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Rose poked around the plate of mystery meat she'd been given, lamenting her current situation.
But hey, at least she had a stupidly powerful wizard at her side who seemed capable of feats even Dumbledore couldn't pull off.
That was a question she didn't want to bring up. How did he end up in the same place as them? She was sure she would have noticed the stupidly handsome teen if he had been in the Ministry at the same time as them.
Another question she had while eating the surprisingly good meal was: how did Lux get spices and seasoning out in the middle of nowhere? She figured her questions could wait, though. After all, as much as she was feeling better after getting a pep talk from him, she was still nearly freaking out over here.
And looking over at the still-sleeping Bellatrix, Rose frowned. She really didn't want anything to do with the woman responsible for her godfather's death.
She'd been trying to get her savior to at least leave Bellatrix behind. There was no doubt in Rose's mind that they'd end up taking a curse to the back sooner rather than later.
But he wouldn't budge. Looking over at the older woman's two large pillowy mounds gently rising up and down as she snored, Rose wondered if there was a deeper reason why Lux insisted on keeping Bellatrix around.
Nah, it couldn't be.
Anyway, she just hoped the insane follower of The Dark Lord wouldn't wake up any time soon. She simply wanted some peace to get her mind together.
Almost as if her luck had it out for her, and she was certain it did, she saw Bellatrix start to stir before her eyes snapped open, looking side to side, seemingly searching for something.
Rose grabbed her wand, seeing Bellatrix rush at Lux, sure she was going on the attack.
Instead, her mouth hung open, seeing the murderous woman lovingly drape herself over Lux before nuzzling into his neck, obscenely sucking and licking his flesh.
Somehow, Lux didn't even seem flustered by this, instead returning the woman's affection by grabbing a handful of one of her large breasts.
Rose looked down at her own before almost letting out a growl of annoyance.
Whatever, she didn't care. Those fatty sacks would just get in the way, and it's not like she wanted to be in the psychopath's place with her attractive savior.
"Ahem," she cleared her throat, seeing the two's lecherous groping start to get even more heated, wondering if Lux had forgotten she was there.
Lux didn't seem surprised by her interruption, but Bellatrix's previously adoring gaze turned to hatred when their eyes met, making Rose involuntarily shiver. She knew there were few who could match the woman's skill with a wand, and if it wasn't for Lux still being around, Rose would have likely already gotten the hell out of there.
"Potter! It's all your fault… wait… why… my Lo… No my God… Aah!" Bellatrix rambled before breaking out into hysterical screeching, nearly breaking down into sobs.
Eh? Did Bellatrix somehow become even crazier?
The episode didn't last long, though, Lux got up to run a comforting hand through her hair, putting an end to her mental breakdown—something Rose definitely wasn't at all jealous of.
Still, Bellatrix sent her a nasty glare before switching up on the spot, stroking Lux's cheek and giving him the closest thing to puppy dog eyes that she could pull off.
"My God, please allow me to dispose of this filthy half-blood," Bella begged, making Lux run a hand down his face with a sigh.
Next to him, Rose cocked an eyebrow, sending him a dirty look. She'd been complaining about keeping the psychopath around, her glare telling him, 'I told you so.'
Like Lux figured, his mind fuckery wouldn't be perfect on the first use. Bella still seemed to have him as the most important figure in her mind but that obviously, didn't extend to the teen girl who was somehow the mortal enemy of the strongest Dark Lord.
"Now, now, Bella, let's put plans of murder aside for now. You two might be the only Magicals in this world, so let's all work together, yeah?" Lux tried to coax the murder-hungry witch away from making any rash decisions.
He figured sitting around the campfire, singing kumbaya, wouldn't solve anything, so the most he could do was distract her until the next brainwashing session.
"I won't say I told you so but…" Rose tried teasing him, but his skin was too thick for that to bother him.
"Hmm? Did you say something?" he smartly replied, making Rose scoff and roll her eyes.
"Fine, but what's this god nonsense, and what do you mean, the only two Magicals? There's three of us here," Rose asked, deciding to move on from the verbal spat she'd obviously lost.
"Oh… my sweet summer child." Lux stood, propping a leg up on the log he'd been using as a seat before gesturing grandly. "Not only am I a god, but in the future, I'll be… The God," he told her, receiving only a deadpan in return for some reason.
Bella got to her knees, nodding fervently at his grand proclamation. Seemingly unable to stop herself, Bella nuzzled her face against his thigh, her hand going in for the prize all while Rose was on the side looking like she was about to puke up the fine meal they had eaten earlier.
"Sure… you're a god, whatever. If you want to pretend to be all mysterious, then that's fine. But for Merlin's sake, whatever's going on there, please make it stop," Rose whined, making him nod.
"She's right, woman. Not in front of the child," Lux scolded, swatting Bella's naughty hand away from his bulge. She cutely pouted, making him chuckle. "None of that, my dear. We'll be having our fun later tonight," he reassured her, hearing a gagging sound coming from Rose's direction.
Well, at least he prevented a catfight from starting, Lux thought with a nod of contentment.
But this made him realize something. He needed to find a permanent residence so they could distance themselves, and he wouldn't even need to bother preventing a fight in the first place.
That wasn't the only reason. Lux also figured out that he wasn't, at all, built for this life of bumming it around a campfire in the woods. No, he wanted luxury, damn it, and he was going to get it.
He didn't know how people could actually enjoy this because if it wasn't for his magic keeping him entertained, he'd have thrown a fit by now.
So, he'd need to hasten his plans to conquer this little island. There was nothing stopping him from finding the nearest lord and kicking them out of their house, but the problem was, he needed manpower.
He felt it would be a hassle to deal with The North and, in turn, the rest of The Seven Kingdoms coming to knock on his door if it was known he'd stolen a piece of their land.
Fuck those guys, though. Skagos might have been a kingdom of its own with how little oversight the Starks had with it. They couldn't even stop the Skagosi lords from blatantly breaking the King's laws. So, better in his hands, he reasoned.
So, yeah… fuck them. But back to the situation at hand, he was going to need to put this island on lockdown before stealing a nice house for himself, and that meant creating significantly more undead minions.
~A New God's Conquest~
Noire sat on the back of one of the dead villagers, grooming her luxurious coat as her minions dragged the bodies closer to her father's camp.
At least the two imbeciles she was forced to watch over could get one thing right: they seemed to have infinite stamina as they made multiple trips back and forth, transporting the bodies to a small ditch near the campsite.
With her careful oversight, her minions were now bringing the last of the villagers just as the sun was starting to set. She perked up, feeling her father moving in her direction, unable to stop her tail from wagging side to side.
Finally seeing her father, she sauntered over, basking in his praising gaze after a job well done. With a cute little hop, she landed in his arms, receiving the divine head pats she loved so much.
"Such a good girl, Noire. I knew I could trust you," her father praised, making her nod.
See, this was why she liked her father so much. He just knew how to tell it like it was.
Still in his arms, the two walked over to the large pile of about fifty dead locals. Noire felt her father gathering up a large amount of magic, the familiar feel of darkness he was radiating making her feel at home.
She rolled her eyes, seeing the pale skin of the corpses turn black before shambling to their feet. She sighed, more minions that she would have to babysit.
"These are your men now. Organize them and scour the land. Leave no men alive," she listened to her father command the two stronger minions as if it wouldn't be her ending up taking charge. Whatever, at least she got good head pats, so she'd let it slide.
Through the mental link with her father, he told her that these new minions were different. Anyone they bit would turn into a lesser undead under their command.
With a wolfish grin, she hopped out of her father's embrace, giving him a nod that said, "Worry not, pops, I'll handle this," before running off, ready to spread some chaos.
~A New God's Conquest~
Thorrick Magnar, Lord of Kingshouse, watched over his younger son swinging at a practice dummy in the yard.
He felt as if he was blessed by the gods. He had more than enough heirs to ensure the safety of his line, the raidings had been bountiful, and the long summer meant that his people only had to occasionally resort to cannibalism.
Things were going so well that the nonsensical rumors of the undead razing villages to the ground didn't even bother him. He figured that people would always have to make a fuss when others were prospering.
"That's it, lad, you'll make a fine raider in no time," he praised the little tyke before noticing one of his men-at-arms hurriedly walking over with a worried look.
"Ah, Jorin, come, wipe that frown off your face. How about we go grab a few horns of ale," he laughed, patting his most loyal warrior on the shoulder.
Thorrick frowned, seeing the man still looking distressed. "My Lord, the small folk are at the gates, they say their village was attacked by the dead," Jorin said, making him scowl.
"Bah, nothing but tall tales. The commoners must be looking for handouts even after having so many good farm years in a row," he spat.
Fucking commoners, always coming to him begging for food and asking questions. 'Please, My Lord, we're starving,' 'My Lord, the seas are too violent to be sailing,' 'Why do we have to eat our elderly, My Lord?' Why can't they just leave him be so he can drink, feast, and go on the occasional pillage in peace?
"My Lord, they bring the injured this time. Their injuries are something I've never seen," his man tried to insist, apparently falling prey to the small folks' tales.
Thorrick cracked his neck in annoyance. "Tch, fine, take a few men to have a look. But when you come back and it was nothing but a wild animal, I'm putting you on latrine duty for a moon," he ordered, not too serious about the punishment. As he said, it had been a good raiding year, and they had the horses and men to spare for this wild goose chase.
His man scampered off to gather volunteers and ready the horses. He sighed, fuck, he wasn't even in the mood to get shitfaced any longer.
He figured he might as well go up on the walls and see what this mess with the small folk was all about.
Thorrick frowned, he'd been doing that too much today, looking at the hastily set camp next to his gate walls.
Where were all the men? He could only see disheveled women and children, some of the older lads injured, a few even missing limbs.
Okay, he could admit that something perhaps worse than a wild animal might be going on. These people looked like war refugees, and no animal he knew of could cause this.
But still, undead? What did people take him for? A fool? A dullard? A lackwit? He was none of those things, so he decided to just leave it to his men while he walked to the dining hall to get some mead in his belly.
~A New God's Conquest~
"Oye Jorin, I don't like this one bit," Borkel, one of his fellow men-at-arms, grumbled, making him nod.
"Aye, there's something off about this," he agreed.
Their patrol had gone as well as could be expected, only coming across a few groups of small folk fleeing towards his Lord's keep. And they all had the same story: the dead rising and killing all the men and any who tried to fight.
This whole mess had his head on a constant swivel; it reminded him too much of his nightmares as a wee lad after listening to tales of The Night King from his Old Grams.
His Lord was sure that this was nothing but wild animals making a fuss, and he could only pray to the gods that it was the truth.
"Jorik, we'll be passing two nearby settlements. Should we split up?" another of his men asked, making him deadpan at the fool.
Was he a lackwit? Everyone knows that in the stories, splitting up just makes it easier for the wights to get ya. Not that he believed the undead were about. No, not at all, he told himself, quickly checking his surroundings one more time.
"We will absolutely not be splitting up," he told them, coming to a decision.
"Hey, Bor, me thinks old Jorick over here believes what the small folks are telling us," the man japed, chuckling while Jorin shot him a dirty look.
Before he could scold the shithead, he shivered, the small hairs on the back of his neck rising. Something was coming, he could feel it.
And as if whatever it was was announcing itself, their small party came to a stop, hearing a wolf's howl that seemed so high-pitched and out of place it put everyone on edge.
"Still want to split up?" he scathingly shot back at the men who were joking around earlier.
"We'll stop here and make camp," Jorick decided, none of the other spooked men disagreeing.
The sun was nearly setting, and the last thing he wanted was to be out here tonight without a fire. He felt like that would be the worst decision he could make.
While the others tied the horses down, he rested with his back to the fire, eyes never leaving the direction he'd heard that ominous howl.
He'd ordered his men not to bring out the ale for this night, receiving grumbled complaints, but as night fell and he saw two burning golden orbs in the distance, he shivered, thinking that receiving their complaints was worth it.
Standing, he drew the axe from his belt, the others taking the hint and arming themselves in turn.
The golden orbs never moved from their position, yet he felt deep down that they would be the death of him. But that thought was put to the back of his mind when some kind of monstrosity only heard of in stories crawled into the light of the campfire.
It was undoubtedly a human form, but with vile, pale-grey skin, limbs bent in the wrong direction making it crawl on all fours, and milky, soulless eyes that sent shivers down his spine.
They were speechless. What were you even supposed to say when your nightmares were coming true? Maybe he'd wake up soon and this would all be over.
But for now, he was stuck here, one of his braver men running up to stab the creature, breaking him out of his delusions.
"Torkel, get back here. Men, line up, close the gaps," he ordered after shaking himself back to reality.
Unfortunately for Torkel, the monster somehow brushed off being impaled in the chest, latching onto the lad's sword arm and easily dragging the young man to the ground.
It wasn't the blood, nor the screams for mercy coming from one of his own that really got to him. It was the ungodly crunching of bone and tearing of sinew that nearly made him turn tail and run. But he wasn't craven enough for that, instead urging his men to hold the line as more monsters showed themselves.
"Aim for the heads!" Jorick shouted over the sound of metal striking flesh and bone.
Together they were putting up a better fight than their first casualty, but he still noticed his men being pulled into the horde when they were distracted.
He needed to do something. They couldn't last like this.
He looked at those same unmoving golden orbs and knew that it was their only chance.
"Shields up! Forward march!" he cried with all he had in him, the others doing their best to keep up the morale.
~A New God's Conquest~
Perched on a cliff, Noire watched in disdain as the so-called protectors of this land were being torn apart by the lesser undead. Somehow, they were even dumber than the obsidian warriors she commanded.
Heh, the locals of this world would stand no chance under her mighty paw… Ahem… her father's mighty boot, is what she meant.
They didn't realize it, but the undead they were fighting were just the deformed ones she wanted to get rid of. Like her father, she had standards, and the ones missing limbs, or worse, were too unsightly to keep around.
Looks like they're finally making a smart move, she thought, seeing the humans moving toward the undead in charge.
It was a useless move, but if they were somehow able to kill the obsidian-skinned undead, the lesser ones would return to being unmoving corpses.
And just as she figured, only one man even made it to their goal, but with a casual thrust, the human was put out of its misery with a spear to the eye.
Noire hopped down the rocks; the night was still young, and there were plenty of locals to put down.
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