The Game of Crusading Thrones, Self-Insert Edition (GoT CK2)

Duty of Magic

Merlin Snow, son of Hunith, sits in the Maester's Hall waiting for the lesson's to be done and over with. Why King Stark tries to have them be taught how to use letters is beyond him. It's not like they will ever have a need for it. But the fruits are delicious, and it gets him out fieldwork for a while. As the acolyte in charge of teaching them for the day begins winding down his lesson on letters, a knock at the door interrupts him.

Murmurs ripple through the hall as very rarely does anyone interrupt their lessons. The Wildling girl sitting next to him seems to perk up and become excited. "It's a Green Man I know it." She whispers practically jumping in her chair.

"It could be the king you know," Merlin says only to get a dismissive snort from the girl. Despite everything that the king did, there were still Wildling holdouts who still called him the "Kneeler King" *.

It was then that he realized that the Acolyte seemed to be having a heated discussion* at the door. Right as it looked like it would come to blows, his posture freezes and becomes more submissive. Turning around the acolyte leads not only High Speaker Frost into the room but also King Torrhen.

Many of the Small Folk, including himself, couldn't believe their eyes. In many inns and taverns, peasants would raise their cups in honor of the king. Tales are still told of how he fought the Beastman scourge and drove them north of the Wall. Or how the Old Gods favor him and struck down the Wildling Chief who broke his bond.

Yet for all the stories Merlin was shocked by just how non-descript the king is. The only thing that draws the eyes is the steel like glint in his eyes. As though he is weighing his every move, and seeing how far he can push. In the blink of an eye though this all changed.

Gone was the Maester's Hall where they were learning their letters. Now they knelt before the Weirwood tree in Winterfell. The first generation of the Seid to graduate. The King and his family stand in front of them. While High Speaker Frost guides them through the oaths.

"By the Old Gods, before whom we take this oath, I will be to the Stark's of Winterfell faithful and true. We shall fight for the North, be it against man, or other darker beasts we shall hold true. In the knowledge that the Stark of Winterfell will protect, and guide our strength with an even hand."

The King nods his head in acceptance before bidding them rise. "I accept your fealty, and in turn vow to ensure the safety and prosperity of you all. For you will all be remembered for good or for ill." At this, he gestures with a smile to Merlin. "From Merlin the Wise, who was born a bastard, but whose even-tempered hand helped bind the despairing Sept woods into a cohesive whole. May your dreams always have a tint of green, and the call of the Elk."

The king then laughs before gesturing to the woman to his right. "To you Morgan of the Fey, the Wildling girl who stole the heart of the Lord of the Bronze Hunt, and who has healed and cursed many a Reacher man and woman who has tried to take yours. May your dreams always have a tint of purple, and the flapping of the Raven's wings."

At this, the king sighs before staring in sorrow at the living shadow that stood to Merlin's left. "To you Mordred, you who came down from the mountains. You who in your darkest hour we took in, and made one of our own. You who will devour the flaming heart of the East. Who will fight against the King in Red. May your dreams always have a tint of blue, and know that the Wolf will always welcome you home."



With a start Merlin woke up, Hunith gently shaking his shoulder while smiling down to him. "Oh, my sweet little Mer, if you don't get out of bed the entire day will go by." She says shaking her head, "Alright, wash your face, and be on your best behavior I don't want to hear anything about you sleeping in the Maester's Hall again."

AN: Welp here's another Omake, tried to go with the Arthurian legend because hey who doesn't want to have a wizard named Merlin on their team. All of these were just to represent differing magic. Merlin with the Green Dream and what could be considered Old Gods magic, Morgan with the more elemental magic. And Mordred with magic that could be considered dark yet still in the service of the Old Gods. That and the animal motifs to differentiate paths.

Also fun fact I found out while working on another Omake for those Wood septs. Martin never set up a calendar system or the names of days for the world of Westeros.

For both of the * parts that was just me trying to get into the idea that there still should be some grumbling for the Wildlings. And the Maesters are known to be anti-magic so an acolyte would probably not be all that enthused by this new age of magic.

And for those wondering Seid is an anglicized version of the old Norse word for magic.

King Loren put his sword through the heathen's throat as his army advanced, singing a hymn to the Seven. Behind him strode a wedge of Warrior's Sons and Blessed Ones, men loyal to one so favored by the Seven-Who-Are-One. The remainder of his foes gave ground, their foul magic faltering in the presence of holy men like the Blessed. One of the petty hill clans in the Westerlands died there, protecting their weirwood grove. The bodies were tossed into a pile and soaked in oil, and as Septon Tybold solemnly prayed, they were burned, the cursed white wood burning with them. King Loren gave a satisfied nod, turning to Lord Crakehall and Lord Westerling, who had accompanied him with some of their men. The two lords looked pale and unsettled by the strength of those who followed him. As they should, for they have been lax in their faith and lax in the duties ordained by the Seven. As the trees burned behind him, he sat on the blood-soaked earth. "Now, my lords, before we return to Casterly Rock, I wish to revisit the matter of allowing the Blessed Ones to patrol your lands without interference…" Loren grinned sharply, his grin like that of the lion on his shield. "Surely you can see the benefits when malcontents and heathens threaten the peace of our lands, and fouler things come from the Reach and the Iron Islands."

The two lords glanced at each other. "Your Grace, while I would be glad of any aid in keeping my lands safe and ordered, but I must be mindful of my own obligations under the Seven. I cannot allow others to execute or punish my smallfolk without judging them myself." King Loren's smile faded slightly. Despite the false piety on Lord Crakehall's face, he saw this for what it was: a ploy to try and keep power. No matter, the Seven would aid him here, as they aided him since Septon Tybold and Devout Tyrion fled the Starry Sept for the Golden. "Perhaps if your armsmen were to accompany the Blessed Ones?" He suggested, and both lords agreed. King Loren's smile grew once more, for the Blessed Ones were most persuasive, and their armsmen would remember the importance of faith and the peril every man's soul was in soon enough.

They rode back to Casterly Rock on the newly improved roads. Heathens who had bent the knee were laboring in the fields alongside it under the watchful eyes of septons and Poor Fellows, doing penance for their years of foolishness and faithlessness during the day and learning the ways of the true gods at night. Perhaps if his lords continued to defy the will of one crowned by the Seven-Who-Are-One and the will of the Seven themselves, they would soon join them, King Loren thought. But he would have to be careful, for many of his lords would balk if he attempted such a thing without cause even the most faithless of them could accept, for they were a proud lot, and protective of their privileges, not realizing that such things were irrelevant before the Seven. Perhaps another talk with Septon Tybold when he reached Casterly Rock, before he returned to the tedious business of petitions and plans which made up most of his work. Perhaps he could steal a few hours to pray, or to see to the education of his heir as well…

Though he continued to chatter with Lord Crakehall and Lord Westerling and Lord Captain Willem, his mind was elsewhere, back in the sept, surrounded by incense and the light and glory of the gods. And he did not notice the looks his lords exchanged when he mentioned his desire to build a new and grand sept on the site of this victory. He did not notice the contempt in their eyes whenever they glanced at the steadfast Lord Captain. Fortunately, he later though, Septon Tybold had a sharp eye and ear for such things and was always happy to help him keep an eye on unruly vassals, especially ones he lacked the proper respect for the servants of the gods.

(Since you will be completing the rumor mill for the Westerlands this turn, I thought I would show you a bit about the situation there. The idea of there being First Men hill clans in the Westerlands I got from another quest on Spacebattles, although mine are somewhat different.)