Dragon Hidden in the Wolf's Shadow - Chapter - 39 (Patreon)

The biting chill of the early winter morning stung Jon’s face as he stood atop the newly fortified walls of Cold Frontier, surveying the horizon. The faint sound of distant drums echoed across the frozen wilderness, signaling the approach of the Great Wildling Army. Lord of Bones had rallied the scattered tribes, uniting them into one powerful force. His reputation as a brutal, cunning leader was well-known, but Jon found himself strangely calm.

He wasn’t worried about the lives of the women, children, and the elderly. They had been safely escorted to Moat Cailin, where the wildlings had set up a hidden settlement. Moat Cailin, located on a desolate stretch of land that few southerners ever ventured to, was the perfect hiding place. The treacherous marshlands and crumbling, ancient ruins made it an unlikely destination for any lord or traveler. No one in the North would ever think to look for them there, and the wildlings had already made it their own, creating a thriving settlement far from the prying eyes of the realm.

Jon trusted the location's remoteness and the loyalty of the people he had entrusted to guard it. His only focus now was on the battle ahead.

"Everything's in place, Jon," Eira said as she approached him, her voice steady but laced with tension. "Scouts report that Lord of Bones' army will be within striking distance by nightfall."

Jon nodded, his mind turning to strategy. “Good. We’ll face them on our terms. The walls of Cold Frontier will give us an advantage, but we can’t rely on them alone. Once the battle starts, we’ll need to hit them fast and hard.”

Eira’s gaze flickered toward the wilderness. “They outnumber us, but they’re undisciplined. Lord of Bones may have united them, but that doesn’t make them an army. If we break their will, the rest will scatter.”

Jon agreed. The wildlings were fierce fighters, but they were not soldiers. Discipline and coordination would give his forces an edge. They had been preparing for this moment, training relentlessly, and Jon had made sure that every warrior—wildling or otherwise—understood the importance of fighting as a unit.

“Have Voran and the others move into position,” Jon ordered. “I want archers on the walls, and we’ll have our best fighters ready to hit their flanks once they breach the outer defenses.”

Eira nodded, her eyes gleaming with resolve. “I’ll see to it.”

As she turned to leave, Jon’s thoughts drifted back to Moat Cailin. The wildling settlement there had been growing steadily since they had begun moving people south. Tucked away in the shadow of the crumbling fortress, the settlement was well hidden and self-sufficient. They had enough supplies to last through the winter, and more importantly, the people there felt safe.

Jon had no doubt that Ryder Fort would remain undiscovered. The marshlands surrounding the area were treacherous, and no one ventured into that desolate stretch of the Neck without a good reason. In all likelihood, no lord in the North even knew that there were wildlings hidden below the Wall, and Jon intended to keep it that way.

His thoughts were interrupted by Torwald, who approached with an air of quiet confidence. “The fighters are ready, Jon. We’ve set up traps in the surrounding forest, and our scouts will give us a signal when Lord of Bones’ army is close enough.”

Jon nodded. “Good work. Make sure the men know what’s at stake. We need to hold them off long enough to break their lines. Once that happens, they’ll fall apart.”

Torwald grinned, his eyes flashing with the thrill of impending battle. “They’ll never know what hit them.”

Jon felt a sense of pride swell within him. His people were ready. The warriors at Cold Frontier were battle-hardened and prepared to defend their home. Though vastly outnumbered, Jon knew that their strategy and preparation gave them a fighting chance.

As night began to fall, Jon climbed the steps to the battlements, where his archers were already in position. The cold air bit at his skin, but he welcomed the sharpness of it. It was a reminder that winter was fast approaching—a time of hardship, but also a time when the North grew strong.

In the distance, the faint glow of torches began to appear on the horizon. The Great Wildling Army was nearing. Jon’s heart beat steadily in his chest. He had fought alongside wildlings before, and he knew their ferocity. But he also knew their weaknesses.

“They’ll make their first move soon,” Jon muttered to himself.

Eira joined him on the battlements, her face shadowed by the flickering torchlight. “Do you think they’ll try to storm the walls first?”

Jon shook his head. “No. Lord of Bones is too clever for that. He knows we’re fortified. He’ll try to draw us out, make us fight on uneven ground. But we’re not giving him that advantage.”

As if on cue, a series of guttural war cries echoed through the night, carried on the cold wind. The army had arrived. Jon squinted into the darkness, watching as the enemy forces began to emerge from the tree line. They moved in waves, carrying makeshift weapons—clubs, spears, axes. There were thousands of them, but Jon wasn’t intimidated. Numbers alone didn’t win battles.

Jon signaled to his archers, who drew their bows, arrows notched and ready. He waited for the right moment, his gaze fixed on the approaching mass of wildlings. Then, as the front lines came into range, he gave the command.

“Loose!”

A hail of arrows shot into the night, arcing through the sky before descending upon the advancing army. Cries of pain and confusion rang out as the wildlings stumbled, many falling beneath the deadly rain of projectiles.

“Keep firing!” Jon ordered, his voice firm but calm.

The archers obeyed, sending volley after volley into the enemy ranks. But even as the wildlings fell, more surged forward, driven by the brutal will of Lord of Bones.

“They’re coming in faster now,” Eira observed. “We won’t be able to hold them off with arrows alone.”

Jon knew she was right. “Ready the flanking units,” he said. “We’ll hit them from the sides once they get closer.”

The wildlings continued their advance, pushing closer to the walls of Cold Frontier. Jon watched as they neared the traps his men had set in the forest. Suddenly, a series of sharp cracks rang out as hidden snares and spikes were triggered, sending more wildlings to the ground in a flurry of chaos.

But still, they came.

Lord of Bones was relentless, driving his army forward with savage determination. Jon caught a glimpse of the man himself, standing tall at the rear of the horde, his bone armor glinting in the firelight. He was a fearsome figure, a leader who commanded respect through fear and brutality.

Jon’s jaw tightened. “It’s time.”

He signaled to the flanking units, who had been waiting in the cover of the forest. With a shout, they charged out from their hiding places, striking the wildlings from both sides. The sudden assault took the enemy by surprise, and the chaos that followed was exactly what Jon had hoped for.

The wildlings were uncoordinated, their lack of discipline evident as they struggled to respond to the flanking attack. Jon’s fighters, on the other hand, moved with precision, cutting through the enemy ranks with brutal efficiency.

The battle raged on for what felt like hours, the sounds of steel on steel, the cries of the wounded, and the roar of the warriors blending into a deafening cacophony. Jon fought alongside his men, his sword flashing in the firelight as he struck down one enemy after another.

Despite the chaos, Jon could feel the tide turning. The wildlings were beginning to falter, their lines breaking as they realized they were losing. Lord of Bones, however, remained a formidable presence at the rear of the army, rallying his forces with fierce determination.

Jon knew that to truly break the enemy’s will, he would need to confront the man himself.

With a determined breath, Jon pushed forward, cutting his way through the battlefield toward Lord of Bones. The wildlings in his path fell one by one, but Jon barely registered them, his focus locked on his target.

Finally, he stood face-to-face with Lord of Bones, the air around them thick with the tension of the moment. The wildling leader sneered, his bone armor rattling as he hefted his weapon.

“You think you can stop me, Frost?” Lord of Bones growled, his voice dripping with disdain. “I’ll tear down these walls and take what’s mine.”

Jon met his gaze, his expression unyielding. “You won’t.”

And with that, the two leaders clashed in a brutal, fierce duel that would determine the fate of the battle.

“Are you ready to dance?” Jon called out, his voice steady despite the chaos around them.

The Lord of Bones stared at him, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected challenge. It was a moment of hesitation, and Jon seized it, launching himself into the fray. With every movement, he displayed the speed and grace that came from years of training.

“Come on, then!” Jon taunted, dodging a wild swing from the Lord of Bones. The brute's attack was powerful but slow, allowing Jon to maneuver effortlessly. He spun, thrusting one sword forward, then the other, creating a whirlwind of steel.

The wildling army watched in awe as their leader struggled to keep up. Jon's training at Winterfell had prepared him for this moment, the lessons of swordsmanship and strategy coming together in a seamless display of skill.

With a final, decisive maneuver, Jon struck the Lord of Bones down. Silence fell over the battlefield as the wildling leader collapsed, his weapon clattering to the ground. In that instant, the morale of the wildlings shattered. Jon felt a mix of triumph and responsibility wash over him. He had won, but at what cost?

“Don’t let them escape!” Jon commanded, rallying his men. “Kill them all!”

The soldiers moved quickly, surrounding the fleeing wildlings. Many were unwilling to fight any longer without their leader, their spirit broken. Jon’s heart ached at the sight, but he knew this was necessary. He had to ensure that no one attack them again.

As the dust settled, Jon and his men marched toward the where rest of the Lord of the Bones clan are located,where the women, children, and elderly had been kept. The scene inside was overwhelming—a sea of frightened faces stared back at him. It was a stark contrast to the battle that had just taken place outside.

“Listen!” Jon raised his hands, his voice firm yet gentle. “You are safe now. We mean you no harm. I will not allow anyone to hurt you.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. A woman stepped forward, her eyes fierce. “You’ve defeated our leader. Why should we trust you?”

“Because I want to offer you a choice,” Jon replied, meeting her gaze. “You can stay here, in the land beyond the Wall, or you can come with me to Cold Frontier. There, you will find safety, food, and shelter. We can build a new life together.”

A murmur of disbelief swept through the crowd. Jon could see their apprehension, the remnants of their loyalty to the fallen leader weighing heavily on them. He stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“I know you have suffered. I know you have been taught that those south of the Wall are your enemies. But I believe we can change that. We are all human, and we share the same blood. Help me prove that we can coexist.”

One of the older women, her face lined with age and hardship, spoke up. “What will you do with us? Will you treat us like our enemies have?”

“I will treat you with respect,” Jon promised. “You have a place among us. We can learn from one another. Together, we can create a community that thrives.”

A man in the back shouted, “How do we know you won’t betray us?”

Jon raised his chin defiantly. “You have my word. I have brought many of my own people to this land. I will not put them at risk. We can protect each other.”

Slowly, the tension in the tent began to ease. Jon could see the flicker of hope in their eyes, but he knew it would take more than words to convince them. He turned to his men.

“Gather supplies and prepare to move. We leave for Cold Frontier at dawn.”

As his men began to organize the logistics of the move, Jon stayed behind, speaking to the wildling families, learning their names and stories. One girl, her hair wild and tangled, introduced herself as Ygritte. She had a fire in her spirit that Jon found captivating.

“I’ve heard stories of your kind, Jon Frost,” she said, her tone challenging. “You’re a southerner, yet you speak of unity. Why?”

“Because I believe it’s possible,” Jon replied, sincerity in his voice. “The world is changing, and we can either fight against it or adapt together.”

Ygritte studied him for a moment, then nodded, a glimmer of understanding passing between them. “I’ll come with you. But know this, if you betray us, I will not hesitate to fight.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Jon replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the battlefield, Jon felt a sense of resolve. They worked through the night, gathering supplies and preparing for the journey ahead. When dawn broke, the wildlings emerged from the tent, hesitant but ready to follow Jon to Moat Cailin.

The journey was a long one, the terrain rugged and challenging. Jon rode at the front, flanked by his trusted men. He turned occasionally to check on the wildlings, who followed closely behind. Many carried their belongings, while others held onto the small hands of children, their faces a mix of fear and hope.

“Stay close!” Jon called out, urging them on. “We’ll be there soon.”

After several hours of travel, they reached the hidden entrance to Moat Cailin. The wildlings paused, their eyes wide with wonder at the sight before them. The settlement was nestled within the natural defenses of the land, the moat providing an additional layer of protection.

“This is your new home,” Jon announced, dismounting. “You will be safe here. Together, we will build a community.”

As they stepped into the settlement, Jon felt a surge of pride. The walls were sturdy, the structures built with care. It was a stark contrast to the harshness of the land beyond the Wall, and he hoped it would serve as a sanctuary for those seeking refuge.

The wildlings began to explore, their initial apprehension giving way to curiosity. Jon watched as families began to settle in, establishing their own spaces within the settlement. Some children played in the open area, laughter filling the air, while the adults exchanged stories and assessed their new surroundings.

Jon knew that challenges lay ahead. Building trust would take time, and there would be those who would oppose the integration of wildlings into their society. But he felt a sense of determination, believing that they could forge a new path together.

As days turned into weeks, the settlement of Cold Frontier flourished. Wildlings and Jon’s men worked side by side, fishing, hunting, and gathering resources. They shared skills and knowledge, bridging the gap that had once separated them.

One evening, as they gathered around a large fire, Jon felt a sense of belonging. He listened to stories shared between the wildlings and his own men, laughter echoing through the night. Ygritte sat beside him, her eyes dancing with mischief as she recounted tales of her adventures.

“You think you know hardship, Jon Frost?” she teased. “You have no idea what it means to live beyond the Wall.”

Jon chuckled, shaking his head. “You might be surprised. But I’d like to hear more about your stories.”

As the night wore on, Jon found himself immersed in the warmth of their camaraderie. It was a newfound family, forged through shared experiences and mutual respect. He looked around the fire at the faces of those he had brought together and felt a flicker of hope.

“Together, we can create something extraordinary,” he said, raising his cup. “To our new beginning!”

“To our new beginning!” echoed the voices around the fire.

Jon Frost knew the road ahead would not be without its obstacles, but he was ready to face them. They were no longer just wildlings and southerners; they were a community bound by purpose and the belief that they could thrive together.