Game of Thrones: The Legend of Jon Arctic – ASOIAF/GOT GOT

First of all, happy 2025 to everyone! I hope you're all doing well. Today I'am to posting regularly again.

[Chapter Size: 3000 Words.]

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Thrid Person POV

North, 296 AC.

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Eragon destroyed more than four thousand undead along with that creature that filled him with disgust, dispatching them with ease, using his white flames.

For the other undead, a simple red flame was enough. Now, he beat his wings, gaining altitude; after all, his task wasn't finished yet, and he had a new target: the men who stood on the land his father had built, and he intended to destroy them for daring to come here. He had received an order, and he would kill all who threatened his home.

Once more, his wings beat, gaining altitude and speed, as he looked down at the humans below, who gazed back at him with fearful eyes. Their fear was evident, even to Eragon at this height. They feared him — and they had good reason to. After all, he would not stop until he had burned every one of them.

Lord Westerling, along with all the other nobles and remaining soldiers, stood there, watching the destruction from afar. But what happened next left them frozen in place as the dragon began moving directly toward them.

"He's coming this way!" murmured one of the men, his voice faltering and his eyes trembling.

"Yes, that thing is coming straight at us!" another man exclaimed, stepping back and turning to the commander. "Commander Westerling, we need to get out of here! Order a retreat!" He was shaking, nervous, while Lord Westerling himself stood paralyzed, unable to lift a finger from fear.

Since they had set foot in this cursed place, they had encountered all kinds of monsters. The wild ones they'd left behind in the storm when they fled from the undead were the most harmless things they had seen here; the undead had been the next threat to appear. Though they had thought this would be the worst menace they could face in this place, something even worse had appeared, and they realized how wrong they had been when they saw the undead burned by the dragon. And now, that same dragon that had destroyed them all was advancing, clearly hostile, and they all felt death approaching.

Eragon was drawing closer and closer, his wings thundering in the air, until he slightly opened his mouth, red flames appearing between his teeth, then burst forward with his voice in a massive roar.

ROOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRR, Eragon roared, making the entire forest tremble beneath him.

The roar seemed to awaken Westerling from his frozen state, and he immediately cried out to all the men standing there, in a desperate tone, "Run!"

The dragon was now diving from the sky toward them, gaining speed as he approached. The men tried to run quickly, but what could they do now? Eragon closed in, already upon them.

As they ran, their terrified gazes looked back, seeing the dragon already above them.

Eragon opened his mouth, tilting his wings to glide close to the ground, and unleashed a torrent of fire on the group trying to flee through the forest. The flames spread in every direction as they struck the ground below him, vaporizing the men beneath them and continuing to burn the others, spreading like a wave of fire.

Eragon kept beating his wings, maintaining his altitude as he poured flames over everything he could, leaving a vast trail of flames across the area he passed.

When he reached the edge of the group, he beat his wings to gain height and turned, as more and more men tried to scatter. Eragon dove again as he returned to the line of men trying to flee, launching another blast of flames like the first, ignoring the humans' desperate screams. But that didn't matter to him.

Far from there, Ducken advanced, riding a giant eagle alongside other men. These eagles were a unique means of moving warriors through the sky, created from Caraxes and Jon's magic. There were few of them yet, though they were expected to grow more numerous as they began to breed.

Ducken was the chief commander of the Arctic army in Jon's absence, and he had to make the best decisions on behalf of the queen. But even there in the sky, witnessing the destruction Eragon was causing, how could he stop a dragon?

He and the other men on their eagles watched from afar, seeing the dragon destroy everything as he set the forest ablaze, indifferent to the enemies' despair, showing no mercy.

The terrifying scene of flames and destruction continued for a long time. Eragon was not yet satisfied and had no intention of stopping until the last of those he could burn fell.

Only after a while did he decide to stop hunting the small groups, as he had already slain the vast majority of the southern soldiers, and it was growing tedious to chase countless individuals scattering everywhere. When he realized it would be pointless... he decided to return, making a turn.

Eragon beat his wings, heading toward Ártica, crossing the skies without caring about the few survivors below or even the Artican men watching him close by in the air.

He soon reached the kingdom's walls, flying over the river as he neared the city, announcing his arrival with a roar as the people looked up at the sky, confused. The dragon, still surging with adrenaline after destroying his enemies, made his way to the Grand Weirwood, tilting to the side as he passed the tree until he reached the castle, where he landed gently in the middle of the garden. Only two hours had passed since he had left the area. Now, he simply walked to a corner of the garden and lay down, feeling his task was complete and wanting to sleep a bit more; after all, he'd been asleep when he was awakened, irritated, by the presence of the southerners.

At that moment, Seryna appeared, holding their two children in her arms, looking at him with a slightly concerned expression. Her children stretched their hands toward the dragon, but she didn't let them get too close; after all, Eragon reeked of flames and burnt things, and he was so hot that even she couldn't get too close.

The young dragons around him, curious, approached and began to circle him, watching with inquisitive looks. Eragon only raised his eyes to look at them briefly, then ignored them, appearing on the verge of sleep, wanting to rest now that his task was done.

"My queen," Brynden appeared then, looking at her with a worried expression and casting a cautious look at the dragon radiating heat.

"Tell me, what is the situation?" Seryna asked, knowing the flames on the horizon were not from a simple attack by Eragon.

"Ducken has already dispatched a group of five thousand Artican soldiers outside the gate. They are advancing through the forest to hunt down those who managed to escape the flames," he said.

"And what else?" Seryna raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more.

"The enemy soldiers and even some of our own are frightened. After all, they saw a dragon annihilate an entire human army in such a short time," murmured Brynden, looking at her. They both understood that Eragon wasn't just any dragon who lived in the castle garden and kept to himself when Jon was away. Now, Ártica would know that this was a beast capable of causing death and destruction.

"How many did he kill?" Seryna asked, holding her children tighter as her gaze fell back on the sleeping dragon.

"He killed nearly five thousand undead, one White Walker, and caused the deaths of over seven thousand southern soldiers. If three thousand soldiers remain, it's a lot," he replied, his tone serious.

Seryna raised an eyebrow, impressed. In just two hours, he had destroyed more than seven thousand soldiers and burned thousands more bodies. Now, she understood why so many of the royal guards and even some others in the castle looked at Eragon with fear.

"Jon always said that dragons can be dangerous," she commented, watching Eragon. "But, in this case, he protected Ártica, and that's what we need to remember."

"You're right, my queen. In any case, now we just have to wait for Ducken's troops to return," Brynden agreed.

Meanwhile, Ducken was advancing through the forest alongside his wife, who had insisted on accompanying him. His small army moved forward, prepared to face anything, be it wildlings, undead, or southerners.

"By the gods, you can smell the burnt flesh from here!" Karsi complained, looking over the devastated forest. Much of it was in ashes, with flames still burning in some places, but the majority of the forest was destroyed.

"We're lucky we didn't get any closer," commented Ducken, before giving an order to the guards to advance, skirting around the area. After all, there shouldn't be anyone alive there, and they were to begin searching for survivors.

They continued through the area, where they found many southerners hiding, trembling in fear inside caves, among rocks, and under tree stumps. It was easy to locate them, although it was a bit tedious to track each one manually with the wargs. The Artican soldiers, guided by the animals, had no trouble finding all the fugitives.

This continued for some time. However, since they couldn't capture everyone, with a few managing to escape south, the southerners they did find were quickly rounded up to be taken to Ártica. In the end, over 1,200 were captured, including a southern noble named Edric Westerling. He had been the commander of the small army, but instead of finding a fearless leader who could command 16,000 soldiers, they found a man trembling and constantly looking to the sky in fear, always checking if the dragon would return. They did nothing special with him; he was simply placed with the other prisoners to be taken away.

In the end, all were led to Ártica. The kingdom's gates opened, and the prisoners were taken to the Stone of Prisons, where they would perform forced labor — after all, for an Artican prisoner, work was inevitable if they wished to be fed.

The news spread quickly, with the horizon blackened by smoke, and what had happened shocked the population of Ártica, becoming the most talked-about event in the following days. Despite witnessing Eragon's power for the first time, the Articans celebrated. Everyone spoke of how they had triumphed over an invasion from the south, which had been swiftly crushed.

"Did you see what happened? Those southern fools sent 16,000 men to try and face us, but they didn't stand a chance," a dwarf commented while drinking.

"First, the shadows of the White Walkers took a large portion of them, but it was Eragon, the king's dragon, who delivered the final blow! Burned over 7,000 people in no time! A monster among monsters!" murmured a man in a respectful tone.

"I always said that dragon was dangerous! I hope the king keeps him under control; I don't want to see my house burned down one of these days!" exclaimed another dwarf, voicing his natural disdain for dragons.

The terror that had gripped the southerners became a powerful motivation for the inhabitants of Ártica. Stories began to spread about the feats accomplished, and across the city, songs were composed in honor of the dragon and the victory. Even in the king's absence, they showed they could defend themselves from any threat, now boasting hundreds of thousands of soldiers.

In the castle, a council meeting was convened, and Queen Seryna had to make decisions in Jon's name.

"What shall we do now, my queen?" asked a counselor.

"The south has never been a true threat," she replied firmly. "Let them return to their lands. Those who flee won't get far; the White Walkers are hunting, and it won't make a difference to add another 1,800 soldiers to our army when we're going to destroy them all anyway." She ordered all searches for the scattered southerners to be canceled.

Meanwhile, the southern prisoners joined others captured in the naval battle near the coast of Oldtown, where they encountered the Artican fleet and were destroyed, then captured. Among the prisoners was the younger brother of Lord Hightower, who looked visibly defeated.

"I heard from the guards what happened to you…" The noble, as well as Lord Westerling and others present, murmured to them, a broken look on his face after so many moons of forced labor, without which the Articans would not provide them with food. He continued…

"I'm glad you came here to rescue me and kill these damned Articans, but only 16,000 men? How could the lords of Westeros think that was enough?!" he said, dissatisfied.

"We thought we still had a chance… but they have a dragon, and no one expected to face a dragon that size. How in the world do they have a bloody dragon?" replied a noble, as Edric Westerling now seemed a broken man.

"They have all sorts of strange things and pray to the old gods… this is the worst place for a man of the Faith of the Seven…" he murmured.

"Hey, can you all stop chatting and get back to work?" A dwarf approached, arms crossed, while the southerners muttered and tried to return to their tasks.

Everyone was exhausted, but they were surrounded by dwarves and giants who worked tirelessly, not only keeping watch over them but busy with other duties. The southerners could only observe the scene with amazement, wondering what other strange things they might encounter in this place, though it no longer mattered: they were now prisoners of Ártica.

Meanwhile, to the north, a large camp was setting out, with the mountains to the south coming into view.

"We're finally reaching the southern part of the Frozen Lands," commented one of Mance's camp leaders beside him, gazing at the landscape.

"Soon, we'll be at the Wall, won't we?" asked another.

"Yes. But our journey is still long, and at the pace of our army, it'll take a while to cross the mountains completely and begin to enter the southern region toward the Wall…" Mance replied with a sigh, knowing their progress would be slow, though at least they would arrive before winter set in.

And so, they continued advancing southward, unaware of what they would encounter in the years to come.

Meanwhile, in the East, thousands of miles from Ártica, the political situation in Yi-Ti seemed dire. In a room in the capital, a heated discussion erupted among the leaders of the various provinces in the Shogun's castle.

"They are invading us, and we're just here arguing?!" someone shouted.

"We must fight with all we have! Shogun, give us permission to retaliate against these scoundrels with all the strength of our country!" demanded another.

"Calm down! We must not rush. We must fight with honor," commented a third.

"Lord Takeshi Shinoda, don't you see that this world is cruel and merciless? Honor is beautiful, but we must do what is necessary to win and reclaim our lands!" another exclaimed.

"We fight with honor, Lord Hiroaki Kuroda," the third replied. "We can't simply abandon it to face our enemies. After all, what would differentiate us from these invaders?"

As the argument grew more intense, a man at the center of the table, dressed in a simple kimono and wearing a hat, watched the scene with a tired expression. He sighed, then decided to end the meeting, seeing it was going nowhere.

"I believe we won't resolve this today. For now, I want you all to reflect on what's been said here. We need more concrete information about what's happening in Lord Shimura's province," the Shogun said, and everyone nodded, seeing no point in pressing the matter further.

The Shogun stood up, and the others bowed their heads in respect as he left the room, followed by a few guards. As he walked down the corridor, he encountered his daughter, her eyes filled with concern.

"You're here, Hiyori…" he commented.

"Father, may I accompany you?" she asked.

He nodded, and together they entered his chamber. The Shogun sat down and, in a calm tone, looked at his daughter while lighting a few candles in the room.

"Speak, daughter, what do you wish to say?" he asked.

"Father, you're exhausted from this invasion… and even more so because of my brother," she murmured.

"I know. Your brother was captured by the enemy, and we still don't know what's happening in Lord Shimura's province. We need to send reinforcements, but the provincial leaders can't reach an agreement. I'll have to make a decision soon…" he said, equally tired and even frustrated.

His daughter placed her hands on her father's wrists, looking at him with determination. "I'm certain you'll make the right decision. You'll drive them out, as you've always done all these years…" she said.

"Thank you for your words, daughter. But now it's different… they managed to infiltrate the country. It doesn't matter anymore, Hiyori. Now, go to your room. I need to think carefully about what to do," he said as his daughter rose and left, her expression heavy, though her movements remained controlled under the weight of being the princess of an empire.

The Shogun, now alone, approached the open window and looked out at the moon shining in the dark sky.

"I want to end this soon and have my family back," he murmured to himself. "I miss you, Toki…" he thought, remembering his wife, long since passed, but determined to resolve the situation and rescue his son and heir, who was now in the enemy's hands after going to aid the invaded province.

Meanwhile, out at sea, in the darkness of the night, the Artican fleet continued to sail. Above the ships, in the sky, beyond the moon, the stars formed a clear constellation, revealing the galaxy and its lights. They followed their course through the night, and at dawn, the fleet split, with 50 ships advancing northward, spotting Yi-Ti in the distance that very morning.

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