(Melisandre, Beyond the Wall)
The gift her master had bestowed upon her was beyond magical. Even vaguely touching upon the mythical realm. All it needed was her liege's incomparable power, which he so graciously provided.
The gem was meaningless on its own, perhaps only a decorative piece for the ill-informed. No, its true power lay in its origins.
A tool used by Azor Ahai to trap the soul of his beloved Nissa Nissa to raise her back once more upon his ascension as a god. The hypocrisy of the so-called hero did not matter to her. For it was only a temporary measure, and one that the hero of the past failed to capitalize on as he perished during his battle with Cold One.
No, what interested her was its ability to contain souls, something her lord would no doubt find useful in holding back the pesky walkers during his battle with the Great Enemy.
So that they did not overwhelm his forces and turn all his hard-earned efforts for nought. As if content, the black diamond no longer hungered for light. It gives off a warm purple glow occasionally.
The reason she was beyond the safety of the Wall and her lord's embrace was so that she could prepare a trap. One that would weaken the walkers enough that they dare not rashly do anything.
This gem, which had a suppressive effect on the undead, would be the core of the trap. Her figure shielded by her lord's powers to avoid the Great Enemy's gaze, a magic gifted to her and similar to the assassin that had once foolishly entered her liege's domain.
For Melisandre, these constant blessings only furthered her devotion to her one and only god. Truly, his power knew no bounds, as he so easily replicated the precious abilities of those pagan gods.
Even her former master could only dream of accomplishing such a feat.
As soon as she stood atop the area she sought. The priestess began chanting incomprehensible words.
Her voice was fervent and zealous as she praised the Almighty. Proclaiming his glory to the heavens.
Several runes appeared around her as she chanted on, symbols that could only belong to the once glorious age of heroes. In response, the midnight gem gently left her grasp, floating above her as it glowed brightly.
If it were not for her lord shielding her actions, the Great Enemy would have felt as if the air had changed. The oppressive feel that had once encompassed the lands beyond the wall slowly eased within the area.
Winter was losing its power, and it remained ignorant of the danger that was awaiting it.
Suddenly, without warning, the gem shattered into a thousand shards, seemingly unable to hold its form under the intense divine power of her master.
Her expression did not change as she fulfilled his wishes. Everything was as it should be. Nothing could stop him now that his plans were finally being implemented.
'Rejoice, Azor Ahai! For your creation will serve my lord well in his battle with the Great Enemy. Let him fulfill the destiny that you could not.'
…
(Erlend Mudd, Castle Black)
Feeling the tremor in the air as his witch did her job, a smirk of satisfaction appeared on his face. Melisandre might not have been his most powerful tool, but her devotion knew no bounds. Thankfully, she managed to get the job done right on the first go. Melisandre, at least from the show, was nothing if not infamous for her constant failures.
Finding out the true origins of that gem had been an eye-opening experience.
The fact that the man who was supposed to save the world and bring down the blanket of Eternal Darkness had also dabbled in necromancy was poetic. It hinted that from the very beginning, he was doomed to fail.
Only succeeding in earning humanity some respite from their legendary foes. Too bad that the teammates he relied on sucked so badly that it lead to all lives being ended.
What did impress Erlend, though, was the ingenuity of his creation. At first glance, there seemed to be nothing special about it aside from its poison and curse-warding effects.
A purposeful attempt to mislead all those who wished to replicate the legendary hero's feat and save the lives of their loved ones or even themselves.
If it was before, Erlend would not have needlessly sacrificed such a useful mythical object, but now that he was a god, he no longer needed it. His Arkenstones served as a similar and far more stable alternative, and unlike the gem, the souls of those trapped within it could last indefinitely.
That's not to say he couldn't have used an Arkenstone as a sacrifice. It's just that, as an object that contained the magical essence of Azor Ahai and Nissa Nissa, two very important enemies of the Cold One, they had certain innate suppression on his foe.
Even if that foe was just a descendant who inherited their foe's powers.
As someone who always sought the most efficient way to bring down his enemy, Erlend did not hesitate to use it to power a ritual that would weaken the Night King greatly. At least to the point that Erlend would not have to worry about the lives of Lorimas and his draconian children.
It would also prevent his foe from pulling a fast one on him and going for mutual self-destruction. Melisandre wasn't aware of that, only knowing that it would weaken the Walkers, and that was all she needed to know.
He just needed someone capable and fanatical enough that they were able to channel a portion of his power.
As for why he hadn't gone himself, well, he was busy exploring the Wall's foundations, seeing ways he could bring down the structure as it became obsolete.
Raw power was useful and all, but Erlend thought it would be a waste if he didn't make use of it for future purposes. Just the magic contained within it was enough to create a lesser version of Absolute Demise.
A training wheels version?
He'll think more about it later on. Anyways, he was just experimenting at this point, wanting to explore his abilities as an Artificer.
All the while, he watched over the men who bravely threw themselves into the jaws of hell.
…
Willas had taken the news like a champ.
Showing no visible weakness at the unexpected blow from his family's most recent rival.
The death of his father hadn't hit as much as his grandmother's, as she played a much more pivotal role in shaping him, though the boy still loved his foolish father. You could say a lot of things about the man, but Mace cared greatly for his family and only wished the best for them.
Too bad he was so incompetent, politically speaking, that he might just ignite a regional conflict if left with too much power. Hence, why Erlend had agreed to Willas assuming regency.
Edmund had expressed worries about the stability of the Reach now and had tightened the security within the breadbasket of the continent.
There were rumors already spreading about how the Lannisters had taken advantage of the regent's absence to deal with the innocent and mentally challenged lord and his poor, 'ailing' mother.
While the boy was willing to forgo revenge against Tyrion at the moment, he had every intention of dealing with the dwarf later down the line. Therefore, he'd tasked his mother with shifting the narrative in their favor.
Tyrion wasn't any slouch, attempting to clean his image among the lords and ladies by personally taking charge of the Westerlanders and showing a brave and honest front.
It might have worked for Jaime, but for Tyrion, his dwarfism greatly alienated the nobility around him.
Erlend could easily sense the discontent and fury within the Lannister head, as well as his Uncles, but they kept their mouths shut as they understood their current unfavorable position.
Erlend had made it clear to the Tyrells that Tytos was off-limits; the boy was important in maintaining the Crown's influence within the Westerlands, and he wasn't willing to see the brat get dragged into the bullshit. Olenna's death had little impact on the Crown's dominance; all her death did was make it easier for them.
Speaking of Tytos, he'd convinced Tyrion to leave the lad and his mother in Firmridge. The baby and his mother were quickly being integrated into the Crown and his circle of advisors.
It was the most surefire way to protect the two from not only the Tyrells but also from the undoubtedly ambitious Westerlanders who sought to bring their dwarf lord down through his obvious weak points.
Not everyone was happy with the son of a commoner becoming Lord Paramount.
The rise of the gentry in Westeros was going strong, unfortunately, it was a gradual thing, as resistance to a more merit-based system was felt. Only in Kingdoms where his influence was the strongest would success be apparent.
A shame, but not too surprising.
Another thing that had recently come to mind was bringing Ashara North. He knew his lover had gained something from their regular intercourse and had been busy developing it to her best ability. At least it was powerful enough to push her beyond what most humans in this world were capable of.
Of his lovers, only She, Visenya, and likely Malora gained obvious benefits from their couplings. At least the benefits they got were more visible compared to the rest of his loved ones.
The fact that she could beat Arthur easily was a clear sign of her capabilities. It was also a way for him to further incite the morale within the women in the Banners, and perhaps force Val to do something more reckless and eye-catching.
Erlend was fully on board with a major portion of the free folk remaining beyond the Wall, as long as they were loyal enough and could help push its development. Otherwise, his plans for it would take decades, if not centuries, to achieve.
…
"Your Majesty, the suicide contingent has returned." One of the Royal Guardsmen announced respectfully. Bowing his head towards the King.
The shock in the man's eyes couldn't be hidden from Erlend, it was obvious that the guardsmen hadn't expected to ever state the words he'd just had.
Nodding in acknowledgement, Erlend waved off the guard as his aura spread, seeking the faint stir that this particular contingent was causing.
He found his target quickly enough, as the leading Captain reported to his Uncle about their success and failures. Of the fifty men that originally belonged to this contingent, only five had returned alive, the rest having perished during the mission.
His imprints had already captured all the information needed on what occurred throughout the mission, but personally receiving the survivors was crucial in assuging the everyones doubts. Each of the men within this particular contingent knew what they were getting into when volunteering for the mission, and Erlend respected their tenacity and skill.
Yes, he could achieve this by himself, but then the achievement would lose its value, and the beneficial impact on the men's morale would be minimal.
Rising from his seat, the Conqueror swiftly disappeared. Only to appear next to his Uncle, startling the men gathered, who reached for their swords, only to relax upon realizing it was their liege.
Unperturbed by his nephew's actions, Lorimas reached for his cup of wine, the man showing lines of worry at the news he received.
As for the tense reactions from the survivors. It was to be expected, considering what they had gone through.
Without hesitation, all the men, aside from Lorimas, knelt towards their King. Not daring to raise their heads at the man who engraved this Era with his name. Erlend could easily see the fanatical glint in their eyes. What else would one expect from a group of men willing to throw their lives at his orders?
Clasping the Captain by his shoulders, Erlend forced the man up. "You've done well, Captain. I dare say, no one alive can match the bravery and skill you and your men have shown." Not holding back his admiration for the contingent on their success.
Even barely blessed by a portion of his powers, the casualty rate was never going to be small.
Pausing for a moment, his tone became more somber. "Your sacrifices will not be in vain, we can now rest easily, knowing that the Great Enemy cannot put his most dangerous tool to use." He stated.
Looking proud of his acknowledgment, the survivors bowed their heads in gratitude.
After that, Erlend made some small talk before dismissing them. They would be given time to rest before returning to their duties, though all would be promoted and the choice of staying here or returning south would be given to them.
He understood very well that, taking into account their achievements, giving them the freedom to choose was the best approach.
Onto more important matters, the dangerous tool in question was none other than the Night King's infamous spear, the very one used to kill one of Dany's dragons, who helped bring down the Wall.
To understand just how outrageously overpowered this spear was, not only did it one shot kill a fucking Dragon. It played a not-so-insignificant role in binding the fallen Viserion to the Night King's will and, in the process, strengthening it beyond what should even be possible.
His normal necromancy was simply insufficient to raise a dragon.
Killing a dragon was an achievement that normal humans could technically carry out, but it required immense luck and fortune. One without the aid of magic or another dragon. Hence, the Dornish got incredibly lucky when they brought down Rhaenys and Meraxes.
As for the dragonpit disaster, Erlend didn't even want to think about that.
The Night King managing to do so in one shot could only be attributed to the power of the spear, and the subsequent buffs to his newest pet likely came from none other than the Great Other himself.
Only that fucker's power was capable of bringing down the wall in the show with the help of the undead Viserion, a creature of magic and a perfect avatar of mass destruction. Something much harder to achieve through the Popsicle King alone.
Erlend did not doubt that, given enough time, this very much buffed as hell version of the Night King could bring down the Wall, unlike his show counterpart, but the spear was still a very dangerous variable and, therefore, had to be taken out.
Hence, the creation of the suicide contingent, whose sole goal was to retrieve the spear by any means necessary.
Supported by his magic, they succeeded in sneaking into the Night King's army and stealing the spear. There were some hitchups, as their foe was made aware of their thievery as soon as they left the undead armies' presence due to the protections placed on it.
Realistically, they should not have made it out there with how many enemies were after them, but who told them to be blessed by him, which saved their lives in critical moments, allowing for their successful escape from the camp…
The casualties came as no surprise. Even with a minor blessing from him, the contingent would still face the threat of the unending tide that was the undead, not to mention the Walkers leading them.
So far, his armies had culled a significant amount of the wights and even took down a few Walkers alongside them that threatened the Wall. Unfortunately, they made up only a minor portion of the total forces gathered under the Night King.
The final battle was approaching, and his actions no doubt had angered the Night King. Likely, the bastard had not expected him to be aware of his little secret weapons and planned to use them to destroy the morale of the living.
It wasn't a terrible idea, as few men would feel confident in victory if their alleged most powerful asset was suddenly in the enemy's control and somehow more powerful than before.
There was also the fact that Erlend wasn't about to risk the safety of his draconian children.
Glancing at his side, the King shifted his focus to his Uncle. The man looked like he'd aged years just being here. In a sense, despite the assurance he'd personally made, it was hard for the older warrior not to worry.
Even though the Mudds could barely be considered Westerosi by most margins, many a Mudd grew up hearing tales of the accomplishments and feats of their ancestors, of the history and legends of the western continent, and how one day they would retake what was rightfully theirs.
Erlend personally never bought into it, but he could see how that shit could affect a child growing under that circumstances.
It also gave him an excuse to do a bit of Conquest, something every reincarnator in this particular verse would end up desiring to accomplish, and Erlend had not been any different. He just went about it more cautiously.
"He's not that strong, Uncle."
Turning to face him. "That still doesn't mean we can underestimate him, Lenny. He has nearly a million men who neither feel pain nor injury." His Uncle responded tersely.
There was no doubt about who they were talking about.
"Yes, but rest assured that should the worst come to be, we will survive and thrive. Believe in me, just like you have all these years." Erlend said confidently.
Sighing audibly, the older Mudd shook his head, doing his best to clear his doubts. "Let me worry about it, lad, you do what you can. I doubt there's anyone around that can stop you anyway."
Letting out a chuckle, "You don't know the half of it, old man."