As the days went on, Jon couldn't help but notice the tension among the men at Cold Frontier. Though their wooden fortress was secure and life had settled into a productive rhythm, something was missing. They had shelter, food, and safety, but for men cut off from their homes and families, isolation was taking its toll. Aware of this, Jon gathered his closest followers to discuss a solution.

That night, they met in the grand hall, seated around the roaring hearth. Jon stood before them, arms crossed, as he looked over the faces of his men—strong, capable, but restless.

"I've been thinking," Jon began, his voice steady but with a weight of consideration. "We've built something here, something great. But we all know, no matter how comfortable a man is, there's something missing. A man needs more than food and shelter to keep his spirits high. He needs a family. A wife. Children."

There were nods from those gathered around. Some of the men shifted in their seats, understanding what Jon was leading toward but not entirely sure of where he was going.

Jon continued, "The wildlings—no, the people beyond the wall—they're not so different from us. They are of the First Men, just as we are. They worship the Old Gods, just as we do. Many of their ways are harsh, but they're survivors. And if we offer them protection, shelter, and stability, I have no doubt they'll accept it. I'm giving you all the blessing to marry wildling women, if they're willing."

There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by murmurs of approval. One of Jon's trusted companions, Aelar, leaned forward. "You're saying we can take wives from among the Wildlings?"

Jon nodded. "Aye. I'll bless your unions myself, and you'll be wed properly. No one will think lesser of you for it. Wildlings are proud people, but if we show them kindness, offer them a life safer than the one they've known, they'll come willingly. And you'll not just be gaining a wife, but a partner who knows this land better than any of us."

The men exchanged looks, excitement and curiosity sparking in their eyes. The prospect of finding a wife was appealing, but it was more than that—it was a chance to truly settle in this desolate land, to make it their home.

Over the following weeks, as the hunters ventured further into the wilds, their task became more than just gathering food. They began to form bonds with the wildlings women, who, after seeing the stability and protection Jon and his men could provide, agreed to join them. Many of the wildling women were fierce and independent, but they were also practical. The cold beyond the Wall was unforgiving, and life in Cold Frontier offered them something they hadn't had in years—security.

One by one, the hunters returned to the fortress with women at their sides, and Jon presided over their marriages. The unions were simple but meaningful, with Jon blessing each couple in the presence of the Old Gods. He gave them shelter and welcomed them into the community, where the wildling women began to settle, teaching the men survival techniques and learning the ways of the North in return.

The women, in turn, became ambassadors of sorts, returning to their villages to bring others to Cold Frontier. Some came for the safety, others for the opportunity to be part of something larger. Soon, not only women but entire families—children and elderly—made their way to Jon's growing settlement.

Life in Cold Frontier blossomed. The population doubled as more wildling clans came to live near the fortress. They brought with them their skills in hunting, tracking, and crafting. The new addition of people became integral to the community, assisting in fishing, mining, and construction, making the settlement even more self-sufficient. They learned to fish in the icy waters, gathered wood for fires, and worked with Jon's men to expand the wooden walls of the fortress.

Jon's dream of turning Cold Frontier into a thriving outpost was taking shape. The people beyond the wall found that living under Jon's rule was not the oppressive burden they had once feared. They still kept their independence, their freedom, but they no longer had to constantly watch their backs or worry about the cold starving them. They could raise their children in relative safety, and they saw that Jon Frost was a fair and just leader.

In time, the daily routines became busier. The sound of hammers striking iron and the calls of fishermen echoed across the frozen landscape. Children played within the safety of the fortress walls, and men worked together, both Northerners and Free Folk, building the future Jon had envisioned. The cold wilderness had become a place of life, hope, and possibility.

And still, ships arrived at regular intervals from Moat Cailin, bringing provisions and leaving with shipments of stone and wood. Jon's trade with the South was expanding, and the wealth it brought was reinvested in Cold Frontier. Stones from the Frostfangs were being sent south to Samwell Tarly, aiding in the construction of new keeps and fortifications. The Northern honey and coffee, now branded under Jon's own trade banner, were sold directly to Essos, bypassing the merchants who had once profited from his resources.

Jon stood on the walls of Cold Frontier one morning, watching as a ship from Moat Cailin unloaded supplies at the shore. Behind him, the fortress buzzed with life, and he smiled. He knew there were still challenges ahead—there always would be—but for now, the Cold Frontier was thriving. Fortune, after all, favored the bold.

Jon could hardly believe the news when the old wildling woman, wrinkled and hunched with age but sharp of mind, approached him one evening near the fire. She spoke of something called the "yellow metal"—a substance she had seen scattered across the lands during her youth but never paid much attention to. To the Free Folk, gold held no value. It was useless for making weapons, and without trade, it was just another stone in a land full of them.

Intrigued, Jon pressed her for more details. "This yellow metal—do you know where it is?"

The woman nodded, her eyes gleaming in the firelight. "Aye, I do. There's a place, deep in the mountains, where it lies untouched. We never cared for it. Too soft, no use in our ways. But if it's something you seek, I can guide you."

Jon knew the value of gold, and immediately his mind began racing with possibilities. But he also knew the danger such a discovery would bring. If word spread to the South that there were untapped gold deposits in the mountains beyond the Wall, the once-ignored and desolate land would become the center of a new gold rush. The lords and kings of Westeros, who had long viewed the North and beyond the Wall as a barren wasteland, would descend with their armies. They would slaughter every wildling they came across, claiming the land and its riches as their own. Jon couldn't allow that to happen.

So, he gathered a few trusted men and set out with the old woman as their guide. They trekked through the dense forests, crossed frozen rivers, and ascended the rocky foothills of the Frostfangs. The journey was harsh, but when they arrived at the location she had spoken of, Jon's breath caught in his throat.

There, nestled between craggy rock faces, was the yellow metal—gold, shimmering in veins that snaked through the mountainside. It was more than Jon could have imagined. Not just a small deposit, but a vast network of gold veins waiting to be mined.

"This is it," Jon said, awe creeping into his voice. "We've found it."

With the help of his most loyal men, Jon began mining the gold in secret. They extracted it carefully, working only at night to avoid drawing attention. Each bar of gold was refined and sent south to Moat Cailin in small shipments, disguised among the regular loads of stone and timber. Once there, it was stored in hidden vaults beneath the castle, far from prying eyes. Only Jon and a handful of trusted followers knew the truth.

"I don't want anyone knowing about this," Jon said sternly to his men one evening as they sat in the main hall of Cold Frontier. "If word gets out, it will bring ruin upon us all. The South would see this land as valuable, and they'd come with swords and armies. The Free Folk would be slaughtered. And we... we'd be caught in the middle of it."

His men nodded solemnly. They understood the stakes. They knew that if they were ever discovered, it would mean war, not just for them but for the entire North. The knowledge of the gold became a carefully guarded secret, whispered only in the dead of night when Jon was sure no ears could hear.

Jon took care to ensure that, to the outside world, nothing had changed. His people continued hunting, fishing, and expanding Cold Frontier, all while keeping up the pretense that they were simply trying to bring order to the wildlings and offer them a better life. Whenever visitors from the South or traders arrived, Jon was careful to paint the Free Folk in a new light.

"They're not so different from us," he would say. "They're of the First Men. They pray to the Old Gods. Their customs—well, those are the original ways. It wasn't them who changed. It was the North that changed."

Jon's argument carried weight, especially among the Northerners. He painted the wildlings as kin, long lost but not forsaken, deserving of a second chance. He spoke of their traditions, their connection to the land, and their knowledge of survival. Slowly but surely, the Free Folk began to be seen not as savage outsiders but as distant cousins of the Northerners, part of the same ancient heritage.

But even as Jon worked to reshape the perception of the wildlings, the gold remained his silent obsession. Night after night, the mines yielded more, and Jon made sure that every ounce of gold was hidden away. His closest allies, sworn to secrecy, helped manage the operation, ensuring that no rumors spread beyond their walls.

The secrecy was suffocating at times, but Jon knew it was necessary. He kept the operation tight, involving only those he trusted with his life. As long as the gold remained hidden, Cold Frontier would be safe. The wildlings, now part of his growing settlement, would not have to fear Southern invaders, and Jon's vision for a peaceful land beyond the Wall could continue to flourish.

For now, the world saw Cold Frontier as a distant, remote settlement working to tame the wildlings. But in the shadows of the Frostfangs, Jon Frost had found something far greater—riches beyond his wildest dreams, and the power to change the fate of the North forever.

Still, as Jon watched his men work and the wildlings integrate into their new lives, he couldn't shake the lingering sense of danger. The secret was growing larger, and the larger it grew, the more precarious it became. One slip, one stray word, and all of it could come crashing down.

Jon watched as life at Cold Frontier continued to flourish. The fortress, with its sturdy wooden walls and burgeoning population, was transforming into a thriving settlement. The integration of wildling families brought a vibrancy that filled the air with laughter and the sounds of children playing—a stark contrast to the desolation that had once dominated the land.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the training grounds, Jon gathered his trusted advisors in the main hall. The warmth of the fire flickered against the stone walls, creating a cozy atmosphere that belied the tension that lingered in the air.

"Things are going well," Jon began, surveying the faces of those around him. Voran, his loyal right hand, nodded in agreement. "But we can't afford to become complacent. Our secret must remain intact."

"I worry about the wildlings," Voran replied, his brow furrowed. "They're adjusting, yes, but what if one of them speaks too freely? They might not understand the stakes."

Jon sighed, rubbing his temples. "I know. We must keep educating them about our way of life and the dangers we face. They need to understand that our safety relies on this secrecy."

As the discussion progressed, reports came in from the various teams. The hunting team had returned with impressive catches, and the fishing team had been particularly successful, bringing in seals and fish in abundance. Spirits were high, but there was an underlying current of restlessness among the men.

"Perhaps we should consider an expedition," Jon suggested. "A chance for them to explore and see what lies beyond. It might bolster their morale and strengthen our bond with the wildlings."

Voran looked skeptical. "But what if we draw attention? The last thing we need is for someone to stumble upon our operations."

"True," Jon conceded. "But if we do it carefully, we can scout the area without revealing our hand. We need to maintain the balance of power, and showing strength might deter any potential threats."

After some deliberation, they agreed to send a small group of men, accompanied by a few wildlings who knew the land better than anyone else. As preparations began, Jon felt a flicker of excitement. It was a chance to assert their presence beyond Cold Frontier, to reinforce their claim on the land.

Meanwhile, he continued receiving letters from Eddard Stark and other lords in the North. His father's letters were filled with news of political maneuvering, alliances forming against the backdrop of the looming threat from the South. Eddard expressed concern for Jon's safety but also pride in his son's initiative. The other lords were less friendly, questioning Jon's activities beyond the Wall and warning him against any actions that might incite the wrath of the Night's Watch or their Southern counterparts.

In response, Jon crafted his letters carefully, maintaining the façade that he was merely trying to bring order to the Free Folk. He discussed trade agreements, emphasizing their cooperative spirit and willingness to adapt to the Northern way of life. He signed each letter with the motto of House Frost: "Fortune Favors the Bold," a subtle reminder of his ambition and determination.

As days turned into weeks, Jon noticed a change among the wildlings. They began to embrace their new lives, and more women ventured to Cold Frontier, seeking the safety and stability Jon offered. Families formed, and with them, a sense of community took root.

One night, gathered around the fire, Jon watched as a group of men and wildling women shared stories and laughter. It was a sight he cherished—one that reflected the hope he had for this new settlement. He raised his cup, calling for attention.

"To our future," he declared. "May we continue to build a life here, together."

The cheers and laughter that followed filled Jon with warmth, but beneath it all, a nagging worry persisted. The secret of the gold weighed heavily on his shoulders, and with each passing day, the potential for discovery loomed larger.

As the expedition drew near, Jon gathered his thoughts. He would lead the group himself, not only to protect his men but to keep an eye on the wildlings. He needed to ensure that their integration continued smoothly and that the whispers of gold remained just that—whispers.

The following morning, the expedition set off, a mix of Jon's men and wildling guides. They moved with purpose, venturing deeper into the mountains, where the landscape transformed from the familiar woods of Cold Frontier to rugged terrain. Each step brought a sense of anticipation and a hint of danger.

As they climbed higher, the air grew crisp and thin. Jon felt a surge of pride for the men who accompanied him; their spirits were high, laughter echoing off the rocky cliffs. The wildlings, with their natural agility and familiarity with the land, led the way, sharing stories of their ancestors and the legends that surrounded them.

Jon found himself captivated by their tales, feeling the weight of their history intertwine with his own ambitions. They spoke of the First Men, of their gods, and of the ancient bonds that tied them to the North. It was a reminder of the shared heritage he fought to preserve.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the peaks, they reached a vantage point overlooking a vast expanse of land. Jon marveled at the beauty before him—a landscape that held both promise and peril.

"Here," he announced, turning to his men. "This is what we fight for. This is our home."

The group settled in for the night, lighting a fire and sharing rations. As they spoke, Jon couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the brink of something greater. He needed to harness the momentum of this expedition, to solidify the bonds between the wildlings and his men, and to ensure their safety from the threats that loomed in the shadows.

But in the depths of the night, a distant howl pierced the air—a reminder that the wilds were never truly quiet, and danger could emerge from the darkness at any moment. Jon's heart raced as he considered what awaited them in the days to come. The frontier was uncharted, and they had much to lose.

Author Note:

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