[Chapter Size: 4800 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Arctic, 299 AC.

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“You are ready.”

That was not just an affirmative sentence; it was a realization being heard by the ears of the Arctican king.

“Thank you,” was all Jon said, as he left that secluded place where the gods kept him in training and found himself once again inside the great Sacred Tree, facing its core.

More than a month and a half had passed, and Jon was finally ready to act. The gods had trained him, stimulated his magic to this point, where they believed he was more than prepared to deal with the enemy once and for all.

He soon turned and moved out of the tree, entering the sacred grove, while the Children of the Forest immediately stared at him curiously as soon as they heard him. More and more of them appeared, watching him as they noticed his presence in the grove.

They looked at him differently now. Jon could understand why. He could also feel all of nature in a much deeper way than before.

It was strange. It was as if he were directly connected to the entire environment and, at the same time, to the Children themselves.

In this last training in particular, the Old Gods had granted him something, for since the previous night they had asked him to finalize his training, remaining there for more than sixteen hours connected, until leaving that morning. And Jon knew that something had changed.

Leaf appeared, watching him with curiosity and even a certain distrust, as if she were trying to get used to a Jon she did not know before.

“You have changed,” was what she said. Not in appearance — he still had the same features —, but his inner strength, his magic, his core had changed. They were more intense, more powerful.

“Yes,” was all Jon replied. He soon moved forward, passing by her, but not without saying a few final words.

“The war is finally about to end, Leaf. Prepare to light Arctic for the last times,” Jon said, while Leaf watched his back as he advanced through the sacred grove and disappeared among the heart-trees.

Jon did not waste time and mounted Panis, who had already been waiting for him along with his Royal Guards outside all night.

“Lancelot, I leave it to you to prepare an emergency meeting. The entire high command must meet with me at the Senate. It does not matter if they are sleeping. This is an urgent meeting that will define the war,” Jon ordered.

Lancelot quickly asked his men to send ravens and letters, while some went personally to where the ministers were resting.

At that moment, Arctic was calm. The snowstorm was still circling to the north, while the soldiers remained positioned once again in the places to which they had grown accustomed over the last ten moons since the war began.

Jon was the first to arrive at the Senate, coming with Lancelot, as he observed the room where he used to hold meetings to decide all the major decisions of the kingdom. The place was empty; there had been no meetings there for moons, since all of them had been handled in military tents to the north of the kingdom.

The Royal Guards began lighting the crystals, making the place brighter and more alive, while some others fetched supplies from inside the Senate so the king and the others could drink something.

Jon did not fail to pay attention to some papers he had not read for ten moons. He picked up a few and began rereading them, thinking about the time when all that occupied his mind was the next construction of the city.

Soon, the doors opened, and the first person of the group arrived, coming from the king’s own castle.

Seryna entered wearing a dress, but with the hammer in her hand, prepared for anything she might face outside the castle. She was resting that day, while those on the front line of the battle were Arya, Benjen, and Ducken.

She sat beside Jon as soon as she arrived, while she did not stop staring at him in a peculiar way with her blue eyes. As if she were trying to see a Jon slightly different from her memories.

“You noticed?” Jon opened a smile to her. Only she and the Children of the Forest had noticed something different about him. No Royal Guard had perceived it, and possibly no one else would notice.

“Yes… so, the training really ended?” she asked, curious, already sensing the answer.

“Yes. Now we’re going to finish this. It has lasted long enough,” Jon said, while she nodded in agreement.

“However, you are going to leave one war to go straight into another,” she commented.

“It’s true, but there’s nothing I can do,” Jon replied simply. “The second war will come soon after, but don’t worry. It’s not as if we aren’t already prepared for it,” Jon said, and she nodded.

“I brought this for you.” She held a box with her and placed it on the table. When she opened it, it held the Crown of Winter that he had taken from the crypts of Winterfell.

Jon nodded and placed it on his head with a certain naturalness; he did not care much for a crown, but his own council had pressured him to wear it. It was appropriate for a king. Jon had kept it on his head during official meetings ever since.

Soon, the army personnel arrived, while Arya, Benjen, Ducken, Mance, Brynden, along with Kiera and Thor, who were also in the military camp, joined them at the table.

“It’s good that you’re here. We’ll wait for the others. Isn’t Aemon in the castle?” Jon asked his wife.

“He’s helping the teachers in the bunkers,” she said.

“So it’s possible, Jon? You’re finally going to be able to put an end to all this chaos?” Arya asked curiously, looking at her cousin.

“Yes. We’ll talk about it later, but my training ended this morning,” Jon said, while everyone felt the difference in him.

He waited together with the others, while the Royal Guards brought drinks to the table inside boxes with ice.

It took a while, but finally everyone began to gather, one by one. They entered, even Haran, being a giant, stepped into the room, which had been made specifically to accommodate him as well during meetings.

Now everyone was gathered: Jon, Seryna, Lancelot, Arya, Benjen, Ducken, Brynden, Mance, Thor, Kiera, Aemon, Seraphine, and Haran. Everyone took their positions at the table.

None of the other queens besides Seryna were directly involved with the council and the war, or were no longer involved, with Val now pregnant, she would no longer take part in the war.

Benjen was not the type of man suited for strategy, but even so, Jon always kept him within the meetings, even though he did not hold a high position among the military or within the kingdom’s politics.

Everyone waited for a few moments and turned their gazes to Jon, who remained silent for several minutes, with everyone expecting him to begin.

Jon looked at each of them before breaking the silence.

“Well, as you know, I have been training for almost three moons in a way to deal with the mist created by the White Walkers and where they are currently hiding. Throughout all this time, it has remained beyond the northern gate, launching attacks day after day, some with long intervals, trying to wear us down. Even so, we have remained firm. Now, the sun is almost returning to normal, with about ten hours lighting the sky.”

The sun was already staying ten out of twelve hours in the sky, with little left for everything to return to normal.

Jon continued. “They have made no bold moves, only remaining before our gates, waiting for us to eventually be destroyed. But again, they have no idea what we are waiting to use against them. Wildfire continues to be produced and, if it were not for the Old Gods, we would use it and manage to win anyway. However, now it will be used elsewhere, when we march south.”

“As for the war against the dead, I will destroy the mist, and I want everyone to be prepared. I will use Eragon and the armor to face the enemy head-on. I expect everyone to advance behind me until we reach the true being that controls the entire army of the dead: the Night King.”

“Wait, my king… you will be at the front of everyone, facing those things?” Lancelot asked, frowning.

“Yes,” Jon replied without hesitation. “Someone needs to destroy that mist, and I am the only one capable of doing so with my dragon. That is why I will have to enter inside it. But do not worry, it is not as if I am unprepared for this. I will be mounted on an armored dragon with newly created runes, which further increase his defense. In addition, Eragon has also become immensely stronger. In just a month and a half, he grew along with my training,” Jon declared.

It was true. In just a month and a half, the dragon, who previously was about sixty meters long, grew another fifteen meters. His appetite had increased drastically, leaving the dragon handlers quite worried, reporting to Jon their fears regarding the amount of food he demanded.

Jon, however, said that everything was fine and ordered that all the necessary meat and slaughter be given to him, as he needed his dragon at its maximum potential. Now, it was twice the size it had been when it fought Cannibal, more than a year and a few moons ago.

Even the black dragon was quite bothered by the growth of its rival, as if it were jealous, and Jon kept distance between the two, preventing them from ending up fighting.

“Three days. I want everyone to be prepared. We will launch the attack for the final war. I want you to prepare the entire army, or at least most of it, so they can rest properly before we march against the number of the dead. We do not know how many they are, but we will have this chance and we will attack.”

“My objective is simple: to open a path to where the Night King is. I will deal with it, with Lancelot and the main force of Arctic on the front line with me,” Jon explained.

Everyone nodded and soon began to debate. Despite the concern, a direct advance through the mist, even if almost alone, was necessary. While they remained there, they discussed how they would deal with the army of the dead. Wildfire could also be used, without the need for large quantities when launching it at what remained of the army of the dead.

In the end, everyone began to leave the meeting. Arya approached him, opening a small smile.

“That crown suits you well,” she said. “Do you intend to wear it in the South?” she asked, a playful smile.

“It will be a good way for them to see a King in the North wearing a crown of ice,” Seryna commented at the side.

“I think so…” Jon commented with only the three of them inside the room at that moment, the Royal Guards waiting outside.

“In any case, Jon, I will be with you. I know you will not stay on the front line forever, and you will most likely face the Night King, but I will be there to protect your back,” Arya said.

Jon did not refuse. He knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Arya had evolved greatly over these last moons of war, and he trusted his back to her as he would trust it to any Royal Guard.

“I will be there too,” Seryna stated. Jon smiled at her; he knew arguing would be useless with that stubborn giantess.

Soon, everyone left the Senate.

Jon left the city, and as he walked through the streets, the Arctican citizens seemed more confident. The streets of Arctic were beginning to fill once again. Despite there still being no open commerce, families occupied more open areas, and many people were returning to their homes.

He headed outside the city, where there was a large structure set up and other tents full of sealed crates, with men working around them, bringing boxes from the breeding sector of Arctic.

“How are things? Can I carry this?” Jon asked.

“Your Majesty, everything is ready. You can send this along with your dragon,” replied the man responsible for the production of wildfire.

There, inside those sealed crates, were thousands of liters of the liquid capable of destroying almost anything.

Jon observed for a moment, then raised his gaze to the sky. A black mass advanced forcefully, landing near them and emitting a slight tremor through the ground, along with a gust of wind caused by its enormous size. Vezofēdrur was there.

Jon moved Panis aside and advanced alone toward the black dragon with the saddle. He took the chains attached to the net that held an enormous quantity of wildfire crates and began fastening them around the black dragon’s saddle.

Then, he shot into the sky, just as he had done with the ship, but now carrying that amount of explosives. He advanced westward, leaving Arctic behind.

Taking advantage of the fact that he still had time that day, he would resupply his wildfire storage, which was now located in the West, where he was already working on several shipyards, preparing for the next war.

Two hours later, he reached the coast and found a small city, if it could even be called that, which had been established recently, just over a month ago.

There were around three thousand dwarves and five hundred men working there. Large wooden structures rose on all sides. It had not been difficult to create enough wood; Jon had made an entire forest with his powers, using wood that was easy to handle and, at the same time, durable.

Dwarves and humans worked together, cutting trees and beginning to create planks. Thus, it was easy to build the small city, as well as the shipyard structures, with several ships already completed out at sea.

Jon had decided to take the South by surprise, since they were expecting an attack from the eastern side. He relocated all these men to naval construction, with the intention of producing, in total, three hundred Arctican ships. With fifty of them already completed after an entire month of work, he would allocate more men and have all of them finished in, at most, another month.

This would be ideal for the time it would take for the Arctic army to march from the capital to there, on the western coast, with twenty to thirty thousand men, while the rest of the army would come from the East. First, however, they would catch the enemy by surprise and, when they realized it, they would already be surrounded by another more than one hundred thousand Arctican men coming from the East.

Jon continued descending with Vezofēdrur, while the black dragon was easily seen landing outside the city, taking care not to crush the wildfire crates that had come along.

Jon dismounted the saddle and Vezofēdrur moved away, taking flight again, as he approached the city on foot.

“My king, you are here,” said the men on the wall as they opened the gate.

Obviously, they had built a wall in case they needed to deal with the dead, but the dead had no idea that Jon had relocated men to that side of the North, while they remained more focused on Arctic.

He had managed to move a large number of them with Eragon and Vezofēdrur, carrying hundreds of men, making at least twelve trips over the last month, bringing dwarves and men and returning to Arctic to continue the training and the war.

“I want all the wildfire to be stored on the ships already, and I want to know how the construction is going, whether I need to bring more manpower,” Jon asked, as the dwarf leaders and some humans gathered with him in the city’s main hall to discuss the situation.

Despite there still being around two hundred and fifty ships remaining, production had become faster. They were able to produce five ships per day, dividing themselves into two teams to work during the day and night, using the crystals to illuminate the site. This way, it would be easy to maintain the pace while one team rested during the next shift.

Jon remained there for a while, also checking the food supplies. He himself brought provisions along with the crates, but he could also create fruit trees to feed the men, after replenishing some of the trees in the city’s small farm.

Finally, Jon asked Vezofēdrur to land. He mounted the dragon and shot back toward Arctic once again.

He landed outside the city, since Vezofēdrur’s size was not suitable, and proceeded to the castle. There, he met with his family, reporting everything personally, even though Seryna had already told the other queens what had happened in the Senate. Jon needed to speak to each of them.

There were looks of concern on all of his six wives. His older children, on the other hand, were more confident, shouting about daddy defeating the bad men — if they could even be called men.

Jon now had a clear objective: to defeat the Night King once and for all and end this war. Three days. In three days, everything would come to an end, and Jon’s gaze would finally turn south.

He had not returned to the Night’s Watch during that month, focused on completing his training and ending that cursed war, while also preparing his men for combat in the South and overseeing the naval construction camp on the western coast.

Some strategies were already being shared with Ducken, over a map of Westeros, starting with the Iron Islands and the West, before the main army arrived from the East.

The North would not be the first point of attack, at least initially. Jon did not know how Robb was dealing with the situation. He only hoped he would not have to worry about dead brothers or a lack of heirs. Even so, he knew he would have to deal with Robb and his small rebellion — since that was what he would have to call it.

His first target would be the Lannisters and their allies. He would tear the crown from Joffrey and make him pay for what he had done to his uncle. But that was something to deal with at another time, when the moment to act truly arrived.

Jon left his wives and went to his personal chamber, summoning his cousin Bran. The doors were opened by the Royal Guards, and Bran moved forward using a crutch — no, the wheelchair. He tried to walk slowly without it, using it only when he lost his balance, so as not to fall.

It had not been easy to make him walk again. It was necessary to reconstruct his entire nervous system, his spine, and restore his nerves. He basically had to relearn how to move, as those nerves were new and his brain was still trying to readapt. Still, Bran would be fine. In the first two weeks, he could barely get out of bed. In the following weeks, he used two crutches, and now he could already walk partially without them.

Within one moon, he would be walking normally. That was a great improvement. The boy had cried when he finally managed to get out of bed. Even with the two crutches, he could feel his legs firm on the ground.

“Sit down, cousin,” Jon asked, while some servants brought tea for them to drink. Bran adjusted himself in the chair and looked at the table.

“Today I only have tea for us to drink,” Jon commented with a small smile. “My wife, Hiyori, made me cultivate these herbs from Yi Ti, and I must admit they are very good.”

Bran nodded, taking care as he picked up his cup.

“So, how are your legs?” Jon asked, watching him. He always made a point of meeting with Bran to ask about his recovery. He did this at least once a week.

“They’re fine, Jon. I thank you for what you did for me,” he murmured as he drank the tea.

Jon shook his head. “You don’t need to thank me. The surgery was a success, but I would have done it for any relative of mine, without asking anything in return,” he said. He had worked for at least five hours reconstructing Bran’s spine, aside from the time spent preparing the potions that Bran had to take a day before the surgery and during the procedure. Still, everything went well, and Jon was not bothered in the slightest by having done this for his blood cousin, whom Jon was particularly fond of.

Bran felt a little embarrassed.

“I heard that Maester Aemon started teaching you lessons three days ago. That’s good,” Jon commented, taking a sip of tea.

Bran nodded. “Yes. Arya is making me attend classes with Rickon and the princes,” he said, a little awkward. He was a bit too old to be among children.

“I remember that this also happened in Winterfell, when Arya taught you all, didn’t it?” Jon said, letting a teasing tone slip. Bran looked away.

“In any case, I know that my children are learning things far more advanced than what is taught in an ordinary castle. Don’t be so embarrassed,” Jon said. The boy nodded, having to agree with that.

Bran was surprised by calculations he had never seen before, in addition to learning through illustrated images about all kinds of subjects. The children asked Maester Aemon questions all the time, curiously, and he, always attentive, answered with everything he knew.

Aemon had learned to adapt knowledge since he became one of the first teachers of Arctic, which made it easier to deal with advanced and curious questions — something quite impressive, considering that the princes were very intelligent, which was to be expected, given their father’s identity.

“So the war is going to end… and you’re going south after it?” Bran asked. Jon felt that his cousin seemed a little reluctant, but he did not say anything.

Jon performed a small diagnosis on Bran, checking his physical condition, and handed him another kit of potions for that week, helping him recover his movements better.

After that, they spoke more lightly, with Jon asking simple questions about how Bran was dealing with the city and the new home. Bran replied that he liked the place, that he ate well, and that he enjoyed watching the guards train in the courtyard inside the sanctuary.

Jon said that the training to become a Royal Guard was still available, should he want it in the future. In addition, Brynden had begun visiting Bran, training him and discovering more about his powers as a green seer.

Brynden had come to Jon more than once, saying that Bran was far too powerful to be just a Royal Guard and that perhaps he had found a replacement for his role in Arctic. Brynden commented that he would not remain there forever, although there was a certain intent behind his words that Jon still did not understand.

Bran’s visions of the future had always seemed a little suspicious to Brynden, both to the king and to Bran himself. Jon did not know what Brynden was keeping to himself, but it had begun after he returned from Slaver’s Bay. He did not know exactly what it was, but he also did not sense any malice coming from him.

Brynden did not seem like someone who would bring harm, but he kept saying that he would not remain there forever, as if he were fated to die — something Jon did not understand, since, with the life extensions he had given him, he should still live for decades.

He would ask about that later.

In any case, Jon dismissed Bran, who returned to his new duties. The door opened again shortly after, and a Royal Guard stepped inside.

“Your Majesty, Queen Seryna’s lady-in-waiting is here. Do you wish to see her?” he asked.

Jon thought for a few seconds before nodding. “All right. Tell her to come in.”

The blonde Lannister stepped inside, the doors closing behind her.

“Jon,” she murmured.

Jon looked at her for a few seconds. “Hello, Joy. Tea?” he asked, gesturing toward the table.

She nodded and sat down in front of him, serving herself while taking a sip.

“I missed you today,” she said with a small smile.

“I was busy,” Jon said naturally.

“The war is going to end, then, from what I’ve been hearing people talk about in the sanctuary,” she murmured. Jon nodded as he looked at her.

In ten moons, she had changed a lot. She was no longer that restrained and shy girl; she had become a very cheerful woman, and some would even say bold. Seryna had always treated her well, and Jon often had morning conversations with her, sometimes keeping her company during the mornings.

She always said that she was still trying to find her new place there, but that, in the end, she was happy she had come.

“So you’re going south, through the West…,” she murmured.

“…” Jon’s silence said everything.

“You’re going to attack Casterly Rock and Lannisport, aren’t you? Is it inevitable?” she asked carefully.

“Yes, obviously,” Jon replied, as if it were something natural.

She looked at him and ended up shrinking back a little.

“Does that change anything?” he asked. There was nothing she could say or do that would change his decision.

She looked at the floor for a few seconds, then raised her gaze back to him and shook her head.

“No… it won’t change anything.” She stood up, finished the rest of the tea, and approached him. Then, she knelt beside him, gently taking his hand and giving him a conflicted look.

“But, please… my aunt Genna. She’s not to blame for what her brother did,” she pleaded. “Please, Jon, let her live. Don’t kill innocent Lannisters. Just like you once told me, I wasn’t to blame for being born a bastard, I wasn’t to blame for being judged by my parents’ actions. Just like you were treated the same way in your childhood.”

She tightened her hand around his, over Jon’s arm. “I ask that you don’t judge my entire family by the actions of Tywin Lannister and his men, not innocent Lannisters…” she said.

Jon nodded slowly. “I won’t forgive your uncle, nor all those involved in this war. But I know very well what you mean by this, and I won’t go around exterminating your entire family. That, I guarantee you,” Jon replied.

She nodded with a grateful look, seeing that he was considering her words, then stood up and cupped his face with her hands with a certain tenderness that a lady-in-waiting should not have with the king.

“I miss you, Jon. It’s been a week since I’ve had you, when you’re so busy all the time and no longer have time for me…” she murmured.

“You can have me now,” he said, placing his hand on her waist.

She nodded, opening a shy smile, and began removing the fastenings of her dress, which fell to the floor. Naked, she sat on Jon’s lap, there in that chair, and began kissing him slowly before the kiss grew more intense.

They were lovers.

Some things had become clear some time ago. Jon could not make her a queen — not when he already had so many. She would have the status of a lover and Seryna’s companion, which, surprisingly, strengthened the relationship between them.

Jon’s most recent marriages had all been political. Although there was love between all of them, it was undeniable that each union had been strategically planned. Joy came from an enemy family of Jon’s, with whom there could be no understanding or alliance, only the destruction of one side or the other.

Jon had been clear from the beginning: Joy could never have the same status as the others. Even so, he stated that any child he had with her would be recognized as his, would not be bastards, but legitimate children, raised alongside the others.

She accepted it. She said that she loved him and that she had been in love with him since the moment she saw him when she disembarked from the ship, and it was a feeling that only intensified as they spent more time together — talking, or when Jon was simply working while she watched him in the garden, beneath the heart tree, every morning.

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