it, pushing the wheels as Jon had instructed, with his own hands. He had simply looked at Bran’s condition and had this idea created.

Bran could not help but be surprised by that. Now, he could move on his own, to the point of even crying at being able to do so. Jon also said that he could make something similar to an adapted saddle for him, but that was not actually necessary. After all, Jon was going to talk to him that day about his condition.

The Stark children, today in particular, were going to meet someone special. They walked through the corridors of the sanctuary while Arya pushed Bran from behind in his chair, heading toward the garden, where they would meet two people who had been invited to the castle to see the Starks.

Since these people were originally from Winterfell, none other than Old Nan and Hodor.

After hearing a lot about how they were, Arya, who spent every day with her brothers, had made a request to Jon.

Jon was not as present with his cousins as he would have liked; he was the king of the realm and was divided between training at the center of the giant tree, commanding the army, and dealing with meetings about the kingdom in its current state.

Even so, Jon was at dinner and had reserved a place for them at the main white table. Rickon and Bran asked about the war while Jon talked to them, understanding better what was happening here.

They had believed from the beginning that they were truly fighting the dead and that it was not a fantasy created by Arya and the Arcticans, but they never imagined it would be like this, while they still hid within the fog to the north of the kingdom, outside the walls, trying to enter the city.

And since Jon was busy, when he heard Arya’s request, he asked for Old Nan to be summoned, who accepted the request immediately with the idea of seeing Bran, whom she knew well, Rickon, whom she had only seen as a baby, and the other one who had yet to be born. She was connected to that family; even living here north of the Wall, she always tried to see Arya and the King himself.

When they arrived at the sanctuary, which they already knew, as Arya had already brought them here, they found Jon himself talking with Queen Seryna’s lady-in-waiting.

In the center of the garden stood the sacred tree, and there, three people in particular were standing still, while Bran’s and Rickon’s wolves began to run around the place.

The people there were none other than Old Nan and Hodor, who seemed very well prepared, waiting for them, and there was one more woman beside Hodor.

Old Nan broke into a wide smile when she saw them.

“Just look at you, you’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you…” the woman approached, while Rickon seemed a little uncertain beside his brother. He did not know Old Nan very well, but Bran opened an excited smile at her side and wanted to run to her and hug her. Arya noticed this intention and moved the wheelchair closer to the woman, bringing him to her, as she knelt in front of him.

“Oh, my dear, my little Bran… how did this happen?” she said with tenderness and concern. Well, Bran had been just a child when she left Winterfell. He was about seven namedays old.

“I fell,” Bran said in a low tone.

He did not remember very well what had happened, perhaps a miscalculation, something he deeply regretted, promising himself that he would never do something so reckless again. He hated being paraplegic. As much as he now loved having a wheelchair, he hated his condition, he hated all of it.

“Oh, my poor boy. I am sure the king can do something for you. He tends to work miracles. Look at Wylis, my Wylis is no longer the same. The king cured him!” said Old Nan, pointing to the giant, who opened a small, embarrassed smile, very different from the Hodor of the Winterfell stables.

“Hello, Bran. It’s been a long time,” Wylis said, while Bran widened his eyes, stunned.

“You speak?” he said, whispering, almost as if he could not find words for what he had just heard.

The former Hodor merely nodded. He spoke, but he was quite shy. Unlike his former disheveled image, Wylis had neatly combed hair and proper clothes; he even looked more muscular.

“I told you that, you fool,” Arya replied with a grumble behind the chair, giving her brother a light tap on the head. Perhaps he had been too distracted these past few days to listen to everything she said.

“Wylis not only speaks, he also sings. He has become a famous bard in the realm, can you believe it?” Old Nan teased. “I am sure you will be entertained by my grandson’s ballads. He has many about the king and about Arctic.”

“This here is his wife,” Old Nan introduced the woman beside Wylis, then she looked to the side.

“You must be Rickon… You were just a baby when I left Winterfell with Wylis; your sister came along.” Old Nan said affectionately to the boy, who looked curious and nodded. He had heard about her; she was a woman so old that she had seen their grandfather, Rickard Stark, grow up in Winterfell. She was a great storyteller.

She seemed pleased with the boy, then stood up and saw the woman beside Arya, pregnant.

“And who would you be?” the older woman asked.

“I am Cassandra, Cassandra Stark, widow of Lord Eddard Stark and carrying his child,” she said, touching her belly, while Old Nan nodded.

“I heard about you. That trout ended up leaving Winterfell, but returned later, didn’t she? Still, the one who stole Lord Stark’s heart all that time was you. I am glad he chose a northerner this time,” she said with satisfaction. It was obvious that Cassandra was a northerner.

“Where are you from, girl?” Old Nan still asked.

“I come from Deepwood Motte. I served as castellan at Lord Glover’s castle. Later, Lord Glover sought me out when I had already left the position. He spoke about Winterfell hiring and suggested I go there. I did, took the test, and Princess Arya accepted me,” the woman replied humbly.

“I see. Well, I am glad the pack is still growing,” she said, pointing to the belly before stepping back a little with a smile marked by her age.

“Let us gather at the heart tree. We have much to talk about. I would like to hear how Winterfell has been since we left, and also let me tell you a bit about this kingdom. I have much more interesting stories now,” Old Nan said, with a mischievous smile.

Arya began to push Bran along with the others so they could sit and talk, but she could not help glancing toward a corner of the entrance, where small heads were staring at them from there. And it was not only the royal guards of the children standing there, but also their giant wolves occupying the entire entrance with their enormous sizes.

“Do you want to join us?” Arya asked in a playful tone to the princes who were listening in secret.

Everyone turned their heads and saw Loki, Lyanna, Brandon, and Jaehaerys together, accompanied by their wolves and royal guards.

The first to break the silence was Loki. “We came to see Rickon. We wanted to play,” he murmured.

The truth was that Rickon had joined Jon’s children in running through the sanctuary and playing in the past few days. There were other children as well, but since it was something new for Loki and the others, and because there was kinship between them, it was easier to play with a new friend.

The other children, sons of soldiers and staff and servants of the castle who were also in the sanctuary, were afraid of the giant wolves of the royal children, as some of them were already over one and a half meters tall, at least Loki’s and Lyanna’s, since they were the oldest.

The giant wolves of Arctic grew easily due to the bond they had with the children, naturally born with the magic of the father and even of some mothers. They had been four years since the wolves bonded with them; they were already as large as adult wolves would normally be.

But the wolves of the two eldest sons of Jon were nothing ordinary, and they would continue to grow. Perhaps not like Ghost, but they would be larger than normal wolves, surpassing even Shadow, the black wolf Jon obtained when he was eight namedays old and father of Ghost, which was two and a half meters tall, and naturally larger than Nymeria, which was about two meters.

The children then came over and joined them. Old Nan was not someone unfamiliar to them, as she had come to the castle a few times before the war. Jon introduced her to the princes, and she did not fail to tell a bit about her stories from south of the Wall, as well as some stories she had learned in Arctic since she arrived.

The wolves stayed in the sanctuary while the children joined the Stark group and Old Nan.

At the same time, Jon was inside the giant and sacred tree of the realm, in a meditative posture with his eyes closed before the core of the tree, for the entire morning.

Anyone who saw him there would say that he was merely meditating, but in a space completely separate from this world, he was manifested with a spiritual body, while he was guided by ancient and powerful voices, teaching him how to control his powers.

Jon, at this moment, was more than a man who would save the free folk from extinction north of the Wall. He would not be just the man who would save the world from the White Walkers, reclaim the Iron Throne, and unite the entire continent under his name.

He was about to take one step further than that. He would be the one who would make magic return to the world. That was what the Old Gods now saw in him, satisfied.

And this was not only because he brought dragons back, or because he created magical runes to make thermal boxes and sell ice across the world, or even the special metal of Arctic, or his designs generating new combinations. The future showed far more than that.

Not only he, but the people themselves would be learning much more than controlling animals or seeing the future. Arctic would be the center of a new era in the future.

Perhaps, after eight thousand years, the world would finally no longer remain stagnant in the same era. After all, there had never been great progress for humanity in thousands of years. This was displeasing not only the Old Gods, but all the others as well.

It was time for the world to change.

For humanity to evolve.

In any case, Jon had finished his training, oblivious to the thoughts of the gods. For him, he was growing stronger and stronger with magic, learning to control and suppress his bursts of rage, which changed the climate around him. He no longer had a river of magic within himself as he had declared at his eight namedays, when he was still discovering his initial abilities, but he was now developing a magical core, becoming far more proficient in his skills.

All with the intention of destroying that fog where the White Walkers were hiding, without knowing what he would do afterward with all that power.

In any case, he left the sacred grove. After a brief conversation with the children in the forest, he went to the army, where he also spoke with Ducken and the others.

Tormund was there, boasting after being wounded by a giant spider; even with a broken arm and a cut on his chest, he said it was nothing more than a memory of war.

Jon left the place and returned to the castle at dusk. As always, his children were the first to welcome him, running to the entrance as soon as they learned of his arrival.

While they told him about their day, Jon made a point of giving attention to each one. Even being king, he knew what it was like to have a busy father; Lord Stark had always been like that with him, and he felt he could understand very well his children not having the attention they deserved.

He could also understand Lord Stark; after all, Jon was ruling a kingdom at war at that moment. Even so, he could not help but feel a bit of resentment when his own life had been complicated, with Lady Stark tormenting him in his father’s absence. Jon always sought to give as much attention as possible to all his children. Even to the babies of nearly one nameday, he spent some moments in the nurseries.

Bran said that he had entered his wolf’s eyes once again. Jon said that he would give them some extra lessons on their Warg ability, for in this son of his, it was growing stronger and stronger, in particular.

After that, Jon went to see the other Bran, his cousin, and found him in the garden with his sister, in front of the heart tree.

Jon approached, greeting them. He kissed Arya on the forehead, a common habit between them, and shook Bran’s hand, asking how he was feeling and how his day with Old Nan at the castle had been, before she was escorted with guards to her home, where she preferred to spend the night.

“I like this place very much, Your Majesty. It is just as you and Arya said, it is magical,” Bran replied, with a small smile.

“That is good, but you do not need to call me that. When we are alone, you can call me Jon. We are family, after all,” Jon said with a smile.

“He will like it even more when we finish the war, when we can go back to walking on the surface. I will take him often to the arena; maybe he will see his sister fight and win,” Arya said, in a playful tone.

“I am sure he will,” Jon replied with the same smile. He looked at Bran, who seemed thoughtful about something.

“You saw our father die, didn’t you?” Bran broke the silence, in a low and hesitant tone.

Jon grew serious, losing his smile, as he nodded calmly. “Yes, I was there, through the green vision. Not by my abilities, of course,” Jon added.

“Will you avenge him?” Bran said. “Arya said that you saw him die like a slaughter animal, and that Sansa was there as well.”

Jon looked at Arya and raised an eyebrow. The boy was speaking with hatred in his heart. But Jon nodded. He understood Bran’s feeling perfectly; after all, he shared that same hatred. Even so, hearing this from his younger cousin was a bit concerning.

“Yes, they will pay for everything,” Jon said.

“And my brother? You have a claim over the Seven Kingdoms, but even so Robb declared himself king. What will happen?”

That was a delicate matter.

“We will have to see when the time comes. But you must understand that when I decide to conquer the Seven Kingdoms, it will be the Seven Kingdoms that I will unite… I will not leave any kingdom isolated or independent, even if it is someone who shares our blood,” Jon said harshly.

Bran nodded, but said nothing for a few seconds. Arya seemed to press her lips together.

“Those people you brought from the Icehill farm… I heard them saying that they hate Robb, that the people of the North hate Robb and blame him for the Ironborn attack,” Bran said.

“Well, Robb’s negligence weakened the North and left it open to an Ironborn attack. But let us stop talking about Northern politics now. Let us focus on you. I thought about your condition after doing some examinations on you over the past few days…” Jon paused.

“I will be direct, Bran: I can heal you, but I will have to rebuild your entire spine and nerves, as well as fix your legs. Even though that part is easier. But yes, I can make you walk again. However, it may be uncomfortable for you during the process, and at the beginning you will feel strange, but you will be fine,” Jon said.

Bran broke into a huge smile, not caring about the bad part of what Jon had said, forgetting all the bad things from the South as well. The expectation of being able to walk again surpassed anything else he was feeling at that moment.

“Really, you can do that?” Bran wanted to reconfirm, and Jon nodded; that already said everything.

“We will start in three days. I will perform the surgery on you. I just need to create some potions over the next few days and have you take some of them a day before,” Jon said.

Bran nodded vigorously.

After that, Jon left the garden with a very excited Bran and a smiling Arya by his side, while Jon headed to the laboratory, where he began to work.

While Arctic seemed a bit restless at that moment. Even without battles and with the dead not making any major moves, in the South, news of a dragon appearing in Winterfell began to circulate.

Not only in the North; the Ironborn, who heard the rumors, did not believe them, thinking it was just an idea to try to frighten them. Ashara mocked it as an attempt to make them feel fear. She was more concerned about her brother, who seemed to have become a hostage of the Boltons.

Ramsay Snow, who commanded the Bolton soldiers, when he returned to Winterfell and saw the giant footprints on the ground, could not help but grow thoughtful, realizing that the dragon might truly be real, with countless witnesses.

He imprisoned all of them in secret and would kill them; even if the rumors had already spread, he would leave no real witnesses. He would have some letters to send to his father.

Olenna also received the news while traveling a few days behind the army of the Reach, which was marching to King’s Landing. Upon hearing what her vassal spies reported about the rumors from the North, she could not help but frown.

If Arctic truly had a dragon, which was not impossible at all—after all, this was not the most surprising thing they could hear after everything they knew about Jon Arctic so far—things would become complicated.

At the same time, in King’s Landing, the council mocked it. Tyrion said that the fun could not be that simple, and perhaps Jon Arctic, or Aegon Targaryen, having a dragon would not be the most surprising thing that had happened in his life, given his conquests across the world.

Even so, saying that Jon Arctic had done all of that without using his dragon made everything even more intriguing. If he possessed such military power and had never used it—nothing less than a dragon nearly fifty meters long, according to the rumors—white as snow, with green markings and four legs instead of two separate wings, unlike the bat-like Targaryen dragon design—it only showed that they had almost no real knowledge about this enemy, and that their concerns increased two or three times more, waiting for the Arcticans to come south. This left Tyrion quite worried, especially with Stannis already about to march on King’s Landing.

Stannis Baratheon, who was preparing his troops on the ships, also heard the rumors and did not fail to mock them. Melisandre said it was nothing but nonsense, that the Lord of Light favored Stannis Baratheon as the rightful king, and no king farther north with stories and rumors would shake or hinder his victory for King’s Landing.

The army of the King in the North also received the rumors. Bran and Rickon were said to be alive, according to what the surviving men of Winterfell reported, when they saw Jon Arctic emerge from the crypts saying that the children who had been killed were not the Starks.

The lords grew somewhat uneasy, not only excited by the idea that Robb was not the last Stark of the male line, but also worried about the possibility that a dragon had truly appeared in Winterfell, as large as a quarter of the castle.

Whether they wanted it or not, they knew that one day they would have to fight Jon Arctic for the independence of the North. They did not want to give up now that they had achieved the possibility of having an independent kingdom; at least most of those lords had fought for that.

“Can’t you see, Robb? This could be his plan. Spread lies, say that Rickon and Bran are alive as false hostages, and also, somehow, show that he has a dragon, which could very well be a lie. It could be those vile magics of his,” Catelyn did not hesitate to speak openly about this in Robb’s main council.

“I am surprised that you do not cling to the hope that Bran and Rickon are alive, mother,” Robb said, raising an eyebrow.

“Do not misunderstand me. I would dearly love for my children to be alive, my poor boys…” she said in a tearful tone. “But it could very well be a lie. And if he says that and now claims that he has both under his custody and that he could use them as hostages, what will you do, Robb? You are enemies now, remember that. You are making the kingdom independent, nothing more than what you deserve, but that will not make him stand idly by. That man seeks power; I have always seen this since he was a child. Even if he is not a bastard now, he will still fight against an independent North,” Catelyn spoke openly, and many seemed to agree with her, especially the lords of the Riverlands, who murmured in agreement.

They continued the meeting. In the end, they were more inclined to dismiss the possibility that Bran and Rickon were alive until they were truly seen.

As for the dragon, it still seemed uncertain, but most believed that Jon was a proven Targaryen at that moment. Creating a kingdom beyond the Wall, they did not doubt much that he had the help of a creature as powerful as a dragon to conquer the wildlings. But that would be something to deal with at another time.

Now, they were marching to the Twins, where they stopped at Old Stone before moving on; there was a heart tree there. Robb inevitably went to it and tried to seek any answer from the Old Gods.

But he only received the silence of the tree.

Then, he ended up entering his warg abilities that he had learned in Winterfell, and before the trees of the Old Gods, his control was greater. He wanted to watch the road and, out of curiosity, he took Grey Wind to the Twins, where he came upon a strange conversation between Bolton soldiers and the bastard Black Walder, as they spoke about plans to kill a certain wolf who wore the crown in the name of the Lannisters, in the midst of the celebrations of the wedding between the young Frey girl and Edmure Tully.

Robb could not help but return to his body with stunned eyes, dropping to his knees in near despair without anyone seeing it, since he was alone and the guard prevented anyone from entering.

He remembered Lord Bolton, recalling his cold expression as he listened and gave opinions in the war council.

“They plan to kill us,” he murmured, almost unable to believe what he had just heard.

—-

Raccoon Here:

Now we are heading toward the end of the war against the dead. I said there were only a few chapters left, but I had to resolve these matters in the South first. Now I can work on it and bring it to a conclusion.

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