ASOIAF: Lord of Nature

(Erlend Mudd, the Summer Sea)

Volantis had overreached, his imprints having informed him of the pureborn's meeting with the demon's followers. A first one, considering they tended to stay as far away from each other as possible.

The reason? An envoy from the Sealord had set up a meeting between the two parties. His intent was hardly difficult to discern.

Shame, here he was content to let them be. At least for a little bit while he dealt with the most troublesome pests.

Well aware of what was coming, he felt that there was no need to overcomplicate matters by allowing R'hllor to interfere where he had no business. After all, that fire demon had another use, and now was hardly the time to come to blows.

For that very reason, Erlend was here, hovering over the Summer Sea. Wherever one looked, they would see water at all sides, not even a speck of land to be glimpsed.

Dealing with him would not be as simple as his enemies expected. Throwing a rock in their little shallow pond would be far too easy for someone like him. Disrupting these attempts to fully unite.

Flying above it all, untouched by the churning water below was Erlend. Staring at the far distance. His eyes filled with confidence and purpose.

His next action would go beyond just slaughtering hordes of Dothraki. This would have far-reaching consequences, more impactful than the death of a bunch of horsefuckers. A pity so many had to perish to bring the demon to heel, but Erlend understood the necessity of it all.

His hand had long since been bloodied with the blood of the innocent, this would be no different. The path he chose was not one of mercy, it was one filled with death and destruction.

In a way he understood the so-called 'Greater Good', unfortunately, it would be the greater good of House Mudd, not anyone else.

There were several ways to go about this, but as always, he preferred the subtle method. Not that he feared discovery, but he had no interest in revealing his hand when the trap had yet to spring.

Letting the wind carry him high above the Summer Sea, Erlend stretched out both his arms. His face was in deep concentration as he pulled at what to most was invisible lines. 

It started small, almost unnoticeable at first, but it was there. He felt the plates responding to his demand, moving closer than what was natural. These movements made the sea floor groan, trembling at the sudden shift. 

Thousands of sea life that made this particular spot their home, swiftly made their escape, disturbed by the danger they could feel coming.

As the crusts were forced to move against each other, the water around it was displaced. Forming waves that moved out in all directions. Erlend continued to repeat this, until a sudden click went right through his mind, confirming the process's completion.

Halting his actions, Erlend could already imagine the ramifications that would come from this. Gazing at the distance, a picture came to his mind. One of suffering and agony, the question was, would the demon be ready for it all?

Now, all he needed to do was wait. With a silent pop, the Sunset King disappeared.

…

With a silent pop, Erlend appeared in the gardens of his stronghold.

Ahead of him was his son sparring with the Dayne heir. The two fought impressively, both carrying themselves with a grace that was unheard of.

Both belonged to magical bloodlines, yet it was obvious Edmund had the upper hand.

Erlend remained silent as he observed the two, his presence unknown to them.

Watching guard over them was none other than the disgraced Dayne Knight. Arthur looked ready to step in at any time if things went too far. Not daring to take his eyes off the two.

Though if the look in his eyes was of any indication, the man was impressed by the skill shown by the two brats.

Close by were Rhaenys and Danaerys, similarly sparring. Whilst the Sand Snakes close to them shouted advice or admonished the two princesses whenever they made a mistake.

Unlike Dayne, the sisters weren't trying to help all that much. Preferring to antagonize the two girls.

By the looks of it, Erlend was quite sure that the two dragon princesses were soon reaching the end of their patience with the bastards. His lips twitched as the two discreetly came to a mutual agreement.

Their eyes did all the talking that was needed.

Faster than Oberyn's daughters could react, they found themselves tackled to the ground by the annoyed girls. What made it worse was the fact that Ellaria, their nominal mother, just stood there watching over the fun.

Satisfied that all was well, Erlend disappeared with another pop.

…

Another pop, another appearance.

This time Erlend found his youngest pouring over several tomes within the library. Despite his young age, Jasper was able to race right through these books.

The boy looked to be in his world, unable to extract himself from the world he had no doubt constructed within his mind. Occasionally Malora would come in to check on the boy, making sure he was alright and explaining any particular tidbit that escaped him.

Oh, quite the interesting ones too, they were tomes regarding the coming of the Andals and the Arryn conquest of the Vale. Fitting when one considers Jasper's future seat.

His lover finally took a rare break from her experiments to relax with a book in hand. Close by was his daughter Myrcella, who curiously stared at her older sibling and occasionally asked a few questions to Malora.

Erlend was amused by that, at least Cella knew better than to distract her brother. A far cry from his childhood in his previous life, where he would be hard-pressed to find time for himself.

Oh well, no harm done. As long as his children got along, Erlend didn't mind whatever hobbies they might have.

Regardless he had a ritual to get to, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and there was no point letting all those sacrifices go to waste.

…

(???, Volantis)

Laying atop his hathay, he watched those passing him with keen eyes.

Looking for potential slaves to add to his exquisite collection. So what if they called themselves freeman, every man, woman, and child regardless of their 'status' was nothing more than a potential servant in front of his honored self.

Who in this city could boast a lineage as prestigious as his own? It was even said that his ancestors were some of the most trusted by the Dragonlords of the past era.

Now, his ancestors' hard work paid off, for no one can boast of a higher status than his own within the old blood.

This city was his to rule, unfortunately, some of the uppity elephants had gotten it into their heads that they had the right to naysay him.

How preposterous, his line was blessed by the gods themselves.

Vexed by the remainder of those upstarts, he fanned himself to calm his growing anger. As a true-blooded valyrian, he must remain composed when in public. It would be poor for him to show emotions outside of the palace walls.

No doubt those bastards would not hesitate to use it against him, should they catch wind of it.

"You there boy. Turn this thing around and return to my palace at once!" Ordering that animal that was driving this thing.

Naturally, the beast obeyed almost immediately and swiftly guided that creature to turn, as he should.

Fanning himself to ward off the heat, the hathay suddenly came to a stop.

Annoyed by the halt, he opened his mouth to rebuke this worthless slave, only for his words to get caught in his throat.

To his bafflement, he watched as slaves and old blood alike rushed towards what he assumed to be the eastern gates. Have these fools lost their mind? He cared not for the fleeing slaves as the guard would surely make quick work of them.

No, he was outraged at the old blood who dared to step on the dirty ground below them. This was a direct insult to their positions as beings second only to the gods!

Finally, a familiar face made itself clear to him. "Aekar. What in everything that is holy do you think you're doing?" His furious shout halted the fleeing noble.

Getting a hold of himself, his fellow old blood looked at him incredulously, "Vaekar, have you lost your mind, you must leave the city immediately!"

"Why in the hell would I do that?" Vaekar was baffled by his friend.

"Mighty Balerion give me strength… VAEKAR GET YOUR ASS OFF THAT DAMNED HATHAY, A GREAT BIG WAVE THRICE AS TALL THE BLACK WALLS HAS BEEN SIGHTED HEADING TOWARDS THE CITY!!!" With that said, his friend immediately began running faster than he had ever witnessed him do so.

Trailing behind him were several slaves carrying the old blood's children and helping the man's concubines. Their fear and loyalty are ingrained in their very being, despite the danger facing the city.

"This… This absolutely cannot be, the gods themselves blessed the city." Vaekar denied such a disaster.

This was tantamount to the gods leaving the city to its fate. It cannot be, they were the last true remnants of the great empire of old. No, he must survive! Someone of his status cannot fall with the city.

As the last hope of Valyria, his life was far more important than anyone else. Surely the gods were testing him, seeing whether he was able to survive the tribulation.

"You there, get me out of here immediately. THE GODS DEMAND IT!"

…

(Ferrego Antaryon, Braavos)

In front of his luxurious desk, Ferrago sat there reviewing documents. He seemed to be affected by something and looked anxious. The latest meeting with the Keyholders had been nothing short of a disaster.

Those stubborn fools refused to heed his offers, no matter what he promised, they would not budge from their position and would not even listen to the hints he left.

Blasted conservatives, this rigidity was why Braavos has failed in the past. Do they not realize they are clinging to the past?

Ferrago had always been in a terrible mood after every meeting with them. Thankfully he'd received some pleasant news and that was that the old blood and fire god's followers were interested in cooperating.

A remarkable feat, considering both sides' penchant for undermining each other. He did not doubt that both sides agreed if only to deny the other side from gaining the upper hand.

His envoy had truly outdone himself, playing them off each other and getting their support would make setting up the trap much smoother.

Unfortunately the same could not be said about the Dothraki. Those horsefuckers insisted on making things more difficult for him, demanding gold, slaves, and anything of value they could leech off him. What was worse, he couldn't use his city's coffer even if he wanted to.

The Iron Bank was keeping a direct eye on all the gold spent, with not a coin to spare.

Thus, more of his already drained wealth was being reduced as he sat here. Not to mention he had to secretly procure slaves, either from destitute freemen within the city or from protectorates under Braavos.

Ferrago could only hope that the old blood would chip in once the terms were agreed upon, otherwise, he'd be penniless by the end of this farce.

The slaves would also prove to be an issue if word got out, he knew full well that he was now walking on a fine line between death and prosperity. Should his actions be revealed, then a quick death would be but a dream.

Looking over the papers in front of him with a thoughtful expression, Ferrago wondered how Mudd dealt with so many opposing parties. If what he heard was true, then Westeros was overflowing with prideful fools, intent on making life difficult for anyone and everyone.

Undermining their superiors was something those Western barbarians excelled in. If it wasn't the nobles, then it was the faith, and gods forbid they work together.

Amusement filled him at the thought that he'd free the Mudd of the headache those peacocks no doubt gave him. There would be no need to thank him, he was only doing it for the good of this beautiful city.

Aegon the Unlikely failed in his reforms not only because of his selfish self-centered children but also due to the opposition of his Lords and their distaste for the common people.

It was near impossible to bring those barbarians to heel, Ferrago was confident everything would collapse once Erlend fell and his accomplishments were swept aside.

The dragons must fall, they should never have returned to the world in the first place. It was against the natural order to let them be. No singular figure should hold such destructive power. Not unless it was him.

So what if he benefited from their demise? They couldn't expect him to go through such a selfless task without compensation, and Braavos seemed as fitting as a reward as any.

…

There was no way this was possible, but…reality said otherwise. Despite his reluctance to admit it, Ferrago knew that these turn of events would greatly reduce the plot's chances.

Yet, they could not turn back even if they wanted to, not when they were already knee-deep in it all.

With this unexpected failure, he had lost not only potential wealthy allies that could bring in a much-needed influx of gold, but also several key pawns that would've made his rise so much easier. Ferrrago was aware of how bad his losses were, not to mention the losses his own allies had no doubt made.

"FUCK!"

The trembling servant in front of him dared not move, lest the furious Antaryon turn his impotent rage upon him.

"A FUCKING WAVE OF ALL THINGS!"

Never mind one so massive that it wiped Volantis off the face of Essos and irreparably damaged Lys.

A meeting had to be called to assess just how bad the damage from this... disaster was.

"I want every single figure of import in the Great Hall immediately, anyone that refuses to show can consider themselves as rebels." He ordered the servant, who shakily nodded before abruptly turning around and leaving.

Looking at the scattered paper and broken glass around him, the Sealord let out another scream of pure frustration that echoed throughout the palace.

This could not get any worse!

======

Note: Originally this was going to happen before the time skip, but I realized that a 'natural' disaster such as this would be far more impactful if it occurred after the spat between Volantis and the Three Daughters ended (where they both also made significant losses). Can't forget the immense amount of investments made by the Braavosi in the two coastal cities. No, the Golden Company was nowhere near the affected areas, having 'conveniently' been sent north to assist in the 'plot'. As for the ritual… you can't expect Erlend to throw away such a potent ingredient?