Chapter 101 - Artican Trade in Westeros 28 (Reach 08!).

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[Chapter Size: 3300 Words.]

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Thrid Person POV

Westeros, 295 AC.

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Jon remained in his tent with his wife for the next few hours, her body pressed against his. "You knew..." Seryna began, taking his hand and gently pressing it against her belly. "I've already decided on the name of our son." She said.

"You have, I thought we'd still talk about it once we got back to Ártica..." Jon said, raising an eyebrow to her blue eyes.

"Yes... but there's a name I wanted to give to our first baby..." She said, her gaze filled with expectation for Jon.

"And what name do you want to give him?" Jon asked, curious about what his wife was planning.

"Jon..." She said, tightening her grip on his hand.

"Hm?" Jon was confused by her calling him.

"Jon... that will be his name." She decided, leaving Jon surprised.

"My name? You want to call him Jon..." He was taken aback.

"Yes... Jon Ártica, the second of your name..." She said with some determination.

"Well... it's not bad, I'm just quite surprised by it..." He spoke, stroking her belly.

"But it's a good name, shall we call our son that?" She asked, and Jon ended up nodding.

"Alright... We'll call him Jon." Jon decided, imagining their son.

"I'm looking forward to having our little Jon, me, you, Ygritte, and her daughter, according to what she told me..." Seryna commented, and Jon nodded.

They talked and ended up dozing off against each other at that moment, spending the next few hours as night began to overtake the day. Jon was only awakened when one of the royal guards informed him through his wolf in the corner.

Jon opened his eyes, moved his sleeping wife to the side, and began to get out of bed, donning a robe after he had taken off his tuxedo to sleep with his wife.

He approached the exit, while everything was already dark and his camp quite bustling at this moment with the men and women of Ártica gathered there.

"My king!" The royal guards at the door greeted him as they saw Jon approaching.

"What's the problem?" Jon asked, shifting his attention from the party happening in the middle of the camp to his two royal guards with a man dressed in Tyrell armor.

"This is Ser Nudim Ambrose." The man introduced himself before his men.

"And how can I help you, Ser?" Jon inquired.

"I am here on order from my lord, to invite you and your family to the banquet happening at the castle." He said, appearing quite arrogant.

"We are not interested tonight, Ser. Tell the Tyrells that we are a bit tired from the journey and will have to schedule a banquet with your family at another time." Jon said with a stern look at the man.

"I understand... You should not refuse such an opportunity due to your birth..." The man simply grumbled, and before he could react, a sword was already at his throat.

"You should have more respect for your life, Ser. You think you can come here to offend my king... unless you want to live less." The royal guard spoke with a dangerous tone.

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