ASOIAF: Lord of Nature

Note: Do note that whatever is in here is not canon, it is merely my attempt to combine and make sense of the two similar, yet different iterations of the same world; ASOIAF and GoT. Remember this world is a combination of both universes.

This chapter contains sexual content, if you are not interested in its contents or are underage, you may skip the parts marked as R18+, you have been warned.

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(Erlend Mudd, Firmridge)

He'd never seen Benjen look so shaken. Even when Erlend was declared King, the Stark Patriarch had taken it with grim acceptance, which said a lot about his current situation.

The Stark looked hollowed out, his eyes droopy, expression gloomy, casting a depressing shadow on all those around him.

Tyrion did his best to lean away from his northern counterpart, startled by the unexpected sight and more than a little afraid. Who he was afraid of more was difficult to pinpoint.

"Benjen, you look like absolute shit." Choosing not to mince words, Erlend got to the point.

A faint facepalm could be heard in the background, but it was ignored pointedly by everyone in the solar.

"Aye, you can say that again." Benjen responded tiredly, "Be honest with me, your Majesty. Do you have any idea what's wrong with me?" The man asked.

Tyrion looked part-intrigued and part-confused about what exactly the Stark was on about. Erlend on the other hand was well aware of the situation, as one of his most leal vassals, he paid significant attention to the man's safety and well-being.

"It has a lot to do with your ancestor's actions, both of your ancestors." Erlend started.

"Mine?" Tyrion was taken aback, unsure how he was even related to the northerner's troubles.

"Yes, your Casterly blood to be more precise. The Lannisters weren't around yet when this whole nonsense started."

"You speak of the Long Night?" Benjen blurted out, while the Starks had scant records on the events of their legendary past, there was some inkling of information around to make an educated guess.

"Isn't that just tales used to scare children into behaving?" Tyrion was understandably skeptical, he had come to Firmridge to discuss a potential betrothal, not grumpkins and snarks.

"Come now, Someone as well-read as you should be fully aware that every tale has a smidgen of truth to it." That was sufficient enough to stop his interruptions.

"Before I get into it, you both should understand that the White Walkers and the Others are not the same things, it is easy to confuse one for the other, but you must be careful in making a clear distinction between the two."

"The Others, also known as the cold ones, are a long-lived race, preferring isolation and solitude, rarely interacting with humanity. On the other hand, the White Walkers are a by-product of the children, weapons made specifically to eliminate the tide that is humanity."

"Do they exist?" Benjen asked, knowing full well the answer to that, but still in denial for his sanity.

"Of course, if dragons could exist, what makes you think other races can't? Even the Maesters dare not fully deny their existence. As for why both matter to you specifically, Benjen. It's because you are descended from the former and tied to the latter."

"You can't be serious!" Benjen rose, horror fully visible on his face.

"Calm yourself, my friend. This is hardly appropriate behavior." Erlend gave the Stark Patriarch a pointed look.

Breathing in and out, the man sat back once again, but his outraged expression remained.

"To put it mildly, Brandon the Builder was the child of a human and an Other. It was specifically this bloodline that gave him the authority to command the children and the giants to help him build the wall, much to the fury of the latter."

"The White Walkers are more complicated, the original Night King who started it all, was a captured Stark who was forcefully transformed by the children."

"Original?" Tyrion broke his silence, intrigued by his liege's wording.

"Indeed, the current Night King is an amalgamation of the original and the thirteenth Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, another Stark who was also brother to the then Lord of Winterfell."

"As you may have realized, the Children quickly lost control of the White Walkers, leaving it for us to clean up their mess since your ancestors failed to permanently put an end to them."

Silence filled the solar, as both Lords digested that news. Benjen looked like he sucked on a sour lemon, as he realized just how deeply his family was tied to the crisis that would soon envelop Westeros.

Tyrion for his part, was still skeptical about the whole matter, choosing to wait and see rather than outright deny his liege's claims. He was already on thin ice, no need to make it worse.

Erlend remained calm, he preferred that Benjen knew the truth of the matter, not wanting figures like Bloodraven to use the turmoil within the Stark to gain power and influence. Stannis and Melisandre in both the books and the show were an obvious warning of how bad it could become if he left it unchecked.

"We should take a break here, you need time to digest all this. I encourage you to go through the library, many historical records could provide a more in-depth explanation." Erlend suggested.

Benjen absently nodded his head in agreement, whereas Tyrion looked ready to ask more questions regarding the topic.

Erlend shook his head at the dwarf, any more could overwhelm the two right now. Best to take a steady approach.

What did interest Erlend was why his family even held such knowledge in the first place. Oh, it never had the full picture, as it took Erlend 'borrowing' the special tomes and knowledge from nearly every House in the continent to do so, but it did give him a basic picture to start from.

The Mudds were far younger than most Great Houses, suppressing only the Arryns and Martells in terms of seniority. He didn't even remotely consider the Tyrells or Tully's true Great Houses.

One would also think that the numerous close calls towards extinction would have left their library bare of anything of true significance. Fortunately for the avid historian, reality begged to differ much to his confusion.

It was painfully obvious that his House was unique, and not just by the fact that their blood was of high quality to blood mages. Unfortunately, it seemed his kin cared more about the history of everyone but them, much to his irritation.

The fuck was so special about his House, that the old man would put so much effort to change history so drastically just to make sure he was born in it, rather than just reincarnating him as a Stark like every other generic wank fic.

'Troublesome.'

…

(Tyrion Lannister)

If His Majesty was to be believed, then Westeros was on the brink of disaster.

One that threatened to bring forth an eternal night that would see the end of humanity, and the reign of a legend once thought of as a fairytale.

Tyrion was skeptical of this all, and he would have outright denied it, if not for the fact that the person claiming all of this not only happened to be his liege, but also a powerful sorcerer capable of things few could even begin to imagine.

It was abundantly clear that he needed someone trustworthy to speak to about this all, but those were far too few he trusted, and none who were present at the moment.

At the least, Tyrion cherished the opportunity to access the fortress's library, one of the most important landmarks the royal capital had to offer, at least in his modest opinion. Who knew what sort of knowledge was locked away deep within its confine?

Just as he was about to head to the library, Tyrion felt a pair of critical eyes staring at him. Raising his head, he found himself being sized up by an undeniably beautiful woman. One who could easily put his bitch of a sister to shame just by standing there.

With pale silver-gold hair, pale skin, and haunted violet eyes. There was no comparing her to any of the ladies he had the pleasure and displeasure of meeting previously, a goddess among women would be the most apt way to describe her.

There was sorrow in those eyes, similar to the look his Uncle would get when he thought he wasn't looking. Yet there was also a sense of unspeakable strength and joy. Apparent to him, whenever her eyes strayed to the office of his liege.

"Lord Lannister," She greeted him, her voice chilling him at the barely discernible disdain and pity.

At first, he assumed it was because of his stature, but thinking it through, it was more likely her displeasure at who his father was, and what he had committed against her family.

"Your Highness." He bowed his head respectfully, not daring to give her anything she could use against him.

Gazing at him cooly, "Lady Targaryen. I am no longer a Royal." She corrected him.

Despite his embarrassment, he maintained his composure. "Of course, my Lady. My sincere apologies." 

The awkwardness practically filled the air around them; he knew that the former Queen-Consort had some sort of friendship with his mother, but he doubted she cared for it any longer. After all, her youngest son had perished as a result of his father's actions.

Not wanting to stay in the area any longer, she nodded his head towards the dwarf, "If you would excuse me, my Lord. I have duties to deal with."

"Of course. Of course. I dare not delay you any longer."

Not daring to look back, Tyrion let out a fatigued sigh, sorely hoping that the rest of the royal family would be much easier to deal with.

He dearly wished he could speak to her of his mother and how she used to be, but he feared her condemnation, or worse… offending the King by angering her. It was rumored that Princess Daenerys was very difficult to deal with, Seven knew what she'd do if she assumed he was harassing her mother.

Hopefully, he wouldn't cross paths with her any time soon.

…

(Erlend Mudd)

The fortress was coming off quite nicely, more precisely the defenses he'd created for it had been strengthened to an enormous degree.

If before, they were enough to make armies quake in fear, now they were capable of defending against more supernatural threats. Most importantly against any attempt to curse his line.

Erlend understood the power of curses, both intentional and unintentional was not to be scoffed at. Those shadow babies were one such example in this world, the curse of Harrenhal and the Greengrass curse that many fic writers explored in his past life was another that came to mind.

Disgust and fury welled within him at the thought of such a blood curse being cast upon his descendants, hence why he did not hesitate to imbue his divine power on the fortress. This divine power would be more than enough to block any curse someone could attempt to force on his line.

The leylines beneath the castle would serve as a source of energy that his divine power could draw upon, even when Erlend wasn't around, Firmridge's consciousness serving as an administrator for it all in his absence, or if the reigning Mudd was too young to control it.

Not to say he would abandon this world, but at the least when he was busy exploring, his mortal descendants could assure their safety.

An interesting scent wafted into the room, one that he was intimately familiar with.

Not needing to guess who it was, Erlend was unsurprised when two milky white arms enveloped his sides, whilst two soft cushions enveloped his head. Allowing him to relax into them.

"Not that I don't appreciate the feeling, but what has gotten on to you my love." He spoke gently to the woman holding him close to her bosom.

A melancholic sigh escaped her lips, "Memories. Memories I would rather not dwell on." She admitted plainly.

With a gentle tug, Rhaella was in his arms, "Then as your faithful partner, I must do my best to make you joyous once more, my love." 

Their positions now switched, Erlend gazed into those sorrowful violet eyes for a few seconds, before springing into action.

He could only sacrifice his body, for the greater good!

…

(R18+ Incoming)

As Visenya entered the solar, she closed the door and locked it, not wanting to be interrupted.

As soon as she finished doing so, she found herself met with a sight that was not only infuriating but also arousing.

There was that pitiful girl Rhaella, who was letting out breathy sighs, excitedly pulling at Erlend's pants, whilst his lips were attached to her neck, nipping at her pulse points as she gyrated her hips on his lap. His lower organ likely caused a tent to form, obscured by the desk blocking her vision. 

Erlend raised his eyebrow at her entrance. Snorting in dissatisfaction, Visenya casually made her way behind the desk, whilst the unaware Rhaella kept foolishly humping at her beloved.

Placing her hands on the distracted dragons, she easily gripped the former Queen-Consort and turned her towards the desk. 

Rhaella, finally aware of her presence, stared at her wide-eyed, with a look that easily conveyed the unspoken query, 'What the hell was she planning to do?'

Visenya coughed, momentarily embarrassed by the stare. Wanting to make the most of this unexpected moment, she made a show of reluctantly backing away, before instantly lunging at Rhaella and grabbing the still confused violet-eyed beauty bending her over the desk, ripping out her dress in the process, and exposing her bare bottom.

With a loud smack that echoed throughout the solar, she spanked the younger Targaryen, motioning for Erlend to take action.

Moaning from the pain and squirming in anticipation at the unexpected situation, Rhaella's hands moved towards her behind, awkwardly displaying her gushing snatch, desperate for Erlend's cock.

Erlend's breath hitched, he hadn't expected Visenya to do something so outrageously stimulating, nevertheless, he took it all in stride. Approaching the erotic sight calmly, he observed the bent-over Rhaella, whose legs were shaking with arousal. 

Visenya meanwhile, took this opportunity to sit her perfect dearie on the desk, smirking at him knowingly and beckoning for him to put her sister's descendant in her place.

His erection stood at full mast, so close yet so far to the demanding bud, carefully rubbing at her outer folds. Rhaella moaned at the friction his painfully hard dick was causing, unable to help but thrust back onto his cock. Visenya wasn't having it, firmly holding her in place much to the whimpering dragoness's indignation.

Her dripping folds stain the carpet beneath them. No doubt, all three of them could sense the growing wetness of the pitiful lady. Taking pleasure at being denied what she sought. 

"P-please. I need it." Rhaella pleaded.

Visenya chuckled with amusement, her eyes twinkling at the release she was preventing. Eventually, deciding that the younger Targaryen had waited long enough, she stopped holding Rhaella back. Even helpfully positioning Erlend's cock so that Rhaella's juices lubricated the prize she so desperately sought. Preparing to impale the dragons onto her beloved with sadistic glee. 

A fresh wave of excitement and lust ran through Rhaella, who shook her hips invitingly in an attempt to speed up the process.

Without hesitation, once he was sure his dragon was sufficiently ready, Erlend slammed into her dripping folds, drawing breathy moans from Rhaella and pleased groans from him. Cock sheathed, Erlend pressed his lover against the desk, pounding into her tight chamber vigorously.

Rhaella's body held strong, gripping around his wonderful dick firmly, refusing to let go. The pleasure that she sought nearly sent her into climax. 

Visenya's folds were leaking copious amounts of juices, simultaneously staining both her panties and her pants. Erlend had no intention of ignoring her, hid hands moving towards his first lover, and expertly rubbed at her clothed folds in a familiar pattern.

Visenya moaned with delight, her lower half reacting to his actions by moving closer. Her hands trailed his sculpted chest.

Rhaella meanwhile backed into Erlend, impaling herself further onto his cock, and stretching her further. She was too dazed from the pleasure to care about what was happening, only seeking release by tightly gripping his cock.

Unsurprisingly, as soon as Erlend responded to her moves, a wave of orgasm went right through the former queen who let out a scream of lustful joy, before collapsing onto his desk. Yet to achieve his climax, Erlend turned to Visenya, his eyes telling her all she needed to know.

Shaking her head disappointedly at her fellow Targaryen, "Tsk... I expected more from her." 

Gently pushing the incoherent Rhaella out of the way and removing her lover's sticky cock from Rhaella's snatch, Visenya placed her back on the desk, whilst ripping off her pants.

Her fingers motioned for Erlend to come forward and take his rightful prize.

Hard as could be, Erlend smirked at the provocative sight, "Hmm, as sensual as always, my love." Before plunging into her heavenly folds without hesitation.

(R18+ Ending)