[Chapter Size: 3500 Words.]
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Third Person POV
Hardhome, 299 AC.
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Jon moved without trouble into the camp.
The people around him still kept their eyes filled with suspicion and fear toward him. He did not remove his helmet at any moment for being surrounded, and advanced deeper into the camp in Hardhome, where he saw a fat man chained, sitting, staring with dazed eyes at the distant dragon.
His eyes then went to the crowd that walked together with the man fully armored in a silver metal he knew better than most men: Valyrian steel due to the sword his father usually wielded.
For a moment, the ranger kept staring at the stranger approaching. His eyes seemed a little surprised, visible through the small layer of glass on the helmet — something similar to some models of glasses worn by maesters, though rare, embedded in the ocular opening of the armor, something absolutely uncommon in Westeros.
Samwell stared at the stranger in surprise, while Jon, seeing the man before him, recognized this man — someone overweight, someone he had already encountered in his travels in the South.
"Samwell Tarly", Jon declared without any further ceremony.
The Tarly man widened his eyes intensely at him, also surprising some people around by the fact that the king of the realm in the North knew that member of the Night's Watch.
"You—you are Jon of Arctic?" Samwell exclaimed upon seeing the strange green gaze staring at him. There was no doubt: it was the same look he had known years ago in Highgarden. The man who had become the subject of so many conversations among nobles after his arrival in the Reach, for commanding giants and bringing wealth and goods before everything fell apart — after he left and attacked Oldtown, sacking the city in the process.
Sam had always listened to news of Arctic because of his father after what happened in Oldtown, hearing about the exploration group of sixteen thousand men beyond the Wall, which had been completely destroyed, including the Tarly men his father had sent at the request of the Tyrells, together with the Hightowers and the Redwynes — the last two the ones who suffered the most at the hands of the Arcticans. Even so, at that time no one learned anything more, for his father did not share the information, avoiding admitting that a declared enemy of the Reach had achieved so much.
But Sam kept hearing rumors about Jon's journeys in the East: the man who had won a war in Yi Ti, conquered the entire Slaver's Bay, freed hundreds of thousands of people, defeated the most powerful khalasaars among the Dothraki on a large scale and bested them in the capital of the Dothraki, not to mention the naval battles he fought before all of that.
The Redwynes lost their entire fleet, the royal fleet also succumbed later, and the king of Westeros himself had knelt before that same man after losing the naval battle in front of King's Landing or Dragonstone, while the Arcticans returned to the North.
If Sam had 1% of that man's achievements, his father would never have sent him to the Wall — he would have declared him heir. But that was never the case. Samwell was not a warrior; he had always been studious and did not have the physique his father demanded.
He himself had been fascinated when he met Jon, the boy who went to the castle balcony, finding Sam while he hid from most nobles. Jon did not mock him for his overweight appearance — quite the opposite. They talked about stars. The boy had knowledge about constellations that not even Sam possessed or had ever heard of.
Sam might have heard that Jon had achieved many things in the war and was declared the best sword in the world, but he still recognized the value of that boy in general knowledge and even his fascinating ability to conquer maritime trade.
After all, before the wars began, Arctic negotiated with intentions of generating business; the fights came later as a consequence, mainly from disagreements and provocations.
The green eyes, as he remembered very well, stared at him for a few seconds. "My cousin said she met you in the North going to the Wall more than seven moons ago...", he said, and Sam nodded with a bit of confusion, finding it strange that the king called the Stark sister his cousin.
However, Sam did not seem to care about that now. "It's true. I met Lady Stark on the way. She told me you remembered me." He said.
"It's hard to forget someone I talked to during my travels, Samwell Tarly. Don't take offense, but I must say I'm surprised. You were your father's heir, and he sent you to the Watch to give your brother your place?", Jon easily deduced what had happened.
The boy lowered his head automatically, pressing his lips together.
"As you can see… I'm fat. My father didn't want an heir like that, my brother is more suitable...", he said, drawing laughter from the wildlings around.
"Yeah, hard not to notice that." A voice jeered. "You must be the pride of daddy kneeler!" Some of the wildlings were mocking him, while others started laughing as well. Obviously, Sam's appearance had nothing that could be compared to a warrior.
"He makes too much noise and he's slow! He's no good to be a Crow! He's a joke of ours! We should have mercy and finish him, this type dies easily in these lands...!", said a woman missing a few teeth, starting to cackle.
Jon remained neutral at the free folk's jokes around him, but still focused on Samwell. He wanted to know about the South and would try to discover his first clues through the boy. Then he turned to the one who seemed to be the camp's leader.
"What do you intend to do with him?", Jon asked, with the calibrated tone of the King of Arctic — a tone of command that made everyone shrink just by hearing it.
"What do you think? We will kill him as a response to the Wall," the leader said proudly, while Samwell clearly did not look even a bit happy about it, shrinking more and more.
"You could have already done that, but you didn't. Why did you take so long?", Jon asked. It was a logical question.
"Because he says he killed a White Walker!", the man replied, and laughter erupted around the group once again.
"Look at him! Do you really think he killed a White Walker? I don't know why you believe this fool! We should have killed him already!"
"Why all this rush, fool? Look at him! He's no threat, only good for a laugh! He can't even run without a child from our camp catching him!", another woman said. Some treated Sam with such ferocity they wanted to kill him; others saw him as a joke, pure entertainment.
Jon only sighed, turning his attention back to Sam. "Is that true… did you really kill a White Walker?", he asked, making all laughter and comments around them cease the moment he spoke.
"Yes. I killed one," Samwell said, expecting Jon to mock him like everyone else did, but Jon seemed thoughtful.
"How did you do it?", it was an honest question, before judging whether he was lying or not. Despite everything, Jon felt he was not lying — he just needed to know if Sam wasn't confusing a wight with a White Walker.
"I used a dagger with the frozen fire we found before our group disappeared...", Sam declared, while Jon lifted his eyes inside the helmet.
"So you really did it. What happened afterward to the White Walker? What shape did its death take?" he asked, for unlike their servants, White Walkers usually perished by shattering into fragments of ice.
"I… I don't know how to explain. The moment the dagger struck its heart, it started breaking, like glass, before cracking in all directions and becoming nothing but pieces of ice." No one laughed anymore when Samwell said that.
"He is telling the truth. That is indeed how a White Walker dies, and some of you saw me do this in Mance's camp to the north, correct? He used dragonglass, as I mentioned to you before," Jon said, turning to the crowd, who now nodded more seriously. If the dragon man trusted the words of the fat ranger, they would believe again too.
"If a fat and slow man like him can defeat one, we can too!", one of the men roared, and many agreed, shouting excitedly.
"Let's make a deal. I will bring the dragonglass, but I want you to free this ranger. I want him under my supervision now," Jon declared, his gaze serious.
"Wait… you want us to free him? You didn't even bring what you promised! What makes us think you won't deceive us?", another contested.
"I prefer that you continue being humans committing human crimes rather than becoming those creatures. Besides, it's not as if I have any reason to lie to you. We have a common enemy. I need to speak with this ranger, and I will take him one way or another."
Jon's eyes shone with a veiled threat. Even a roar could be heard outside the camp. Some men grew irritated with the King of Arctic's demand, while others seemed more cautious.
"Give him the crow. He is no longer necessary. Look at him… as they said, he is no threat to any of us. Let him return to the Wall, or wherever he wishes to stay. It makes no difference. The crows also know we're here... It's better to release him than to face that creature outside the camp," said one of the men, while the leader nodded.
"Very well. Remove what binds the fat man," he said.
Despite a few displeased looks, no one said anything. Some men stepped forward and began untying Samwell.
Jon was satisfied with that.
His eyes returned to the leader. "I will bring the dragonglass weapons tomorrow. I only hope you keep your word about never using them against the living — only against the dead creatures, should they come South," Jon said, and all nodded.
Now freed, Samwell Tarly looked at Jon with curiosity, while the king's eyes turned to the young man.
"Come with me. We're leaving," Jon said as he turned. The crowd made way, and Jon walked with the crow, who hurried to keep up with him, some people laughing at his clumsy way of walking due to his size.
"Wait, lord of… Arctic? I mean… king of Arctic… King Arctican… I don't know how I should call you! Are we going to fly on a dragon? On that dragon there? Is that a dragon? Wait, how do you have a dragon?", Samwell began stammering nonstop with his nervous questions.
Jon stopped and looked at him. "Call me King Jon, or King of Arctic, only that." Once, he had asked Sam to call him simply Jon, but that had been in an informal conversation. "And yes, that is a dragon," he added at the end, making young Tarly pale.
"How is that possible…?", Samwell murmured, looking into the distance, seeing only part of the dragon still with its wings open to the wind. Eragon lifted his head upon noticing their approach.
"You should know that, at this moment, many things are possible. But I'm sure that no longer matters," Jon said, while Tarly seemed ready to stutter even more.
"And no, you will not fall. We need to return to the Wall." Jon seemed to read his thoughts and spoke. The boy was no less frightened, but still nodded.
"Tell me something: how many moons have you been away from the Wall?", Jon asked as they approached Eragon.
"I've been away for two moons…", Sam murmured, almost stuttering from nerves.
"And how long since you've heard news from the South?", Jon pressed, looking at him.
"Letters take long to arrive from the South… about an entire moon," he said, shrinking for some reason.
"So it's been three moons since you last had news from the South... What has been happening in the South in the last four moons?", Jon simply asked, realizing something was wrong.
The boy seemed to tremble even more, looking at him in confusion. "You… don't know?", the question came out cautious and slow.
"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you, would I? I've been seven months without news from the South. Can you at least tell me what is happening? And it seems something really is happening..."
For some reason, Samwell Tarly now feared Jon more than the dragon itself. He shivered, wondering whether he should answer or not.
"There is a war," he declared, making Jon raise an eyebrow as he removed his helmet. He stared intensely at Sam, enough to make the young man take a step back.
"What do you mean there is a war below the Wall...?", Jon asked slowly.
Samwell only swallowed hard, thinking quickly about what to say. Anything he could say felt, to him, like it would only irritate the man before him even more. Even the dragon seemed to mirror his master's anger, staring at Samwell the same way his rider did — as if it could read Jon's mind and imitate him further.
"The North descended with its army and joined a war happening in the Riverlands. Robb Stark is leading the North and was declared King in the North," Samwell said, while Jon stared at him for a few seconds saying nothing, weighing those words.
"How did this happen? Why is my uncle not leading the North?", Jon now seemed worried.
"Your Majesty… I don't think I'm the right person to say this. Perhaps you should speak with the Night's Watch. The men there have more information about what is happening in the South. The last thing I know is that your older brother… was declared King in the North by the lords of the North and the Riverlands, and they are fighting against the Lannisters. And, from what I heard, there wasn't only one king… but four of them!", Samwell said.
"You're hiding something, aren't you?", Jon advanced, grabbing Sam's clothes and lifting him into the air with ease. Some wildlings who were still watching from a distance were surprised to see the armored man, rider of a dragon, lift a ranger as if he weighed nothing.
"P-please, my lord… Your Majesty!! You must ask the Night's Watch directly! Please!", Samwell was terrified, and Jon, realizing he truly would not reveal what he knew about his uncle, ended up releasing him. If he wanted real answers, he would have to seek them personally at the Wall.
With that, Jon said nothing else and let him go.
"You're going to climb the stairs and sit in the cell, a little behind me. There will be a belt for you to fasten yourself. I will do what you suggested: we are going to the Wall, and I will ask what I need to know," Jon said, while Sam nodded quickly.
He clearly did not want to be the bearer of terrible news — especially in front of that man who rode a dragon and was Eddard Stark's son.
Even if Samwell found it strange that he had called Arya his cousin and that he could ride a dragon, he still believed he was a son of the Starks. If he delivered the news right there, he had a real fear of being devoured or burned by the dragon in the fury the creature's rider might feel.
In any case, Samwell looked at the dragon with hesitant steps; the dragon stared at him and snorted, though it did not seem nearly as bothered by him as a dragon that might devour him if he got too close. Then Sam climbed onto the dragon after Jon. With some difficulty, he managed to reach the saddle without falling, never failing to look down — the fall would be anything but comfortable, likely fatal. With a forty-meter dragon, Sam looked like an ant. He never thought he would experience something like this in his life, a fat Tarly like him, riding a dragon?
He settled into the saddle, and Jon gave the command. Eragon immediately flapped his wings and began advancing toward the Wall with Sam screaming in fear. Jon's aim was not far from Hardhome. With a dragon, they would arrive in minutes — and so they did.
The sight of the Wall finally reappeared before the King of Arctic after seven long months.
Jon guided the dragon to land in the forest. Some men might have seen the enormous white bird descending, but Eragon was well camouflaged in the snow as he dropped between the trees, making anyone wonder whether they had truly seen something.
In any case, Samwell looked even more terrified after the flight, but he remained strapped to the saddle, clinging tightly, the belt giving him the bare minimum of safety.
Jon descended from his saddle, and Samwell imitated him with difficulty soon after, almost stumbling when his feet touched the ground.
"Come. I need to speak with my friends now," Jon said.
They left the dry forest and advanced into the open area before the Wall, which immediately began sounding its horns upon spotting them. Jon wore a silver armor — not the black armor with the Targaryen and Stark symbols on the shoulders, but one he used to avoid confusion at that moment, before knowing exactly what was happening in the South. At his side was clearly a crow belonging to the Night's Watch.
Since they were only two on foot, the gate opened, revealing a group of mounted men. Jon stopped, and Samwell grew nervous upon seeing at least twenty riders of the Night's Watch advancing toward them. They would let Sam in, but upon seeing the man fully armored in shining metal, they needed to approach to find out what was happening.
Jon looked at the group, searching for Jeor Mormont; however, he saw no sign of him. The one who seemed to be leading them was the same man Jon had taught a lesson to last time, Ser Alliser Thorne — the sour-faced one he had made fall from his horse before breaking his nose for offending Jon.
Jon narrowed his eyes. There were also new faces, though they carried the same arrogance. Some looked at Jon — and especially at his armor — with a poorly disguised greed.
"Samwell Tarly," the leader's voice said in a harsh tone, full of suspicion and disdain. Then he turned his gaze to Jon, with a mixture of anger and caution in his eyes.
"Where is the Lord Commander?", Samwell asked, uneasy.
"You are speaking to him at this very moment, you fool," one of the arrogant men replied with a disrespectful and sharp tone, making Sam look at him uncertainly, not knowing who he even was.
Jon narrowed his eyes even more at that man. "You were from King's Landing, weren't you? Worked in the command of the city, led the gold cloaks," Jon said, remembering long ago, when he investigated the entire court of Westeros through his birds. He knew that man. A corrupt one who constantly did favors for the queen seeking the Lannisters' favor and other nobles in exchange for gold.
It was a surprise for Jon to find him there. It seemed he had been captured or something like that. This made Jon wonder what had happened in King's Landing — and where his uncle was. He tried to remain calm, but that man did not help at all, with a gaze filled with hidden greed as he stared at Jon's armor.
The Lord Commander's gaze glimmered with anger and disdain, not liking Jon's tone. "You are far from home. I thought you would be fighting your dead together with those traitors of the Night's Watch," Alliser Thorne said to Jon with a tone of absolute contempt.
"I am very much safe, Ser Alliser. What is it? Are you going to call me 'bastard' again?", Jon mocked and challenged him.
"So this is the bastard of that Stark traitor!", the greedy man exclaimed with anger, contempt dripping from his voice as he stared at Jon as if he were nothing.
But Jon immediately narrowed his eyes. "What did you say?" His voice sounded as if winter itself had fallen upon them.
A cold wave of emotion traveled through that single sentence. Even the horses took a step back unconsciously — and all the air around them seemed to begin freezing, while a roar came from the forest, enraged.
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