[Chapter Size: 3600 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Arctic, 300 AC.

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The baby’s cry echoed through the room as Jon finished healing Val from the childbirth she had just gone through. The boy was being cleaned by the midwives when Jon turned to Val, whose eyes were anxious to see the son who had just come out of her.

Until their gazes met. Jon opened a smile at his wife.

“He is a healthy boy.” Della’s voice sounded as she watched the boy being finished cleaned. She was also there along with the midwives, unwilling to leave her younger sister alone. She picked up the child with his small strands of blonde hair and bright green eyes and carried him to her sister.

The baby cried, barely opening his eyes yet, trying to adapt to the light. Della approached Val carefully and placed the clean boy into his mother’s arms.

Val let out tears immediately at the sight of her first son while she embraced him; her fierceness as a wild princess fell away, giving place to a mother who loved her child.

“Look at our son, Jon…”, she said, with an inexplicable feeling that he could understand.

“He has your hair…” Jon said, crouching beside the mother and child, touching the baby’s little face.

“What is his name, Jon?” she asked, turning to him after nuzzling the baby several times, as if trying to preserve that moment forever. “I want him to be Ned as well, just like Cassandra’s son, in honor of my uncle.”

Jon would not give up on giving that name to the next child he had, so now Ned would have an older cousin by a few days with the same name.

“Ned,” Val whispered while staring at the baby, who slightly opened his eyes. The green that Jon carried had passed to his son. He was the second to be born with that trait among the 10 children.

Usually, all the children came with the eyes inherited from their Targaryen or Stark ancestry. Thinking about it, his children never directly took their mothers’ eyes, with the exception of Visenya from Rhae. Daenerys had lighter lilac eyes, while the son had been born with a slightly darker purple, something that came from Rhaegar and that Rhae had also inherited.

“If he has the king’s eyes, it means he is blessed by the old gods as well,” one of the women said, with satisfaction and admiration.

“Is that so, Jon? Our son is blessed?” Val asked immediately upon hearing that. She was still a little tired, but certainly having had a much smoother birth than she had ever imagined, with Jon using his healing magic to make everything easier.

“Yes. The green eyes mean he inherited a bit of my powers from the old gods,” Jon said. He could feel the child’s life energy, stronger than the mother’s and stronger than he remembered feeling in the other children. Perhaps Ned would become a powerful warg, perhaps even a greenseer in the future. But only time would tell.

And Jon would certainly guide him.

“Well, let’s change beds,” Jon said at the end, repeating the process of lifting his wife and placing her in another, cleaner bed, already prepared by the midwives. Afterward, the bed, sheets, and mattress used during the birth were taken away to be burned.

Jon did not leave that room while he cared for Val and little Ned. His wives, his children, and even his cousins came to visit the new prince of the realm, meeting young Ned Arctic.

“He is so beautiful. Finally a child who wasn’t born with black, purple, or gray eyes and black hair,” Jon said, hearing Ygritte laugh while holding the baby in her arms.

“Look, Aegon… This is your little brother,” Daenerys murmured, bringing the baby closer as he curiously observed the newborn.

The others also interacted with the baby, while Jon did not leave that room for the rest of the day.

In the following days, he took care of Val and also asked Della for help. Jon made a special invitation to Val’s sister, asking her to become Val’s lady-in-waiting and remain in the castle most of the time, assisting her with the baby and her duties as the sixth queen of the realm. He also invited her and Mance to live in the castle, so that she could stay by her sister’s side, raising the babies together and helping one another.

In the following days, his sister and the queens also remained by Val’s side.

Jon called Cassandra in private a few days later. She entered Jon’s solar with the baby in her arms. The other Ned, Ned Stark.

“You sent for me, Your Majesty?” she murmured, still not knowing what he wanted. He never called her alone; he usually spoke with her while Bran and Arya were nearby.

“You were castellan of Deepwood Motte and later of Winterfell, correct?” he asked suddenly.

Though surprised, she nodded cautiously.

“I know you have no news of your two sons in the south…” Jon said, watching the woman nearly cry at the memory of it. Her sons had been summoned to war, and Cassandra feared that Lady Stark might attempt some vengeance against her children after she had married Lord Stark. She did not even know whether they were alive or not.

So she could not help but tremble.

“I’m sorry if this is sensitive for you. I only wanted to understand,” he began.

“I still do not know where Your Majesty intends to go with this. I know you helped me through the most peaceful childbirth I have ever had and welcomed me, leaving no need unmet for me and little Ned, but I still do not understand,” she murmured.

“I’ll be direct then.” Jon sighed. “I want you to become the lady-in-waiting to one of my wives,” he declared, making her raise her eyebrows in surprise.

“Lady-in-waiting?” she repeated slowly.

“Yes. I want you to attend Rhaenys. She has never had an official lady-in-waiting, only some women of the castle who have always helped her, and it seems fair that she have someone at her side, just as Daenerys has her lady-in-waiting, Missandei.”

The woman could not help but raise her eyebrows. “Queen Rhaenys? But I heard she hates the Starks,” she murmured.

“My wife carried a great deal of resentment in her heart, but she realized it is not worth living that way. In recent times, since you arrived, she decided she would not raise her children with the hatred she kept for so long. Things are not as she imagined, and she is slowly freeing herself from it. What if I told you it was she herself who suggested this, when I was about to invite you to become Ygritte’s lady-in-waiting?” Jon said, leaving Cassandra surprised.

“In any case, you will have a place in the castle. Ned will receive the best education Arctic can offer, the finest training. He will live peacefully and serve the realm either here in the north or in the south. As he wishes.”

“But what about Winterfell?” she murmured, after all, it was the seat of the Starks.

“He may go visit, but he is not the heir. There are two men ahead of him. After I remove Robb, Bran will assume as Lord of Winterfell and Protector of the North. And I guarantee that, if nothing extraordinary happens, he will inherit Winterfell and the North. Here in Arctic, Ned may have a grand future. There will be many opportunities ahead. After all, Arctic is only at the beginning of its era,” Jon said.

Cassandra seemed thoughtful. Lord Stark was dead. She no longer had a husband, no longer had anywhere to return to. Basically, Winterfell would be open to Ned, she was certain. But if he could have an education in that magical city, just as Bran and Rickon themselves were beginning to have, going to the university or training in private lessons, would that not be the best for her son?

The question lingered in Cassandra’s mind. “Very well. I will accept this, but on the condition that I may leave with my son whenever I wish,” she said. She did not know if she would want to remain there, so she wanted a guarantee.

Jon gave a faint smile.

“Obviously, you may leave whenever you wish. This is not a prison. But I would like you to be loyal to my wife, who chose you as her lady-in-waiting. Arya said you are trustworthy and that you know how to defend your values when necessary. You even stood up to the king at the Winterfell banquet when he was harassing a servant who had a husband and children at home, even though you were going against the king of the Seven Kingdoms,” Jon said.

He certainly liked what he had heard from Arya. As she recounted what had happened in Winterfell, that woman had spoken before everyone, even while holding such a low position that she could have been executed for a mere glance. Even so, she confronted the king. Jon recognized courage.

“Thank you, my king,” Cassandra murmured, still surprised.

In the following days, Jon held one final meeting with Ducken. Brynden was also present, along with Thor and the other commanders.

“I will be departing for the West soon, as you know. I just want to finalize the last plans. After all, we have three fronts to deal with,” Jon said as he studied the map of Westeros, marked with several points.

The western fleet would sail south, while another fleet would advance through the east, and a third force would march through the North.

“The Boltons have taken Winterfell and are now declaring themselves Lords of the North, while their lands are still being probed by the Ironborn. It seems they have grown foolish just because we have not appeared in the last eleven moons. We will deal with them when the time comes. And Brynden, I will entrust Bran’s safety to you.”

He looked directly at the man.

“You are responsible for his training. The realm needs Bran prepared. He has already begun his first lessons as your pupil, but you are still needed in the North to show that House Stark has not been destroyed, since there is no news of Robb.”

That would rally the North, and quickly they would gain loyalty, since destroying the Boltons now would be a simple task for the Arctican army, which would enter with at least thirty thousand men through the Wall and march south, as Jon had planned, while the majority would head east under Ducken’s command, and he himself would strike the south.

The next day, Jon took his youngest son, little Ned, to the godswood, where the children of the forest confirmed that the boy was also blessed by the old gods.

Jon was satisfied with that and turned his attention to his cousins that same day, guiding them in the final days about Arctic, about his plans for the North, and even about their own futures.

“I want to stay!” Rickon shouted beside his brother. Jon looked at the child, surprised when speaking of Winterfell.

“You do not wish to return to Winterfell?” he could not help but ask. He would not send Rickon to Winterfell before he completed his studies, but the boy seemed determined not to go back.

Rickon shook his head violently. He was deeply traumatized.

“I do not like that place anymore,” he said.

Jon could understand. Even so, Winterfell was their home. “Winterfell is still your home, Rickon. It is House Stark.”

“But I do not like it there. It is better here, more fun. Shaggydog likes it too,” he said.

“I imagine he does, but…” Jon replied. “Rickon, cousin, I will not force you to return if you do not wish to. You will have a place here.”

Rickon seemed satisfied with that and nodded, breaking into a smile. Jon turned to the Reed siblings.

“How is your father? Do you believe he may be in danger?”

Jon still did not have reach so far to the south, though he was gradually increasing his abilities beyond the Wall.

“He will be fine. Greywater Watch will keep him safe, Your Majesty,” Jojen murmured.

“I understand. Well, I would like you to accompany Bran in the north as well,” Jon said.

Even though Bran would be safe with the specialized guard while they gathered the North under House Stark once more, Jon preferred that he have people he trusted nearby.

“I will go along with my sister. We will do this,” Jojen replied firmly.

“Even so, all of you are leaving… Like everyone in Winterfell…” Rickon seemed wary and turned to Jon.

“Yes… for a time,” Jon told the boy.

“But will you come back? Everyone who leaves disappears!” Rickon seemed quite agitated.

“Arya left and came back,” Jon answered calmly. “Do not worry. When I am finished, I will gather everyone back here. Arya will be with me fighting in the south and, as soon as everything is over, we will return. Besides, you will have little Ned and Cassandra here. I would like you to take care of them.” Rickon watched him for a moment, nodding with some caution.

“I heard you made a new friend, young Shireen,” Jon continued to the boy.

“She is nice… but she is lonely too. And she is afraid,” Rickon murmured.

Jon understood. In the past few days, the girl had not left Ser Davos’s side, always cautious. She had begun lessons with Maester Aemon, who volunteered to teach her. The girl had Targaryen blood — her great-grandmother carried the blood of dragons — in a way, she was a distant relative of Jon, his wives, and Aemon. Naturally, the maester could not help but grow fond of the girl.

After a brief conversation with his cousins, even Arya joining shortly after to support her brothers, Jon went to meet Ser Davos and Shireen in the throne room.

Jon rested in his chair made of Valyrian steel, with aspects of ice.

The two approached and knelt. In Arctic there was no custom of kneeling, but Ser Davos and Shireen were not Arcticans. As Jon was now a claimant to the Iron Throne, all who stood before him were to kneel to their sovereign king. Otherwise, they were enemies.

“Your Majesty,” Ser Davos murmured.

“Rise,” Jon said calmly.

Both obeyed, looking at the king. It was the first time they had been summoned after Jon had arranged their lodging and duties in the realm.

“How have you been this past week in Arctic, Lady Shireen?” Jon asked, looking at the girl, who seemed a little shy.

She cast a glance at Ser Davos, who nodded, and then turned to the imposing man upon the chair of ice and steel.

“I am very well, Your Majesty. I think it is a beautiful and prosperous kingdom. I would say… magical.”

Her words sounded sincere, yet at the same time rehearsed. “I would like you to speak frankly,” Jon said.

The girl pressed her lips together, trying to gather courage. “I did not lie about the first part… but it also frightens me,” she murmured.

Jon slightly raised an eyebrow. And Ser Davos answered for her at once.

“Shireen is afraid of the dragons, Your Majesty. I hope you cannot blame her for that. It is not normal to leave the castle and find dragons flying across the city’s skies, or giant wolves roaming the castle, coming and going. Shireen is not accustomed to such things,” Davos spoke, with a tone of urgency and apology.

Jon could not help but smile. “Well, I cannot blame her for that. It is not as if I would force her to grow accustomed to Arctic in a week. My children are used to it because, ever since they were aware of the world, they have grown up this way. Even Bran and Rickon — especially Rickon — feel a certain fear and caution, at least toward the dragons,” Jon said.

Rickon did not seem very frightened of the direwolves, but the dragons made him shrink every time one passed over the castle or through the city streets where he wandered exploring Arctic with the others, even though he had already flown upon Eragon when Jon first brought him here.

“Well, in any case, I hope you are learning. Maester Aemon said you are progressing well,” Jon said.

Shireen nodded, not quite knowing what to say. She was far too shy, and Jon did not press her. She was not particularly gifted in her studies, but she learned at her own pace.

“And you, Ser Davos? Tell me what you think of Arctic. After all, you were born in Flea Bottom. I am curious to hear the opinion of a man from King’s Landing who lived among the common folk about the realm we have built here,” Jon said.

Davos was frank and honest. Jon had noticed that and appreciated the loyalty he showed toward the girl, as if Shireen were his own daughter.

“A place like this should exist only as some kind of fantasy or daydream of someone trying to create a utopia. Yet here we are, Your Majesty. I see a people whom all in the south call savages living better than most nobles. I do not see your people starving or freezing. I do not see beggars. I see streets filled with children and families. There is order and respect in this city. People live with dragons flying across the sky, giants walking through the streets with dwarfs sharing space with humans, direwolves and other beasts roaming about. If someone had told me such a place existed before I came to know your realm, I would certainly have laughed at them,” he said, pausing.

“In the south, they all spoke and speculated about how this kingdom had been growing, building ships and powerful weapons. They said this was nothing more than a great frozen wasteland inhabited by savages. I must say, not even in their wildest dreams would they imagine what your realm truly is, Your Majesty. You have created something that goes far beyond anything I have ever heard of any king accomplishing; even Stannis could never create a world like this. And I see that you would be the best person to sit upon that iron chair. Arctic is a reflection of your rule.” He seemed quite eloquent, only struggling when pronouncing Stannis’s name. Even Shireen looked surprised at what Davos had said about her father, but it was the truth.

“Well, I can see you speak from the heart, Ser Davos. I thank you for your words,” Jon replied.

“You need not thank me, Your Majesty. Anyone who looked upon Arctic and had the chance to truly know it could not deny those words,” he said, casting a look of admiration and respect toward Jon.

Ser Davos had always been a man more devoted to the common people than to the nobility, even after earning his place through Stannis. The king before him had transformed the so-called savages into something greater — far greater than anyone could have imagined — civilized, educated, and powerful.

The people the south called wild now possessed military power, economic power, and intellectual power. Was there any realm in this world that could rival it?

“In any case, I will wage my war against the south in the coming days. I want you to know that I will find a way to treat Lady Shireen’s face. If you wish, we may begin tomorrow. I already have the cure for greyscale,” Jon said, making the girl look at the king in shock before turning to Davos, who seemed to choke on his breath.

“You said you have the cure, Your Majesty?” Davos asked, incredulous.

“Yes. It is a long story, but we shall speak more later. Come to my office tomorrow and we will discuss it.”

Davos and Shireen left the throne room shortly after, still pierced by the new information, while others waited to attend to matters with the king of Arctic.

Jon’s final task that day was to speak with Marwyn, who was already preparing all the documentation. He had a dossier on every maester in Westeros, which would be sent south along with the western fleet. In doing so, he would shatter all trust between the lords and the maesters in their castles.

The information about the maesters would make them suspicious and cause them to lose confidence, dividing them and making them easier to conquer, since many still depended on them for counsel and for the administration of countless matters.

The moment Jon destroyed that trust, the lords would think twice before following any guidance from the maesters of the Citadel. Not to mention that there would be many deaths among the grey rats, for it would become evident that the maesters had been spying on their houses all along. They had never truly been loyal to the lords they served, but rather to their own Order.

The Order had already been in decline since Jon killed most of its elite in Oldtown. Since then, it had only continued to fall. Their mentors were dead, and the Citadel itself had weakened even further after losing books during Arctic’s raid.

In any case, Jon needed to prepare. In a few days, he would depart for the south.

The war against the Seven Kingdoms would finally begin.

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