ASOIAF: Lord of Nature

(Edmund Mudd, Firmridge - 294AC)

"Shit… Shit… Shit!" Dodging to the side, the young prince barely managed to avoid being hit by the flame.

Like an excitable dog filled with adrenaline, the living flame relentlessly kept on his heels, attempting to catch him and send him sprawling to the ground. It wouldn't harm him, but the thing hurt like a bitch and he had no intentions of being hit by it, again.

Edmund quickly cast out several minor shielding charms, putting some obstacles on the flame's path, as he prepared to counter it. Before he could even begin, the barriers faltered against their attacks, cracking like mirrors.

With no time to react, he could only cry out in surprise before finding himself on the ground and staring listlessly at the sky, his wand falling right next to him in defeat.

Small sparks came out of it and hit his hands as if it was complaining about his failure.

"You did well, far better than your first attempt." His father's voice was carried over by the wind, the flame rushing towards its progenitor and dancing around him excitedly.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, "It's not enough, I was still too slow." Edmund said, disappointment lacing his words.

"Patience Ed, you have advanced by leaps and bounds since you started. I doubt there's anyone your age who could boast such an impressive performance." The surety in his father's voice swelled his pride, but he shook it off.

There was no reason to get a big head about it, it wasn't like there was anyone else who had the same magic he did. If you don't count Jasper, who hadn't even started his lessons yet.

"Trust me when I say this Ed, I can guarantee that you have far surpassed your peers." Still, his father insisted on his talent, that was something Edmund never understood about his father.

The way he said it led the young prince to believe that there was truth to his words, yet at the same time he would always mention the 'uniqueness' of their magic. Leaving him somewhat befuddled.

Still, the trust he had in his old man made him hesitant to say otherwise.

"I never understood one thing father, why don't you need a wand to cast your magic?"

The King didn't respond immediately, choosing to help Edmund up first. Chairs appeared next to the two, wordlessly inviting the two to sit.

Taking it for what it was, both seated themselves comfortably. 

Erlend looked at his son seriously, the genial tone in his voice gone and his features expressionless. "To be honest, my case is rather unique..." He started, "I am as you know connected far deeper to my dragons than most realize."

"This isn't solely the reason I can cast wandlessly, but it is one of the main reasons."

"Does that mean I need to get a dragon?" Edmund interrupted his father with an expectant look on his face, he didn't feel like letting his father drone on. Seven Knows how he tends to get passionate about his theoretical work.

"No." Any hopes the Crown Prince had were dashed, the young boy couldn't help but look dejected at that.

There was a look of understanding on his father's face, but his mind remained firm, "Edmund, you know very well why I have no desire to let any more dragons roam this continent." 

"The Dance… You're worried that it may occur again."

"It's not a matter of may, it's more of a when."

Edmund had no words that could refute that, just because he and Jasper were as close as could be, did not mean it would carry over in the future by their descendants. Their magic was already enough trouble, adding fire-breathing castle destroyers into the mix was just begging for trouble.

For Seven's Sake, it only took decades after Jaehaerys death for all his efforts to come undone, thanks to the stubbornness and ambition of his line and their closest 'friends'. 

Aunt Malora never ceased to complain about how much of an idiot both Daemon and Otto were, their ambition and greed sowing the seeds that nearly destroyed the last dragonlords.

Naturally, Viserys wasn't blameless in all this, but his closest people were most at fault. The Baratheons were also a perfect example of how relations between kin could deteriorate over time; kinship hadn't prevented Robert from caving in Rhaeger's skull.

"Of course, just because you can't have a dragon, doesn't mean you won't be getting a magical companion of your own. While not as strong as mine, the feedback you can get from them should eventually aid in increasing your wandless capabilities, especially after the ritual is done."

Edmund nearly broke his neck with how fast his face turned, looking thrilled at the thought of finally getting a familiar to call his own.

Don't get him wrong, he adored the feeling of flying on his father's dragons. Something unheard of, considering the dragons of the past were infamously known to only allow their riders on them when alone.

Yet, he yearned to have a bond as strong as his father's. It was something he had dreamed of since the day his father first explained it to him.

"I won't lie, Ed, the ritual will take its toll on you. Your body has barely recovered from the last one, and it needs time to adjust."

"I know, sometimes I get itches in places I never thought would have such a thing" He grumbled.

"Yet you feel better than you ever had before." His father said.

"True enough." Edmund relented, where previously the high-intensity training left him unable to even lift a finger, now it just left him breathless.

In just a few minutes his body was raring to go, seemingly filled with vigor, while unlikely to reach the same level as his father, Edmund was confident he had better endurance than most seasoned Knights.

"Dad…" Edmund started.

His father turned to meet Edmund's eye, "You know you can rely on me, right?" There was a bit of uncertainty in his tone, worried about his father's reaction.

"Aye, I know Eddy, but that doesn't mean I won't let you enjoy your childhood for as long as I can." Erlend's voice was soft this time, none of the usual gruffness that Edmund was used to. 

"Yeah… Gruncle Lorimas said as much." Edmund sent a smile to his old man.

He appreciated how far his father went to make sure he and his siblings were happy. A stark difference when compared to their vassals and peers who treated their children like they were pawns to be traded off at any moment.

"Right then, that's enough of that. Time to jump back into your lesson." His father's suddenly cheerful voice sent chills at his back.

Edmund would swear that he was completely and utterly calm after that, anything Dany said should be taken with a grain of salt.

…

Seated in his father's solar, Edmund stared at the parchments in front of him.

To the unknowing passerby, he might appear as a dutiful prince, intently learning about his future tasks and roles, but to those who knew him very well. It was clear that Edmund was trying to burn the parchments with his eyes.

A gentle knock on his head quickly dissuaded the young prince from the attempt, his mother would not stand for him burning these important pieces of information it seemed.

Father did that once, and it caused his mother enough headache that he dared not try.

Sending one last resentful gaze to the parchments, Edmund looked at his mother perplexed, wasn't she insisting that he work on them just moments ago?

"Your father thinks I'm too harsh on you, he wants you to go spend more time with Steffon and Jon." Her expression was a combination of exasperation and agreement.

In her opinion, it would only do good for her son to spend time with his peers, especially those around his age and whose loyalty and motives weren't in question.

"YES!" Faster than she could react, Edmund jumped from his seat and escaped the solar, scattering all the parchments in the process, much to the irritation of his mother.

Knowing full well that staying close was tantamount to a death sentence, the crown prince showed great haste, not daring to look back.

On the way, he passed his father who was discussing something with his aunts Ashara and Malora. The knowing look on the older Mudd's face as he rushed right past him, hastened his steps.

"Don't burn the garden, Ed." These were his only words, before returning right back into his discussion.

Edmund contemplated listening in, then promptly changed his mind, knowing that his father would likely be aware of it and he didn't feel like getting lectured again.

It was time to have fun, there was no need to stir the cauldron.

Of course, he did not hesitate to abduct his brother on the way. Not only was it his duty as an elder brother to teach him the ancient path of mischief, but Jasper also served as an adequate shield against his parents' wrath.

The only other person who could do better was Rhae and Dany, but they were busy with their sword lessons at the moment, so his younger brother would do.

What could possibly go wrong?

…

(Ferrego Antaryon, Undisclosed)

Waiting for these sycophants to quiet down, the Sealord placed his focus on the vial in his hands.

He eyed the thing with trepidation and interest. A mixture so strong, it is said it could drop a hundred war elephants dead and the tool he would need in bringing down those monstrous behemoths.

"How confident are you that this is a genuine vial and not a sham?" His voice cut through whatever discussion these rats had started without input.

The man who was placed in charge of the thing looked confident enough at least, "I'm fully sure this potion will work, my source has confirmed that it is equal to the one used by the Rhoynar in their war with the Valyrians."

"Have you tested it?" Ferrego probed, not wanting a defective product.

His acquaintance nodded his head fervently, "Of course, it did as promised, sending the hundred war elephants directly to death's embrace."

Fascinating, and that was only with a single drop, what if coated a whole bolt with this mixture?

It's said that this mixture was once lost after the Rhoynar were wiped out by the Valyrians, leaving only a scattering to escape westwards, the mixture lost to time was what many assumed… More likely it had been wiped out by the Valyrians.

The Dornish prince was unsurprisingly useless in the whole matter, his vassal being incredibly uncooperative and had to be put down as a warning. Doran played a dangerous game, dragging his feet, which ended up with him losing a valuable pawn for his delay.

Ferrago would not tolerate the fence sitter, if he could not be trusted then there was no point in keeping contact.

Thankfully, by working with influential figures from the Eastern Empire and interested sorcerers, they were able to remake the mixture, though it took years to do so and more so to perfect its lethality.

Years were wasted, as the Mudd grew stronger and his armies fuller. Making it almost impossible to sneak anyone into the Riverlands without getting put down. The Lannisters' worsening situation was a clear indication of the consequences of being caught.

Admittedly the Iron Bank had not made things any easier; those gathered here today were less than three-quarters of the original members. Many perished or lost their vast wealth and influence, and some were reduced to little more than grunts.

"We cannot risk any more delays. Find a reason to get Mudd and his dragons on this continent where we are at our strongest. We only have one chance at this, do not mess it up."

His treasury was starting to feel the loss, it was time to put an end to this charade before his hard-earned empire crumbled beneath him.

"Of course your Excellency, we shall make that bastard rue the day he and his ancestors chose to stand against us!" The man crowed gleefully, with a chorus of agreements following his words.

Another rose, the more cautious of these rats, "Perhaps we should contact the Blackfyre bitch, she might be interested in ending the insult to her ancestors?"

Murmurs of agreement came from those supporting his suggestion, though Ferrago felt doubtful that the stupid girl would be of any use, while dangerous, he had never regarded her as a threat. Though he never dared say that openly, you never knew who was listening.

With a raised eyebrow, "Why would she support us in putting down the last dragons?" The Sealord looked baffled by the suggestion.

"These aren't dragons your excellency, just abominations of snakes and lizards. They are an insult to their predecessors and I am sure she thinks the same, all we need to do is reach out to her to test her opinion."

His words rang through Ferrago's mind, by this point most were aware of how different these so-called dragons were. No one really knows if they were even true dragons or just a disgusting hybrid that the Conqueror had stumbled upon in one of his misadventures.

Yes… this might prove to be useful in pushing her to their side.

"Then get in contact with her by offering her chests of gold, that should be enough to at least get her to listen to the offer and be respectful. I'm sure you are all aware of what happened to that imbecile of a pureborn."

Many shuddered in remembrance at the fate of that particular pureborn, someone who was said to be the perfect candidate for Triarch being so easily brought down, left many speechless and horrified.

His arrogance had been the end of him, much to the dismay of Volantis.

The city has been quiet since their disastrous defeat a year ago and the three daughters had grown complacent, content with their gains. Right now they were busy digesting it all, leaving very little action for the Golden Company.

He knew that the Black Dragoness was rumored to have a fierce rivalry with Erlend, even if she wasn't interested in bringing down the dragons, perhaps he could tempt her with beating the Mudd in battle.

Come to think of it, they would be better off not telling her at all about their plans with the dragons. Valyrians were too volatile to be trusted with something so crucial. 

He was aware he could contact her through the cheesemonger at least.

"She could at least be used to distract the Mudd, while we deal with his dragons. This might prove useful." He mused out loud.

"As expected of our great Sealord, only one as intelligent as you could come up with such a brilliant tactic so speedily."

Showing no hesitation, the rest of the sycophants began to echo the man's words, doing their best to show their appreciation for his genius.

"Naturally, our Sealord has always been a cut above the rest."

"When I first laid eyes upon his excellency, I knew he was destined for greatness."

"Bah, I was the first one to support him, how dare you take my place?"

"..."

Ferrago was not blind to these empty praises, yet he allowed them to continue. It was only fair they showed their appreciation considering he was the sole reason they still retained any influence or power in this city.

It was all coming together, Mudd would not know what hit him.

…

(???, ???)

Gripping the armrests of his throne as icy tendrils chafed at the chains, he felt annoyed.

Something was wrong, he could feel it in his icy bones. Change, great change was happening and it was to blind it. His ancestors' great wall blocked his vision, preventing him from getting closer to the truth.

Just as he had vaguely sensed years ago, this change continued to affect the continent.

Crow's eye's death years earlier had made that clear to it, his soul having been reaped far too early and confusing him about what exactly was happening in the realms below. As icy tendrils trailed his body, there was a sense of helplessness filling him.

Nothing seemed to go as he expected it to.

Even that sea deity retreated into his territories, not daring to rear his head into the mortal coil, frustration and surprisingly fear of all things holding it back. The deity no longer dared interfere in the mortal plane, its power greatly dwindling.

What confused him most was the strengthening of magic, which greatly helped him recover and slowly break free, but at the same time left him troubled. So much remained the same, yet there was no denying the uneasy change that this continent was undergoing.

His destined enemy was still woefully young, so it could hardly be attributed to them.

No, there were external threats at play, one that changed the future trajectory that he desired. Instinctively knowing that this was both troubling and perhaps an opportunity for him to go even further.

As long as he could deal with this threat, he would no longer be limited, nothing would stand in his way, both mortal and divine.

At least one thing remained constant, blackwood's blood was still motionless within his little hideout, the foolish wyrmling still plotting with and against those blasted demons.

No, as soon as those protections withered away, the icy being knew that he must get rid of the dragon's bastard. The power that would come from it should be more than enough to face whatever threat that dared interfere in his battle with his brother's descendants.

Knowledge of what was happening below could prove useful.

There can only be one true power in this world, if he couldn't have his beloved then no one in this world deserved to retain warmth. Rage filled him as he remembered his loss, fresh as the day it occurred.

The ice around him cracked, his emotions affecting his surroundings.

Oh, how he cursed the gods, both old and new. How his foolish brother turned against all their House stood for, did he not under their role as Winter's vanguard?

Resistance was futile, the world itself cried for mercy as vengeance burned bright. Oh, how ironic did those thoughts feel?

So what if they knew of the change that would come? Nothing could change the predetermined fate.

It mattered not if they chose to resist, one way or another, winter shall encompass the continent and eventually the world whole.

No one was safe.

======

Note: I do have to make a disclaimer that in comparison to their Potterverse counterparts, the magic of Erlend's descendants will be stronger, they are all essentially descendants of a pseudo-nature deity and thus have minor wandless capabilities that can be enhanced through bonds/rituals. Initially, I had no intentions of doing a time skip, but this felt like the best time for it, Erlend having just figured out his newest weapon in the previous chapter and needed time to perfect it. It also gives time for his children to mature and prepare, for he won't always be there to protect them. Not to mention he needed time to erode the influence of his enemies and let them fuck each other over.