A distant beacon in a Sea of Monsters

GRAN GOODBROTHER'S POV

No matter how you spin it…Regardless if I was the only one who seemed to notice… the situation my brothers and I found ourselves in was starting to concern me.

From my history studies I have no recollection of when was the last time a royal member of the continent had bothered to visit this isolated region my people called home, much less leave with three noble heirs instead of seeking marriage with one of my sisters.

Not that my Lord father's house had any value to the King who took the Iron Throne from the Targaryens by force alone, but still, why even burden themselves with us three?

Unless…unless…I-I must be missing the big picture, and it's leaving me worried.

"Ouch." I failed to suppress my discomfort after feeling someone hit me without warning.

"Will you stop muttering gibberish by yourself, Gran? You will embarrass us in front of the soldiers!" My brother Greydon startled me out of my thoughts with a casual punch to my shoulder, continuing to puff his chest as we were just about to step inside the Lannister ship.

As I rubbed my upper arm in annoyance I immediately retorted. "Are you stupid?! What part of all of this makes you feel at ease?"

"Ha! What do you mean? Father sent us to be fostered at Casterly Rock, shouldn't you out of all people be more excited about it? I'm sure you will have a better chance to show off your fancy words and posture there than you would around here anyway." My oaf of a brother laughed at my concerns. "Who knows, if I prove my strength I might even become one of those knights and get myself a great piece of armor, oh, and also a big weapon!"

"That's… not how it actually works. First you would have to ser…" I stopped myself from going on a tangent, immediately pinched my nose at his antics and waited until we were far enough from earshot before attempting to whisper something. "That's besides my point. I was…"

"This ship…" Right at that moment, our peculiar brother Gormond interrupted me mid sentence with his quirky analysis of irrelevant details. "…is definitely well maintained and its watercraft certainly isn't something one finds that often without specialized manpower. Foremast, Mainmast and Mizzenmast are well aligned and the shrouds are stable enough that the wind won't entangle them by accident. Although it might lose in overall speed and maneuverability to our people's longships, it certainly can carry itself through larger distances and endure quite the punishment either from the environment or combat with other vessels. And…"

Greydon and I shared looks before merely dismissing what our brother continued to ramble on and on while simultaneously fidgeting with something on his hands with queer nimbleness.

"Sure, yeah. Whatever." I finally had enough and accepted our fate for the moment. "In any event, it's not as if we have any saying on it."

As we walked past a few of these weirdly clad soldiers, I was surprised to admit being appreciative of their well organized formation and well kept equipment, safe for the towering man donning a set of black armor and a snarling hound helmet which made me considerably anxious to the point of breathing more heavily, but soon enough my brothers and I joined the presence of the young Crown Prince whom despite his young age was for all intents and purposes the harbinger of our destiny from now onwards.

Having said that, he wasn't the first to speak once our presence was acknowledged.

"Welcome, my young lords, to my trusty ship the 'Laughing Lion'. Be assured that just as my family so constantly prides itself on saying, I fully intend to repay the great hospitality your sire granted us." We were addressed by the smiling Lannister captain who accompanied the boy with mismatched hair and contrasting eyes.

Even though my brothers and I didn't have much in common, besides our physical features, we at the very least had a consensus that I was the one with the aptitude for the eloquent flattery most nobles from the continent so obviously valued. No one could doubt by looking at my regal bearing that I was indeed a cut above the unwashed masses, especially the barbaric reavers my culture so foolishly extolled.

"I appreciate the kind gesture, Lord Lannister. Allow me to speak in the name of all my brothers that we three sincerely hope to be worthy of such privilege. Being chosen to be fostered by the Warden of the West certainly can't be described as anything less than a great boon over our house." I quickly answered with all the pageantry I was capable of, before turning to the currently most notorious figure in this region. "As for the Crown Prince, we truly hope to get along and have this be the first day of a very fruitful and long-lasting relationship."

"Likewise, I also hope we can get along." The crown prince followed suit, somehow eerily mimicking Greydon's confident tone and posture as the young royal suddenly pated the back of my brother that seemed to physically resemble him the most, although it didn't slip my senses that he still edged Greydon up by nearly half a foot and had slightly broader shoulders. "As the saying goes, lads that learn together, train together, knock each other down and pick each other up might even form a lifelong bond, wouldn't you agree?"

"Absolutely! Ha!" My headstrong sibling joined with a boisterous laugh, acting as if he and the prince were already long-lasting friends. "I'm certain I can show you a couple of my best moves, Durrandon."

Despite my cringing reaction at my brother's foolery, the Crown Prince didn't actually seem to be offended at all with my brother addressing him without his title. Instead of callously ordering his soldiers to throw us out at the sea for overstepping our position, the response we got was a polite smile followed by a friendly request. "Please, my friends call me Don."

"Okay. I'm Greydon, but since you said it first, I guess it only leaves you to call me Grey." My brother shrugged with a genuine smile. "Oh, you probably still remember their names from your arrival at our family's castle, but in case you don't, that conceited bookkeeper is Gran, technically the middle brother, and last but not least is our dear little Gormond there. Don't mind his enthusiasm about dismantling things though, our father says that he just suffers from being a bit too…creative."

While I was doing my best to not freak out from all of that break of decorum, our peculiar brother just raised his hand and casually replied. "Hi. I like your bracelet."

"Oh, he has been appreciating quite more than that. Did you know our baby brother here has great understanding of ships?" Greydon said, apparently trying his best to introduce Gormond's hobbies as if it was something normal for a lad his age.

The Crown Prince answered by sharing a bit of his knowledge on the matter, Gormond appeared to be immediately engaged in the details revealed to him, the two then continued to briefly discuss about subjects I unfortunately had no proper understanding of, instead I took that opportunity with no one's attention on me by getting away with a rather awkward facepalm and hoping our luck wouldn't run out anytime soon.

"Gran?" I heard my name being called by someone who wasn't either one of my siblings and immediately tensed up once I noticed who it was.

"Y-yes? M-my p-, I mean, Don." I quickly recovered with a bit of stammering.

"By bookkeeper I understand your brother was mentioning your interest in knowledge, or am I mistaken?" The prince spoke to me with a calm and clear tone.

"I know my way around history books and maps." I humbly replied, actually really invested in the concept of the continental Maesters, but not willing to push my luck as my relatives did I just leave it at that. "But I still have plenty to learn on more experience-dependent subjects such as economics and astrology."

"Excellent. I'm certain that you may find great interest in the discussions my uncle and I usually dwell upon, hopefully you will also get along well with the heir of Horn hill. From the short time we spent together I took the lad to be quite the savant when it comes to literature." Was the response I got before our brief interaction reached its end.

After that, we were shown where we would be allowed to rest during our voyage all the way back to the Westerlands. Having shared almost everything with my three brothers, it was actually a welcoming experience to the appropriate amount of privacy, especially inside a vessel as extraordinary as this one.

Must grant it to these green landers, they certainly knew how to travel with all the comfort a noble like me deserves.

Incidentally, the Lannister captain's hospitality for some reason struck me as rather odd, though I sure would've been remiss if I didn't also acknowledge the man's gift of making my brothers and I laugh from time to time.

And the crown Prince was unquestionably someone raised to rule, being a natural diplomat and well versed in so many topics that it actually dwarfed my capabilities to which I prided myself back amongst my people.

In any event, my initial worries were at very least somewhat lessened by this pleasant welcoming, and my expectations were growing.

————————————————————————

DURRANDON'S POV

And just like that, the 'Laughing Lion' had three extra passengers that would be accompanying us on our way back to the continent. And surprisingly enough, after constantly interacting with the trio I actually found myself already growing somewhat interested in Lord Goodbrother's triplets sons Greydon, Gran and Gormond.

No. Nothing weird or kinky mind you, dipshit. I was just curious if bringing some heirs of strategically relevant houses under my wing would really prove to be as much of a benefit as I was anticipating it to be.

Out of the three, Greydon Goodbrother was technically the eldest son and oficial heir of Gorold Goodbrother, Lord of Hammerhorn. He was the one who seemed to most favor the path of the warrior, having already been practicing the basic combat lessons back at his home. Honestly, Greydon reminded me of Daven, if he was a decade younger, given how blunt and outspoken he usually was. Thankfully he had yet to develop a similar kind of arrogance and vanity I had come to expect from a Ironborn noble, like Theon Greyjoy was infamous for.

Though signs of it were more noticeable in the middle brother, Gran Goodbrother, who was the one that most favored the path of the noblemen, with a faint resemblance of a natural entrepreneurial spirit if I may add. Fortunately he was currently more Tyrion Lannister than Theon Greyjoy, with how he appeared to be an intelligent, well educated and ferocious reader. Caring more about etiquette and bargaining knowledge than combat prowess or even devotion to the faith of the Drowned God. On that front he also reminded me of a mixture between Lord Harlaw and Lord Blacktyde, which wasn't that controversial in the eyes of his father, since House Goodbrother was commonly disdained by most of the other Ironborn Lords it seems only natural that they in turn would end up not worrying all that much about impressing anyone of them back.

Having said that, the third brother was by far the most peculiar case of the bunch. Gormond Goodbrother displayed neither Greydon's interest for combat or Gran's mental acuity for political schemes, favoring instead both the art of craftsmanship and, believe it or not, mining as well. Out of the three, he struck me as the most creative and inquisitive one. Reminding me a little of my experience learning from Tobho Mott, with a small hint of perfectionism, willingness to dedicate hours of sleep to test an idea the old black smith just came up with and an analytical eye for breaking things apart to better understand how they worked. Cherry on top of all that, Gormond seemed to have some undiagnosed level of autism for this day and age.

Although obviously different in tastes and ambitions, the brothers were still physically identical triplets, being very hard for regular people to tell them apart from each other if not for their preference for clothes and slightly different builds. With my Observe skill being so high up by this point that it had developed into a passive for me, it provided me with information such as names and levels as if they were floating above their heads at all times.

But that was neither here nor there for now.

In all honesty, I was also growing impressed by how far my ability to persuade and manipulate others was growing. The triplets were mostly oblivious to the actual reason why their father had sent them with me other than political matters, most likely because they didn't have the slightest clue about the looming rebellion. Then again, why would these precocious eight years old need to be made aware of such matters?

"I'm glad you've been spending more time with kids your age, Don." I heard my granduncle, Gerion, telling me in a rather amicable manner.

"Is that so?" Faced him with a friendly smile. "I suppose it is expected of anyone in my position."

My unofficial master of ships placed his hand over my shoulder and smiled once again before sharing a piece of advice. "I'm well aware that just like Tywin you might find it a waste of your time. But if I may dare, you would do well to remember that despite your size and title, you are still a kid. Obvious as it may sound, that won't last forever."

"I see." Took me a long second to recollect my thoughts before thanking the man for his honesty, which he replied with a casual nod and a wink before we both moved on.

Regardless, my plan to gain their loyalty also took into consideration how Theon ended up with the Starks, right to the point of betraying them to appease the minimal chance he had of earning his father's respect and proving himself a true ironborn. Greydon, Gran and Gormond had been raised by a house that didn't favor the overdependence on the sea nor seemed fanatic with the Faith of the Drowned God and its Old Ways. Honesty, they might even feel more at home at Casterly Rock then they would have anywhere else on the Iron Islands given how the Lannister seat was basically a castle built inside a giant mine of Gold.

If by the time the rebellion was over I still hadn't gained their fealty, I would reconsider my plan of adding them to my party of companions. For now, their titles alone would suffice for my plans.

With Tyrion and Daven, aided by Tygett and Gerion, I had already secured enough stability for the Lannisters to keep their influence over the Westerlands, and they could also help boost the influence that both Cleos Frey and Samwell Tarly had over their families on the kingdoms of the Riverlands and Reach respectively, especially with great figures like Brynden Tully and Randyll Tarly bringing great prestige for my Royal Legion.

The triplets, alongside Ironborn houses sympathetic to the faith of the Seven such as the Harlaws and Blacktydes, would help secure the Iron Islands into the fold and under the direct control of the Iron Throne.

But that's a matter for the future.

Right now, one of my latest breakthroughs offered me the legendary ability to envision distant realms with my Glass Candle, and you can bet your ass I had plenty of places that I wished to have a peek into, mostly to appease my frustration with the lack of modern communication of this world. Light, my white raven familiar was great and all, but currently Casterly Rock was the closest she was capable of traveling towards and back in sufficient time.

Now, King's Landing, the place of my birth, was the obvious place to start Scrying into. However, I wasn't expecting the level of sentimentalism I felt after seeing once again my beloved half-siblings, Lann and Joanna, who were almost past their fifth name day and have grown so much since the last time I saw them. Not to mention my first glance at the recently born Tytos who appeared to be the Tommen equivalent of this alternative universe I found myself in.

The fact that I learned of his birth through this magical spell before any raven reached Casterly Rock only proves my point of ineffective communication.

Back to my half-siblings, all of them with curly golden hair and green eyes must be a testament to how confident both my mother and uncle Jaime were in regards to their secret relationship, with Lann and Joanna being quite literally a spitting image of themselves.

Speaking of the older golden twins, the dragons in lion's clothes, after revealing some of my secrets to Tywin it was kind of weird imagining how little they knew of what I was doing or how far I've come. Jaime still didn't seem to understand or care about the implications of what sparing the life of Rhaegar's daughter would cause, and from the looks of it neither did Cersei waste any time on attempting to present herself as a substitute mother for Rhaenys with how frequently I caught them both interacting rather amicably. Come to think of it, mother really seems to have a weakness for the Valyrian bloodline, otherwise she wouldn't have so foolishly trusted the Bastard of Driftmark in the books just because he reminded her of the Last Dragon prince.

As for my father, the Demon of the Trident clearly had long grown bored of being King by the time he heard of his coronation, thankfully at the very least his pride as a warrior still kept him from quickly becoming the overweight drunkard everyone knew he would one day become. I even managed to witness a sparring match between him and Barristan, with the Lord Commander focusing on just blocking and parrying the heavy blows my father dealt with his warhammer just to let off some steam. Which even for all of the legendary swordsman's skill was much easier said than done, given how stupidly strong my father was despite being slightly out of his prime.

Moving on to the Hand of the King, I saw that contrary to the other citizens of the Red Keep, time clearly wasn't being kind to Jon Arryn, the old falcon seemed almost as decrepit as the farce Pycelle presented to everyone, although weirdly enough not as sickly as the old Gyles Rosby who by everyone's estimatives should've died half a decade ago. If I didn't know better about the stress the poor falcon lord must be going through with my father leaving everything regarding ruling in his hands, I might've been more suspicious of some foul play from some schemer like Littlefinger or Varys. In any event, I trusted Jon's daughter enough to be alert to a matter as important as this one.

Finally, last but certainly not least, both my dear childhood friends, Rhaenys and Alysse, my sun and moon improbable duo. The two of them were developing into fine girls in their own way.

Even if just past her tenth nameday, the ward of the crown and one of the last Targaryen was undoubtedly beautiful with her slender and petite build, bearing a saturnine face and black eyes that I came to expect from her dornish ancestry and gloomy childhood, not to mention what being raised as an assassin spy would do on a kid. Being slightly edgy was but an inoffensive quirk. What I wasn't expecting though was that her hair had changed quite drastically since the last time we saw each other. Instead of the long and lustrous black hair with only the occasional silver streaks she once had, I now saw that she had cut it to almost chin-length and that the silver portion had nearly outgrown the black. It was uncanny how our hair now resembled one another, almost to the point I doubt it was accidental.

Later during the night I saw how far her training with the Spider had paid off. While under his watch she behaved as the perfect candidate for assuming his position as master of whispers if the need ever arrived, contacting and being contacted by Varys' network of spies, all the while secretly following my steps by beating criminals to a pulp with her bare tiny hands and recruiting some of the smallfolk willing to follow the infamous Stranger and its faction of vigilantes, inadvertently putting to use some of the untapped potential the High Sparrow would find in raising zealots to his cause.

As for Alysse, the first thing I noticed were her now high cheekbones, clear sky blue eyes and thick soft blond hair that only accentuated her tall, graceful and almost developed womanly body. Despite being just three and ten, I had no doubts her soft-spoken and sweet smiles would earn her the admiration of both nobles and smallfolk just like they did for Margaery back in the books. Her proximity with Pycelle might've been proof of how much she changed the old man's view on teaching women. Even her father seemed somewhat interested in making her more educated with his responsibilities as Hand of the King.

Luckily Littlefinger, despite being the creep that he was, didn't seem to show all that much interest in Alysse other than apparently being investing on a powerful pawn for him to manipulate on the Game of Thrones. That and also probably because he had more of a thing for redheads, which for all of his faults I couldn't blame it on him this time, especially after the short time I've spent with Desmera Redwyne and her wonderful freckles. Even the current Lysa Tully wasn't that hard to look at, still not that overweight or seemingly much older than her actual age, although I'm not sure for how long that would last.

At the same time I felt genuinely happy with seeing so many familiar faces, I also felt worried about how simple it was for anyone with a glass candle and sufficient knowledge of how to use it to spy on the infamously well guarded Red Keep. A quick glance over the Alchemist Guild and Tobho Mott served to prove to me that at least the guild must really have been something big back in their haydays, given how I was incapable of scrying inside their headquarters, and also the fact that the Blacksmith of Qohor knew more than a little bit of magic to blur the images and sounds I got from inside his shop. The fact that both groups so rarely left their warded homes told me I would have to rely on sending messages to Rhaenys and having her visit them if I wanted to inform or be informed of anything important.

The last contact I was capable of witnessing through my Glass Candle was Chataya, who apparently despite having been receiving letters from Alysse through the few visits Rhaenys paid her, was incapable of uncovering their real identities. The gorgeous summer islander aided our plans by willingly acting as the important figurehead reaching out to other businesses such as the Crossroad inn on the Riverlands and the Quill and Tankard tavern on Oldtown.

Outside of King's Landing, the last couple of places I had any interest spending my time scrying into had to be both Lannisport and Casterly Rock, where most of my remaining allies were grouped together.

The old lion lived up to his reputation, never wasting a minute of his time, always delegating tasks and sharing just as many responsibilities with Kevan. Probably because these weren't regular times, the war might seem to me just like a canonical event that would've been solved by itself even without my interference, but I can imagine how the mighty Tywin would feel the need to make the most out of such an opportunity.

The shadow cast by the eldest of Tytos Lannister's children was large and vast, while Kevan decided to just accept it and Gerion merely ignored it, it was Tygett who really struggled with it and the one I had to be most careful while dealing with. For now I was both fortunate that he was competent enough to not require constant instructions and that until proven in actual war the Royal Legion was regarded by most lords as nothing more than an expensive whim of a prince that will quickly lose interest in. Which I believe Tygett preferred instead of it just being another one of Tywin's master plans.

Just from occasionally scrying into his routine I could attest to how much dedication Tygett had poured into this opportunity, having the caves underneath Casterly Rock being prepared to accommodate my legionaries and keep the training of new recruits uninterrupted even throughout the next winter. That and the company of some new faces from the influential house of the westerlands, the likes of Adam Marbrand, Lyle Crakehall and Harwyn Plumm.

As of the last of Tytos' children, the intelligent and shrewd Genna. Unsurprisingly, she appears to have taken my Pretty Pia under her wing while I was away, making me wonder how much had she mentally changed since we last saw each other. Nevertheless, I had to admit something, I get that Genna was almost shapely enough to be called fat, but man did I find myself wanting to clap those cheeks and rest on that enormous bosom of hers. The chubby milf archetype at its finest. Errm, apologies…She is clearly too much for her husband to handle anyway…moving on…

I got a few glimpses of both Samwell Tarly and my half brother Satin training with Tyrion, some of those encounters were even outside, working out on the shooting range and even hunting in the nearby woods with a couple of my Royal Legion's scouts. I also managed to sight Daven frequently acting as Tygett's squire and on some occasions even patrolling alongside Lannisport city's watch, which would've given me Rogue Prince Daemon's vibes if not for the stark difference between their personalities.

Now…enough of staring into the flames of glass candles and watching people like a creep, back to my present voyage through the Sunset sea, for all my brief introduction to the Iron Islands, Old Wyk actually seemed to be the most desolate, cold and miserable place up to this point. It was nestled in the middle of the archipelago, with Great wyk curved almost three-quarters of the way around it and Orkmont to the east. Though relatively small, it was almost completely covered by hills and black craggy mountains. Despite the size and inhospitable nature of the island, I knew three noble houses that made their home here.

First being House Drumm, the primary target of Tywin Lannister once the Rebellion was in motion I imagine, and where Lord Dunstan Drumm who was known as the Lord of Old Wyk ruled, and two other unimportant branches of House Goodbrother that shared the island alongside House Stonehouse. All fortresses here, as was typical in the Iron Islands, were stone built and facing the sea.

But of course, I haven't come to Old wyk for castles or beautiful scenery. It was for the legendary Nagga's Hill.

As we anchored the 'Laughing Lion' and took the tenders towards the shore beneath Shatterstone, the seat of one of the minor branches of House Goodbrother, we immediately noticed we weren't the only boat here. On islands like this the Ironborn used every safe landing spot available, and the shallow draught of their boats allowed it to be dragged ashore and beached with surprising ease just like you would expect from these fictionally inspired vikings.

My group made our way there at a regular pace, sticking out much like a sore thumb amongst the locals, meanwhile Nagga's Hill rose up in the distance, jutting out of the sea, along the beach with the rocky pathway heading slowly upwards. Since I was finally standing here personally, I felt it was worth the effort to dwell upon the fable of Nagga, the sea dragon, after whom this place was named after all. Better yet, I would like to hear it from the mouth of a native.

"So, which one of you knows the story of these majestic structures?" I asked out loud to the group of Goodbrother boys I've been interacting and making myself acquainted with for the past couple of days.

"It would be a great pleasure, Don." The middle brother, Gran, began. "The Dreaded Nagga was The Legendary Sea Dragon, The First Great Sea Dragon who ruled over the ocean during the Dawn Age. And she was described to be quite ferocious, the massive Krakens and leviathans of the past were nothing more than dinner to her, many claimed that with a smash of her tail entire islands were left broken apart and drowned in the waters." He told us with such confidence it was as if we were being taught by an authority on the subject, only to stop for a moment to recover his breath before continuing once again. "She lived for many years spreading fear through sailors and island dwellers alike, until she was defeated by the Grey King, who was so named because his hair, eyes, clothes and even his skin were gray."

"Excellent. it's impressive to see how well educated you are on matters such as these." I complimented him while thinking about the Grey King of legends. Grey was perhaps not the most heroic color, as the iron Islanders seem to be able to make even their legendary heroes drab and depressing, but he was a legendary hero nonetheless, in similar fashion to how Bran the Builder was to House Stark and Durran Godsgrief was for House Durrandon.

"Thank you." Gran replied rather amicably before continuing. "From the slayed sea dragon teeth, the Drowned God allegedly fashioned a crown, and from her jawbone a throne, which the Grey King has been ruling from henceforth. Building his Hall with Nagga's ribs forming the pillars, arching high into the sky. The creatures' living fire has been keeping the hall warm as the legendary hero ruled for at least a thousand and seven years, watching over feasts and dispensing justice, before finally descending into the sea to sit at the right hand of the Drowned God himself. And with his departure, came the inevitable end of his hall."

As the young Goodbrother continued recalling everything he knew about the place, I came to understand that the Storm God was believed to have snuffed out the fire as the ocean claimed the throne and time destroyed the hall itself. All that remained was what we saw before us. The grassy slopes of Nagga's Hill, which rose up from atop them like a giant crown, were still here. Time and the ocean could destroy a mortal hall, but not the remains of the mighty Nagga.

Right here and now I could finally attest to how tall, albeit separate and yet undeniably imposing they stood. Each one was wider than a mast, wide enough that no one could stretch their arms around it and as cold to the touch as regular stone.

While leading my group to wander among them, with the occasional side eyes from the locals, I gaze up at them in wonder and concluding that there was no doubt that they did seem to form the shape of a giant creature's ribcage, while pondering if I will one day be able to assume such form with my Wild Shape or at the very least meet such majestic creature and make it bow to my will.

Curiously, I have to say that any dragonbone I have ever laid eyes upon had been black, or at least darker, not mottled white like these. Their color was more like, dare I say it, petrified weirwood. The likes of which I've once seen at Raventree Hall before my unrequested interference. Not that I was implying or suggesting that there were any weirwood trees on the Iron Islands, there weren't many weirwood trees at all below the Neck safe for the very few I've managed to come across, which was a shame given my expectations to level up my Druid title before the Rebellion.

Which left me insistent that such a strange edifice as this had to be something more than a fairy tale, perhaps the legend was true. After all, Sea Dragon's bones surely had to be somewhat different from Flying Fire Breathing Dragon's bones. Placing my hand over the alleged bones of a mythical Sea Dragon, I was greeted by an influx of ancient magical energy, not exactly like but very reminiscent to the feeling that I got from Valyrian artifacts such as dragon glass, dragon bones and Valyrian steel.

PING!

'Been a while since I last felt this exciting sensation.' I thought before immediately reviewing my recent progress.

[TITLE "SORCERER" HAS LEVELED UP!]

'Extra sorcery points is better than nothing, I suppose.' I scratched my head at my first reward. 'But still was expecting something more for my very first title.'

[TITLE "BARBARIAN" HAS LEVELED UP TWICE!]

[TWO OF YOUR FEATURES HAVE EVOLVED!]

[SHIELDING STORM]

*You learn to use your mastery of the storm to protect others. Each creature of your choice has the damage resistance you gained from your Storm Soul feature while the creature is in your Storm Aura.

[ZEALOUS PROTECTORS]

*Your inspiring zealotry has led you to learn how to channel divine power from the heavens by unleashing a battle cry infused with divine energy when you enter your rage, summoning spectral warriors to aid your allies in battle and show your enemies that you are the one that they should face. These specters sent by your gods will hinder your opponents' attacks against anyone that isn't you while bolstering the fighting spirit of your allies.

'Okay, I wasn't expecting this degree of frontline tankiness from an archetype that was so often associated with running up ahead while leaving one's party behind and shouting Leeroy Jenkins or something like that.' I admitted while noticing the magical pressure just waiting to be unleashed into a mindless frenzy. 'But I guess the popular Barbarian didn't usually match well with functional armor either, so that's a moot point. And I would be lying if the prospect of more effectively manipulating storms and summoning ancient warriors whenever the battle was getting too tough for me to focus on anything other than attacking an opponent wasn't slightly appealing to me. Just put me on a wasteland surrounded by enemies and I would be living the fantasy of any heavy metal album cover.'

[TITLE "RANGER" HAS LEVELED UP TWICE!]

[ONE OF YOUR FEATURES HAS EVOLVED!]

[EXTRAORDINARY PREPARATION]

*The beast which you've established a deep partnership with through your exceptional training can now be a candidate to go through a ritual in which it now bears primal markings of mystical origins that are evidence of your bond with nature, resulting in its attacks now counting as magical for the purpose of overcoming resistance and immunity to most non magical attacks and damage.

'I suppose it's a natural evolution from having my wild shapes and summons become this effective in my current low fantasy environment. I mean, certainly the idea of giving the Lannisters a squad of loyal pet lions just became immensely more potent. Although I'm not sure if it is all that viable for the army of rats concept I first came up with back in my time at the capital, but oh well, beggars just can't be choosers I guess.'

[TITLE "DRUID" HAS LEVELED UP!]

'Wait, there's more? Bring it one then!'

[ONE OF YOUR FEATURES HAVE EVOLVED!]

[COSMIC OMEN]

*You've learned how to use your star chart to divine the will of the cosmos for the next minute. Once a day, you can consult your star chart for omens of Weal and Woe, effectively bestowing upon you a limited ability to see into the immediate future with great precision.

'Oooooh! Written in the stars! A million miles away!… Just kidding. My bad! My bad. Heh.' I mentally told myself as I was already used to that strange quirk of mine. 'But in all seriousness, I was almost starting to believe that this thing about establishing a truce between the Old and New Gods wasn't going anywhere.' I raised my wrist and inspected my holy symbol for something new. 'Seven Hells, I might've blasphemed once or twice claiming the Old trees were being more generous with their gifts. Hopefully the spectral warriors might be enough to help balance things out.'

As I gazed deeper into the crystal in the shape of a seven-pointed star, for a brief moment I felt my conscience being dragged down an abyss right before I saw several constellations that somehow summed up a myriad of different ways my next minute was about to happen. It all reminded me of my Portent ability safe for the much clear predictability of my actions, which was ironic given how daydreaming and stargazing usually worked.

"Is everything alright, kid?" Sandor asked me, probably noticing my sudden stillness and silence after interacting with the massive bones.

Smiling back at him, I nodded before replying. "Sure thing. Just felt a bit of residual magic and decided to meditate upon it."

"I… I see." My sworn shield replied, both confused about it and worried that others might've heard. "Just try not to bring that pile of bones back to life while we are here. Not sure if they have already taught you how to do it, but I would rather make sure to tell you it's a bad idea."

"I will see what I can do." I smirked, not having really considered it until now. Sadly I wasn't yet expecting my knowledge or my Death Knight's necromancy powers to be sufficient for such a feat.

In any case, the ceremonial and religious importance of this giant sea dragon skeleton did not just end with the Grey King and his god-like monster slaying achievement. This was precisely where, for centuries, the legendary Kingsmoot was held, where all the lords and captains gathered in one place to choose their new King. The priests of the Drowned God would call the Kingsmoot and they would come, putting forward their claim, not based on birthright but on deeds done, treasure plundered and promises of future glory.

The man who won the acclaim of the gathered crowd was henceforth crowned as King. And although I've been quite disappointed with the denizens of these islands with their raiding, thralls and dank castles up until now, I will admit that this system had its merits. Not that I find it better than the monarchical system of the continent, which suited my plans for the future far better, but still… a curious tradition for a culture so stuck with cruel and obtuse practices.

A ruler chosen by popular acclaim, albeit with a rather limited suffrage, rather than by birthright was a radical idea to be sure, but it's not as they have stuck with it for the whole of their history of course, as the next stop of the Laughing Lion would demonstrate.

Well, at least that was the plan for which I've been scheduling my time around this journey. You know, paying a visit to the Greyjoys on my way out of this archipelago promised to be the high point of my time here, especially if I got to meet again that pirate princess who felt a little too enthusiastic about following the customs of her people.

But everything changed… when I received another vision. This one was… a lot clearer than my portent ability usually allowed. Must've been related to my recent breakthrough with cosmic omens, although it felt more like a long forgotten memory, which eerily sent me all the wrong signs I might be Eren Jaegering myself towards the future I had most interest to see transpiring.

I don't know, one time I was planning on visiting Pyke on my way out of these islands, then on the other… I could see myself elsewhere being praised as a higher being while a crowd of tribalistic looking smallfolk bowed before me, amongst them I managed to spot the occasional warrior clad in what appeared to be a sort of ceremonial bone and boiled leather armor due to how impractical for actual combat it seemed. Suddenly, as I basked in some unusual level of adoration towards my image, I heard a stranger's voice call for me, however when I turned towards the source I only managed to glimpse at the back of a slender and unfamiliar figure with blue long hair before it submerged deep into the waves of the coast on the small island I found myself in.

Before my future self followed after the one who previously called for me, I turned back to the crowd of submissive people and, almost as if deliberately to make sure I'd knew where I was, on the horizon I sighted a simple tower displaying a coat of arms in orange cloth emblazoned by a standard of a black longship atop a black sea, outlined against the setting sun, a dark red one. Thanks to my great dedication in my early years towards memorizing most, if not all, of the heraldry in Westeros, I knew very well where I was.

Once I was back to the supposed present, despite my clear and valid suspicions, an unexpected change of plans presented itself. Fortunately, this would also serve as the final test for my most recent subjects who keep claiming to have accepted me as their true master.

After informing Sandor about my decision and putting him in charge to keep everything in order and under his control until I got back, I emphasized the importance of his aid in covering up for my eventual lack of interaction with the trio of Ironborn heirs but he assured me he had something in mind for that. Trusting my Swornshield's judgment I was also pleasantly surprised by how Gerion wasn't that hard to convince that I was going to seclude myself for a while, either due to plenty of study or my long periods of prayer, my great granduncle was already used to my peculiar behavior and seemed to have no intention whatsoever of prying further into my motives.

Funny, I was half expecting a bit of lecturing after all that speech of his on enjoying life while I was young, but you won't see me complaining. Once the opportunity presented itself, I assumed my Aquatic Form and led both Skarrhes and Degrok towards the far west by sea while nobody was looking. Come to think about it, it probably was the westernmost location in the Known World aside from Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya, the small grouping of islands in the Summer Sea that were discovered by Lady Alys Westhill in her attempt to sail beyond 'the sunset'.

As we quickly made impressive progress on our journey, I acknowledged this as the perfect chance to see how well I swam when compared to both my shark-humanoid servants in their natural environment.

"Master." The Sahuagin priestess drew my attention as we quickly streamed our way out of the Ironman's Bay, communicating thanks to her magical ritual which she prepared in advance that easily reached my ears even at this speed underwater. "May I inquire where we are heading to?"

"To a special place." I began, causally turning to face both of my servants without hindering my swimming speed even in the slightest, for it was almost as if the water was propelling me more than I was actually swimming. "You see, while most of the Iron Islands were pack together in Ironman's Bay, there's a smaller group of thirteen islands clustered around the Lonely Light, the smallest island of the eight major Iron Islands and seat of House Farwynd, just eight days sail northwest of the archipelago. At this pace I believe we will probably manage to reach it in a couple of days."

"Understood. Forgive my curiosity." The sea priestess replied as her companion's larger figure loomed under her as a hidden predator.

"It's no trouble." I replied before facing ahead and focusing my mind on becoming one with the underwater nature, which resulted in a much better understanding of the surrounding territory at least one kilometer away from my position.

Basically scanning my surroundings in real time so that I wouldn't be surprised by anything or anyone emerging from the pitch black waters of the open sea which might've once housed a massive sea dragon, all the while also mitigating any semblance of danger this deep body of water might have reserved for anyone that thread carelessly around here. Although my Player's Mind might prevent me from panicking, it didn't assure me that anything bad couldn't happen regardless.

Honestly, despite my interest in figuring out if the rumors of the disfigured and savage deep ones was anything but a misunderstanding where in place I might find a graceful society of merfolk resembling the likes of the Little Mermaid and Atlantis tales, knowing a little of the world George RR Martin had create I wouldn't be surprised if Cthulhu himself roamed down there. But I suppose identifying prevalent plants and animals of this region was the best I could hope for at my current level of power, not to mention how my servants clearly took the opportunity to influence and gather a large group of sharks to follow us.

As the day quickly went by and our journey continued uninterrupted as the Sahuagin couple managed to keep up with my pace without signs of exhaustion, I felt confident with speeding up. By periodically casting a couple of spells I managed to get a semi-water-current with my tempestuous magic, but only after I activated my Rage and Action Surge did I manage to completely outpace both Skarrhes and Degrok for an entire minute.

Cycling around my resources was a bit harder to deal with due to the difficulty of getting a Short rest mid my swimming sprint, but whenever I managed to get too much ahead of my servants, I was granted sufficient time to rest a little. This grinding not only helped leveling my titles and getting more used to managing my special points, but also worked as a test to how these shark-brains would react once they felt the distance between us would've been enough to grant them a successful escape. After all, we were undeniably in their territory, with a respectable shiver (group of sharks) swimming alongside them as if they were trained hounds, with the two largest serving as their effective mounts.

The fact that I didn't have to recede even a meter to warn them that I wouldn't tolerate any signs of insubordination struck me in a good way, at the very least for now they were succeeding in gaining my trust, but their final test would soon come.

————————————————————————

LORD GYLBERT FARWYND POV

The Lonely Light…a poetic name for a grim land.

Of course, none can claim otherwise for the entirety of the Iron Islands, a harsh place on its own responsible for raising the fiercest seafaring people the world will ever heard of, but we the Farwynds are a special bunch even amongst our fellow Ironmen.

This remote region, where seals and sea lions make their rookeries on surrounding windswept rocks too small to support even a single household. More specifically, on the largest rock stood the beacontower of my family's house, named the Lonely Light for the beacon that blazes atop its roof day and night.

Even as a mere cadet branch of our main seat at Sealskin Point, I was more than aware of the way others of my kind viewed us. How they shunned us as the queerest and most savage folk that supposedly lied with seals to bring forth half-human children, coincidentally forgetting that not only we follow the same god as they claim to but also that we've been undeniably blessed by him.

Not that they would understand, much less truly value, our gift.

I was more interested in the sea than any of them, never stopping to believe that I would one day gleam a true omen from the Drowned God after constantly delivering respectable hunts as sacrifice. But even without a sign, I still took comfort and strength from the water. The lapping of waves was more pleasing to me than any minstrel plucking their harp. The sea smell wafting in the air was crisp and invigorating.

Sure, the sea was lucrative, most people wouldn't dispute that, but it was nonetheless an expensive and risky gamble. Even the most competent captain could lose his ship and his cargo, if not his life, to a storm or sell sails. One risks losing everything every time they set sail. My people would still make some gold without my god's favor or his blessings, but not as much and definitely for not as long.

Having reached that conclusion, I found myself once again stuck staring at the sunset for the past hour, pondering how much more we could actually be.

Why limit ourselves with a continent so overcrowded with people who for most of the entirety of their lives have never laid eyes on the open seas? Were my fellow Ironborn really that enthralled to the idea of following the same steps taken by the blasphemous man who had willingly forsaken his roots and sought to rule as all the other Greenlanders did?

Despite our infamy, our ways were set so that we would still be rewarded with a good death. Dying at sea was the best death a man could ever ask for. To the sea we belong and to the sea we return.

"Humf!" I finally exclaimed in dissatisfaction as I shredded the letter I've received from Sealskin Point, drawing low piercing keows from the gray feathered gulls perched over my window as I sat in my private chamber.

Lately I've been wasting my days waiting for the approaching winter and could only find solace in the fact that this time I dreaded more of what would come to pass once the final cold wind blew past us. Not to get my words confused, I fully support the effort towards earning the independence of the Seastone chair from the Iron Throne, it's just that the Greyjoy bastard blatantly ignores the fact that his house has only remained in power for so long due to the conquering Dragon lords of the past stepping all over our Old Ways and overruling our sacred tradition of a Kingsmoot due to political convenience.

But last I checked the skies were no longer inhabited by those fire breathing relics, a fact I'm sure the Mad King must've forgotten in all of his madness to antagonize all of his vassals, including the Stag Lord. But with the Drowned God as my witness, once Balon's head is chopped out of his neck after this stupid rebellion of his fails miserably, I will make sure that everyone else remembers the real Old Ways. Our sacrifices will soon be answered and I will lead my people towards the uncharted territory beyond the Sunset sea.

'A land without winter…where death holds no sway and every man will be a king and his wife a queen.' I reminded myself of the words which have been motivating me back from my young years.

As I concluded my declaration, the days of arduous labor had finally caught up with me and I found myself longing for a proper rest. But I reminded myself that the looming winter was bound to give me more than enough to rest, and that if I didn't make sure everything was ready by then, starvation might very well be the end of my people.

Raising from my chair, I hurried out of my solar and rushed to climb down the oily black stairs of my beacontower to get more things done before the sunlight ceased on the horizon. On my way out, I briefly checked on the people I kept safe here, which included my rock wife Asha with our two younger sons Ygon and Yohn, joined by my two salt wives. Gyles, my eldest son, was sent to live in the largest house south-east of my family's seat by himself as a way of better shaping him as a worthy heir by developing his gift without interruption.

Stepping out of my tower, I was immediately greeted by the still energetic pace of the smallfolk gathering next to the western docks on the improvised camp I allowed to be occupied until the next season's end. By staring at their numbers anyone would've been forgiven to assume that this was a moderately populated area, but the truth was that if we included all the women, elders, children and thralls that lived here our numbers might fail to reach even half a thousand.

We were a solitary people by nature after all, heavily relying on fishing and whale hunting for our sustenance. With fish and blubber being a reliable source of food while boiled whale leather and bones used for clothing and armor. The Farwynds lords before me have masterfully developed methods of extracting train oil from the blubber.

Filtered and purified train oil among dried driftwood was used as fuel for the fires in the homes and the great beacon of our lighthouse. Proof of that was the carcass of the hunted whale at the nearest shore which has been completely gutted for its blubber and skin, with its skeleton soon to be put to use as well. That abundance of resources also helps explain why we have grown so used to working with whalebones.

Not to mention our secret iron mine, which an outsider would easily mistake for the numerous caverns found in our steep chalk cliffs, located instead east of our main isle, I left it maintained by the capable hands of the brothers Daron and Savon Heavypyck. Strong rainfalls have flooded the lower section of tunnels, which Savon dug a couple of winters ago searching for veins of tin ore to aid in the production of our bronze-banded warhorns.

But as any Ironborn lord worth their salt, Forlorn Hope, my personal galley had to be amongst my most prized possessions, second only to my incomparable better half. The practical upper limit for a galley fast and maneuverable enough for warfare was around twenty-five to thirty oars per side, but by adding another level of oars, the galley could be made shorter with as many rowers, while making it strong enough to be an effective ramming weapon.

But enough of pointless recollection, my authority as lord of these lands was required to assure the storage of food and supplies for both the winter and actual war.

By the time my house's beacon had to provide a source of light in this moonless light we found ourselves in, the relative silence of my home was broken by the blast of a nearby warhorn, followed by the shouting of someone calling for me.

"FAAATHEEER!" Gyles, my eldest son, shouted while searching for me. As he pushed some of the night patrol aside, we managed to sight one another.

Rushing to meet him, I managed to discern his expression of shock.

"FFfaaatheR… thEy…coming…SEA!" The lad struggled to put sense behind his erratic words as he grabbed me by the shoulders.

Urging him to catch his breath first, I took the opportunity to contemplate his condition. Just like me, my firstborn was tall and spare with a clean-shaven lantern jaw, his hair was black as a raven's wing with dark blue eyes that reminded me of the storming seas.

"Father, I saw THEM!" Gyles finally got a hold of himself and once again attempted to explain to me the reason for all of this commotion. "Me and a few of the gifted warriors sighted them coming from the eastern sea a couple of hours from here at impossible speeds, followed by countless… sharks! Nute and Rolfe attempted to scout more closely but were immediately caught, from their screams we assume their halves were swiftly dealt with."

"They are coming…" It eventually dawned on me once I understood his words. I immediately took action by picking up my own personal warhorn, blasting it out loud and everyone else knew exactly what to do now.

More warhorns soon followed and the smallfolk began leaving their improvised camps towards the front of my beacontower, quickly forming a considerable crowd of people kneeling in prayers, although some were still waking up from their interrupted rest this late in the night.

"Have all the other warriors gather here for their arrival!" I ordered my eldest son.

"At once." Gyles quickly answered before his conviction faltered and he faced down. "What will you do father?"

"I will be greeting them personally. As the Lord of my house, this responsibility is mine." I answered solemnly, trying the best to hide my insecurities for what was to come. My son slowly looked up, if I wasn't paying attention I might've missed that his eyes now looked slightly more light green than the dark blue from earlier, before immediately nodding and rushing away. This peculiar trait of his was what defined us as of the same bloodline.

Once I steeled myself appropriately, I rushed towards the docks, purposefully avoiding the direction I had my ship anchored, knowing full well that for all of its advantages it wouldn't do for the guests I was about to meet. Instead, I walked directly where I felt my better half's location waiting for me.

As I continued to hear the blow of warhorns systematically waking up everyone living on the Lonely Light, I eventually sighted a 2 meter tall dorsal fin emerging from the waves, right below it I was greeted by the massive figure of my overgrown killer whale companion surrounded by more of its kind, the wolves of the wild sea.

'Scourge, take me to them!' I casually thought while prying into its mind, immediately after I jumped on it and strapped myself to the saddle I had my best leatherman work on while bracing myself for its impressive speed. As I was washed by the naturally warm waters surrounding my islands, the prospect of meeting who I thought the visitors were made me see this ability in a new light.

It was called different things amongst my people. Mainly as the gift. My father saw it as putting on worn boots, my grandfather as wearing gloves, but to me, I viewed them as windows, made of clear crystal. Four windows lined in a row inside my mind's eye, allowing me to see through. But they could use it too if I wasn't careful enough. I sensed they were close without needing to look through their windows, and so I imagine they felt the same with me. I would not open it, not unless I really needed to take charge.

I was a boy of six when my grandfather told me what I was. A skinchanger, he had explained, a gift from the Drowned God acquired from the wildlings after he paid the Iron price. During one of my nights of sleep, I saw flashes of water engulfing me, feeling a prickling across my throat. The raw hunger coiled tightly within.

Taking another deep breath once my companion emerged over the water surface, I continued my chain of thought.

Sometimes, they could get the window to budge without my help. Grandfather had warned me that the tether that bound them could be pulled both ways. Stronger, stubborn animals, those who are not used to man, will fight harder, but I must endure their rage, their fear, if I wish to not only bond with but also command them. Maron Farwynd had cautioned me, his grandson, when he realized that I was unsatisfied with seals and gulls.

'Be careful, Gylbert…' My grandfather would warn me. 'Do not lose yourself to either the seas or the skies. They'll graft onto you, change you, but you are still a man. Do not forget that.'

After my father's and his deaths, I took that advice to heart, but my Ironborn blood kept me from abandoning my gift. From seals and gulls, to Sea lions and walruses, eventually I reached my greatest accomplishment with the group of spotted whales that resided on the waters surrounding the lonely light.

Scourge was older than me, already a grandmother and leader of her pod of twenty. An impressive hunter and a natural tracker on its own, it was my best hope of finding the group of merlings my son warned me of. To say I had been anticipating this moment for my entire life would've been a massive understatement. All of the Lords before me had been expecting to make contact with them after countless sacrifices.

As I felt the surface crashing against my back and we halted our momentum, I subconsciously understood that Scourge was telling me that we've found them.

Or rather that they have found us.

————————————————————————

DURRANDON'S POV

The farther we distanced ourselves from the main archipelago of the Iron Islands the easier I felt it became to bend the waters to my will, either by the learning curb I was going through or the diminishing residual resistance the water presented to my magic, effectively boosting my swimming speed to the point that I was about to beat my generous estimation of two days' travel by a quarter of it.

Which was admittedly a very welcomed turn of events, especially since I was finding myself exponentially more bored of just staring at the big blue ocean. Safe for the transient sea-life that failed to escape my radar and a couple of sea shanties I recalled from my previous life, I had literally nothing else to focus my mind on other than swimming forwards.

As for my Sahuagin servants, they seem to have finally recovered their mojo after being kept apart from the sea and their connection to sharks for so long, managing to not embarrass themselves before me while we were in their main environment.

Incidentally, I was pretty sure Degrok seemed to have gotten bigger, with his appearance less humanoid-looking and more monstrous, not to mention more protruding fins. As for Skarrhes, ignoring the drop in her already low comeliness, I felt for the first time a source of magic without having to actually search for it. From what I've heard from her it seems her clerical powers have finally caught up after slowly getting back to what they used to be.

Having kept my senses open for any trick they might attempt to pull on me, I almost failed to notice a weird pack of seals acting suspicious once we reached a point where the cold waters surrounding us had suddenly warmed up.

The temperature rising wasn't something I had expected, but what truly threw me on a loop was the description on the seals once I Observed them.

{SEAL, MEDIUM BEAST}

{LV - 5}

POW: 30

MOB: 36

END: 33

INT: 9

STL: 15

DEF: 0

HP: 150

SPEED: 20 ft., swim 40 ft.

SENSES: DARKVISION 60 ft.

LANGUAGES: NONE, UNDERSTANDS TRUE TONGE

[HOLD BREATH]

[KEEN SMELL]

*Superb swimmers that can hold their breath for extended periods of time, often thought of as playful, but can easily become ferocious when fighting.

**This animal is sharing its body with another being. It currently watches for any irregular activity in this area.

'Are all of them being warged by a skinchanger?' Were my immediate thoughts while immediately signaling for my followers to stay alert. 'Has the old Bloodraven finally caught up with my meddling in this timeline? And here I thought I was being careful enough with all the multiple identities stuff. No… there's just no way that he would think to look for me in this remote place. So… who am I dealing with?'

Deciding to take the bait and allowing the seals to live long enough so that my aquatic form was known by whoever was spying on us. Or at least that was the plan until one of them got too confident and overstepped its boundaries by casually approaching us as if we wouldn't be able to discern a wild beast from a controlled one.

The poor fool quite literally jumped the sharks on that one, hopefully the feeling of death won't break his mind that much. And just as expected, once blood was spilled all the others hurried away.

I could easily hunt them down one by one, but that wouldn't bring me any benefit in the end, so I just let them preserve their pets.

'Curious… they were actually retreating back to our destination. Was I missing something here?' I thought, trying my hardest to recall every small detail I could from the Farwynds of Lonely Light. My vision showed that a group would bow to me in the end, but the minor details were lost on me for the moment.

Organizing my thoughts, I eventually assured myself that the benefits of going through with this plan was still worth the risks they might present me. With the waters getting slightly warmer the closer I got to my target, I managed to better prepare by deploying several echoes of my nightwalker while masking them as extra variants of my aquatic form. And since their main use to me were as scouts, their swimming skill didn't leave much to be desired.

As for myself, admittedly feeling a bit over confident with my powers, I decided to test out improving my aquatic form by adding extra parts like a powerful crab pincer for a left hand and multiple octopus tentacles coming out of my shoulder line partially covering my body.

"How magnificent!" I heard Skarrhes' declaration after I was finished altering my body.

"A mightyyy hunterrrr!" Degrok added, still not entirely fluent with the common tongue.

Merely waving back in acknowledgment of their praises, I meditate for a moment on the weird sensation I was experiencing. The more I dwelled on the idea of improving this form of mine, the stronger I felt the pulses of the sea pulling me towards its darkest depths. Fortunately for now, it wasn't anything I couldn't make use of to fuel my magic, but the risk was still there.

In any case, right about then I finally sensed a human being entering my magical radar, albeit this one was mounted on and escorted by a pod of orcas this time.

Motioning for both my Sahuagin followers and disguised nightwalkers to stay put, I finally found the perfect opportunity to show myself, dramatically rising above the water surface as the winds of my tempestuous magic allowed me to pretend to be standing over it in a very messianic fashion while the bioluminescence of an anglerfish made me shine despite being in the middle of the night.

{GYLBERT FARWYND, LORD OF LONELY LIGHT AND SKINCHANGER CAPTAIN.}

LV: 37

RACE: FIRST MAN/IRONBORN

PWR: 34

END: 28

MOB: 25

INT: 20

STL: 20

DEF: 10* (Boiled Leather Armor: Piercing/Slashing +25% Damage Resistance)

[Gylbert is the current Lord of House Farwynd and Captain of the elite group of soldiers of skinchangers named Gifted Warriors that reside in his island. He is strong willed and fervorously pious to the Drowned God, but has a belief that most Ironborn have lost their ways long before the old ways were banished by the mainland. Gylbert prides himself with his war galley, the Forlorn Hope, just as much as he values his connection with his killer whale companion he named Scourge. He is the long descendant of a First Men King that loved the sea and who thousands of years ago attempted to sail across the Sunset Sea, but was never seen again by his family or his people. Although it was assumed that the lost King never reached land, with his tomb in the crypts of his castle being empty till this day, he instead got shipwrecked on a place known as the Lonely Light, place where he and his remaining men built a mighty beacon to draw attention of any passing sailors, however this King was the only survivor by the time house Farwynd of of Sealskin Point sailed off their course and found him, albeit in not a great mental condition after overusing his latent warg abilities attempting to return home. Lately the Farwynd Lord has had conflicting thoughts in regards to the prospect of his people starting a war they have no hope of winning. Currently Lord Gylbert is following his family's creed of making contact with the Deep Ones, beings his house has come to consider as heralds of the Drowned God.]

'Still regarded as First Men, hmmm…not sure what to make out of it. As for heralds… heh. Well, I think I can work around that expectation and just roll with it. Even if by the end of all this I fail to get this man to praise me as a living God, I can just kill everyone in this remote place.' I briefly mused after quickly reading through the window my Observe skill popped before me. 'Honestly, I know better than to claim to carry the will of any divinity without its consent, especially once I've learned of the Seven's actual existence and made quite the progress with the Old Gods. But making his followers doubt his existence is a different matter, it's not as if Crow's eye hadn't gotten away with similar actions.'

After granting sufficient time for the little Lord to calm himself down after finding himself and his group of orcas surrounded by countless sharks and my hissing companions, I finally spoke loud and clear despite the strong winds and agitated waters.

"Enough!" I silenced both Skarrhes and Degrok before directing myself towards Gylbert Farwynd. "Aspirant, your devotion has finally been judged sufficient, your lineage has made enough sacrifice to a being that doesn't answer your prayers."

"I-I beg your pardon, Deep ones! I've come to witness your first arrival in ages, displaying before you the gift our God has blessed us with!" The man bowed while still mounted on the large orca, who for all of its intelligence was capable of acknowledging the danger it found itself in. "After all, a boon is what it really is, isn't it?"

"A boon? Heh. Then your God wished me to either break you into submission or terminate your life, for his 'boon' is a beacon of power I cannot allow to go unchecked." Grinning back with my rows of sharp teeth, I managed to visibly unease the Ironborn lord before immediately following it up with something else I just realized. "Don't tell me you truly believed the Drowned god had fought over the nameless Old Gods for it? More likely it's a relic of your house's origins as Starks."

"I-I, the Greenlanders of the North? B-but, our tradition speaks of how the iron price has been paid! Of how we were meant to be his favorites, worthy of joining him in his watery halls." The man suddenly protested, as he steeled himself to fight tooth and nail for his beliefs. "As heralds of the Drowned God you should be aware of his ire over those unfaithful to him!"

"I'm no one's thrall!" I announced coldly, drawing a reaction from all of my followers as they either snarled or moved in a threatening way, Degrok better displayed his four muscular arms with claws sharp as steel on each finger, and Skarrhes brandished a glowing trident, which I've come to learn on our way here to be the exact spell I had countered during our first fight.

This obviously took the Ironborn skinchanger by surprise, as his knee-jerk reaction wasn't as submissive as one would've expected.

"Whatever you are, heretics, I'm not afraid!" He finally dropped the cordiality and immediately prepared himself and his orca pod for a fight.

"Hehe! Mortals usually beg for truth they cannot fathom. It is beyond what you are." I chuckled menacingly before facing the only other orca I noticed that had been skinchanged into. "And you say you are 'not afraid', huh? Words mortals often hurl at the darkness. They are always lies." Subtly casting Paralysis on Lord Gylbert with an unnecessary dramatic hand gesture, making sure the man grew paranoid of my existence by instilling fear in his heart. "Know me, know the being who has finally answered your desperate prayers. Exalt the Supreme Being! The will that is the King of the Apocalypse!"

"I-I…but the Drowned…God…" The man struggled futilely against my magical restraint as the other orca who had been skinchanged into was held in place by Degrok once the killer whale attempted to aid Lord Farwynd. "Why are you here? What do you want from us?! What purpose could this serve? I-I don't understand!"

"Your understanding is not required. If you gain it, consider yourself blessed. For I ask for nothing, knowing that it is not in your nature to give. But that will not stop me from taking it. Because you stand in the way of destined power. And most importantly, because I can." I declared, motioning for all of my servants to go back and give me space for my next transformation. "You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not."

Took me only a mixture of my Giant Octopus Wild Shape with the enlarging effect of my Alter Self spell to make even me start believing in my own bullshit.

As I dragged both the Lord of the Lonely Light and his aquatic mount down the dark abyss of the ocean with my massive tentacles, thanks to Skarrhes' ritual I managed to keep communicating despite my lack of vocal cords and being in the last place one would've expected me to continue my cliché evil monologue.

Hoping that it would take the man a couple of minutes before he drowned, I eloquently told him without missing a beat while he faced my gigantic glowing eye. "I do not know what you were told, but what marks you as 'touched', what you flail at sea life to scout ahead of your sails, is an ancient power cultivated by beings beyond your flawed comprehension to enthrall the minds of weaker men and beasts while also starring beyond the limits of space and time! And you used it in hopes to track me with these lesser creatures! The gall!"

The man remained still thanks to my Paralysis spell, but fortunately still conscious, and hopefully oblivious to how I was pushing my luck with all this farce.

"I once breached the halls of this Drowned God you so stubbornly believes in, to meet in person the deity responsible for raising a group of cowards that prides themselves with raiding peasants and farmers rather than to actually test themselves against real warriors, but I found only dead whispers and vast emptiness. For ages your people were confused and lost by his absence, stagnated by flawed vanity and ignorance. No more. I have gathered the power to rise under no name but my own. To champion this withered community and correct their stupid ways. This 'revelation' will empower you, and ensure your people no longer beg at the feet of the invisible. Praise me, for I will end the silence that answers! Beg that I succeed. For I have seen the throne of your God, and it was empty!"

As the man before me was about to succumb to his need of oxygen, he immediately felt the rush of water descent upon him only to find himself floating several meters above the water surface and sight the first rays of light dawning on the far horizon.

But before I had both man and beast splattered against the waves thanks to all the momentum they had accumulated, I quickly transformed back to my previous aquatic form right in time to catch them both with my Levitate spell, gently placing them right back where we once were.

Breaking the Paralysis spell as I walked my way towards him, ignoring the humbled expressions on both of my Sahuagin followers, I finally made the offer.

"So how is it going to be, Lord Gylbert Farwynd of the Lonely Light? Do you still fear death? Would you be interested in actually rising harder and stronger? My purpose here can be interpreted as to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that for all of your regrets and mistakes you have and might commit, binding your will to mine won't be one of them." I sealed the deal, staring deep into his eyes.

The man released his grip over the leather reins on his saddle, shaking a bit after everything I've put him through, only to nod and bow down.

Grinning again with my mouth filled with shark teeth, I brutally pierced the man's chest with my right hand, finally spooking the rat spying on us to warg back to his skin and prepare a little welcoming party for my eventual arrival.

————————————————————————

GYLES FARWYND POV

"FATHER!" I shouted myself awake from the connection I had with Menace, my animal companion, tears threatening to spill from my eyes after hopelessly struggling to prevent my sire from being impaled in the chest. I failed to hear the words that forced my father to surrender his life, but I knew I would have the opportunity to hear them again from the hellish creature soon enough.

If not for my burning feelings of rage, vengeance and anger I might've allowed myself to dwell any longer on sentiments such as loss and regret, but fortunately they were great motivators and aided me to clear my mind. And so I acted accordingly as any worthy Lord of Lonely Light would and had all the forces gathered next to the beacontower ready for a brutal war. Even the smallfolk were expected to raise arms and aid in defending our territory.

The Gifted Warriors told me their connection was growing weaker with the amount of stress their beasts were going through. Their survival instincts screamed at them to flee from this island and leave everything behind. Only by threatening to punish desertion with immediate execution and pointing out that we had a better chance to prevail fighting together did I manage to prevent my forces from breaking apart before the battle could've even begun.

If only my hands stopped shaking, I might've had a better time convincing myself that we had any chance of matching our enemies' power. We were about to face mythological beings capable of restraining my fully grown animal companion, and by the Drowned God… they wielded magic just as formidable, if not more, than our gifts.

I had some of my father's best qualified and most trusted men sent to guard my remaining family safely on our house's beacontower. If the worst was to happen, their numbers alongside our home's thick and solid walls would be the last line of defense to prevent the extinction of my house.

Fortunately, the dawn was finally upon us and the oncoming battle would probably be fought while he had sufficient visibility of our shores.

And so we waited, which surprisingly proved to be much worse than I had first anticipated. Rumors of the beings heading towards us were running wild, with some claiming they were sent by the Drowned god himself as a probation for us to assure ourselves worthy of his blessing.

All the chatter ceased and the anticipation culminated once the furthest scouts warned us of our approaching visitors.

After once again clearing my mind from all the boiling emotions I was struggling with, I finally managed to muster enough focus to pry into the mind of my tamed gull and assumed control over its body in order to witness the first contact between my scouts and the enemy. I was half ready to see a grotesque bloodbath, ready to jump out of my gull's mind at the slightest sign of being spotted, but I certainly wasn't expecting to witness my men bowing down as the misshapen race of creatures advanced without contest.

Anger and despair fought inside my mind, preventing me from watching any longer before quickly returning to my body before shouting out. "THE DEEP ONES ARE COMING!"

The next couple of minutes were a living nightmare, with everything almost going to shit alongside the integrity of my forces, but somehow we still managed to endure it together.

"WE ARE IRONBORN!" Someone shouted.

"YEAH! FOR THE DROWNED GOD!" Another one joined in.

As the people attempted to cheer themselves up, the cruelest of jokes came once we all saw who walked amongst the creatures spawned from the depth of the ocean.

It was…it was…but I witnessed his death!

"LORD FARWYND!" Someone shouted, followed by another just as obvious declaration. "He's alive!"

Although being regarded as a liar was the last of my concerns at that moment, with fear and desperation trying their best to turn my legs into jelly, it was clear to all that my father boasted rather proudly a healed scar in his chest only visible by the gap of his armor that had been ripped open.

My father approached us, leading the monstrous creatures as if showing the place around to some important guests, or at least that was what it appeared from his excited expression.

In an attempt to stop the ramblings of our warriors, I stepped forward and began to shout at the man who appeared to be the man who had sired both me and my siblings. "FATHER, WHAT IS THE M—"

"AS THE PROPHECIES FORETOLD, A NEW ERA HAS ARRIVED!" My Lord father proudly announced for all to hear after immediately interrupting me. "MY PEOPLE, DID I NOT PREDICT THAT OUR ONE TRUE GOD WOULD COME TO US?"

The smallfolk in particular wondered what my father was talking about, none of these creatures resembled the image we had of the Drowned God.

"LIKE ALL OF YOU, I'M MERELY A DEVOTED FOLLOWER OF OUR FAITH. A FOLLOWER WHO HAD NOT FORGOTTEN ABOUT OUR DUTY AND TIES TO THE SEA!" My father continued, seemingly trying to paint out our intimidating guests as the divine beings of our legends. "THE ONLY DIFFERENCE IS THAT OUR MORTAL MEMORY HAD FAILED US TO DEPICT THE TRUE NAME AND IMAGE BEHIND OUR GOD!"

"HERESY!" I heard one of the Gifted Warriors shout back.

The other man next to him seemed just as pleased. "Our Lord has gone mad! The Deep Ones were made by the Drowned God to carry out his words, not to claim ownership over them and assume his place!"

As the smallfolk discussed amongst themselves about this sudden impasse, not yet completely recovered from the fear of having to fight in a bloody battle just a few minutes ago, I myself was still coping with my father's supposed resurrection, we were all startled however by the roaring sound of thunder followed by dark clouds that manifested out of nowhere and started accumulating above us.

Our eyes were all immediately drawn towards the Deep Ones once again, more specifically the one in the middle with a pincer in one arm and multiple tentacles who had just been lifted above the ground by strong winds that could be felt throughout the area.

"You all dare question our master's authority, shall he be bothered enough to unleash his divine power over this minuscule community and find others more thankful for his presence." Another creature resembling a woman spoke in a rather angry and commanding voice that didn't require her to shout for it to be heard by everyone.

"Oh, I would like to see any of you try, Fish face!" The first Gifted Warrior who had spoken out his dissatisfaction about my father's declaration had suddenly spurred into action, followed by other two men, while challenging the said divinity that had remained in silence to a combat.

The female alongside the massive Deep Ones reacted in order to squash such an affront, but were immediately stopped by a raised hand of their apparent leader. Incidentally, as the Ironborn warriors were about to get close enough in order to attack, the master of the Deep Ones clenched his hand into a fist and everyone witnessed blinding lights descent upon his opponents and smite them with actual lightning, which was confirmed by the thunderous sound and the peculiar smell that followed.

"Insignificant creatures, acting like disobedient children." We all heard the powerful being's cold remarks with a nightmarish deep voice. "Will you decline my generosity again? I should remind you all that there are fates worse than death."

I gasped alongside the remaining warriors and smallfolk as we all witnessed spectral ghosts coming out of their burnt bodies, wailing in despair before being flung to the mount of the creature, who everyone credited with summoning the lightning strikes, as it motioned its mouth as if feasting on their mortal souls screeching in agony.

With utter and complete shock washing all over my people, the weakest among us immediately fell to their knees in prayer, while a couple others dropped their weapons and fled from the battlefield, only to be obliterated by two other Deep Ones, with the four-armed giant ripping apart a warrior limb from limb and the sea witch impaling two thralls with her glowing trident.

"EVERYONE! WHAT MORE PROOF DO YOU NEED?!" My father startled us once again with his shouts. "LET US ALL EXALT OUR SUPREME BEING, THE KING OF APOCALYPSE THAT WILL REVEAL TO US THE PATH WE HAD LONG FORGOTTEN ABOUT."

We all stared back in expectation to what such a creature with immense power, which for all intents and purposes could actually be a living God amongst us mortals, would do next as it approached the smoking pile of bodies while its underlings had the other victims who attempted to flee added on top of them.

Accomplishing the impossible once again with a drop of blood it produced from a wound caused by its own claws and a bit of dust, we all witnessed our dead comrades rising as undead thralls, imbued with a foul mimicry of life as ripped limbs reattached themselves, as the unspoken words were chanted loudly in everyone's mind.

'What is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger!'

As the six living and walking corpses, half of them with burnt long, intricate and wavy scars, shielded this 'supreme being' on both sides, the crowd of people split up in order to grant them free passage.

Noticing how the mythical creature appeared interested in our beacontower, I was immediately reminded of my remaining family who were barricaded inside it. I attempted to rush towards their rescue only to be immediately stopped by my father's grasp over my shoulder.

"Stand down, my son, it won't bode well for anyone to insult our God!" He told me, while I stared deep into his eyes, not finding the same lack of personality the other undead thralls displayed.

"My lord father, I saw…you were…" I replied, grasping my father's arms while staring down at the healed scar on his chest. "Why did they choose to visit us only now?" I continued only to be rebuked by him.

"Enough, you do not question the will of our god! Their arrival has been greatly anticipated! And we don't have enough time before he leaves us once again. He told me of his plans for our future, and even about how we can better use our gift to serve them."

"Serve? But father…" I replied before being met with my father's stern expression. Somehow, despite everything, I knew he was still the man who raised me into the warrior I was at that moment. "As you say."

"Excellent." Still finding in him to give me a gentle smile, my father said before leaving me. "Now if you excuse me, I must aid our God."

I could only watch as my lord father eventually followed our guest inside our beacontower as a loyal servant.

————————————————————————

(28/07/2023)

*Hope this chapter is of your liking.

Anything you wish to ask or suggest, feel free to do so.

Check out my auxiliary chapter if you still haven't.

Thanks as always for your attention and please be safe.

Any problems with my writing, just point them out and I will correct them as soon as possible.

**I really recommend that you check out: "10 Years of WesterosCraft: A Showcase", it has helped me better picture the world George R.R. Martin has created. 😎👍

***Sorry for the delay 😅 I'm currently visiting some relatives on the USA 🇺🇸 ❄️ ⛄️ (I first released this chapter around January and February of 2022)

****Hello everyone! Releasing this chapter just to remind some of you that I'm still alive 😅 once again, I'm so sorry for my awful schedule of chapters, but sadly there isn't anything I can do about it for now.