(Edmund Mudd, Firmridge)
Calmly observing the dissipating patronus, Edmund wondered how everything would turn out.
His father's patronus had already confirmed that he would be stopping in Firmridge to store his gains from his victories in the East. Shortly after that, the King intended to link up with the first to fifth banners, who were marching towards Winterfell.
The rest would be left down south, officially guarding against foreign attack from external enemies and, more importantly, making sure the lords and their regents didn't take advantage of the situation.
It was a delicate matter, as most lords and ladies had responded to his father's summons and were also heading towards Winterfell as instructed. Each of them was expected to bring with them two-thirds of their levy and knights.
Yet, he wasn't sure if everyone would do as instructed.
Edmund fully expected at least a dozen or so lords from the other kingdoms to take advantage of this momentary weakness to deal with their rivals.
Everyone who wasn't already aware of the Night King's looming threat was under the assumption that the King intended to subdue the lands beyond the wall, hungry for blood and conquest after his devastation of Yi Ti.
The wights captured by the bannermen and Benjen's troops would be a resounding slap to their faces. Even if they weren't wrong in the assumption this father had a vested interest in those undeveloped lands.
From the general checks of the expeditions made on the land, it was revealed that they contained valuable untapped natural resources, similar to those of the North. There was no way the Crown would just hand it over to the North or the Free Folk.
Not to mention, he knew his father didn't trust the 'Free Folk' enough, so the levies and knights brought in by their vassals would be policing the migration and settlement of the wildlings into Skagos.
It wasn't the best solution, but it prevented them from trampling all over the gradually developing Gift. Appeasing the northern lords who cared very little for the cannibalistic inhabitants of the largely autonomous island.
Skagos was lightly inhabited, had a decent amount of resources and held little to no centralization. Its size was comparable to a minor Kingdom.
He saw no reason for them not to be happy with this advantageous deal.
Edmund had heard about some Mance fellow who had attempted to negotiate a resettlement in the Gift, without paying homage to either the Crown or the Starks. Naturally, neither his father nor Benjen was going to concede to such outrageous terms. If they wanted to remain independent then they could remain north of the wall and fight the walkers on their own.
After Mance started his nonsense, Uncle Lorimas traveled with a small guard and met with the negotiating parties.
It helped that word of his father's accomplishments had trickled up to the ears of the stubborn wildlings, and after much haggling and back and forth, they had managed to agree.
The Free Folk were expected to contribute to the defense of humanity against the White Walkers, in return, they would share control over the Island of Skagos with its present inhabitants, and enjoy full control over Skane.
As for the rest, the two Islands would be given a special status similar to that of Dorne. However, unlike the Sandy Kingdom, they would not enjoy paramountship and would instead be under the joint rule of House Stark and the Crown.
At most, they only had to pay lip service and avoid antagonizing their neighbors. Mostly allowed to do their own thing, with occasional support coming from up top.
His father called it a Reservation, whereas Edmund saw it as a mere puppet with extra steps. Since the Crown would represent it in all foreign and military affairs.
Westeros might be fighting for their survival, but once the Night King is gone, there would be no reason for the Wall to continue to exist.
The Builder's purpose would have been achieved, and letting the wildlings go free without cost, just so they could raid and pillage the North again, was not something anyone south of the wall would be willing to agree to.
Those who were willing to truly submit to the Crown would be allowed to return to lands beyond the wall, which would be ruled directly by House Mudd.
Though they might be the minority in the beginning, it would set the tone for how the lands beyond the wall would be ruled going forward. At the least, Edmund was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt and improve their lives so that it was no longer a living hell. Ensuring a healthy and prosperous territory.
Many had resisted at first, but Gruncle Lorimas told them in no uncertain terms, that they would either be destroyed by the White Walkers or they would be dealt with by the King. A man who had just wiped out an innumerable amount of better-trained, better-equipped, and more disciplined soldiers.
It was a threat, make no mistake, but it was one they had to concede to.
Edmund had no illusion that the wildlings would stay docile once this crisis was over or once his father decided to leave as he suspected the man would do after a few decades.
After all the wildlings had resisted the Starks for thousands of years, a House recognized by most as the premier first men representative. House Mudd, on the other hand, was a melting pot of first men, andal, valyrian, and Eastern heritage. Once he and Rhaenys had a child, he'd have to add Rhoynar to that mix. It was a chimera of cultures, a House that was feared and not respected by the free folk.
He was well aware that this was a sentiment shared by a lot of the ruling class, and it would be his reign that either made or broke the burgeoning Empire.
Should they rise, then Edmund had every intention of dyeing the land with fire and blood. There would be no second coming of Maegor because those who chose to rebel against his family would not survive to tell the tale.
Nor would their kin.
…
He didn't need to look up to notice his father's presence.
The King had this aura about him that made his existence undeniable to the human senses. It was as if the world was forcing everyone to acknowledge his existence. It served to put those who were loyal at ease and those that stood against him on their toes.
"How's the reservation treaty going?" His father asked, lazily seating himself on the couch.
Edmund couldn't help but notice several dozen globes of pallid light that were shining weakly next to his father. There was a certain power within them that drew his eyes, yet he focused on the man next to them.
"As well as could be, the majority have agreed to save their families, but the shadows had to rid us of quite a few dissenters and opponents who were stirring up trouble."
"It is to be expected that those fools hold onto their pride above all else, even more so than their more civilized cousins in our own dear North." His father scoffed, uncaring about the fate of the free folks.
Edmund shared his father's thoughts, to him it didn't matter what happened to the wildlings, as long as the Crown achieved its goals. To the Crown Prince, only his family and loved ones mattered, everyone else could be used, whether they realized it or not.
"This is just a stop-gap measure, eventually, they'll rebel. Many are too set in their ways to so easily give in, they only do so now out of necessity." Still, Edmund warned his father.
He wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to stab his father in the back when the Night King's threat was put to rest.
Smirking, "Oh, I'm fully aware of that. I just need to show them why that would be a bad idea." His father said with pride.
Edmund didn't have an answer to that; his training with the man had shown just how powerful his father was, and that was when he was holding back.
He dared not think how dangerous the King could be when fully roused. The shattering of the East, as many called it, had only given him a vague idea.
"Don't worry too much about what happens up north. Instead, used this period to consolidate the Crown's authority in the South. Everything now hinges on making the right moves at the right time. I trust you can easily do so?"
Straightening his posture, "Of course, father. You can rest assured that by the end of this, no one will dare challenge the Crown." Edmund said confidently. "Did you remove the compulsions on Doran and Olenna?"
"Hmm, most of them. The oaths they swore voluntarily will suffice in keeping them in line going forward."
Edmund didn't know who to complain to. His father had constantly warned him of just how dangerous those two players were and the fear they inspired, but no one would believe it if they were told that the two vipers had been playing to his father's tune for nearly a decade.
Their erratic behavior and 'plotting' were merely the justification the Crown needed to suppress the two Great Houses. So his father decided to give them a little push, otherwise, the two wouldn't have dared continue their scheming.
The Crown was simply too strong, and their position too weak for them to continue antagonizing it. Logically they should have retreated for the time being and recuperated. Unfortunately for them, his father wasn't having any of that.
"I'm more surprised no one realized that there was something wrong with them." He admitted.
"To everyone aware of their power and influence, their scheming is quite normal. It helps that many also assume their stubborn resistance comes from the inherent pride they carry."
"Creating the illusion that everything is as it should be." Edmund ended.
The Prince was unsure how the two players would feel if they ever found out that all along they had been playing to his father's tune. It certainly wouldn't make for a pretty sight.
Uninterested in continuing about the two schemers, "So how's the faith and the most devout adjusting to their new accommodations?" His father asked curiously.
"They're settling in well. Many have begun preaching about how the Crown was ordained by the Seven and that you, not the High Septon, are their representative in the mortal realm."
Arching his eyebrow at his father. "Your plan has gone quite smoothly. The faith has shown almost no resistance to our blatant takeover." Edmund said.
"Considering Visenya is a quasi-reincarnation of the Maiden, there's more truth to that than you realize. Those septa's are not high or drunk, they're pretty much telling the truth."
If Edmund had been drinking, he'd have spat out his drink right then and there. Instead, he settled for just staring at his father stupidly.
As if it was an afterthought, "By the way, I should probably add that I'm a god now." His father added right after. With that said, his father instantly disappeared, taking with him the curiously shining globes.
Staring silently for a few minutes, Edmund knew that wasn't over by a mile.
"Not fucking cool, Dad. Not fucking cool at all."
…
(Erlend Mudd)
Storing the miniatures Arkenstones deep within Firmridge, Erlend silently observes the rest of his children.
Myrcella, Rhaenys, and Dany were sparring with each other while the sand snakes offered advice.
Elia and Rhaella were close by, keeping an eye on the girls, though occasionally glancing suspiciously at Cersei, who was casually drinking beside them. It had been a few years since he took the lioness as a lover, and while she had mellowed out a bit, occasionally, he'd notice her plotting one thing or another.
It was pitifully easy for him to put a stop to her attempts at grabbing power, either with his lower head, or just disrupting them when he was busy with research.
At this point, she was just doing it to grab his attention, rather than accumulate power. Which was sweet in its way, if one ignored the added headache it gave everyone.
Saera was with Lyanna, the She-wolf, teaching the younger girl how to properly ride a horse. It appeared that the little hellion was a natural at it, just like her mother.
Visenya was talking with Malora and Catelyn, it seemed that the other two had caught on about his ascension to divinity. Unsurprisingly his first love was taking the time to rub it in their faces that she was the first to realize it.
Erlend's lip twitched with bemusement; he was pretty sure that it was the Maiden who had informed the Dragon Queen, but he'd let her have the win.
Moving away from Firmridge and appearing above the fairytale-esque seat that was the Eyrie, he observed little Jasper go through his lessons with Nestor. The old man patiently taught the young lord about the important seats and Houses within the Vale and the power dynamics that dominated its political landscape.
Lysa was enjoying tea with Myranda Royce, discussing the latest scandals that were happening.
Verna noticed his presence but said nothing. The dragon very much preferred her beauty sleep, only sending a brief noise through their bond that could roughly be translated to 'Hello. '
Erlend could only liken it to a teenager saying to their parents that they were busy.
Hilarious to think about and ridiculous to see.
Deciding it was about time he made his way to Winterfell, the Conqueror took one last look at his son before disappearing once more.
…
(Winterfell)
The ancient seat was the busiest it had ever been; hundreds of thousands of men could be found all marching along its roads as they made their way to the Wall.
Their lords would remain in the northern capital, awaiting his arrival.
Not that they were able to care about it for long, as the wights existence was revealed to them as soon as they made their way into the Castle. Benjen held nothing back as he presented the undead to his fellow lords, scaring many shitless as soon as they arrived.
There was no tact to be had, the Wolf lord had no interest in playing games or attempting to convince everyone through words and reason.
Erlend had to give it to the man, there was nothing more blunt and convincing than seeing an undead attempting to break through the confines of their cage, whilst the Stark Patriarch stood close by, ready to coldly welcome you.
Looking ready to blow. "This. This is Witchcraft!" One of the southerners bravely shouted.
It would have been more impressive and domineering if the man's legs weren't shaking, looking like a breeze couldn't send him tumbling.
His compatriot next to him had the sense to elbow his outspoken friend, wordlessly conveying to him the importance of shutting up. Wise man, magic was a sensitive topic, and any hostility to it these days could easily see you dead. That was if you're lucky, of course.
Shrinking into himself, the man who 'bravely' shouted out his disbelief quickly merged into the crowd, not before receiving several hurls of insults from his northern counterparts.
"Fucking moron."
"Milk-suckling baby."
"My wife has more hair on her chest than him."
"Gerold, your wife is an Umber. They're just built differently, you know."
"Bah, I know that, but my point still stands."
"Shut the hell up you two, and stop insulting my fucking sister!"
Benjen interjected and did his best to calm the rowdy lords, "Enough! It's clear to everyone here that the dead are no longer slumbering, and we must do something to stop this madness." Seeing the discussions shifting to completely unrelated topics, the wolf patriarch brought everyone's attention back to the topic.
Trying to lighten the mood, "Well, can we do that inside? My balls are bound to freeze if we stay out for any longer. I'm sure my wife would be none too happy if that was to happen." Tyrion japed.
This helped lighten the mood between the gathered lords, many awkwardly chuckling at the crude joke.
"Indeed, it's best to enter the Great Hall, I'm sure you'd all love to know His Majesty's plan for dealing with our current plight." Benjen nodded in agreement.
"Get to it, Lord Stark. Time awaits no man, and the sooner we organize, the better." Stannis showed support to his fellow paramount in his rigid way.
With three of the four able paramounts present making the same decisions, the rest of the lords could only follow.
Willas, technically the fourth paramount, acting on behalf of his mysteriously ill father, joined his counterparts. Close behind him was Randyll Tarly; his good-father was taking no chances on the safety of the Reach heir.
Many of the most powerful men in the continent, excluding the Lord Paramounts, were present. Figures like Yohn Royce, Oberyn Martell, Randyll Tarly, Desmond Osgrey, Mathis Rowan, and others could all be seen at the front, discussing amongst themselves the implications of the living dead.
The three senior paramounts and their young junior sat atop the head table, making true to their liege's plan and preparing to station troops at key locations.
It made for quite the sight, as Winterfell's Great Hall was packed to the brim with movers and shakers of this continent.
Erlend for his part remained hidden, observing the interactions between his vassals and making note of anyone with potential, be it for better or worse. Some would meet their end in the hands of the undead, bravely defending the living from the grasp of eternal captivity.
While others would see their merits noticed and supported by the Crown.
Being the Good King he was, Erlend fully intended to erect a grand monument for their future sacrifices, forever immortalizing them in the annals of history.
It was only right to reward these 'valiant' heroes for their efforts.
======
Note: So a lot of sarcasm here, plus the anti-climactic reveal of his divinity, this felt as good as any time to make the revelation, I mean Catelyn and Rhaella already suspected, and Malora is no fool. It does feel like I'm rushing this, but I'm trying to avoid losing my mojo while I still have it, which will no doubt occur once the finals get rolling and my brain isn't braining.
As for the reservations. Yes, they are more than a bit controversial and loosely inspired by the US and its actions against the natives. It also isn't in character for Erlend to let the lands beyond the wall go scott-free after dealing with the White Walkers' threat and leaving a potential danger to fester. Going partial 'Manifest Destiny' seemed to be the most appropriate solution without committing mass genocide like he did with the Dothraki and Yi Ti, and no, it isn't the full endgame for the Free Folk. They still have some wiggle room for more favorable conditions.