Holy shit! This is the longest chapter I have ever written, but god I had so much fun!
This is my first One-Shot of the GoT and Overlord crossover ideas I had written for all of you! For those who don't know about what this is, I suggest reading my fanfic Overlord: The Demon Empress in Westeros. So you will get an idea of what it is! This is Idea H.
I left a lot out, like the Battle at the Red Fork, and the Battle at the Wall amongst many other details and more information, because otherwise it would end up being a 15k work and it would to much for me to edit! XD But still, it was a blast to write, and really enjoyed it all.
Also, if I choose this project, I would perhaps change some things in the end product. But otherwise, enjoy it! Tell me what you guys think!
The next updates are going to be both Harry Potter and Overlord fanfictions. Then I will update another One-Shot! Stay tune and leave your guy's opinion! See you all later!
Overlord and Game of Thrones. What if?
The Ancient God of the North
The people of Westeros could consider the Northern part of the continent as an ancient and strange land, where people prayed to old gods of forgotten names, and winter never dies. A land on the edge of the world, as far as many of the citizens of the rest of kingdoms were concern. And for good reason too, they knew Northerners weren't friendly to southerners. Yet kept on a friendly facade since they knew that in winter, the kingdoms of the south, like the Reach, were one of their biggest imports of seeds, grains, and meat. So their friendliness came out of necessity, more than the good of their hearts.
There was bad blood between the south and the north, ever since the Andals invasion. No matter if the Andals failed to invade the North the first few times, or if there were some blood marriages since then. Both parts of the continents were vastly different and there was little either of them could do about it, nor that they cared. They were content with the small peace. However, the Andals brought to Westeros a religion that was against what the First men believed. The Old Gods and The Faith Of the Seven weren't compatible.
But as centuries went by, and ages changed, the North looked at one of the most savage lands of Westeros. And like any kingdom of Westeros, war was a daily occurrence.
Dorren Stark stared at the field before him with a sour looked on his face. Yet again, House Bolton has risen against them. Once again, he wondered when they would stop doing it. There was no point in committing treason each time they felt like it. Perhaps it was the Stark own doing. Forgiving them each time gave the Bolton's a sense of arrogance and pride.
One day, they will be our ruin. Hopefully, this will be the last time. He thought.
"Father, are you sure you want to parley with them?"
Dorren looked at his oldest and only son so far, with a gloomy face. Torrhen Stark was the young prince of Winterfell, his heir. Not even sixteenth name day, and he was already witnessing a battle. Maybe the first one of many. However, Dorren wanted him to stay away from the fight. Losing him would be too horrible not only for the North but for him. So with that in mind, he could only sigh.
"Yes, I will do so," Dorren said.
"But why? They have betrayed you and openly insult us!"
"Aye, they have done so, and pay, they will. But you must understand, why they did so. I'm the king, and I must abide face the enemy face to face, no matter what. It's only formal to give our enemy a time to surrender, and set terms. If they are smart enough."
Torrhen hated the look on his face, but he understood what he meant. Still, he saw that across the field, all the way to where Lord Belthasar Bolton had his forces ready to fight. The sky had a somber look and the feeling of cold was on each of the soldier's skin. Winter is coming. Torrhen thought, as he couldn't shake the feeling of something looking down on them. Maybe was the nervousness of his first battle, or something else.
"Stay here, Torrhen. I know, Lord Bolton and he is not the type of man who would miss a chance to break his words."
"Do as I say!" Dorren said to his son.
Torrhen got quiet as he stared at his father with a sour look in his eyes. The king of Winterfell could see the eagerness of his son to fight. But a young boy would always have it. He was too young to understand the horrors of war. Nor what he was asking of him.
"If something happens to me, you're the king of the North. Understand? I'm old and weak. An old wolf, that is. Be sure to remember our words. Winter is coming, and we must take care of ourselves."
"When the snows fall and the white wings blow lone wolf dies… but the pack survives," Torrhen said in a whisper.
Dorren smiled at his son while feeling the cold wing touch his cheeks, his skin, and the odd feeling came to him. Almost as if something was calling to him. The old king of Winter stared at the skies and closed his eyes. It was his time. He could feel it, and it was fine. Torrhen would be a great king, he just knows it. That's why he took up his ancestral sword, Ice. Torrhen then saw how his father gave it to him.
"Take it… it would do you well."
The princess only stared dumbfounded at the ancestral Valyrian sword as he held it on his arm. The great sword was heavy, but Torrhen wasn't sure if it was because of the sword, or because of what it entails.
"Father, I don't know…"
Torrhen stammered as he held the ancestral Stark sword in his hand.
"You know, Torrhen. You're my son, a Stark."
Those were the last words Dorren said to his son before riding to the field where he met the infamous lord Bolton. The king of the North soon arrived at the middle of the field where the so-proclaimed Red King was. Both men glanced at each other, one with cold eyes and the other with a grin. The silence was the only thing they said. The wolf-king and the red-king could only sneer at each other as normal. They knew each other for decades now. So for Dorren, to see him before him ready to fight was not a surprise.
"Dorren, the wolf king… the old wolf king," the Red King said in a mocking tone. Yet Dorren said nothing. Something that brought hate to the Red King, as he kept on sneering at the Stark king.
"Nothing? Well, no surprise there. You were always a hard rock to crack," he said.
Dorren again said nothing, and it brought more anger to the Red King, as he could swear the Wolf King was looking down on him with no intention to even acknowledge him, or his new self-imposed title. Their armies could only glance at the field where the kings were standing still without moving or speaking, wondering what could happen. The sky grew darker, and the wind cooler, for no one knew what was watching them.
"So be it, as a sign of good faith, if you kneel before me and renounce your crown. I will spare the life of your daughters and your son. You will take the black and House Stark will become Lords of Winterfell. But if you refuse, I swear to the Old Gods that I will kill every single person who has Stark blood. I will burn Winterfell until only ashes remain and all those who oppose me will face the same fate."
The Red King said, sneering at the king of winter. But yet again, Dorren Stark said nothing.
"Think about it, save the life of you family, and your Bannermen. There is no need for us to spill northerner blood here."
Dorren glared at him. Those gray eyes brought shivers to the Red King, but he did his best to look not afraid. But the wolf has few reasons to be afraid. And Dorren Stark was not afraid of the Red King or his threats.
The Red King stuttered at first, trying to regain his composure at the sharp voice of the Wolf King. "No? That's your final say? No?" The Red King said.
"I am a king, Lord Bolton. And you must know what does it means. It means that I do not have to listen to a traitor or pretender. Your words are nothing but empty threats, and today. It would be the last day, I will allow it to continue. Winter is coming for you."
The pretender king, Lord Bolton's face went red with rage as he could only growl in rage.
"This field will be your tomb."
King Stark told him with no fear or hesitation, and he looked at him for one last time before riding away. However, the king wolf made a horrible mistake. Words couldn't diminish the rage of the Red King, as he could see the back of the Stark he has always hated all his life. The moment Lord Bolton saw the exposed back of Dorren Stark, he ordered one of his soldiers to shoot an arrow at him. The action itself was shameful, even for someone like the Boltons. A soldier looked even conflicted, but the stared of the Red King made him obey, otherwise, he would face the consequences.
"Do it!" The Red King said.
The soldier released the arrow, and in just a second it hit the back of the wolf king. Torrhen, who saw everything unfold before him just as the rest of the Bannermen of the king of Winter, let out a scream of anger. No! They could hear the voice of the prince from across the field. And with that, the battle began. As both armies rushed to the field to destroy their enemies. Their shields clashed with each other, the spears and swords found their way into the flesh of the soldiers. A battle rage among the mud and ice soil of the North, where Stark and Bolton's soldiers fought with all their strength to achieve victory.
However, in the middle of the chaos, prince Torrhen Stark was making his way amid the sea of bodies fighting for survival. He had one goal in mind.
Torrhen yelled while waving his Valyrian sword around. It didn't look heavy now; it was as if in his anger. The weight of the great sword was nowhere to be found.
"Bolton!" He yelled again.
Then Torrhen saw it, in the middle of the field. The Red King fighting for his life, as he did his best to fight off anyone who dared to challenge him. The Stark prince wasted no time to approach him, screaming his lungs out at the rage of the moment, caring too little for his safety. He cut down countless Bolton soldiers, one after the other, showing his mastery with the sword. Although he was young compare to others, Torrhen Stark was someone people and other knights would consider being a natural swordsman.
Torrhen embedded his sword with the blood of his enemies, with their flesh and bones. But the only Bolton he wanted to kill was the one wearing a crown. A Red crown.
"Come here, little Stark pup!"
The Red King was not a coward, so watching the son of his enemy, he could only roar in excitement as he too approached him, intending to end the Stark prince's life. Both of their swords clashed as in the middle of the field, the blood spilled over the dead bodies of the First Men. For everyone knew that only one king would emerge victorious from the battle, and the future of the North would be at stake.
And it was true. The battle of the Sheep Shead Hills would change the future of the North, but it won't be a king who emerged wearing a crown.
Above them, none could see a supreme being watching them with anything but curiosity and confusion at the same. The only reaction such entity could think of was of a series of words every person could understand. Words only a supreme one could say.
"The fuck is going on there!"
Galadriel Melkor, one of the Supreme Beings of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, stared amazed at the battle unfolding before her. Never in her life, she thought something like this would happen to her. That she would bear witness to a medieval battle. Well, there were a lot of things Galadriel never thought possible, one of them being transported to a strange world, while she was on her avatar. Galadriel could still recall the last day on Yggdrasil. She was there, sitting on the thrones of the tomb, crying her lungs out at the end of her reason for living. The memories of her friends and her life, all ending.
Then, out of nowhere, instead of disconnecting herself from the game and pushing her out to the desolation of her room. Something instead brought Galadriel to a desolated forest with snow and chilly wind moving through the dead leaves on the tress. To say she was beyond confused and shock would be a misunderstanding.
How could she not? Galadriel was suddenly on her character's skin in an unknown world, in the middle of a forest.
Galadriel reacted calmly, all things considered. It was then she learned that her racial traits played a part in her new self. She quickly used her abilities and Pay to Win or Cash Items items to protect herself from any danger.
Galadriel brought up a castle from one of the said items. [The Dark Tower of Condimentia] A huge dark castle with one tower, capable of holding hundreds of low tier undead soldiers and Elder Lich of level 35 to 40. It may not seem as much, but for Galadriel, it was a huge start. The low tier of undead soldiers could respawn if destroyed and the Elder Lich could use Tier magic that she wanted to exploit. They were honest cannon fodder for her. However, Galadriel used more Cash items to secure the fortress. And she used a lot of them. Perhaps it was the first time she has ever used so many of them. But her security was at risk.
The castle itself was perhaps too sinister-looking for anyone's taste, but for Galadriel, a holder of the biggest rank of the Demon race. A Demon Empress. It was the best place for her. Besides, it had high levels of resistance and it could fly or be underground. Galadriel, however, knew if she ever faced another player with the same level as her. It could very well, ended up using the castle as a last resource weapon. As the Dark Tower of Condimentia had an auto-destruction button, so to speak. It may be not enough for her to kill a level 100 player, but it could help her escape.
Galadriel was sure of her skills while fighting a one-on-one battle. She was a World Champion for a reason. Yet, she knew that if more players were facing her, she would retreat. Two 100 level players were too much for her. For anyone back in Yggdrasil, perhaps she could win against them if she had the upper hand in preparation or skill. But it was huge if.
I could win easily against a range-type player. But if I face any warrior-type player, I will have to use everything at my disposal. Still, I can deal with them, no problem. However, a tank-type player is going to be problematic for me. Mm, well assassins type of classes are a problem too. But God, I hate tank players! The Monks were also irritating to face!
Galadriel huffed at the memories of those job classes that Arcane Master Warrior was weak against. But she ignored it for now. So, hiding the castle from prying eyes, in a hill behind the magic of the Elder Lich, Galadriel then planned her next moved.
Gather information about her surroundings and create a safe home where she could defend herself and plan. Those were her first thoughts, and Galadriel's first actions in the strange new world. And for a few days, she genuinely thought it was an empty world until she discovered a small town. A small nameless town whose population of a few dozen mattered little to her, in all honesty. Yet it was there, where she learned about the world.
Using a summon item called [Phantasmagoria] she could spy upon the village at a safe distance, hearing and learning about the place the citizen there called The North.
There she learned about the kingdom she was in currently. And what she studied was not good, well, it was confusing. From what she gathered, they considered magic to be extinct. Although histories of the Age of Heroes, and the so-called White Walkers, and other things they acknowledged being part of History, many doubted they ever existed. So, Galadriel was in a world where magic was not something that people believe, and so far no knowledge of another player or something has reached her. That was good news and bad at the same time.
First, it allowed for Galadriel to relax a little, not enough to let her guard down, but enough to understand that this world magic was non-existent. But worse, in the sense, she was truly alone. Perhaps she was wrong, and Galadriel hoped she was, but there has to be something she could do.
If Nazarick is somewhere in this world, I must find it! But how?
Galadriel thought for a long while about what she should do. She needed more information clearly, but she must also reach out to Nazarick. While she was thinking of that, in the deeps of the Dark fortress, that was the castle of Condimentia. The ghostly form of Phantasmagoria brought in an image of a battle going on between two armies. At first, she was unsure of what she should bother to see humans killing each other. Galadriel honestly thought about enjoying the view.
But she came with the idea of perhaps, just maybe, it would be a good idea to me herself known. Galadriel knew it was a half-baked plan but, it was the only thing she could think of.
It won't be hard, right? I know exposing myself could be dangerous, but I had to expand my name. It won't be that bad, hopefully.
Galadriel thought before jumping out of her fortress, yet she was still shocked to see a battle for the first time in her life.
"It's not as the movies depicted!" Galadriel said as she stared below her at the massacre unfolding right before her golden eyes. She was very nervous, yet fascinated by the carnage. I'm truly a demon, ain't I? She thought.
"My lady, what should we do?"
Behind Galadriel, four beings stood, waiting for her orders. One of them was a grotesque-looking monster. A sort of demon or dragon. The scales of the creature were red and horrid. The eyes were small, but they had the evilness of an infernal monster. Two horns and wings giving away the type of demon it was. A Pit Fiend, a level 87 red demon. It was the most powerful demonic creature Galadriel could invoke. The reason was that her build had few invocations skills to begin with. The Pit Fiend at her command was the strongest one in her skill tree. She knew there was another version of Pit Fiend, stronger than the one she has now. But it would do.
Another one was a veiled shade. A level 83 banshee, a rather simple one but highly useful for Galadriel. Thanks to that creature, Galadriel could move her forces and castle around without difficulty, since the banshee would provide the invisibility necessary for it. As well, it has [Greater Teleportation] and [Gate] on her skill inventory, a practical ability Galadriel would need if she had to escape. It may be the weakest of her summons, but it was perhaps the more versatile of all four. Since the other two served as shield meats for Galadriel. Well, one of those. The Almighty Balor, the strongest of her invocations. A level 89 demonic creature. It may only be two levels of difference, but it differed vastly from Pit Fiend.
It would serve as the meat shield, and while she knew a level 100 player could defeat it easily enough. It would take time since Balor had a rather big life bar and high resistances.
The last invocation of Galadriel was an angel. [Anaya the Shield of Grace and Life] was the cash item Galadriel got her from. A level 86 Astral devas angel. It had four wings, long shiny golden hair. The angel was a female from what Galadriel could see. Since it had golden armor covering her complete body. But in one hand, the angel had a fire sword while in the other one a giant shield made of diamonds or something.
The angel would be perfect for long battles. It has many healing and protection skills. However, it seemed as if the angel in question felt rather out of place next to creatures opposite of her nature. Galadriel noticed that although the angel had a helmet that it covered almost the entirety of her face. She could see a part of the angel's jaw, her mouth, and a bit of her nose. That's why Galadriel could notice how the angel mouth twitched uncomfortably next to the Balor and Pit Fiend, who seemed rather playful next to her.
The angel doesn't seem thrilled to have me as her master. I guess because of my title of Demon Empress. Galadriel wondered.
"My lady… should we help the humans?" The angel said.
"Help them? They're killing each other, I would like to do something else," Pit Fiend said.
"Let them rot, that's what they are good for. Or perhaps we should join in?" The Balor said, smirking at the holy angel.
"To kill them all," the Pit Fiend added.
The banshee said nothing, only stared in boredom.
Ah, this is weird. This is not what NPCs should do. I don't remember them being so lively. Perhaps something changed? Well, whatever. Galadriel thought.
"I want to eat human flesh… human bones," Balor said.
"We shouldn't do…"
"I agree with you, they look rather tasty from here," Pit Fiend said, interrupting the angel.
Galadriel sighed. What a strange world she was in.
"Enough, both of you," Galadriel said, with a powerful voice.
Both demonic creatures went rigid at the voice of the supreme one. The only ruler of the Demonic race.
"We won't do that… for now. My plans require for as many humans to be alive."
Galadriel then looked down and saw a young soldier waving a peculiar sword around. But from what she could see, that soldier was in a battle. A one against one type of battle.
Mm, interesting. Well, I must do what I came here. And hopefully, this half-baked plan will work. Otherwise, I will have to take over this land with force.
"I guess is time… listen to what I will say. This is my plan," Galadriel said.
At the ground, prince Torrhen fought like a mad wolf as every energy he had gone on trying to kill the Red King. The Bolton pretender screamed as he could also see the end of their battle on the horizon. Both were tired, and their respective forces were on their last ropes. Soon the winner would emerge.
"Time to die, Stark boy!" The Red King yelled.
Torrhen could bring his sword up, yet his muscles were screaming at him. He had to end it now.
"Bolton!" He screamed.
And as their swords were about to clash for one last time. Time seemed to stop. A cold wing surrounded them, freezing them in their place. Like every other soldier in the field. They could only stare at each other, confused, mesmerized, and fearful.
"What? What is going on?!" The Red King yelled as he could not move his body.
Looking up they could all see a gold cloud, a strange thing. Never in their life, they have seen a cloud so alive. Then, they could listen to trumpets across the sky. Loud and mighty. Everyone felt shivers to hear such a thing, but everything became even more of an expectable, as powerful bright light blinded them all.
"What is the meaning of this?!" The Red King yelled.
Torrhen wanted to say the same, but as he was about to make his discomfort known. The sky shattered, or it seemed like it. A bright light came down and the impact itself made the earth rumble and pushed the soldiers to the ground by the sheer burst of wind. The soldiers of both armies slowly raise their heads, forgetting that just a few moments ago, they were all fighting to the death. Stark and Bolton just stared at what came down from the light, from the sky. There, in the middle of the field, a woman, a deity, stood.
"What has brought this madness? This stench of death?" She said slowly walking from the light.
"It has woken me from my slumber. The eternal sleep I was in. And here I stand, before mortals spilling blood on this sacred ground."
The voice sounded soft yet stern. Many, if not all, looked at the strange figure walking amid the lifeless bodies. They all stood there, watching at what many of them could say: it was the most beautiful woman they have ever seen, with fear and wonderment. The woman looked like a goddess come to life. She was the embodiment of beauty and grace. Yet, despite the delicacy of such a person, despite the exquisite beauty of the woman. There was something more. A detail about it brought shivers to all there.
The black wings represented to them. Nothing more than death. Two horns embedded with rubies and diamonds, and other valuable stones made her look like a bull of sorts. Since they did not know what a demon looked like, however, in the head of that person. It looked as she was already wearing a crown. A crown that belonged not to their world. They could see the cold of winter and the icy snow on her skin and hair. But it was her face that brought them to their knees.
A goddess? A perfect being? An Old God?
Perfection brought to life. Eyes of gold, more bright than any coin of purest gold. Eyes that could see what it was or would be. And a face showing no arrogance or innocence. But power and authority.
"I smell fear… in this land. Hate and hunger. Greed and lust. This land of mine."
They listened to her as she kept on walking; she looked like she was floating. The sky was getting dark and lightning could like a thunderstorm was coming to life. And it was true. However, none of them knew who was handling the winds and clouds so the goddess could look more stunning while talking. Galadriel was truly making things up. She knew about the Old Gods and whatever. Only bits of history. But she knew they had no name. Not really. So with that in mind, Galadriel thought it would be a good idea to become one. Well, to make it seem as if she was one.
Ah, this is so embarrassing. I hope my acting is convincing enough!
Galadriel spread her wings so everyone could see her better. Her idea was to create a kingdom or something like that and use it to catapult her name across the world. Of course, it was a rather in-the-moment type of plan, Galadriel however wondered how hard could it be. She had to be careful.
"Wh-who are you?!" The Red King asked with a trembling voice.
Ah… what should I tell him? Argh, forget about it! Just roll with it!
"I am an ancient one, the greatest of them all. Among the stars and suns, among heavens and hell... and you will kneel," Galadriel said, leaving no room for discussion.
Prince Torrhen fell to his knees, but not because of what she said but, the fear on his bones. However, that action would save the lives of soldiers and his. Yet the Red King was not so smart.
"Wha-what?! What are you saying?! A god?! Impossible!"
The Red King exclaimed, and the sky shattered around the clouds, letting him known to choose his words carefully, yet the Bolton king ignored. Galadriel may act like now, but she was still a Demon Empress. She was figuring out that her racial levels and lore have been taking a huge part in her personality. It was a hunch, but it may well be true. And that's why she looked at the Red King with disgust, as if she was watching a cockroach on her heels. Galadriel showed what she could do, a show of force so everyone could see and understand.
"A mere mortal questioning my existence… as if he knew about the world. Such an insolence coming from a low life form."
Galadriel brought her arms to the sky as if she was hugging the world itself.
"Come forth, my champions, answer the call of your absolute ruler. Balor! Pit Fiend!"
From the sky, the giant demon Balor fell, hitting the ground like a meteorite as the soldiers could only watch in horror at such a beast. The demon was easily nine meters tall, and his red wings only seemed to be bigger than itself. Balor let a tremendous roar as he wanted to make sure that no one could disrespect his lady.
Next to him, Pit Fiend did the same, moving the long-burning whip.
"Remove the worm out of my sight, and all those who bare his mark."
Galadriel ordered, and both high demons stared at the army with the strange red flayed man flag. Their armors were easy to identify, so it only took one glare from the Demon Empress's demons. For the true massacre to began. Torrhen, who couldn't move yet, only stared at what was going on before him. It was still surreal. Many, if not everyone in the field, had to come back to reality the moment the two grotesque monsters went on a rampage in the field. Destroying and literally devouring those poor Bolton soldiers.
What is this? Where I am?
Torrhen thought in horror as he could hear the screaming of pain of the Bolton soldiers. The Stark soldiers, who could move from the shock, ran away. Others only saw the carnage going on across the field, wondering if they would ever wake up from whatever nightmare they were in.
"I felt nothing but joy… strange."
Torrhen looked up to the figure of the being responsible for such hell and wondered if the world was at an end. But what happened next surprised him even more.
"You choose wisely, human. That decision saved the life of your soldiers. What is your name?" Galadriel asked.
"Torrhen Stark, of Winterfell," he said with a trembling voice.
Galadriel wanted to scream in joy at the luck she has. The Starks are the ruler of the North. Now how should I play this?
"You understand what I am?" Galadriel asked.
"The… the ancient one, the greatest of them all," Torrhen said, stuttering the words as he stared at the woman with snow-white hair.
"That's what I am and more," Galadriel said.
"My name is Galadriel Melkor, the Supreme One, and I claim this land. Would you kneel or would you face the same fate or those before you?"
The Stark could only stare at what he could say: it was a view he would never forget. There on the field, those monsters were stepping on those soldiers, splitting them in half like nothing. Opening their mouths and swallowing them completely, breaking their bones, and laugh as they scream. Not even the horses escaped their onslaught.
This is the end of the north? He wondered.
"I will kneel… to the supreme one… I will give my everything, but I beg of this god before me. To spare my people, I beg of you."
Torrhen said, sobbing and crying as he wanted nothing more than to stop the screaming of those Bolton soldiers he thought he hated it. They did not deserve such a fate. No human does.
"Would you give your life to them?" Galadriel asked, intrigued by the prince.
For a moment, Torrhen got some of his courage back. And he could only think of his father's words.
"The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives… I was to be their king. My job was to protect the North and their people. And if giving my life would spare the lives of those innocent people I will."
Torrhen was trembling in fear. He may even piss himself, but he stared at the goddess with determination. Even if the scream of those poor men being devoured by the creatures of hell resonated within him. Torrhen had a duty to his people. One he could die for.
Galadriel stared at him. Those golden eyes never left the young man's gaze. And in them, she found determination, something she could respect. A leader, a ruler who cared for his people, was hard for her to understand. Her old world removed any idea of that forever happening, but here she could see it being something more. Galadriel liked that in a person. Besides, she believed it wasn't necessary to go on with the destruction or anything like that. The less bloody the takeover, the better.
"You're a brave man, Torrhen Stark of Winterfell. But you don't have to worry, for I will not bring despair to those with a righteous heart. And because of your honorable soul, I, Galadriel Melkor, will grant you a wish. A sign of good faith, since you have given me you everything."
Torrhen couldn't understand what she meant. But could it be? That she was going to grant him whatever he wanted? One person would ask for gold or power. But for him, he could only wish.
"The soldiers, my father… those who give their life… the soldiers. Could… could you bring them back?"
Galadriel thought about it. There was nothing wrong with that. A part of her kind of expected it. Well, she honestly couldn't care less about them, but anyway. She promised a wish. It could have been anything, but he asked for something like that. Galadriel just shrugged it off.
Mm, I show an ugly side, well; I mean if I want to rule over them; I don't want to be seen as a tyrant. Argh!
Galadriel called the angel who looked rather perturbed by what Pit Fiend and Balor were doing, yet she said nothing.
"My lady, you called for me?" She said.
"Yes, bring back from the clutches of death, the soldiers wearing the Wolf flags. And only those," Galadriel said.
"I understand, my lady."
Torrhen again stared, stunned, at the other divine being before him. It differed from the other two monsters.
Could it be she has control over both life and death? What is she?
Whatever he thinks right now. Torrhen was sure it would change everything soon. Galadriel would transform the North into something more.
Torrhen did not know how true that statement would be.
The news of what took place in the Sheep's head Hills paralyzed the North from the Neck all the way up the wall. A living goddess walking amongst men. How could it not be something unreal? The common folk had to see with their own eyes the goddess walking in the streets of Winterfell, next to monsters. It was clear for many of them that the world was ending. However, in Winter town, that powerful being swore to be something else.
My name is Galadriel Melkor, and I am a Supreme Being. And for thousands of years, I have sleep and in dreams; I have heard the prayers of the damned. No more. Bestow upon me your lives, and I will veil for your future. For I am not a god but a Supreme One.
Galadriel had to look less intimidating, since having an entire kingdom being afraid of her would be a bother to deal with. Besides, she wanted to make sure everyone could hear and see her. Because she wanted for people to spread her name. However, she was not expecting such a powerful response. They crowned Galadriel, the Queen of the North, just a few weeks later of that speech.
All the lords and ladies saw her when they came to Winterfell. Galadriel wanted to make a powerful impression, so she brought The Black Castle to Winterfell, so everyone could see the giant fortress floating above the city. She also summoned less intimidating NPCs. She used [A thousand Silver Spears Warriors] and [The Sisters of Mercy and Light] so they would make her look more accessible to the mortals. Thank god I have so many items in my inventory. And Bukubuku-chagama told me it was a waste of money!
After seeing her magic and what could she do, the lords and ladies bend the knee to her. No surprise there. However, that was not the end. Galadriel had to learn a lot about the history and the culture of the North. It was an enormous piece of land, too. There were a lot of things she must do now. Galadriel may be a Demon Empress, but she would not be a tyrant. Not after all. She suffered back in her old world. She would become a good ruler, the best of them all. Yet she was new in all of that. She must learn it somewhere. And the Starks had a lot of experience ruling the North.
Galadriel got close to them, intending to learn from them. Saving the now ex-king and the prince ended up being a brilliant choice. Even though they were not royalty anymore and were fearful of her. They ended up having an excellent relationship. It even surprised Galadriel how honest and loyal the Stark could be. She did not question their honor, and the North would always be on their debts. That's why she gave them a title to represent her trust in them.
Raise, Torrhen Stark of Winterfell, I, Galadriel Melkor, Queen of the North, and Supreme One. Hereby declare the House Stark as High Lords and Ladies. Custodians of the North and keepers of Winter.
Dorren Stark stepped aside and allowed his son to be the first Custodian. He was old and weak. But he knew it would make the Starks more important to the North and the Queen. And he was right because for the next years he would watch how their queen would transform the land into something he never thought possible. And after a few years, the fear and mistrust slowly disappeared.
Dorren Stark in his last years lived a peaceful life, watching his son grew up to be an outstanding leader and warrior. The Queen would even visit and talk with him. It was surreal, but he welcomed it with open arms. Dorren Stark died at 81 years old, on his warm bed, surrender by his family, as a beloved grandfather, a good friend, and as the Last King of Winter.
Galadriel and Torrhen became strangely good friends. The supreme one found in him a kindred spirit of sorts, a resemblance to one of her old friends. It never went beyond that, but Galadriel was glad that such an honorable man existed. And she built her palace, the mighty and beautiful Winter Palace. She would welcome the small Stark children who would ask about her friends, or as they called it. The other gods. Galadriel would spend hours telling them about them, about her adventures, never getting boring about it. The children would only stare at her with shining eyes while hearing the tales of wonders.
It became one highlight of her life there. But her goals remained. She had to find Nazarick and while the North was being built in her image, Galadriel had to deal with the annoying pest. The so-called Iron Born annoyed her for a bit, as well as the Three Sisters and Skagos. But nothing she couldn't deal with. Honestly, Galadriel was more worried about the management of the North than the war against humans. Being a Queen wasn't easy. Besides, she was having a blast building stuff. She used [Titanium Golems] item to bring forth dozen of golems to help her build all her plans.
Winterfell and The Winter town were the first ones. She had to expand the city and made it a lot better. Her palace, the now-famous Winter Palace, was a beauty to the world. She allowed her mind to go wild. They lavished it with gold and crystals. Enormous, with domes of pure gems. She created a hill, well almost a mountain in the middle of Winter town. They built the palace right on top of it, with four waterfalls on each side. That traveled down into the small town that would soon become a city. Her golems were working day in and night to make sure of it. Not saying that the Northerners weren't helping, but golems could work without the need of sleep or eat.
Galadriel wanted to make Winter town into Winter City, and Winterfell into the greatest castle in the North. Why everything has to be Winter this and that? Galadriel was not sure, but she went with the flow.
She also had a lot of plans, like a canal that would unite the Blazewater Bay with The Shivering Sea. And rebuilding the Moat Callin, and many other ideas, that's why she had little time to worry about humans. Yet she used the opportunity to expand her control. The Three Sisters control the sea of the Bite. Having them under her control would be beneficial to her in the long run. Skagos, although they were part of the North and the Stark ruling in the past, seemed to take her new administration as nothing but a joke. That's why she would send Balor to deal with them. To kill not all of them, but just almost all of them, to make them realize their folly. The Iron Born, well, their history of raping and raiding would end. There was nothing Galadriel hated more in the world than a rapist. Her experiences with that abuse did not allow her to let it slide. That's why she would send Pit Fiend to deal with them.
Pit Fiend unleash upon them hell. Live nothing standing, nothing alive and make them realize their sin. She told Pit Fiend who carried out his lady order with a smile on his face.
In the end, Iron Island and the Three Sisters would belong to her.
Galadriel became a busy person, and for the next decades, her name became a mysterious figure in the South. Not in vain, The Arryn of the Vale had to give up the Three Sisters to the North. They said that a grotesque figure awakened the King of the Vale in the middle of the night, telling him that the island belongs to the Supreme One, and if he dared to march north. They would rain fire upon the mountains. The sons and daughters of the king of the Vale told the people their father went mad after that. No matter how much the eldest son wanted to take back their island back, his father forbade it.
The Iron Islands became nothing but a memory. No one knew what happened there, not even the king of the Isle and Rivers, Harren Hoare. He sent an envoy there, and it never came back. The boats, who dared to travel close there, told him that a mist covered the entire sea. And those who went in never came back. As if the Doom of Valyria took place there. They weren't wrong.
However, while it was true, no Iron Born lived there anymore, and that the Pit Fiend did his best to annihilate the entire population on the Iron Islands. They were going to rebuild from the ground up. The mist was just there to hide it away. Galadriel sent people there to re-populate the land. After all, she discovered that the Iron Islands were, in fact, filled with iron. And Galadriel was not someone who would waste any type of resources.
The North became more powerful as years went by, and after a few decades, her deeds surrounded her name with wonders of her power and beauty. Those merchants who dared travel to the North found themselves dumbfounded by how different it was. From a kingdom of vast lands and poor and savage people. It transformed itself into an empire with vast cities and wealthy lands with sturdy people who worshipped a living god.
In less than three decades, the North became something else, something more. The Empire of Winter.
They filled the wastelands where it was impossible to farm before, with life and livestock. Roads made of solid rock and cities that once were small were now cities. White Harbor became one of the biggest ports in a matter of decades. All thanks to the canal of the North. Even cities like Braavos could help to wonder how could manage such a feat. But one of the major attractions besides the booming new economy and sudden right down mythical infrastructure was the creatures living there. Tales of giant metal statues walking in the streets, of men and women with long ears and tails. And floating castles were impossible to believe, especially the magic the now called Empress of the North possessed.
Many Maesters and priests considered it to be nonsense and blinded themselves to the truth. While it was true, the North became a power of their own; the South was not so, please. However, they were powerless to stop such a thing. It was not so easy to travel to the lands of the Empress of Winter. The Northerners did not allow just anyone to enter their land. There was a long wait if you wanted to travel there and even more if you wanted to make business with them.
It brought tension between the North and the rest of Westeros. Old wounds came back to life as the Andals kings remembered the past. Rumors about a war became louder, but it never came to pass. Because from the east, from the small island at the edge of Blackwater Bay, an unknown threat emerged. Aegon Targaryen marched to Westeros with one goal in mind.
To conquer it.
Aegon Targaryen sat down with a sigh as he stared at the map in front of him. The conquest of Westeros has been going smoothly so far. The Stormlands, the Westerlands, the Reach, and the Vale. They all bend the knee to him. Only Dorne and the North remained. He could deal with Dorne, however, it was the North that worried him.
"The Empire of Winter, what should I do?" Aegon asked.
He thought about the possibilities of an invasion, and truth be told, doing it was not in his best interest. The Neck was a death trap for any army. The army of the North protected the canal of the North with everything they got, and the Moat Callin was a fortress-like no other. Aegon could consider Harrenhal and the Moat as the biggest castles in Westeros. Of course, he was wrong. Winterfell was the biggest castle in Westeros. Only second to the Winter Palace. Well, it was not a castle technically, but it was truly one of the biggest edifications in the North besides the Wall. However, Aegon didn't know.
"I burnt Harrenhal. I think if it comes down to it, I could do the same with Moat Callin. Still, it won't be easy."
Aegon looked at the map before someone interrupted his thoughts.
"Aegon, they are here," a woman with silver hair said.
"I see. It was faster than I thought. Thank you, Visenya," Aegon said.
Visenya smiled at her brother and husband. The older sister had a smirk on her face as both of them walked outside the tent. Anyone could see Aegon's army just at the edge of the Red Fork, preparing themselves for what could it be a bloody battle. The Dragons made themselves known, and not only by their size, but by their roar. Balerion, the Black Dread, was waiting for his rider, while Vhagar and Meraxes sniffed the air, confused by a certain smell.
"What would you do to the savages?" Visenya asked.
"I doubt they are savages, Visenya. You should know better than calling them like that," Aegon said.
"Ah, the Empire of Winter, fill with magic and other nonsense. There was only one empire with magic and it was Valyria. You seemed to forget about it," Visenya said, hissing at each word.
"Visenya, for all your beauty and prowess with the sword, you seemed to still underestimate your enemies. Whatever you believed it or not, we must tread carefully. We don't know what they are capable of. The North is a very mysterious place, even for us."
Visenya sneered at him but said nothing. She hated the fact she married him and more that he seemed to only use her body for his pleasure. Not that she minded the act of sex with her brother, but it was clear there was no love between them. So far, their relationship was cordial enough. But she knew it won't last forever. As they walked to the river, a singing voice brought their attention to them. There, Rhaenys sat, enjoying the wind on her cheeks. Visenya saw the smile of Aegon, and she wanted to gag.
Rhaenys and Aegon loved each other dearly. That was clear for everyone. And for her, it only served as an ugly reminder of her current position.
"My love, my sister," Rhaenys said with a singing voice.
"Have you come here to see them?" She asked.
"Yes, we are. Have you seen anything from above? How big is their army? Or something?" Aegon asked her.
"I'm sorry, brother. But the mist doesn't allow me to see anything," Rhaenys said.
"I see… this is bothersome."
"Hopefully they will kneel," Rhaenys said, to which Visenya snorted.
"They better, otherwise another field of fire would take place here," she said.
Aegon nodded. He may not like the idea of a pointless battle, but his goals were bigger than him. To unite Westeros under one rule, his rule. But with any hope, they could avoid a battle.
"Let's go, let's see the Northen emissary," Aegon said, as they crossed the river to where a tent was waiting for them. Visenya saw the soldier of the north. They made their armor out of a strange metal. Their spears and the auras surrounding them differed from any other soldier on Westeros. Aegon noticed it too, that's why he grew more cautious. Once they entered the tent, they noticed a man with a stoic face waiting for them. Next to him, there was one young man who looked like a younger version of him and a woman with the same hair and eye color.
Family? Aegon wondered.
Aegon had to admit that the woman, or girl, seemed rather young. Younger than Rhaenys, or maybe around the same age. But she was beautiful. There was a sense of wildness emanating from her. She had incredibly short hair, a rounded face showing off that she needed no long hair to be gorgeous, and a body any man could admire. However, the sneer on her face made it known that she was not pleased with them being there.
"Aegon Targaryen, welcome," the older man said.
"King Aegon Targaryen, brute," Visenya said, sneering.
"How dare you…" the short-haired girl said.
"Enough, Visenya!" Aegon said.
"I offer my apologies, my lord. My sister speaks out of order," Aegon said, glaring at his sister-wife.
"Not need, King Aegon, but tensions are high right now. My name, is Torrhen Stark, high lord of Winterfell and Custodian of the North. Next to me is my oldest son, Brandon Stark and my only daughter, Lyara Stark. We are here as envoys," Torrhen said, and Aegon noticed the keywords and how they presented themselves.
"Lord Stark, please to meet you. Before anything, I want you to know that I would gladly avoid a battle. I have spilled enough blood in the last year. That's why I beg of you, that in order to not waste the lives of our soldiers. Tell your empress to bend the knee and give away her crown. If she does, I will spare her life and proclaim her Warden of the North. She would also give away The Three Sisters back to the Vale and the Iron Islands would be under the control of a family I deem worthy. However, if she ignores this. I will bring Fire and Blood."
Torrhen only stared back. His face was indifferent to the threat of war. However, it was his daughter, the one who broke the silence. And it was with a huge laugh. Aegon and his sisters-wives stared confused at the reaction.
"Lyara," Brandon said, hissing at his sister to be quiet. However, it was not enough. Torrhen was the same.
"Lyara, enough," Torrhen said, and while he was trying to look stern at the reaction of his daughter. He could not hide his own amusement.
"I apologize, father. But… it is funny. To have a foreign king demanding our empress to kneel. To kneel! How dare he?! To demand such thing... to her, to my... empress!" Lyara said, as her voice changed from a mocking to one fill with anger.
"Who is he?! What has he done?!" Lyara exclaimed.
"Conquering half of Westeros perhaps? You should keep your mouth shut, girl," Visenya said.
"Ha! Weak men who wear dresses overwhelm the south in numbers. You fought fools," Lyara replied.
"You speak as if you knew about fighting, little girl!" Visenya said.
"More than you will ever know, but I'm not surprise of your low temper. After all, you can't expect great stamina from someone who fucks her own brother!"
Visenya pulled out Dark Sister, as both Aegon and Rhaenys tried to stop her, but a strange black sword halted the Valyrian sword. The edge of the blade seemed to swallow all life, all light. Aegon stared, baffled by the sword. He has seen nothing like it. And neither has Visenya.
"Enough, Lyara, calm down! You're making a fool of yourself!"
Lyara growled like a wolf, yet she obeyed.
"Visenya, stand down now!" Aegon said, and soon his sister did the same as the Stark girl. Both glared at each other.
"I apologize, king Aegon, for the behavior of my daughter," Torrhen said.
"Not harm done, lord Stark words have been say from both parties," Aegon said.
"We should better hear your resolution, lord Stark. Let's not waste more time on this issue, I will give your time for you to travel to Winterfell and give my demands to the empress. I hope she would see reason," Aegon added.
Torrhen nodded. And while many would take the newly crowned king's demands to heart bend their wills to him. It won't be the case with them. Their empress and the North as a whole were more focused on what was going on beyond the Wall. A year ago things went dark there. The Night Watch has been dealing with more Wildings traveling to the south and made their home at Hardhome. Rumors of the dead and demons traveling south have brought the attention of the empress, who wanted to make sure that nothing serious was taking place there. The Night Watch was not the same as it was before. Now they had an empress with immense power supporting them. Golems were there to help them rebuilt ancient castles, and new recruits flooded Castle Black after the empress passed down a law of military service. Those who which to join the army of the supreme one must serve two years at the wall. Making the Night Watch stronger than ever.
That's why the moment the things started become more dark and more reports of wildings appearing near the Wall came in. The Night Watch had to inform the empress. Especially since some recruits swore they saw a White Walker near Hornfoot Tribes. Their empress took charge immediately, and the forces of the North were standing ready in the Wall, with their empress ready to face whatever was coming down on them. Their empress had no time in dealing with a mortal, at least not now. That's why she sent one of her most loyal servants to deal with the Targaryen pretender.
Torrhen was in charge of barely 8000 Northerner soldiers, 25 golems, 800 silver spear warriors. 15 Sisters of Mercy and 250 dark elves. However, it was enough. Torrhen had to deal with all of this fast and travel back to the North, where the actual war was taking place.
"There won't be a reason for waiting, king Aegon. The answer would be the same," Torrhen said.
"Oh, what does it mean?" Aegon asked.
"No. The answer would be no, king Aegon. Thank for your… offer but we decline."
Aegon sighed, fearing such a statement, but they couldn't shake his goals. "I see, a shame… but come dawn your armies and the Empire of Winter will fall."
Torrhen now looked down on him, as he was taller than the king Aegon.
"Come dawn you will realise your folly, king Aegon. You're not dealing with a southerner kingdom, but with the north. You will find no victory here," Torrhen said.
And with that, the negotiations ended and started a new one, but with swords and fire. And it ended as one would have expected, in Aegon's defeat. They would know the battle of the Red Fork and the river itself, as the Dragon blood river for posterity. The Dark Elves archers, with ease, killed Vhagar, bringing the dragon down with Visenya, who miraculously survived the fall. Yet the Targaryen lost the moment the giant metal statues smashed the Aegon army. Balerion and Meraxes prove useless against the powerful magic of the Northerner armor and shields. The Dark elves and the Silver Spear warriors had high resistance against fire and their armors shrugged the fire off with ease. The Golems protected the soldiers with their magic walls, and The Starks fought bravely amidst the fire. Since the empress gave them armors capable of enduring anything. Not even a dragon could beat them.
Aegon had an army of around 55000 soldiers, but by the end. He lost around 42000 and a dragon. While the North lost none. The Sisters of Mercy were casting healing magic across the field, healing and protecting all the soldiers of the North. It was at that moment that Aegon realized his mistake. The North was more powerful than he ever thought. And if the rumors were true, he only fought a small fraction of the mighty army of the North. Truly, he didn't know how lucky he was.
By dawn, he surrendered any claim to the North. Not that he had any, but Torrhen accepted. Visenya, who was healed by the Sister of Mercy, never spoke about what took place in the middle of the battle. But Lyara Stark had a smirk on her face, as only a few knew she defeated the Targaryen queen in a battle. When Visenya fell from the sky, Lyara saved her and gave her a potion that healed all of her wounds. Why? Because the Stark girl wanted to fight her, one against one, on the edge of the Red Fork river. And both did fight, and Lyara Stark won and took Dark Sister as a trophy. Visenya never forgot her defeat.
Torrhen and Aegon sign a pact, in which it states that Aegon would respect the boundaries of the Empire of Winter and the Three Sisters and Iron Islands. They would cease any hostilities and remain below the Neck. A simply enough treaty, but left a window open for the future of both nations. Aegon accepted and went back to Aegonforth to lick his wound and think about what took place. Torrhen couldn't care less, as he took his forces and head back to the North to where the entire might of the North waited for the Long Night. And unbeknown to the rest of Westeros and the world, all the way up beyond the North, the battle for humanity took place, and the Empire of Winter won.
Galadriel sighed in relief as she stood up from her bed. It has been a long time since she felt so relieved. But thankfully, a certain Stark girl was there for her. The Demon Empress stared at the naked body of her young lover. Lyara has proven to be as wild in life as she was in bed. Galadriel smiled. Since she was a child, Lyara let her know she was in love with Galadriel, with the empress. At first, the Demon Empress thought it was a childish crush. Well, it wasn't. When Lyara reached puberty, the wolf girl went full on in her pursuit for her beloved empress's love.
And well, Galadriel has never felt so much devotion in her life, in a love setting in any case. So she indulged herself, because why not? Besides, Lyara Stark was a gorgeous young woman with a dark sense of humor and filled with snarky remarks. It was easy for her to love. But does Galadriel love her? Galadriel so far wasn't sure, but she cares for her. So much, in fact, that Galadriel gave her an armor, sword, and ring to protect her.
Lyara Stark was the first one that asked if she felt lonely. And the first one that wanted to know more about Galadriel, past, and the world. Perhaps it was the reason Galadriel felt a certain attraction to that strange person. Torrhen, of course, knew about it. Galadriel told him about Lyara and their relationship. She may be an empress and all, but Galadriel still wanted the approval of the father. And he did. Otherwise, Lyara would kill him or ignore him.
"You truly are wonderful, my dear Lyara," Galadriel whispered, slowly stroking the face of the sleeping girl.
Galadriel still had a lot to think about. The search for Nazarick was still on her mind, even after almost five decades. But now, she must focus on other things.
"Mm, those White Walkers were a disappointment, but it was a good show. But a shame, I wanted to fight truly. Yet watching the North marching and facing those undead was a sight to be hold. A great battle that would surely be remembered in a hundred years and more."
Galadriel sighed as she stood up and walked to the balcony of her room. Looking at the Winter City made her feel proud. She has a done an excellent job so far.
"There is a lot I must build and work… the Free Cities would send delegations soon. Ah, there are our new neighbors too. The Teriyakis, ah, Targaryen? Well, hopefully they won't be a bother. I really don't care about them yet. Mm, what should I do about the Wildings? Without the Other running around anymore, the Wall is really useless now. Well, I guess it serves as a touristic view. Ah, there is so much to do!"
Galadriel moaned, feeling tired of her endless work. "Being an empress is really hard. Should I take some vacations?"
"I have been working without stoping for the last decades, perhaps I should take a break."
"You're speaking alone again."
Galadriel turned around and saw a naked Lyara walking at her. She seemed tired and sighed. Galadriel smiled as she saw the marks of their recent lovemaking.
"I apologize," Galadriel said.
Lyara walked to Galadriel and hugged the empress. Lyara buried her face between Galadriel's incredible chest. The empress smiled as she kissed the forehead of her lover.
"Do you want me to go back to sleep?" Galadriel asked.
"Mmphm," Lyara only mumbled with her face still on her blossom.
"Alright, let's go back to sleep," Galadriel said.
Galadriel went back to bed, as she stopped thinking about her work for tonight. Hopefully, the future in the world would a lot better than in the last years. Galadriel hoped. A smooth ride from now on. However, she was wrong as in the next decades. Galadriel would have to deal with the annoying Targaryen family and their shenanigans.