[Chapter Size: 4000 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Hardhome, 299 AC.

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Jon was looking at Stannis’s corpse at his feet when the storm around him began to fade, revealing the ship with the crowd pulled back, badly injured and trembling from the cold of the blizzard Jon had created. As well as the destruction of part of the small fleet being consumed by flames, while the three dragons flew across the sky, spewing fire over the ships as they flew back and forth.

Jon’s gaze turned to the soldiers who were still on that ship. Their expressions were filled with shock, some suffering from hypothermia. Those who were in better condition had their eyes fall upon Stannis’s corpse as they tried to process everything that had happened.

But it was obvious.

Their king had fallen.

And the Arctican king stood there, on his feet over the dead body, holding a defiant gaze before the others.

“Now there is a choice for you.” Seeing the uncertainty in the men, Jon broke the silence. “You may continue fighting me and this ship will be consumed by the dragons’ flames. I guarantee that I can survive fire, after all a dragon does not burn, and I could not say the same for you.” Jon let those words hang in the air.

Certainly, the dragons circling the sky, while the screams of men being burned and ships being consumed by flames continued, did not encourage anyone to die for a king who was already dead. Their fight no longer had meaning; with Stannis dead, who would they fight for? For Shireen, the weak, innocent, and sick girl?

Quickly, the first man dropped his sword. Even though the enemy leader stood there alone, they had already seen the kind of destruction he could cause.

Who would try to face the man who could create flames and even ice hurricanes before them? At the same time, was that Stannis’s armor made of Valyrian steel? Who can cut Valyrian steel?! That man was far too dangerous, almost inhuman in everyone’s eyes.

More swords began to fall, one after another, the metallic sound echoing across the deck. The entire crew there had surrendered, while Jon watched them in silence.

One of the men looked at Jon carefully. “My Lor-King of Arctic, please… have mercy on us,” he murmured.

“I will not be the enemy who will execute you now that your king is dead if you are all surrendered. Now I am simply giving an order, and you must head to the coast immediately. Take this ship back near Hardhome. Meanwhile, I want one of you to take me to the chambers of the Red Woman. I want to know about the so-called map she mentioned.”

He could have killed her in cold blood — and he did — but he knew that what she had said was important. The problem was that his rage had been far too intense to focus on that detail at the time.

The woman simply saw him and believed he was the one chosen by her king; after what he had done and everything he had heard from her mouth? He would kill her again if he could.

In any case, she had already said where it was. So he did not hesitate to be rid of her once and for all. He knew that woman was a problem all the time — even more so after attacking one of his animals upon noticing his eyes through the crow.

One of the men immediately bowed before Jon. “Your Majesty of Arctic… please, follow me.”

He followed the knight inside, the man trembling with fear of Jon. The Arctican king merely accompanied him, entering the interior of the ship and going to where Melisandre’s chambers were, beside Stannis’s.

Jon reached the door and found it locked. Without hesitation, he broke it down with a single blow.

The man beside him said nothing, only shrinking back as he listened to the roars coming from outside while the dragons continued to destroy part of the fleet.

Jon entered the room and searched the place carefully, until he noticed something strange in the structure of the bed.

There was a false bottom beneath the mattress; the woman herself had hidden it from everyone.

He opened it and found a small box made to store papers. Inside it, he recognized the last piece of the map from the painting he had taken in Valyria.

The first part had been kept by Hiyori’s mother in Yi-Ti.

The second part was at the top of the mother mountain in Vaes Dothraki.

And finally, the third part was with the devotee of the red god under Stannis’s care. Was the Red God himself planning this?

In any case, he now had the complete map to enter the depths of Valyria, but that would be left for later, after the war.

“So it was with you all along…” Jon muttered quietly as he put the map away.

He returned to the corridor. “Let’s go back.” He moved forward through the ship’s narrow hallway.

“Tell me your name, Ser,” Jon broke the silence that had settled between them.

“It is… I am Ser Mellor Wylde, my lord, I mean… Your Majesty.”

“House Wylde… of Rain House… If I am not mistaken, your motto is, The Rains Fall.” Jon said.

“Exactly, Your Majesty.” He could not help but be impressed that the king before him even knew his motto, which meant he had good knowledge of Westeros, even though he should not have been surprised considering who the king of Arctic was and his feats in the known world.

“Tell me something, Ser Mellor. I would like to hear the point of view of someone from the south. You know that the Seven Kingdoms belong to me by birthright. As the last Targaryen son, I have more right to the Throne than any of you. Even so, I will reclaim it through conquest itself. Do the Seven Kingdoms recognize my name as Aegon Targaryen, or Jon Snow?” Jon asked out of curiosity. He expected them to recognize him as Jon Arctic after everything, after all he had chosen that one and abandoned the other two.

The man straightened his back, trying to formulate the best answer without risking offending the man to whom he and everyone on the ship had surrendered, as they climbed the stairs back to the deck.

“All Seven Kingdoms have heard your name, yes, Your Majesty. And many were shocked to learn that you are the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark. Lord Stark shook all seven kingdoms with his execution… But your name Aegon is known and spoken throughout the Seven Kingdoms… though many still question it. Many believe you may be their son, but not legitimized. However, Lord Stark’s words carry weight. Even Stannis had difficulties with his men. Some questioned him about it, but Stannis was devoted to believing he deserved the throne. I always thought he had the poison of that red woman in his ear, and that was proven today…” he said, muttering at the end.

“I was informed of my uncle’s execution,” Jon replied coldly. “And Stannis’s plan was quite foolish, you knew that? He returned from the Blackwater with only ten thousand men, many of them pirates in this fleet. To think he could simply make the free folk bend the knee and force them to fight for him… was a great folly. An insult to the men north of the Wall. Even to me and Arctic.” They reached the entrance to the deck as the smell of smoke still dominated the air.

“That is why I am here today. I even tried to send a message before I began destroying your ships with the dragons… But you killed my raven.” The man swallowed hard.

“Had you not done that, perhaps I would have given Stannis a more dignified death before his men.”

“What will happen to us, Your Grace? Will we be executed? I have lands… they are not very rich, but I still have my family in the Stormlands,” the man, Ser Mellor Wylde, pleaded.

Jon looked at him. “The dragon attack will cease, my Arctican fleet is arriving at this moment. I intend to chain you in Arctic until I know exactly what to do with you.”

Between one and two thousand men had been burned in the dragon attacks, 23 ships destroyed. There were still about eight thousand men and 80 ships remaining. It was a large number, but Jon believed he could keep them as prisoners.

“I will not execute you. We are not animals and savages as they say in the south. Before you think that, you should have already understood from our military superiority. Correct?” Jon stated.

“I understand, Your Majesty,” the man replied carefully. He was still afraid, but he could not deny what the Arctican king was saying.

When they returned to the main deck, everyone was restless. The ship was already separating from the rest of the fleet, moving toward the coast.

Jon lifted his gaze and saw Arya still flying over Strawberry, obviously. That was merely the dragon’s attack back and forth, while the other two, belonging to Jon’s Targaryen wives, were still setting the remaining ships ablaze.

“Rhaenys! Daenerys! Cease the attack!” Jon’s voice roared easily across the battlefield, reaching his wives as they flew on their dragons.

They looked in his direction, curious, and nodded, ceasing the flames as they circled in the sky, following only Strawberry, who continued circling the fleet under Jon’s control, preventing any attempt at escape.

Looks of astonishment turned north, where countless vessels were beginning to appear on the horizon. Soon, the fleet led by Ducken would be there.

In the end, it was not even that important to send twenty thousand men. Jon alone, along with two dragonriders and three dragons in total, had been enough to bring Stannis’s entire small army to its knees.

“I want you not to go to Hardhome immediately. Stop at a certain distance. I do not want any confusion between the free folk and you. Also give orders to the rest of the fleet.”

Jon spoke, and one of Stannis’s former closest counselors had to act. He began shouting orders to the ships.

The fleet began to reorganize, advancing and stopping near the coast, while the Arctican ships finally arrived, blocking any remaining escape routes — though the dragons had already done that job.

Jon saw Strawberry landing along with his wives’ dragons. He was already outside the ship, watching how things unfolded.

He had sent orders to Ducken through the birds, using Glo himself to inform him that they should begin surrendering all the ships. Before long, the Arcticans began boarding the enemy vessels, positioning their ships alongside the remaining ones.

Some men who had fallen into the water and were freezing to death were rescued. Others were not as fortunate. If they did not die burned by the flames, they lasted little time in the frozen sea.

“Glo…” The gray raven appeared and landed on Jon’s outstretched finger. He spread his wings and began to protest, far more confident now, returning to his reckless behavior as he cawed in dissatisfaction, as if indignant.

Jon listened in silence, then snorted. “You are foolish. You almost died. I told you not to provoke enemies. Never take part in something like this again.” Jon scolded him, while the raven flapped its wings and made more sounds, as if arguing back.

Jon simply ignored him, but kept him on his hand before placing him on his shoulder. Then he walked toward where the dragons had landed.

Arya was already on the ground and ran to him. “What was all that, Jon?” She was indignant and confused about everything.

She had been on a dragon she could not even control. Strawberry simply acted through Jon’s mind’s commands, and Arya could only hold tightly to the saddle while everything happened without any other control over the situation.

“I’ll tell you later. But it has to do with this little guy here.” Jon pointed to the raven on his shoulder.

Arya still seemed dissatisfied, but soon shifted her gaze to the ships being boarded by the Arcticans.

“In the end, we did nothing,” she muttered.

“What do you mean we did nothing? You are the first Stark to become a dragonrider. Be proud, Arya.” Jon smiled faintly at his remark.

She snorted. Indeed, she had been riding a dragon that was breathing fire and, in truth, she had looked like a true knight. But what was the point if she could not even control the creature? Jon’s statement did not make much sense!

Jon lifted his gaze to the sky when he was about to address his wives, and he sighed as two new creatures entered the scene.

Because of the fury he had felt earlier, he had not been able to completely contain the impulse of the other dragons in Arctic. They had sensed his anger — especially the two most feared and largest.

And they had escaped the kingdom.

When the first white creature appeared, breaking through the clouds, accompanied by the other whose presence seemed to darken the sky around it, the astonishment did not come only from the men of the Stormlands, pirates, and captured allies.

Even the free folk and the Arcticans themselves, who had not expected such a display, looked in disbelief at Eragon and the other giant, Vezofēdrur, entering the bay.

“Jon… what are they doing here?” Rhaenys asked as she came to his side before she could begin asking him about what had happened earlier.

But he could not even answer.

The two creatures descended with grandeur, frightening everyone — including the Arcticans themselves. They were monstrosities, one sixty meters long and the other over a hundred meters in length.

Jon remained steady, using his mind to restrain the dragons, preventing any reckless action. They merely roared, beginning to circle the area.

The captured southern soldiers were terrified. They had already been frightened by the three earlier dragons, large enough to carry people. Seeing two more — far larger than the previous ones — was enough to make them fall to their knees, praying, begging not to die there.

They realized they had never stood a chance.

Even if they tried to flee, if those two creatures decided to burn the entire fleet, no one would survive.

It became very clear to everyone that they had no notion of Arctic’s true power.

And that they had never had any real chance.

Some time later, the situation began to calm down. Jon made the two largest dragons land farther away.

The free folk approached to speak with him. Jon also wanted to know the situation in Hardhome. Some groups were willing to depart for Arctic, others were not.

There were many elderly who could not travel alone, so they had not left with those already heading north, about 3 thousand people going to Arctic.

Jon then offered to take them in the fleet. The presence of the Arctican soldiers — who had once been members of the free folk themselves — made clear the difference between living under an organized kingdom and surviving in the wilderness, however proud the free folk were. They saw the contrast of their own kin wearing shining armor and walking with firm postures.

Stannis’s ships would be taken to Arctic as well, while all captured men would be kept in custody.

The Arcticans took control of the vessels, and the vacant spots on the kingdom’s own ships were filled with members of the free folk willing to begin a new life.

He would welcome the rest of the free folk there, as long as they had not previously been expelled from the kingdom or were on the blacklist he had sent to Mance at the time. Those would not be welcome.

“My king.” Ducken approached Jon, who was speaking with Daenerys, Rhaenys, and Arya at his side, along with several Kingsguards positioned nearby after the fleet’s arrival to remain close to the royal family.

“Everything ready to return?” Jon asked.

Ducken nodded.

“Good. I want you to go to the Wall and take Stannis’s body. Go with five thousand men and demand his daughter and his wife. Bring them to Arctic. We will decide what to do with them after they are under custody.”

Ducken nodded again.

Beside Jon, the Valyrian steel armor had already been removed from Stannis’s stiff, lifeless body. Jon observed the massive hole in his chest, still stained with blood.

Jon would have to repair it. It would not be difficult — simply reforge and mend the damage — but that would have to wait.

In the end, the fleet began to withdraw from Hardhome.

The free folk, who had once numbered around seventeen thousand there, were reduced to five thousand who decided not to go to the kingdom. The display of the dragons had certainly put an end to many people’s indecision.

Seeing those two gigantic creatures — in addition to the other three that had burned the southerners — was an intense enough sight to make even the proudest among the free folk consider kneeling before Jon.

“Our work here is done. Let us return.” Jon said to his companions, casting a glance at Eragon.

“You are without a saddle. So I will take Arya on Strawberry.” The white dragon snorted, displaying something very close to jealousy, while the red dragon reacted — almost as if mocking him.

Eragon clearly did not like hearing that from a younger, smaller dragon, but he remained silent.

Jon mounted Strawberry with Arya in front of him. His other two wives mounted their dragons, and soon they all took flight, leaving Hardhome behind as the fleet began to pull away.

When more than fifty ships arrived at Eastwatch, it was a shock to the Night’s Watch. No southern ships returned — only an Arctican army, as if they had annihilated Stannis.

They began to disembark under orders from the king of Arctic. The Watch could do nothing as they were ignored and Ducken led his men to march toward Castle Black to arrest Stannis’s family, bringing the news that he was already dead and had met his end.

No man of the Night’s Watch there could do anything. They could only watch the soldiers in well-forged armor marching across that frozen wasteland, leaving the ships and advancing toward Castle Black.

Davos had been quite uneasy in recent days. He felt that something was wrong, but he could not explain what.

“The Lord Commander always treats us coldly, as if we were never welcome,” the queen complained constantly. “They cannot act like this.”

But they were the Night’s Watch. And Stannis had already displeased them by making decisions without properly considering his position at the Wall.

Davos noticed that something was even stranger when the Lord Commander himself began behaving differently. The Lord Commander no longer showed as much hostility. His expression was calm — almost as if he were in control of the situation.

Davos found it strange, but never questioned it.

He discovered the reason only a few days later.

Suddenly, a massive army of five thousand men, all armed, was advancing toward Castle Black.

The symbol carried on the banners borne by those men made Davos’s heart sink.

The blue snowflake.

The banner of Arctic.

Why were they there?

Stannis had advanced north. He should, at that very moment, be preparing his ships to embark the free folk, according to his plan.

To Davos’s horror, the Lord Commander simply ordered, “Open the gates.”

The men obeyed, some visibly uneasy. Nevertheless, it was the order of their leader.

The first Arcticans marched inside.

“My name is Ducken. I am the general of Arctic, military minister of the kingdom. I am here to take Shireen Baratheon and Lady Selyse Florent into custody.”

“How dare you ask such a thing?” The woman appeared on the balcony and began to shout.

“Where is my husband? Where is the king?” The remaining men of the Stormlands in the castle also seemed restless.

“Stannis Baratheon fell in battle. His Valyrian steel armor was indeed impressive, as it was a gift from the king to his uncle Benjen Stark, later stolen, but that did not prevent him from protecting himself from my king’s sword, which pierced the armor and went through his chest. Stannis Baratheon is dead.”

The words echoed through the courtyard of Castle Black.

Shock.

Even the Lord Commander himself, who already knew the news from messengers coming from Eastwatch and had kept it secret, and Davos felt the weight of the declaration upon hearing it spoken aloud before everyone.

“Lie! This can only be a lie!” the woman screamed, and Davos gasped, holding the trembling Shireen at his side.

Ducken showed no interest in arguing.

“Men, arrest her. And bring the girl as well. Our king gave clear orders: I do not want them harmed. But that will not prevent anyone who tries to stop us from being treated as an enemy.”

His tone was neutral.

The Arcticans advanced, unsheathing their swords. Even the men of the Stormlands and some of the Night’s Watch grew uneasy at the display of force.

“You cannot hand us over like this!” the woman exclaimed, now visibly desperate. She looked at Alliser Thorne. “You made us eat bread and salt! And now you surrender us? This will not be forgiven by the gods!”

Unfortunately, Lady Selyse was interrupted by Ser Alliser, who looked at her with a small restrained smile.

“You can see with your own eyes. Our gates have just been opened. Castle Black has no defense to withstand a siege by the Arcticans. Unfortunately, the Night’s Watch has already fallen.”

His tone was firm. The men around were armed, but they knew there was nothing to be done. The Arcticans were already inside the castle, and more could enter before the gates were even closed if it turned into a real fight.

But Alliser was confident that nothing would happen to the Watch. They only needed to hand over Stannis’s wife and daughter, a king who was dead and no longer had a cause.

The Night’s Watch had nothing to do with the disputes of the Seven Kingdoms. Or at least, it should not have.

The surrender of the southern soldiers was swift.

Davos stood before Shireen, protecting her, preventing anyone from approaching while demanding guarantees.

“You may kill me, but I will not step away from her until you promise you will not harm her.”

He looked like a fierce dog protecting his lady. Ducken had to intervene.

“My king may have killed her father, but the orders are clear. They are not to be harmed. Even being the daughter and wife of a thief.”

Ducken did not fail to mock slightly at the end, which made Davos frown.

“Then swear in the name of your gods!” Davos declared, as a guarantee. Since he believed that under oath — believing the Arcticans would not break a vow made under the old gods — they would never harm Shireen.

Ducken swore as in an ancient ritual.

Davos finally yielded.

The Arcticans allowed him to remain by the girl’s side the entire time.

After a few more words, Ducken returned Benjen’s sword to him, informing him that the king would send the armor to his uncle soon. It first needed to be repaired.

After that, the Arcticans left Castle Black and returned east, taking Stannis’s wife and daughter into custody.

Lady Selyse proved quite irritating throughout the entire journey aboard the ship sailing toward Arctic. But everyone ignored her. She was no longer queen.

She was nothing anymore. Only a prisoner of the most powerful people in the world.

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