Chapter 90

(Lorimas Mudd, Castle Black)

The bastards were playing with them.

Since their first tentative attack on the Wall, the Walkers hadn't dared to show up personally. Only sending wights to harass the Wall, testing its defences and trying to catch them unawares.

To say the men were getting antsy was an understatement.

It was nerve-wracking to fight against these monstrosities. With the majority of the army consisting of green boy levies, it was unsurprising that few of them had the mental strength to cope with the crisis.

Thankfully, they were never meant to be used as the main force against the Night King and his armies.

Erlend called them merely witnesses and stop-gap measures.

The Banners, Veterans men-at-arms, and Knights were the ones making sure the lines didn't break when confronting them. Even with those measures, they lost men, but it wasn't as bad as the first day.

Those that were lost were of no true import, though if you asked the lords gathered, they would say otherwise. It was their military strength that was being depleted after all.

Lorimas couldn't understand his nephew's painfully obvious stalling. The lad wanted the Realm to understand the true danger of the White Walkers before stepping in, so he could leave a greater and longer-lasting impact when he finally took charge.

He wasn't sure how the Walkers would take to the thought that they were nothing more than stepping stones for his nephew. Lorimas was sure more than ever that these bastards weren't stupid, so he knew they wouldn't take it well. 

Erlend had continuously warned him about their intelligence, but seeing it firsthand made him doubt everything he knew. The tales of old said little about how their minds worked, only that they were overwhelming, always hungry for the breath of life, and that they were unnatural beings.

According to his nephew, White Walkers' minds worked differently from humans, but they retained a fairly advanced intellect from their past as humans. They had two distinct origins, one of which was through child sacrifices, whilst the other was being personally changed by the Night King.

That last bit was becoming more obvious, as the few times they managed to kill or approach a walker, his men would report familiar emblems on their person. House sigils, animals, and symbols stood out the most, leaving many curious about where they managed to get them.

Hells, someone had caught a glimpse of what she thought was the Flayed Man before she struck down a Walker, and his body turned to ice.

Erlend had already explained that being turned into a wight was a fate worse than death. It meant one's soul would forever be trapped in their rotting corpse, unable to move on unless the Walker responsible for their raising was struck down.

Lorimas wondered how worse it would be if one were to become a Walker instead. Thinking back to Erlend's face when he was explaining the matter to him. The older Mudd suspected that it was a worse fate.

A knock on the door to the Solar distracted him from his thoughts.

"Enter."

An officer entered, upon gaining permission, respectfully saluting the Lord Marshal. "Sir. A host of wildlings has been spotted moving towards Castle Black. Upon interception, they laid down their arms peacefully." He explained.

"Oh? The last time I met them, they were cursing at everyone they laid eyes on. Even the 'aid' they've given so far has been pitiful."

He found that hard to believe. While the wildlings did agree to contribute to the defence of the Walls, they had been placed on the fringes for the most part, with few to none of the lords and officers trusting them to have their backs.

Most of them were old men and women, prepared to die in an honorable fashion. Not wanting to sleep to take them. Lorimas had relegated them to the back of his mind, seeing them as nothing more than spare cannon fodder for the living.

Willfully ignoring the Marshal's disdain, "They're led by a wildling Chieftess, she claims kinship with the pretender King-Beyond-the-Wall. While they weren't happy with our presence. They showed no sign of aggression." The Officer continued.

Hmm… He only knew of two women related to Mance. That docile wife of his and the proud shieldmaiden. It was probably the Val girl if he assumed correctly.

"Anyone else of note with them?"

"Ah, yes. A rotund fellow, calling himself 'Giantsbane' and several other Chiefs, though they appeared subdued."

Of course, it would be Tormund, he knew no one else who would go along with whatever mad endeavor this Val girl wanted to commit. As for the others, they were of no import.

Waving the Officer off, "Have them escorted towards Castle Black. It's doubtful they'll cause much trouble." He ordered.

The Officer saluted once more before making his way out. Ready to carry out orders as instructed.

Having the good-sister of Mance Rayder should prove to be useful. It would also keep Erlend abreast of anything they might be planning. His nephew has sent his spirit, confirming that he will be arriving soon.

Verna and Jinhua would be appearing with him. Verna was free of her guard duty, as Jasper was back within Firmridge.

He was curious how her unique powers would work against the Walkers. Not to mention the near-divine presence of her older sister, Jinhua, was presented. It would be interesting to see the eldest child of Lenny finally make her move.

To Lorimas, he had always regarded the three dragons as Erlend's children. They were just too similar to his nephew for them to be otherwise. Just representing different aspects of his personality and attitudes.

As for the savages trying anything against Lorimas while they waited for support to arrive, well, they'd have better luck going toe-to-toe with the Night King. 

Lorimas was well aware of how ridiculously he was protected. It would take a dozen giants personally hunting his old ass for someone to kill him. The equipment his nephew had personally forged for him was enchanted to pretty much protect him from even their strongest blows. 

That was if they managed to get past the Shadow Wardens, Royal Guard, and the thousands of Bannermen around him at all times.

While he didn't like it, Lorimas understood his nephew's paranoia. After all, they hadn't both lived through one of the darkest moments in their family's history by being naive.

…

(Erlend Mudd)

As always, his imprints proved themselves quite useful. Giving him a first-hand view of what was happening beyond the Wall.

Watching various lords perish due to pride and arrogance never got old. Did that make him sadistic? Probably.

Naturally, that was of no import in this world, rather, it was faintly encouraged. Go figure, in a world centered on intrigue and how ruthless one can be, sadism was a positive trait. If this were CKIII, his character would have a lot of traits, both positive and negative.

Anyways, speaking of matters of import. He'd gone on an acquisition spree. From as far east as Yi Ti to the westermost shores of Essos, Erlend spared no one as he sought to enrich his collection and grant his loved ones and allies valuable gifts.

A lot of powerful and influential people were probably scared shitless or impotently furious at the moment. To put it crudely, he'd robbed a couple of free cities on the way back and got himself a couple of Valyrian Steel blades. These would be gifts to those who showed incredible valor in the following days.

Upon returning from his trip down south, he'd sensed a shift in the air, and it wasn't just the Winter becoming harsher. Rather, the lifeforce of the North and the lands beyond it were becoming fainter. Stillbirths were more common, phantom pregnancies more prevalent, and people more dull, both emotionally and physically.

It was as if something was absorbing all the vibrancy in the air and turning it into a mere shadow of its former self.

To many, this only meant a harsher winter and that famine was likely to follow. Yet, to Erlend and those defending humanity across the Wall, this was the final shackle on the Night King being broken. 

His mere freedom sent a jolt of anguish across the World as it cried out in protest.

Erlend didn't understand why the Night King was so easily able to influence the world. Yes, merging with its ancestor had fundamentally changed the living monstrosity, but even then, its power should, at most, only affect the lands beyond the wall.

R'hllor was still alive. Thus, gaining power through the weakening of the fire element was even less likely. This left only one likely scenario. One that Erlend would consider incredibly annoying if it were to come true.

The Night King had managed to successfully subvert, or absorb, the power of the Great Other. Only a deity as powerful as it could cause a change as drastic as this. Which wasn't out of question. 

Visenya was a living example of this happening, she was in the process of basically inheriting the maiden's divinity and all that came with it after all. So the Night King, whose compatibility with the Great Other was high, shouldn't find any difficulty in doing the same.

If this were the case, then Erlend had a much harder fight on his hands. This wasn't the absolute mockery of a caricature that was presented in the show. This was an honest to god living deity coming to life.

Pun intended.

They didn't have the luxury of a plot armor magical assassin running around to finish the Night King off for them.

Yet, if he was being honest. The ascendant god felt no fear at that realization, changing the mock battle between the two into a true one felt exhilarating. 

Victory meant the success of everything he'd worked hard for these past few decades. Failure wasn't an option.

'Well then, things just got interesting. Though it would be best if I disrupted the game a bit.'

…

(Visenya 'Blackfyre', Firmridge)

Getting a feel for her trusty blade was comforting.

Visenya had never felt at ease wielding other swords. Not even Blackfyre felt right. They all always gave her a feeling of wrongness that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Dark Sister was a sword stolen from her, one that none of her brother's descendants had any right to wield. Even the one who many considered its best inheritor, the 'Dragonknight', had utterly failed in bringing forth its ideals. The so-called most noble Knight was a failure as a Dragon and even worse as a Knight.

Had that fat disgrace of a King ever attempted to lay a hand on her beloved, his death would be nothing short of torturous. A crown does not make a King; rather, it is the person who bears it.

Never mind the fact that she was straying from the topic. 

When her beloved landed upon her balcony, the joke of the tales he used to tell her never left her lips as she laid her eyes upon the sword he presented to her.

It took her mind more than a few moments and prodding from the goddess in her mind to come to terms with what she was seeing. His hands reached out to her, handing her her trusted blade without care.

Upon taking hold of the valyrian sword, she had tossed it to the side and devoured him with a ferocity that would leave even Malora a blushing mess. There was no regret in her eyes once they separated. Because to her, the meaning of his actions meant more to her than the sword.

Of course, once they were done with their time together a few hours later, she zeroed in on Dark Sister, embarrassed by her actions once the 'post-nut' clarity hit, as Erlend loved to say.

A crude but accurate saying.

'You can bless it after ascending if you wish. While not the strongest metal, it can gradually be blessed with divine properties.'

The voice in her head gave its thought as usual. The maiden was not worried about how wielding a sword would clash with her portrayal.

'Please, just because I'm a maiden doesn't mean I don't know how to wield a weapon. Just ask my siblings.'

That left many questions that she wasn't sure if she wanted the answers to. Maybe another time.

She had a sword to clean. Who knows what that stupid demon-slave had done with it?

…

"So, you got that idiot's powers for free?"

Visenya felt skeptical about what she had just heard. As someone who already saw the 'canon' timeline as her partner so eloquently put it. She was well aware of the insidious nature of Bloodraven.

He wasn't a man to just give up power so easily. Few Targaryen men would willingly do so. Even the vaunted Jaehaerys shared that trait, the little shitstain had after all been the root cause for the Targaryen's downfall.

She couldn't care less about him tossing Rhaenys to the side. Her issues lay in his refusal to heed his sister-wife's counsel, believing that he knew best. Ultimately culminating in the disaster that was the Dance.

Bloodraven reminded her too closely of Jaehaerys, his innate belief that only he knew how things should be done, and therefore deserved to snatch the body of a crippled child, and in turn the throne, was simply outrageous.

"He took the only option left for him." Malora calmly responded to her incredulity.

Arching an eyebrow at the eccentric seer, "Care to explain that?" She asked.

"Lenny, being the vengeful darling he is, intended to permanently seal the man within that cave. Permanently."

Visenya blinked. She stared at her friend as if the woman had grown a second head.

"You forget, my dear. What the infamous great bastard desired most was freedom. Any path that would see him alive and with Erlend around meant eternal damnation. So he gave everything he had to escape that fate, and thus here we are."

"That's ridiculous."

"No, Visenya. That's him being realistic about his position. He lost, and he lost horribly. This was the best he was getting." Malora insisted.

'She's not wrong. Mortals, unlike gods, are not made for immortality, unless they ascend to divinity and reinforce their spirit, their minds will eventually waver against the tide of time, no matter how healthy their physical being remains.'

Annoyed with both her friends' reasoning, "He got off too easily." She let out a huff.

Letting out a giggle of amusement. "Ah, so that's what you're angry about." Malora mused with a playful smile.

Giving the seer a pointed look, Malora wisely quieted down.

'You should focus more on your ascension. There's no need to worry about a foolish mortal who has left this plane.'

The voice in her head was right, if she wanted to stand side-by-side with Erlend, she needed the strength that her ascension would give her. Though, according to both Erlend and the Maiden, she wouldn't be troubled by the usual side effects that plagued most ascendants.

She didn't like what that implied. What side effects? Did her beloved face them? And who did she have to kill?

So many questions and so few answers.