(Erlend Mudd, Castle Black)
If this were an anime, then several question marks would appear on his head, followed by three black lines on his forehead, and a fiery aura surrounding him.
Granted, he could likely replicate that effect.
Wait, No. That shouldn't be his focus right now. Rather, Erlend didn't know whether to punch someone in the face or throw them into a torturous illusion. How the hell had these idiots gotten into another brawl? This was the fourth one so far.
Benjen sees his annoyance. "Let them be, Your Majesty. At least it will serve to ease the tension brewing." He advised.
"We're dealing with an untiring, unstoppable army of nearly a million undead. Anything that can boost morale and allow everyone to calm themselves should be good for us." Stannis agreed.
The grim-faced Stag had only gotten more so since arriving. Some of the lords who had perished in the initial skirmishes had been part of the Stormlands. Every kingdom had lost some of its lords, his own included.
Unfortunately, it was the sacrifices of war. Of course, it also reduced the number of dissidents and troublemakers, which made the following operations much easier to carry out.
"Anything from the East and South?" Benjen asked his friend.
Nodding seriously. "Aye. The Summer Islander's have sent some of their best archers, they would prove deadly to the Walkers as long as we provide them with dragonglass-tipped arrows. As for the east, most of them have agreed to send more support but have been dragging their feet." Stannis spat out the last part. His distaste for the free cities' intentional delay was showing.
"Better than nothing. When the islanders arrive, divide them amongst each key area. The majority should naturally be centered on Castle Black, where I expect the deciding battle will occur." Erlend stated.
"Wouldn't it be more prudent for the Night King to attack our weakest points?" Benjen asked.
Shaking his head at the Northern lord. "Normally, I would say yes. Fortunately for us, pride and stubbornness have the necromancer beat. He wishes to erase the shame of his defeat. As long as Castle Black stands, it will forever haunt him." Erlend responded.
"So only by destroying Castle Black can he wash away those stains." Stannis completed.
The irony of a necromancer being haunted by something wasn't missed by any of the three, though now wasn't the time to be funny.
Regardless of the antics of those who surrounded them.
Stannis took a deep breath, deciding to put forth a suggestion. "We can still try and mobilize more troops, as of now, we're outnumbered nearly four to one."
Benjen disagreed. "We'd only be feeding the Night King bodies and compromising the Sunset Kingdoms' defences if we do so. Right now, we have a sufficiently experienced force, there's no need to overcomplicate things."
The storm lord frowned, displeased with the idea of making do with what he had. The man was rightfully paranoid about their situation. From a practical perspective, it would indeed be better to mobilize more men to plug any holes in their defences.
Leaving anything to chance was not his style of doing things.
Though Benjen was right in saying that they'd only be feeding the popsicle free recruits. Anyone else recruited would need to be trained and bloodied, taking time they did not have, nor could they afford at this moment.
Still, it would be best to reassure Stannis. "Don't look at it that way. My dragons are each worth a dozen armies or so on their own, they are far stronger than anything the Targaryens had in the past. You can trust me on that."
"I'm not denying that, your Majesty. Still, we need to be careful, one mistake could cost us all." Stannis warned.
"Of course. I've already prepared for such a situation. You need not fear the Night King, I have him covered."
Seeing that the Brawl was beginning to show signs of ending, the two lords rose, bowing their heads in respect before leaving.
They all had tasks to accomplish, so it would be best to finish them up quickly.
…
Erlend watched as his two children laid waste to the armies of the undead that had gotten too close to the Wall for anyone's liking.
Deciding to let the men catch a break for now, the King had allowed his draconian children to do their thing.
Jinhua was utilizing the wind around her, with several sharp wind blades cutting through the undead. Simultaneously, lightning would appear suddenly out of nowhere, striking from the clouds above and smiting any walker it could get its claws on.
More impressively was the wind barriers formed around her, protecting the bronze dragon from any ranged attacks.
Any Walker brave enough to get closer to her would find themselves cut in half before they could even blink. Their wights falling apart, as their leaders were killed. Just to be sure, Jinhua would control massive swathes of flames, engulfing the bodies of the undead so that they couldn't be raised by the other Walkers.
Her stronger control of the elements and ferocious attacks pleased him, pride filling him as he observed his eldest child's impressive control over the elements. She didn't disappoint, as always.
Not that any of them did come to think of it.
Verna, the most playful of children, was controlling a mist of poison and toxins that disintegrated anything and anyone that it touched. She was having fun drawing in the undead and their Walkers, as every time they got closer and tried to attack her directly, they would find themselves struck by her tail and sent flying towards their fellow undead, like a bowling ball to pins.
Her poisonous mist was particularly useful in this situation, as it dealt a heavy blow to the enemy ranks. In this case, fire was unnecessary as the toxins ate right through their bodies. Making it impossible for them to be raised once more.
The men guarding the Wall could only look on with awe at the distinct style of fighting the two dragons showed.
Erlend didn't blame them. As far as most were concerned, Dragons were big and could breathe fire. Seeing them bend elements and create a mist of death while showing human emotions would shock anyone.
It didn't help that the two dragons didn't need something as precious as Valyrian Steel or even dragonglass to kill the White Walkers.
Their natural powers and deadly flames worked just fine.
Only ten Walkers had been sent this time. The Night King wanted to test their defences and observe for any visible weaknesses. Unfortunately for the popsicle, Erlend's dragons made that difficult as they ran roughshod all over his proud underlings.
This wouldn't work for long. As the King could feel his opponents' desire to end things.
Getting bored of her prey, Verna huffed visible smoke in frustration. Slashing at the Walker, who'd managed to get up after being used as a bowling ball, and cutting his head off.
The wights around her collapsed as soon as their leader fell, their remains quickly being burned by Jinhua, who sent her sister a pointed look. His eldest child admonished her sister whilst they slaughtered the remaining walkers who got in their way.
It made for a pitiful sight. As none of his men needed to contribute at the moment, aside from shooting the occasional flaming arrow towards any stragglers.
Having had their fun, the two dragons rushed to his side. The Mudd King looked unruffled as the men around him collectively backed away. As Verna got closer, her poisonous mist ominously surrounded her body.
The nobles out of fear, the guards out of habit.
They both knew that the dragons didn't have the best of tempers with those not considered part of the Royal Family.
Ignoring the mist that did him no harm, Erlend gently patted his most beautiful dragon. Her nostrils flared in satisfaction, and a rather intimidating grin appeared on her jaw.
Jinhua, the more collected of the two, looked at him questionably. Asking him whether there was any more undead they could take care of. After assuring her that there was none for now. The two dragons flew off south of the wall, no doubt hunting for food.
Erlend had specifically instructed them not to fly too far away from him when beyond the Wall. Cautious that the Night King might have something that could allow him to harm his dragons. While this world didn't strictly follow the show plot, Erlend wasn't risking his children's safety on an assumption. Therefore, they were only allowed beyond the wall when he was close by.
"Your Majesty." A voice spoke up nervously.
Not turning around, Erlend kept his eyes straight. "Speak."
He could not feel the Night King near, and that was irritating.
Unfortunately, the Night King had been wise enough to kill any wildlife that came close to his army, and that made it difficult to trace his path. Which further reinforced the idea that he had purposefully let the scouts escape.
He bowed his head. "An owl from the Crown Prince. It is marked as urgent." The owner of the voice presented the letter respectfully, not daring to raise his head.
The poor lad was completely scared shitless, probably a newly promoted officer if he had to guess. Taking the letter offered. Erlend broke the seal and quickly scanned its contents.
"Thank you. You may leave." Erlend dismissed the Officer.
Raising his head and giving him a salute, the lad marched to wherever he was supposed to be. The others respectfully kept their distance as they left their King to his thoughts.
To be blunt, he had no idea how to react to the contents of the letter… Someone had killed off Olenna and Mace, and that someone was quite definitely of below-average height.
It was to be expected. Olenna had made it her life's mission to bring down Tywin's legacy, and she had succeeded to a certain extent. He's been agitating the Westerlands, spreading rumors, throwing Tyrion off his game, stirring trouble for Kevan, and generally being a thorn in their side.
Their trying to kill her was nothing new. That they succeeded was remarkable. That they killed Mace with her was even more surprising.
He would have assumed that they would have kept him alive, if only just to use him as a foil against the Tyrells. His unintentional blunders were a boon to whoever was his enemy.
Erlend wasn't bragging when he said the number of people who could successfully assassinate her didn't pass the two-digit mark. With most of them being located smack dab in the capital.
Tyrion and Kevan appear to have joined that illustrious list, for better or worse.
Pinching the bridges of his nose, he wondered how Willas was going to react to the news. Sure, the elder Tyrells had become somewhat of a liability towards the young heir, but they were still his family after all.
The emotions were still there, and being stupid in Mace's case and charmed in Olenna's didn't take them away.
It would also temporarily spread chaos across the Tyrells and their branch families. With it not being clear who was to take her place, and with the family's grasping ambitions, it was unlikely for Willas to be able to take immediate control over them.
It would be better to leave this to Edmund and Alerie. He loved Mina, but his lover lacked the mind for political savviness like her best friend and good-sister had. Oh well, might as well use this as a lesson to Edmund on how to stabilize an unstable region.
Right, time to make sure the Tyrell Heir, or rather lord, didn't stab their resident dwarf. At least he wanted to make sure the kid didn't find out it was Tyrion's doing till after the battle with the Night King was over.
That way, the two wouldn't cause a division within the army and cause more casualties than he was willing to take.
Fucking Lannisters, the time he wants them to be comptent, and they choose the worst possible way.
…
(Randyll, Tarly)
The old warhawk, as so many of his fellow lords loved to call him, was annoyed and jubilant.
Those Lannisters weren't fooling anyone. Thankfully, Willas had kept his anger in check, deciding to deal with it at a more appropriate time. Good man, there was a time and place for everything.
The rest quickly followed suit, deciding not to stir up any trouble with the infamous Night King marching towards them with what he could only assume to be the largest army Westeros had ever seen.
Sure, they were all undead, but that made them all the more daunting. To a Commander like him, an enemy that did not tire, who could walk off an injury that would normally kill a man, was an enemy he dared not face.
Thankfully, they had visible weaknesses. Otherwise, he'd have called this a lost cause.
King Erlend had acquiesced to letting the two Houses sort out their issues later on, as long as it didn't affect the current war efforts.
Like most of the Reachmen he had no love for Mace, or for his grasping mother of a bitch and her ilk, yet unlike the majority, he saw their use in keeping their lands stable. A strong House Tyrell was the best they had in keeping the kingdom from disintegrating through infighting.
However, that was no longer the case, as the Crown now took on that role, with the Tyrells returning to their former roles as stewards on behalf of the King.
They might carry the title of Lord Paramount, but that title only meant as much as his Majesty was willing to grant it.
There was no doubt in his mind that it was King Erlend who truly ruled the Reach, and he had seen him swear to faithfully uphold his will within the Reach. The betrothal between Talla and Willas had been merely a way to tighten the leash on their necks on behalf of his true liege, meant to steer the next generation on the right path.
Even if Olenna wanted to keep him as far away from Highgarden as she could, Willas would still come to him, if only to better learn how to be a true warrior.
Something that Mace couldn't.
The fact that the fat bastard was the father of so many talents made him grit his teeth in annoyance. If only his fat disappointment could have even a quiver of their talent.
Alas, Dickon at least was shaping up to be of the same mold as him. Much less disappointing compared to his elder brother.
Now that the two were dead and far from the coddling of the womenfolk, Randyll was confident he could shape the boy to be a strong and loyal man. He was already showing promise. Now, all Randyll needed to do was make sure the boy achieved it.
The old warhawk could not lie. He found himself growing fond of his good-son, far better than that fat, bumbling disappointment Samwell.
Hopefully, it remained that way, he'd hate to gut the lad if he ever got any ideas beyond his station.
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Note: Surprise POV! Being the paranoid bastard he was, there was no way Erlend wasn't going to place a loyal pawn close to the Tyrells. Don't worry, there won't be any backstabs just yet. Just wanted to illustrate the view of a more reasonable Reacher lord of his overlords.