[Chapter Size: 3000 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Wall, 292 AC, At the some momment.

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Jon and his uncle, Benjen Stark, spent some time together atop the Wall, chatting after the commotion Jon had caused with his training exercise. They gazed out over the vast, icy north and watched dwarves, humans, and giants setting up their camp below. Jon shared with Benjen stories of his adventures and challenges since they had parted, albeit in a limited manner. With each account, Benjen looked at Jon with a mix of pride and surprise, impressed by the maturity and wisdom the young man had gained in such a short time, hearing that this child had started building a city among the wildlings.

“Jon, your place is not north of the Wall, impressive as that may be,” Benjen couldn’t help but exclaim to his nephew.

Jon looked at Benjen, his eyes reflecting the white expanse before them. “Uncle, I understand what you’re saying. Winterfell will always be a part of who I am, but…” He paused, carefully choosing his words. “You know, it was only by leaving there that I could truly be myself. In Winterfell, I was always the bastard, the child of shame. But here…” Jon gestured towards the North, where his army was gathering, “here, I am a leader, someone with a purpose and a people to care for.”

Benjen listened in silence, absorbing Jon’s words. “You think you’ve found your place among the wildlings and these giants?” he asked, still trying to comprehend the extent of the changes Jon had undergone.

“It’s not just about finding a place, Uncle. It’s about fulfilling a mission that I feel was entrusted to me by the Old Gods,” Jon replied, looking north with determination. “Arctica, my kingdom, is a place where everyone, regardless of their origin or past, has a role to play, a chance to belong. I couldn’t find that in Winterfell, not with the shadows that followed me.”

Benjen frowned, clearly surprised. “Arctica? You founded a kingdom? That’s… hard to believe, Jon.” His voice was full of awe mixed with a touch of incredulity. “But how? How could a boy from Winterfell…”

Jon smiled, understanding his uncle’s confusion. “When I left Winterfell, Uncle, I had no intention of creating a kingdom. It started from a direct gift of the Old Gods asking me to go to the weirwood of the Wall, as you might know, I did extraordinary things in the North while I was here…” Jon spoke, and Benjen nodded.

“Yes, your feats continue to echo throughout the common folk, but many consider that you died when you crossed the Wall,” he said.

“Well, I guess that’s understandable. When I crossed the Wall, I discovered my mission and began to explore these icy lands trying to unite the tribes with us. We started as a tribe, a small group of people sharing a common vision, a desire to live in peace and harmony in a safe place and to protect ourselves. But we had our difficulties, exploring the North in search of a place, tribes attacked us together, we overcame all who challenged us, found other tribes, some races I didn’t even know existed…”

“Like the dwarves?” interrupted Benjen, pointing down to where small, sturdy figures worked alongside humans and giants.

“Yes, the dwarves,” confirmed Jon. “They are incredible craftsmen and brave warriors. I never thought I’d see a dwarf, but they are a vital part of Arctica now. And the giants… they have a strength that is very useful.”

“Jon, I’m seeing 500 armored giants, do you know how many armies would tremble to fight against these things? I didn’t know giants existed until I saw you with nearly 100 of them 2 years ago. But now you have 500 to fight by your side, it’s amazing, but you know how this will draw attention from the south, right?” Benjen had a tone of seriousness in his voice.

“I know that, but Arctica is powerful enough to protect itself from anything the southern kingdoms might do, besides, they know how costly an expedition to try to steal our lands would be when no southern army would last long in the lands beyond the Wall,” Jon spoke calmly, not seeming like an 11-year-old child, but a wise leader, which didn’t fail to make Benjen look at him with admiration.

Benjen looked again at the camp, his eyes scanning the figures moving below. “You’re right, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that you created a city among the wildlings, with dwarves and giants… Jon, this is something I’ve never heard of. It’s like something out of an ancient legend.”

Jon nodded, looking toward the horizon with a smile. “Maybe it is, Uncle. Maybe it’s our legend, a story we’re writing right now. Arctica isn’t just a place for me, it’s a symbol. A symbol that a new world is possible, one where differences are celebrated, not feared.”

Benjen placed his hand on Jon’s shoulder, looking him in the eyes. “You’ve truly become someone extraordinary, Jon. I couldn’t be prouder, and I’m sure your father would feel the same way, just don’t become an enemy of the Night’s Watch, I wouldn’t want to face an army of giants.” Bejen joked with a smile at the end.

Jon smiled, feeling warmth in his heart. “Thank you, Uncle. I don’t intend to become an enemy of the South, unless they force me to, but I still have a long way to go. And with Arctica, with my people, I know I’m not alone on this journey.”

Benjen nodded slowly. “I always knew you were special, Jon. But I never imagined it would take you this far. Winterfell is your home, but I understand that you’ve found another.”

Jon looked down at the camp below, where giants, dwarves, and humans worked together. “I love my family, Uncle, and Winterfell will always have a place in my heart with you, Father, Arya, and Bran.”

“Sansa, Robb, and little Rickon?” His uncle asked.

“That’s complicated… Wait, who is Rickon?” Jon asked, surprised. His father had mentioned Catelyn being pregnant before he ventured into the northern lands, but he didn’t know if it would be a girl or a boy.

“Rickon is your youngest brother; he was born almost 2 years ago,” Benejn informed.

“I see…” Jon said, pondering, and continued with a firm tone as a leader.

“Winterfell is the home of people I love, but Arctica… Arctica is where I can be who I am, where I can make a difference. And maybe, somehow, I can stop the southern invasions by groups of the Free Folk, perhaps I can unite these two worlds.” Jon reflected.

“That would be good for everyone; if anyone can do it, it’s you,” Benjen said, placing his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Just don’t forget where you came from.”

Jon nodded, a look of resolve on his face. “I’ll never forget, Uncle. But I also can’t ignore the call of my destiny.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of wooden carts creaking and men’s voices echoing from below the Wall. It was the supplies brought by Jon’s army beginning to arrive at Castle Black. Realizing the arrival, Jon turned to Benjen with a slight smile and said, “It seems it’s time to show the true strength of Arctica’s products.”

Descending the Wall’s stairs with agile steps, Jon and Benjen reached the castle courtyard, where the armored men of Jon’s army were organizing the supplies. The wagons were full of food, thick fabrics for winter, skillfully forged weapons, and other essentials for the survival and defense of the Night’s Watch. Each item was unloaded carefully and handed over to the rangers, who inspected everything with looks of disbelief and gratitude.

Jon oversaw the distribution, ensuring each ranger received their share. Meanwhile, Benjen conversed with some of Jon’s men, amazed by the loyalty and respect they showed for their young leader. With each new wagon that arrived, more rangers joined to help, creating an atmosphere of cooperation as the men seemed to forget the cold with so many weapons, clothes, and food coming to them.

Lord Commander Mormont, observing from a distance, couldn’t help but feel a mix of surprise and admiration at the efficiency and organization of the small army Jon had formed. The Lord Commander approached, clearly impressed with the operation’s efficiency. His eyes fixed on the piles of supplies, and he couldn’t help but murmur in admiration, “I’ve never seen anything like this in all my years here at the Wall,” he commented, turning to Jon.

Jon, with a modest smile, responded: “Arctica has been generous to us, Lord Commander. These are the fruits of hard work and the union of many races.”

Around them, the rangers observed with looks that varied between astonishment and curiosity. They murmured among themselves, clearly impressed with the quality of the supplies. Some touched the winter clothes, commenting on the thickness and quality of the fabric. Others examined the forged weapons, recognizing the skill and superior craftsmanship.

Mormont, still watching, said in a low voice to Jon: “You’ve brought more than supplies, Jon Snow. You’ve done something we’ve needed for a long time, something even the southern kingdoms never did.”

Jon looked at the Lord Commander and then at the men around him. “I hope this strengthens our alliance, Lord Commander. Arctica and the Night’s Watch have a lot in common – both defend the realm against unknown threats. This is a demonstration that Arctica is not an enemy of the Night’s Watch and the northern kingdom.”

Mormont nodded, looking at the rangers who were now working with more vigor and enthusiasm. “You’ve done something for us that won’t be forgotten. And something tells me this is just the beginning.”

With a respectful nod, Jon continued overseeing the distribution, aware of the weight of his responsibilities and the impact of his actions, both for Arctica and the Night’s Watch.

At the end of the day, with all the supplies properly stored and distributed, Jon turned to his men in the courtyard. Some looked cautiously at the Night’s Watch, just as the crows did with them. These men, before becoming soldiers of Arctica, were Free Folk and many had fought against those living here, even holding some resentment. But their king, Jon, had ordered a path of peace with the Night’s Watch, as long as they did nothing to provoke Arctica. They were to respect them, despite them being a group of convicted outlaws, as they still served the purpose of defending the realm of men.

“You can return to the camp until further orders. I’ll stay here to resolve some more issues.”

“Yes, we will do that, King Jon,” he said, raising a few eyebrows of those who heard the word ‘king’. Jon sighed but was thankful he hadn’t brought the dwarves, whose personalities might not have ended well…

With the soldiers leaving Castle Black, Jon met with Mormont to discuss the next steps in his solar. They walked together through the castle corridors, exchanging ideas and plans for the future. The Lord Commander was quite interested in Arctica, a kingdom of wildlings was something unprecedented for him, and as he saw, it wasn’t a kingdom living on bronze as they are used to from the tribes of the north. Jon, with his strategic vision, and Mormont, with his experience, formed a promising partnership, uniting the best of the new and the old for the North.

“May I see Aemon now?” Jon asked at the end of their conversation.

“Yes, you can go. Jon, I thank you for the wagons of supplies, but try not to cause more chaos than you’re already causing in the castle!” Jon smiled innocently at the noise from before, which he caused by having his men shout at him atop the Wall.

After saying goodbye to Lord Commander Mormont, Jon headed to Maester Aemon’s room. He walked through the silent and shadowy corridors of Castle Black. Approaching Aemon’s room, he paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before knocking gently on the door.

“Enter,” came the response from the other side.

Jon opened the door and entered the modestly lit room, where several candles emitted a soft light, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. The room was simple but as cozy as he remembered it after 2 years, with a large bookshelf occupying much of the wall. In the center, a table was covered in scrolls and books, some open and others neatly stacked. Aemon was seated in a chair, his elderly figure, but healthier than Jon remembered, leaning over a book, but his eyes, now clearer and more attentive, lifted as they noticed Jon with some difficulty.

“Jon?” Aemon asked, a tone of surprise in his voice. “Is it really you?”

“Well, Uncle! It’s me,” Jon replied with a warm smile, closing the door behind him.

“Hahaha. How this old man can rejoice today! You disappeared 2 years ago, and even though many said you were dead, this old man and even your Uncle Benjen always believed you were out there. It’s good to see you alive, my boy!”

“I’ve been very busy these last 2 years and couldn’t get in touch.” Jon scratched his head in an attempt to apologize.

Aemon looked at Jon, his eyes which had improved greatly, although he still saw everything in a blur, he had the ability to examine the young man in front of him. “So, it was you who caused all that commotion and shouting? I was hoping it was because of a dragon,” he said, half-joking.

Jon laughed lightly. “No, Uncle Aemon, Eragon is on the other side of the Wall. I didn’t want to cause more chaos than I already have.”

Aemon, with a look of disbelief mixed with a spark of excitement, leaned a little more forward. “Eragon? You… you really have a dragon? Jon, please, don’t joke with an old maester. A living dragon is something we haven’t seen for centuries, did you really hatch that egg in 2 years?!”

Jon kept his expression serious and nodded. “I’m not joking, Uncle Aemon. Eragon is real. The egg you gave me… it hatched. Eragon is the dragon that was born from it. He was born in the true North, under circumstances that I’m still trying to understand. He’s different from all the dragons recorded and he can spit ice and fire.”

Aemon was visibly moved, Jon’s words awakening memories of stories and legends he had studied all his life. “A dragon… in our time. And you, Jon, you hatched it, I knew you would hatch that egg! It seems like fate. What does he look like?”

“Small as a cat currently, with white scales with green stripes that shine like snow under sunlight and eyes that resemble frozen flames like two sapphires,” Jon described, his gaze distant as he remembered Eragon, whom he considered his own son. “Eragon is more than a dragon; he’s a symbol of a new era, perhaps a sign that times are changing and that magic is returning to the world again.”

Aemon, with tears forming in his eyes, whispered, “To see a dragon in my lifetime, that would be a dream come true. Jon, do you understand the significance of this? Dragons were the heart of my family, the essence of our power when we established the seven kingdoms.”

Jon nodded, understanding the history of Westeros. “I know, Uncle. And that’s why I’m being careful. Eragon isn’t just any dragon; he’s different from the dragons of Valyria and extremely intelligent for a newborn.”

Aemon placed a hand on Jon’s, a look of deep gratitude and pride on his face. “You were chosen, Jon. By lineage, by fate, by the Old Gods, or by the magic of this world itself. You have a role to play, a role that might change the course of history.”

“Maybe that’s it…” Jon said, falling silent for a while before breaking it with a determined look towards Aemon. “Uncle Aemon, but I can’t do this alone, that’s why I would like to make you an invitation,” Jon began, his voice laden with seriousness and respect. “I’ve established a kingdom beyond the Wall, called Arctica.”

“A kingdom?!” Aemon seemed surprised.

“Yes, a magical place, Uncle, where we live with humans, giants, dwarves, and even children of the forest!” Jon said excitedly.

“Dwarves, children of the forest?” Aemon seemed incredulous.

“Yes, Uncle. Magical creatures exist, and we found a hidden race called dwarves, you would certainly be surprised at how joyful they can be when not in a bad mood,” Jon said.

“That’s really fantastic, I’d love to see these races…” he murmured.

“So Uncle, the kingdom I’ve established beyond the Wall, it needs wise and experienced minds like yours. I would like you to consider coming with us to Arctica.”

Aemon looked at Jon, surprised by the invitation. “Arctica? You want me to leave the Wall and go to your kingdom?”

“Yes,” Jon replied. “Your wisdom, your knowledge, your experience… all of it would be invaluable to us. And I… I would very much like to have you by my side as we navigate these new times.”

Aemon pondered for a moment, looking at Jon with a mix of admiration and concern. “Jon, this is a great honor, but… I am a Maester of the Night’s Watch. My place is here.”

“I understand your duty, Uncle,” said Jon, “but Arctica is a place where we could use your help to build something new, something that could change the world for the better. And besides, having you around to help with Eragon would be invaluable.” Jon said and continued.

“Also, I spoke with the Lord Commander, and he has released you, so the decision is yours without compromising your oath.”

Aemon remained silent for a long moment, contemplating the offer. Finally, he looked at Jon with a timid smile. “You offer me a chance to see a dragon, to be part of the creation of a new kingdom, and to witness the unfolding of the world’s magic. With my vows fulfilled… how could I refuse such an offer?”

Jon smiled, relieved and excited by Aemon’s response. “Thank you so much, Uncle Aemon. Your presence in Arctica will bring not only wisdom but also hope for a new era that the world has never seen before.”

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