XV.

Second moon of 298 AC. Tar-nu Fuin, Forlond By The Wall. North of Westeros

"He was the best of us, and the worst as well." Qhorin Half-Hand on Mance Rayder

As Mance returned from his daily inspection of the construction progress, the banners of the Freehold of Valyria twirled in the wind coming from the Shivering Sea. Whipping the fledgling citadel-tower of Forlond from the northeast. The banners were at the top of the tower to which the rest of the new founded citadel was anchored. This tower was the tallest structure in the citadel, although it had not yet exceeded more than a third of its construction. When it were finished, that would be Mance's permanent seat.

The banners of the Freehold were a black field with the rampant three-headed dragon Targaryen in

scarlet red, which carried under its claws a snarling white wolf with red eyes and a white sun pierced by a red spear. A dark blue rose hung between them. These banners had come expressly from Braavos, along with the first ships that brought personnel and skilled labor. As well as mountains of construction, carpentry, blacksmith and forge tools, to help in the erection of the city of the Free Folk.

A City that was being made with the help of stone, magic, dragon fire, giants, mammoths and ice.

The tower that would exceed the height of the Wall itself, Barad Suvion as it's called, had on its lower floors, several meters below the level of the sea, the new center of power and knowledge from where Prince Aemon exercised administrative control of the province of which Mance, was the political leader.

But none of this that Mance now saw with his eyes would have been possible without a joint effort of the dragons' bonded to the Silver Prince and the Dragon King, and beasts bonded to skin- changers, mammoths and the giants. And above all of them, thanks to the knowledge from Brandon Stark.

The boy along with Maester Aemon, and curiously, the Dragon King himself, turned out to be great connoisseurs of construction techniques. In the first two it could even be understandable.

The eerie child claimed to have built the Wall, Winterfell, Storm's End and the Citadel of Oldtown. That, and the fact that in the Stark prince's first life he was known as the Builder, was more than enough guarantee about his ideas and their possible realization. The maester, due to his studies, was presupposed certain architectural knowledge. But that the reincarnation of the Dragon had great interest in the matter was at least curious.

'Dragons will not plant trees, but by all the Gods they do have good ideas for building towers.' Mance thought with a certain glee every time he looked towards the top of the Wall, where

enormous wooden slats rested extending south of it.

The use of the Wall as massive rail, allowed to place massive cranes that were maneuvered from the top. These thanks to the system of advanced pulleys that rested on the north side and that the Dragon had designed to look like something out of Valyria itself, facilitated the lifting and transport of great weights along the wall.

Despite the nomadic life of the Free Folk, the looming threat of a second long night was producing a readjustment in their mentalities and ways of life, making the idea of a stable settlement not look so bad.

And that stable settlement was the citadel that was being erected and Mance's seat of power. It was not a flashy construction, nor did it have anything impractical. But it was beginning to be imposing, especially with the tower that towered over it. This had been excavated both vertically in the earth, and horizontally in the ice of the wall, making a link between the wall and the citadel.

At the foot of the tower, sheltered to the south by the double curtain wall that had the shape of a semicircle open to the east, the future port, was now on the other side of a huge embankment of earth, snow, ice and wood that prevented the seawater from penetrating the land inside.

On the dry side of the embankment, the frantic construction of ten dry docks, a military arsenal, and a naval shipyard was taking place. All this occupied a strip of five kilometers of land, which when the embankment was demolished, would become part of the artificial gulf that had been created and that was more than fifteen kilometers in diameter.

The citadel itself stretched almost seven kilometers along the wall and about ten from it, penetrating Brandon's Gift. Practically the whole of the future city was five or ten meters below sea level. That is why the most advanced works were found in the huge shipyard and arsenal.

This work was being carried out with the help of the Umbers, the first freed slaves from Essos who were citizens of the Freehold and a large number of stonemasons, carpenters and specialists in ports from Braavos and Pentos, all of them dependent on the civil administration of the Freehold.

Really Mance in the constructions hardly contributed anything, except for directing idle labor towards them. Considered a matter within the sphere of the Freehold administration, all planning, execution, and implementation rested with Prince Aemon, his seneschal the boy Tarly and the regiment of bureaucrats from Braavos and Qohor.

Although most of the constructive devices introduced by Brandon Stark, once put into operation seemed the most obvious thing in history, it was incredible but true that they had been lost in time. A large tree, uprooted and cut in the middle, created two gigantic shovels that, thanks to the dragging of a couple of mammoths by shovel, could drag and move tons of earth. Earth had previously been cleared of all vegetation and subjected to the incredible fires of the dragons.

The operation was repeated countless times and each time Mance saw it, he was grateful that the dragons were on his side; First, the Giants cut down the useful wood of the area, helped by their woolly animals and some skin changers, which, thanks to sleds pulled by the animals they controlled, or with those directly dragging trees, removed all usable wood for construction or for forges and fires.

After that, all kind life was evacuated from the area that had been deforested and cleared, leaving the gigantic black dragon of the Dragon to launch its dark fire on the area. It was so hot and powerful that it lifted the earth, reducing everything in its path to ash.

When the whole area had first been pulverized by the giants, mammoths and the King's dragon, the orange Prince's dragon arrived, with its yellowish flame overheating the bed of ground that has just been raised.

In the moment the flames drowned, mammoth pairs scoured the surface dragging the half-tree trunk, and with it, tons of dirt. In less than two weeks, the four main foundations were built, on which the fundamental and landmark constructions of his political domain would be built. The Citadel, the Tower attached to the wall, the port and the wall of Aegon.

The latter was originally nothing more than a ditch ten meters wide by five meters deep. After that, the mammoths were used to build embankments on both sides of the trench, with the earth that had been removed.

By the time the Dragon King and his family departed for Essos, around the Forlond site, the part of the double-curtain wall was beginning to be erected, which would be made of stone and that hugged the citadel, tower, port and shipyards in a semi-circular way. In the division between the New Gift and the province of Tar-nu Fuin, a wall extended west untilOakenshield along almost one hundred and eighty kilometers. Built mostly of wood and earth, but in some specific positions, it had been reinforced with stone from abandoned castles in its part of the wall.

With the exception of Oakenshield, all the other castles, including the old Eastwacht by the Sea, had been dismantled to the ground, using whatever material they could offer. After a slow start, especially due to the absence of internal communication lines in Brandon's Gift, the stones and rocks from the demolished castles made their way to Forlond at a good pace.

Mance was now lord, if he could be called as one, of a population of very different origins and a complicated past. His citizenship was now made up of millennial enemies such as the Free Folk, old crows and Northerners. Even there were citizens from the essosi provinces of the Freehold, coming from Se Ojūdan tala [1], Se Korzion tala[2] and Valyria Toliot Rhoyne [3].

Many of these citizens had preferred not to enlist in the Army, but in turn chose their lots of land in Westeros, to start a new life on this continent. Not everyone wanted to bind themselves to the Black Army for fifteen years, even though six gold dragons a year for a mere soldier were tempting.

In the same way, not all citizens had a clear labor. These citizens were the vast majority of the population in the provinces, from what Mance had learned from a scroll from the Silver Prince. It was a population that had land, but no economic capacity to develop it, needing the help of the Freehold to survive.

And this was Mance's greatest function and his role in the province. Mance was in charge of assigning jobs and tasks to those citizens in age to perform them, in exchange for food, salary or even help for the development of their lands, where in the long run they would have a source of their own exploitation.

He had to assign thousands of people weekly to tasks such as felling trees, preparing land for cultivation, labor in construction projects or being part of the citizen watch in charge of minor crimes, generally made up from members with moral weight over the other citizens.

Mance was in charge of knowing what was happening among his citizens thanks to the political body of the province. These were all the choosen representatives of a clan or tribe and they had audiences with him every day. In addition, any citizen of the Freehold who was in Mance's province had the right to request a public hearing with him. To which Mance had the obligation to go.

When the laws from the Freehold were broken, Mance had to arrest the criminal with members of their civic watch for then to exercise judgment between Rykker, the elderly Prince and him.

Rykker was in charge of everything military and to judge any breach of laws against the Freehold or house Targaryen. Mance had to judge all crimes between citizens and the breaks in the citizenship laws of theFreehold. For his part, Aemon Targaryen judged all administrative activity.Which was all that didn't concern his or Rykker's roles. From the collection of taxes, to the allocation of lots of land, through border disputes between the different lots, to monitoring the price of food and crafts, the census or the marriages and assets of the households from the citizenship. Defering the execution of the sentences to Rykker in that case. Oddly enough, the old maester had handed down more death sentences than he and Rykker combined.

The administrative laws were a sacred thing to the Freehold of Valyria and anyone who did not comply or lied to the representatives of the Free Bank of Valyria would carry serious penalties. If the citizen repeated his conduct, all his assets would be seized, his lands and citizenship would be dispossessed, to be exiled. If he reappeared in the Freehold territory, he would be executed.

Although it hurt Mance, a good number of members of the Free Folk found that the contract they had signed and the double oath they had taken was not to be despised.

Because the Free Folk were somehow on trial, the citizens of Tar-nu Fuin had a heavy tax burden based on reparation payments for past crimes. In fact, part of these taxes never left the North, going directly to the coffers of Winterfell and Last Hearth.

In the future, the tax burden would decrease, but it would be distributed entirely among the

remaining northern houses. But for that it was still necessary for Mance's equivalent from the south, the uncle of the Dragon King who made this one pass as a bastard, make public the presence of a province of the Freehold of Valyria at the Wall and that Lord Stark himself had bended the knee to his nephew, declaring his kingdom federated to the Freehold.

'If Great Jon's reaction when Lyanna and the Dragon explained it to him is any indicator, I would pay to be present at the upcoming Northern Harvest Festival. If I weren't a lord, I could sneak in as a bard ... but now I have obligations.' Mance lamented, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

Apart from all his political work, Mance had his military work, being in command of a group of almost five thousand volunteers who were directly under his command. These were in charge of the protection of the roads, communication roads and trails on both sides of the Wall and the security of their half of the Wall and the Wall of Aegon. Among these were even members of the Free Folk who remained beyond of the Wall but engaged in the fight against the Others. There was also a small contingent of Umber men with Small Jon at their command, who had hit it off with Sigorn. So they were the informal links between the two military chains of command.

In an emergency, Small Jon contingent would come under Mance's command as an auxiliary infantry under Rykker's Army. The latter already had almost 7,000 enlisted soldiers, according to Ser Jaremy almost an entire army.

Although to the regret of the King's guard, his army was almost completely infantry, being in absolutely need of cavalry. There were barely ten thousand horses, and except for the horses coming from Essos which were having a hard time adapting to the conditions of the North, most of the equine that were there, were of the northern type. More designed for hauling, than for battle.

Not to mention that with the exception of a few volunteers from Umber lands and some dothrakis from Essos, there was hardly any tradition in the use of horses. It is true that four giants, including Wun-Wun, had enlisted the Black Army. But the Giant and two of his companions, along with their mammoths and five hundred men led by Val and Jarl, were leaving volunteer to reinforce the bulk of the Targaryen army in Essos.

Apparently after the Gathering of Qohor as it was being called in Essos, the Dragon King had managed to enlist almost ten thousand soldiers at once to the incipient Black Army of the Freehold of Valyria. It was beginning to be called the black army because of the color of its armor, all of them made of dark Qohori steel, with the sigil of the Freehold of Valyria engraved on the chest. It was armor in imitation of that of the Dragon, but in black forged steel. Even he had and wore one of them now.

The obligatory armor of the soldiers in service of the Army of the Freehold of Valyria which gave the name to the army, consisted of black leather riding boots, embossed leather breeches over which they wore greaves and knee pads. A plain weave black wool shirt under a surcoat that fell below the waist. On this was a chainmail, on top of which was placed a breastplate and back connected by black leather straps on the shoulders, below where the shoulder pads were placed. The vambraces featured the rampant dragon of House Targaryen in red on the outer side, and the black gorget was specifically designed to fit between the chainmail and breastplate. The helmets were visorless and carved in T-shaped with openings for the eyes, topped by the rampant dragon of House Targaryen in emulation of the closed helmet of the Silver Prince.

That noon Mance was going to Prince Aemon's stances like every evening before nightfall to discuss the state of the province. The day's meeting surely would discuss the discovery of veins of iron, bronze and mercury in some hills near Hardhomme. This was the only settlement worthy of the name beyond the Wall, where there was still population except for the hut of the seven-time-

cursed Craster. Between the first settlement and Forlond there were daily ferries by the three commercial vessels that had been towed across the Narrow Sea and the Shivering Sea by the great ships of the Braavosis, with that function in mind. In this way it allowed the continuous exchange of people, news and materials between the two great cores of the Free Folk.

Along with the discovery in the vicinity of Hardhomme, the meeting would talk as every afternoon, on contingency plans against the threat from the North. First the report of the scouts and the skin-changers would be exposed, reporting on the presence or absence of the enemy. When there was a sighting, it was marked on a gigantic map of the known northern lands that hung over one of the walls of the Prince's solar. Depending on the reconnaissance, the layout of the lines of palisades, ditches and trenches built deep into the strip that had been created for this purpose beyond the Wall would be discussed.

That strip parallel to the Wall of fifteen kilometers wide, it had been deforested for over more than three hundred fifty kilometers. And now patrolled and maintained by the Night's Watch, the Army of the Freehold and the contingent contributed by volunteers from Mance's province.

Despite all of that, the star issue to be discussed in the meeting called for that afternoon between the political leaders of the Free Folk, the liaison of the Night's Watch, the leaders of the administration of the province of Tar-nu Fuin and the special representative of the Free Bank of Valyria, was a sensitive subject and one that had been delayed for too long; That of the hostages or squires. The term to be used varied according to the side of the Wall from which the different leaders present at the meeting originated.

And as Mance entered the prince's rooms, he found that the typically quiet meeting oriented towards the development and construction of Forlond was rising in tension and in the tones employed.

"For the umpteenth time, they are squires and pages! Sigorn has been with me for four moons now and has received no different treatment than any squire south of the Wall would receive. He is being instructed in the values of Westerosi chivalry, maintaining his belief in the Old Gods. I don't see a problem with three hundred boys splitting up between Castle Black, Winterfell, and Last Hearth. In the future, they will be the backbone of our armies." Rykker roared defensively from his spot at Prince Aemon's right. Left of the prince, Great Jon Umber, Admiral Pyke, Master smith Noye and the Watch's liaison Benjen Stark nodded.

In front of them stood the political representatives of his political domains; Tormund, Dalla, Styr Thenn, Varamyr and Harma. Mother mole was still in Hardhome.

Ser Jaremy, the former black-brother, had taken his duty as Kings guard seriously, and when Mance saw him again after years, he seemed a new man.

As in Mance's case, in Rykker it seemed that the color in a cloak could entirely change a person. While in Mance case it was Dalla's multi-colored patched cloak that opened his eyes to the true conflict between life and death, in Ser Jaremy's case it was the snowy cloak of the King's Guard that made him a better man. Where before there was a hopeless exilied, now stood a tough and shrewd military commander, responsible for the first line of defense in humanity against an enemy from the legends and defending the carriers from the blood of the Dragon.

'Although the latter in Forlond is practically unnecessary. The Free Folk worship the Targaryen. Aegon is revered as if he were one of the Old Gods.'

Mance thought to himself every time he looked at Rykker too jealous for the safety of the former maester, prince again.

All of this was happening due to the events of a night almost eight moons ago, which Mance could still remember as if he were reliving it today.

That strange night, northwest of the Fist of the First Men, near the source of the Antler.

[1] The Lost Daughter

[2] The Daughter of Steel [3] Valyria On the Rhoyne

Twenty eighth of the Fifth moon of 297 AC. Near the source of the Antler river, Beyond the Wall, North of Westeros.

It was well past the hour of the wolf and in the far north of the camp there seemed to be a huge snowstorm. Although beyond the Wall and with the Others back, it was difficult to tell if what was seen in the distance was a natural phenomenon or a product of Magic.

Mance was resting in his tent next to Dalla, when suddenly the silence of the night was broken by the thump of something that seemed to have fallen from the sky, producing a great impact against the ground upon landing.

Without much thought, Mance jumped out of his sleeping furs and left his tent, heading towards the large white fur pavilion where some of his trusted men were still drinking around a campfire. These trusted men seemed totally oblivious to the noise or the impact he had felt, so they looked at him in surprise when Mance appeared between the skins that served as the entrance.

"Tormund, Jarl, Rattleshirt. Gather twenty men each and divide into three search parties. Something has happened at the edge of the forest and your fermented goat's milk has made you ignore it." he said dryly to his men, for then went to the edge of the camp closest to where Mance thought he had heard the impact and the noise.

When the men marched to investigate, from the point closest to the forest at the edge of the camp, the line of trees could barely be discerned. So Mance could only wait to see what news the scouts would bring, while he listened attentively to any sounds coming from the direction in which they had marched.

After a few minutes in which the sound of silence was only interrupted by animals and nocturnal birds prowling in the vicinity of the camp, a roar like the one Mance had never heard in his life, ran through the cold night. A roar that shook him and left him frozen in place, feeling how cold sweat began to run down the back of his neck.

'By the old Gods. What hideous creature produces such a sound!? That is not the noise of the Others, nor of a mammoth, much less a ranger horn.'

Mance tried to rationalize, but his chain of thoughts was interrupted when the darkness of the night was broken by the ghostly glow of a gigantic, dark column that seemed to be composed of flames, rising to the sky for a few seconds, then disappearing just as suddenly as it appeared.

Although brief, it had been enough to attract the eyes of all the occupants of the camp, who after the roar had awakened and were beginning to take positions in case of being attacked.

The silence that followed after the screams of horror, fright and curses coming from the forest, caused the prevailing tension to become practically unbearable. No one knew what was going to appear from the forest. And from what little they could guess, it didn't seem like it was a good thing for them.

Mance did not like at all the situation in which he suddenly found himself involved.

'I can fight the Night's Watch and to some extent, I can run from the Others. But whatever is in that forest, it seems to me that could eradicate without much trouble the seventy thousand souls that were placed under my responsibility.'

Mance refelcted, trying to form a quick escape plan. But no matter what he thought, any flight would inevitably result in the death of a large part of the children and the elderly, who could never keep up with the warriors.

Resolving himself to stay on the ground, as he prayed to the old gods that most of the Free Folk would see a new dawn, Mance steadied his posture with all the confidence he was able to muster. Letting the crescent number of people and even giants that gathered around him in search of answers and leadership, knew of his decision.

"Whatever creature that roar is coming from, know that it cannot be worse than the enemy we are fleeing from. Because at least if this new enemy defeats us in battle, we will not end up being part of their ranks."

Mance said in the strongest voice he was capable of, although he trembled a little when he spoke. He drew his sword and knife, a gesture that was imitated by all those who were around him and they headed in the direction of the forest.

However before they were within ten meters of the tree line, the Great Talker's voice began to be

heard as approached in the direction of the camp. "Listen Dragon King, even if you are prettier than my little daughter Munda, when the Free Folk know what you have done with Rattleshirt, even those of his own clan will respect you JAR! JAR!" the unmistakable voice of the Husband of the She-Bears showed none of the tension or fear that Mance and the group gathered around him had.

'No. There is no fear in Tormund's voice. There is reverence and awe. What the hells is going on? And who the hells is the Dragon King? Dragons have been dead for over fifteen years. The King is a Stag.' thought Mance, as he relaxed his posture a little. If Tormund come freely talking to someone, there is certainly no immediate threat.

Although the mention of the Dragon King had made him more uneasy than Mance would have liked to admit.

'I will be the King-from-Beyond-the-Wall, but that does not mean that I am not the bastard of a crow and a wildling...'

Any thought was interrupted, when to his surprise and that of all those present, Tormund and a redhead girl from his clan, appeared before them unarmed and escorted at sword point by a boy of about five and ten days of the name, more than meter eighty tall and incipient silver hair. With a slender and graceful bearing, his facial features could only be described as ethereal, possessing a certain elongation that made a sharp and hard face within his beauty. It was a face that was familiar to Mance, but he couldn't pinpoint from where.

The lad's eyes were two sparks that glowed in the night, oscillating between deep black and silver like that of the armor he wore, emitting purple flashes around the iris. He wore a black surcoat with flashes of red at the neck and breeches of embossed leather dyed black, imitating the scales of a reptile. Above it he was clad in chainmail and breastplate topped by a rampant three-headed dragon and precious stones, which was nothing like anything Mance's eyes had seen and did not seem to belong to this world.

In the right hand of the unknown lad, directed at Tormund's back and that of the red-haired girl who accompanied him, a bastard sword of the same material as the armor. Which, like this, oscillated in color according to the incidence of light. On the lad's forehead rested a band of the same steel as that of the sword, with blood-red square stones that glittered with the brilliance of the torches and campfires. On his back a black silk cloak fluttered in the wind, with a huge scarlet sigil of a rampant three-headed dragon woven onto it.

The prevailing cold seemed to have no effect on him. As if the boy did not need furs to maintain body heat. Despite his humble origins, even Mance knew what was in front of him.

'A lord of Old Valyria. A Targaryen. And of course this is not Maester Aemon.'

Said thought was reaffirmed when, above the trees, a huge head emerged, accompanied by a long

and serpentine neck that preceded the massive body of a humongous dragon.

It advanced clumsily supported on the claws of its infinite wings and making small leaps with its enormous hindquarters, uprooting and overturning tall trees as if they were little branches. Black as a moonless night, but with eyes like the fires of the very seven hells and a double blood-red spinal crest. The presence of the dragon caused some of those present to run out terrified, while the majority showed signs of shock and panic.

Something that even the mammoths of the settlement shared when they felt the presence of the mythological creature.

'Without a doubt, if the dragon wanted to, it could eat two of them in one bite.' Mance shuddered internally.

The impression caused by the child with the sword and the dragon on his back, made Mance's and practically everyone ignore the presence of a boy of around five feet, with long light brown hair, almost copper, that covered the left part of his face. The visible eye was a deep turquoise blue, but at times it seemed to be dyed red, white and gray, only to turn turquoise blue in the blink of an eye.

The child wore a simple armor of embossed leather, over a pale blue surcoat from which hung a long black cloak that hugged him. In the center of the cloak, a rampant dragon in silver thread expelling a crimson red flame to the right.

Said child possessed an aura that made Mance uneasy, instilling in him almost more fear than the dragon even though Mance was unable to say why. The mysterious child seemed to be in a world apart from the one around him, but upon receiving a tap on his shoulder from the presumably Targaryen, the child came to himself.

As the child contemplated the scene before them, glanced at everything around him, looked at the silver-haired boy, and nodded to a question never asked. The Targaryen sheathed his wonderful sword in the scabbard that hung from his back, took three steps in their direction, straightened his posture even more if he could and with a glance he surveyed the surroundings.

After clearing his voice, in a cold and hard tone, inappropriate for a lad of ten and five days of the name, which is what that boy would have, he said

"People from Beyond the Wall, my name is Aegon Targaryen, The Dragon Reborn. Lord of of Valyria and King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Who accompanies me is my brother and squire, Prince Brandon Stark, son of Eddard Stark, Warden of the North. We come in peace, because both you and us have the same enemy. And both are on the same side. The one of the living."

Silence fell as everyone watched in disbelief and tried to process what they had just heard.

Looking at the picture before Mance and knowing the responsibility that he carried on his shoulders, Mance asked suddenly and almost without realizing it, in a tone that came out more surly and harsh than he intended at first, but that was possibly from feeling defensive.

"Aren't you The Bastard of Winterfell?"

Seeing the family relationship between the Targaryen and the boy who was a Stark, Mance recalled his visit years ago to Winterfell and the vision of a sulking boy hiding in the shadows of the ancient castle during Mance's visit to it with Lord Commander Qorgyle.

Those eyes were unforgettable, although if it really was the boy he saw years ago, 'what had happened to his hair?' The bastard of Eddard Stark had jet dark hair. 'And much less am I able to understand how he claims to be the Dragon himself reborn.'

However the look full of contempt and rage barely contained when the lad fixed his eyes on Mance, made him understand that Mance had been correct in his assumption about who the mysterious Targaryen in front of him was.

And this one, no doubt, did not find it pleasant to be referred to by the name that had made him famous in Westeros.

"In another life and because of the lie created by my uncle Lord Eddard Stark to protect me, I was

forced to live under that identity, unaware of who I really was." growled practically every one of the words, releasing acid in each one of them.

'Without a doubt, what I have in front of me is a Dragon and not the Bastard of Winterfell.'

Mance thought with some amazement and apprehension at the clearly threatening reaction of the Targaryen. This one took a couple of steps in Mance's direction, ignoring the couple of prisoners with what he came, to focus entirely on him.

The jaw was set, body straight and firm. The face seemed to be carved out of white marble, showing no sign of what was going through the Targaryen's mind. But the lad's eyes...his eyes seemed to pierce Mance to penetrate in his soul. They were wise and ancient eyes. Eyes that seemed had faced the worst of nightmares imaginable and were still open. Eyes that seemed to have their own light and that imposed almost as much as those of the dragon behind him.

"I was never a Bastard, not even a Stark really ..." he said, clicking the tongue at the end of the sentence, in a kind of bitter laugh, but that for Mance's taste seemed to contain a fury that poor man who was on the other side of it. "My father is Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and my mother, Princess Lyanna Targaryen-Stark..." the Targaryen pronounced this time with a tone that had certain warmth, within the seriousness and harshness with which he was saying it.

"Although I did not expect the circumstances of my birth to be a nuisance or cause for discussion beyond the Wall...I thought that in these lands a man is what he is by his actions and not by his birth. Who are you that you think you know me? " asked to Mance unequivocally, in a low, cold, threatening tone that did not admit any interpellation from anyone except Mance himself.

It was a tone that forced Mance to reply. Of course, both the Dragonlord and the Dragon of flesh and fire formed a tandem capable of impressing the bravest, and Mance was no exception. When the dragon rested its eyes on him in the same way as his master, a tremor began to run through his entire body.

After a couple of attempts to articulate a word, in which surely from the outside Mance looked ridiculous as he opened and closed his mouth as a fish out of water, was able to say what was crowding his head, but was unable to articulate.

"My name is Mance Rayder and I was once a brother to the Night's Watch like two of your uncles. You may not remember it, but you and I met seven or eight years ago in Winterfell..." Before ending the story, the Targaryen's eyes seemed to shine with understanding and his gaze stopped being so threatening, to give way to one of contemplation.

"The black brother who liked to sing The Dornishman Wife and came with Lord Commander Qorgyle...Far away from your post on the Wall are you, Mance."

Aegon Targaryen said in a tone of recognition and some reproach, which caused Mance's to immediately put on the defensive.

"Because as did I tell you, my watch has ended. Now they call meMance Rayder, King-from- Beyond-The-Wall. So, from King to King, tell me what are you coming to do in my camp ? What brings a Targaryen and a Stark to the Free Folk's camp? What is your excuse so that we don't kill you right now? Your two families have been in charge of exterminating us like insects for generations, denying a dignified life to the peoples beyond the wall."

The boy could be a Targaryen or one of the old gods, but he had his pride. Although this could cost Mance ending being the gigantic dragon's breakfast, he decided to be defiant.

"I have come from seeing and confronting the Army of Death. Although sadly, I have been unable to make more than a small dent in the mass of malevolent puppets revived by the magic of the Ice Demons..." the lad stopped, as if he didn't understand why he had not been able to defeat the Others alone by himself.

'Only with that attitude he must have already won a large part of the crowd. Only a madman or someone very sure of himself can feel confused by being unable to defeat the Army of Death alone and without help.'

The Dragon restored his inscrutable countenance and continued his speech. "But believe me when I tell you that if something happened to me or my brother, my dragon would have no difficulty in exterminating you all."

Said with all the naturalness in the world The Dragon King, who was now speaking for all the gathered people and giants to hear. The high tone was not threatening, but was dry and firm. This Aegon Targaryen intoned with the same iron cadence with which he had spoken up to now and which conveyed sincerity. Both in what he told, as in the little veiled threats he made.

It was disturbing that the lad could be so calm in the face of the possible threat of his entire camp charging against him, and that the side that felt most threatened at that moment was Mance and the Free Folk.

Before anyone could refute him, either out of disbelief at what he had just said. Or out of terror at what the gigantic dragon could do if its master was disturbed, this one raised his right arm to silence any possible voice and continued his story.

"I am here, because although it is incomprehensible to you" the Targaryen paused, and then spoke more to himself than to the audience, in something that Mance understood as "Hells sometimes I can't understand it either."

After that the Dragon King took a deep breath and continued speaking in a tone less harsh but more melancholic and metallic than before, not without firmness.

"Three hundred years ago, my sister Rhaenys Targaryen had a dream about the events that I have lived through tonight and for that reason we conquered Westeros...To unify it in the fight against the first and last enemy of humanity, Death. But that is an enemy that all of you already know better than I do. For something you have now proclaimed a King-Beyond-The-Wall."

The Targaryen had proven quick-thinking and knew how to read perfectly that his appointment as King must be related to the threat of the Ice Demons. And despite the incredible story he was telling, in a way was appealing for the Free Folk to understand his position and his goal

' To be the Last Hero of Legends. Although I hope at some point to know how it is that it was alive three hundred years ago and now it is present here.'

"Unfortunately, in these three hundred years, the original sense of why House Targaryen controlled Westeros has been lost. As my house lost its power, the Seven Kingdoms are not in a position to face the threat until I return to my seat. And although it hurts to accept it, you will not be able to face this threat either. To be realistic, you don't even could to successfully confront an organized army from south of the Wall."

The blow of reality that the Dragon King threw in the form of words on the Free Folk It caused some discordant murmurs to be heard and even the guttural growl of some giant. An earth-shaking roar from the dragon, quickly silenced the audience.

Deep down, Mance knew that everything the Dragon King had said about his options against the Others and against any Lord Protector from south the Wall were entirely true. So Mance continued listening to the Dragon Reborn, as he claimed to be.

"What is the point of fleeing from an enemy of legends, for in the moment when you cross the Wall nobody believes you about the true threat and they exterminate you?" Aegon Targaryen asked coldly looking into the eyes of all those who had the courage to meet his gaze.

"I have the full support from the North and the Night Watch. That is why I am here tonight today. Because just like you, I understood and understand, that both then and now, only by uniting all the men and women, will it be possible to prevent the return of the Long Night and the triumph of The Others and Death." The formerly known as Bastard of Winterfell concluded ominously, with a voice that left no doubt that he seriously believed what said.

Everyone seemed to hold theirs breaths at that moment. Speaking those words aloud Beyond the Wall ran the risk of invoking the very danger that was being mentioned. When it seemed that everyone, Free Folk as well as the Targaryen and the Stark, ascertained that no member of the Army of Death had appeared in the vicinity, a general sigh of relief was released.

"I do not ask you to be my allies in the struggles south of the Wall for the Iron Throne. I am not asking you to fight for me in Essos by bringing the Freehold of Valyria back to life. I only ask from you is to accept lands south of the wall, where you could dwell away from our enemy. I offer you freedom and security in exchange for accepting citizenship of the Freehold of Valyria. I assure your protection with my dragons and with the might of my two families. I promise you that you will never lack food or reward if you decide to be by my side."

The Dragon King said, with warmer voice than before without any fold in it. His gaze was now sweeter and less threatening, to be comforting and confident. The Dragon King's gesture was totally sincere, open and less threatening than before.

"And when I say protection and defense, I do not mean only military power. I mean food every day in your bowls. When I speak of defending my people, I mean that every citizen will have a roof over his head. And anyone can earn a living with what they know how to do or what they have the ability to do and will be rewarded based on their talent and achievements."

The words were said with a firmness that sounded like an oath and a duty from the Dragon King to fulfill what was saying.

'The boy is literally offering the same thing that I was offering, without the need for war, reaching the point of giving them land and rewards in exchange for joining him. I have little time left as a King.'

Mance thought with certain humor. Although if he had learned something in this exchange with the Dragon King, it was that every carrot would be accompanied by a stick in case you went out of the agreement.

'And I don't think this boy is very forgiving or very given to giving second chances to those who fail him. It remains to be seen what he wanted from the Free Folk to give in exchange for accepting such a proposal'

"Anyone who wants to join the Freehold needs to access citizenship, for which they must swear an oath of eternal allegiance both to house Targaryen and the Freehold of Valyria. This includes complying with and accepting the laws and hierarchy of the Freehold that will be equal, known and elected by and for all citizens. I don't need anyone bending their knees, I need loyalty and the

signing of a contract between the citizen, the Freehold of Valyria and house Targaryen."

And so, the Dragon Reborn just had gave them his terms.

'Here was the hidden stick. He basically ties people to his House and not just only to his figure. In addition, as he tie them to the new Freehold of Valyria which he's apparently rebuilding as well as preparing to fight the Others and reclaiming the Iron Throne. He is not lacking in ambition.'

Thought Mance to himself, while reflecting at the words said by Aegon Targaryen. The Dragon King was sincerely convincing some of the audience, especially the young folk were looking at the Dragon King as the true answer to all their problems. Or the option to dead on a landscape that was not always snowy and frozen.

Yet Mance understood the Dragon King's words for what they were. There was all the freedom you wanted, but there was an obligation. The obligation to take a double oath of fidelity and submit one and their descendants for the rest of their lives to this double oath.

'T he same conclusion that many elders and clan leaders have come to, judging by the reaction frowning at the young Targaryen's words'.

"That goes for everyone. Regardless of your origin, gender, religious beliefs or wealth, in the Freehold we are all the same. From the last to the first citizen, who would be House Targaryen, we have a duty to one another and for each other. The house Targaryen will always defend the freedom of all those who have sworn to it and want to be part of its domains." Concluded the Dragon Reborn with a half smile that conveyed certain warmth and reaffirmed the security of his words.

After that, the lad that seemed to be from the songs and legends turned on himself with his back to them and marched with his proclaimed brother to the edge of the forest where the dragon was. The Stark and the Targaryen reached it, the Dragon King stood on tiptoe and rested his arms on the huge muzzle of the gigantic beast as if he were hugging a familiar.

When turning around again, everyone was expectant after seeing such an interaction. Next, the Stark child gave the Dragon King a tug on the left arm and seemed to say something with his eyes to the silver-haired boy, who once again hardened his posture, his gaze darkened and flashed again as when Mance himself had identified him as the Bastard of Winterfell.

The black dragon coiled around itself, folding its massive wing in a sort of embrace over the Targaryen and Stark. Covering more than half the lad's body, but leaving his face for the whole world to observe when he pronounced his next words that left everyone present frozen.

"But I swear to the old and new Gods and I swear by the Fourteen Flames, that if you do not accept my offer, I will reduce this entire settlement to ashes. I'd rather end all of you now, than when you've fallen into the power of the Others. Now decide what your fate is, you have until tomorrow noon."

Then the Dragon King layed on the ground, the back on the side of the dragon, while the Stark brother lay on his lap and the dragon's wing covered them both as if it were a membranous tent.

Shortly after the Targaryen finished speaking and lay to rest under the protection of his dragon, a muffled murmur began to be heard among all the people who had gathered to watch unfold the scene. Murmur which quickly led to hundreds and thousands of conversations taking place simultaneously.

It seemed that no one in the camp had been left unmoved by what the Dragon King had said. One could hear how people translated what the Dragon King had said as best they could into the Old Tongue. Discordant and threatening voices could be heard against the Targaryen and the Stark. And even there were those who could be heard that had already decided to accept the offer regardless of what their families or clans did.

Mance knew that at a time like this, he must rise as the voice of the Free Folk.

With the dawn and the atmosphere calmer, he would call a meeting of tribal and clan chiefs,

making them see his opinion. It was an offer that really wasn't.

'What it is, is an ultimatum.'

The Dragon King did not ask to fight for him or did not ask to fight south of the Wall. Not even asked for help to fight the Others. He only asked to accept his dominion in exchange for everything that he and his house could offer them. Otherwise they would perish. However, he was convinced that the best option for his people to not perish, was to join this boy who came out of legends and myths.

'I believe in his words and in his threats. Which makes me believe that he is the only person with true power in this world with the sight set on the true threat.'