well would you at that 7 years and I still can't believe I'm in asoiaf universe and can you blame me just looking outside the castle I see a huge city and castle itself is looking like it I'm in a fantasy world not in asoiaf universe and most importantly the golden tree fuckk it reminds of Erdtree and Elden Ring I was so happy that elden ring 2 development has started i was in Tennessee when some basterd shoot me in to rob my wallet and fuckkkk I died of blood loss but looking at my blood red hairs remains of my fav character Messmer and his tragic back story ooh how I love his character
I'm happy that Alucard had chosen this place and started new religion and not follow that creepy face tree religion how can people even worship that crying face tree it's terrifying but I guess it's common as in this stupid world and he also didn't bring any those little monster knows as children of the forest hey don't blame me I have readed Many fanfics dark theory about them which feels real So fuck them too I love how Alucard manipulated them by saying when other wildlings ask why he is not bringing children of the forest and heart tree Alucard said something like rest old gods didn't care for us so why should we care for them the only one who care for us is mother jord and because of her blessings we are leaving this cursed cold waste lands for a green paradise
there are fucking mma fighting , wrestling and blant weapon fighting tournaments in the city here it's a well love sports also started by grandfather of my grandfather Alucard because I think wildlings love fighting what better way to let them fight and making it an entertainment ohh There is the final match this evening a
15 feet tall giant vs 13 feet tall gaint with huge muscles fuckkk I'm excited
my mother is from a powerful family in volantis the second most powerful city in essos after us but I didn't get any valeriyan features not that I'm complaining I love my blood red hair and deep green eyes which makes Jordson unique in this world thinks unique tade is only in men meaning if my sister Marry someone because it's big if as Jordson women love to have Harems of men and when they have kids then her children will not have this trade like it happened with my great aunt who had her own Harem of men and when she had children they didn't have Jordson trade like her well they were given no lands or titles just first priority in selection process when she asked her grandfather Alucard about this he simply said the royal line must be preserved both Jordson men and women have same bloodline but in women it end with them it also happened with my aunt Elizabeth she had long beautiful blood red hairs and deep green eyes but her children didn't have any of these traits I still don't understand why Jordson womens love to have their own Harems of men almost all of them had one may be because their brothers have there own Harem of women
do you know both men and women loves to fight and have equal standing with men there is no discrimination
and king has all the power in Jordland they are both spiritual leader and real leader of the entire Jordland people meaning when my father and mother will become the king and queen my mother will have only title of Queen no real power add that to she will be first queen from outside Jordland yeahhh good luck mother
and do you know Alucard was worshipped by many like Jesus Christ in this city how the fuck did that happen I don't know not that I care may be they think him as the son of mother jord herself ( there is no Christ in this world)
the castle is build below the sade of great Golden tree
Jordland sigil great Golden tree
first chapter william pov make this chapter about 2000 word
## Chapter 1: The Red Serpent in the Golden Shade
Seven years.
It had been seven long years, and I still found myself pausing in front of the polished Myrish glass mirror, half-expecting to see a bearded, average guy from Tennessee staring back. Instead, the reflection showed a boy of seven named William Jordson.
And god, did I look cool.
I ran a hand through my hair—a cascading, unruly mop of deep, blood-red fire. It wasn't the rusty copper of the Tullys or the bright orange of the regular Wildlings. This was dark, crimson, arterial red. The exact shade of Messmer the Impaler, my favorite tragic figure from *Elden Ring*. Staring back at me were eyes of piercing emerald green, a trait that marked me as undeniable royalty in this strange, terraformed corner of Essos.
"Messmer," I whispered to the reflection, posing slightly. "Those bereft of light..."
I chuckled. It was a coping mechanism, I suppose. One minute, I was walking out of a convenience store in Nashville, excited about the leaks for *Elden Ring 2*, and the next, some bastard with a shaky hand and a cheap pistol blew a hole in my chest for a wallet containing forty dollars and a library card. I remembered the cold pavement, the heat of the blood, and the fading lights.
Then came the waking. The screaming. The realization that I was an infant again. And finally, the realization that I was in the World of Ice and Fire.
Well, *technically*.
I turned away from the mirror and walked to the massive balcony of my chambers. The sheer scale of what lay outside always managed to strangle the cynicism right out of my throat.
This wasn't the bleak, freezing North. This wasn't the shit-stained streets of King's Landing.
Above me, dominating the sky, spread the canopy of the Great Golden Tree.
It was titanic, its glowing boughs stretching so high they seemed to scrape the very belly of the heavens, bathing the entire castle and the city below in a perpetual, warm, aurous twilight. It regulated the temperature, keeping the biting winds of the Norvos hills at bay, and purified the air until it tasted like sweet nectar. It was an Erdtree. It was a literal, functioning Erdtree, and every time I looked at it, I wanted to fall to my knees and thank my great-great-grandfather, Alucard Jordson.
"You magnificent, manipulating genius," I muttered, leaning over the marble railing.
Alucard. The man was practically Jesus Christ here. Actually, he was *literally* Jesus Christ to these people, though they called him the "Voice of Jord." Statues of him littered the city, depicting a man of noble bearing pointing toward a verdant future. The people believed he was the son of the Earth Goddess herself. I knew better. He was a fellow traveler, another soul from Earth who had seen the writing on the wall and decided he wasn't going to freeze his balls off in the Haunted Forest.
I looked down at the city of Jordland. It was a megalopolis, a sprawling beast of white stone and greenery that made Volantis look like a village and King's Landing look like a latrine. Ten million people lived within those magically heated walls. And they were happy. They were fed.
And best of all? No Weirwoods.
I shuddered just thinking about them. Back on Earth, reading the books, the Old Gods had always creeped me out. Who in their right mind worships a bleeding, crying face carved into a tree? It's the stuff of nightmares. And don't get me started on the Children of the Forest. I'd read enough dark fanfiction and deep-dive lore theories to know that those little gremlins weren't the benevolent nature spirits HBO tried to sell us. They were a hive mind of biological weapons.
Alucard had clearly read the same threads I had.
*"The Old Gods watched us freeze,"* Alucard had told the Wildlings, according to the history books. *"They offered us snow and silence. Mother Jord offers us warmth and fruit. Why mourn a god who does not mourn you?"*
Brilliant. He'd cut the cord to the magical surveillance network of the greenseers and established a theocracy where *he* was the central figure. No creepy trees. Just big, beautiful, golden ones that actually did something useful, like keeping the air clean and the crops growing.
"Prince William?"
I turned. A servant stood at the door, head bowed low. He was a burly man, likely of Thenn descent given his size, but dressed in fine silk silks. "The carriage is ready, Your Highness. The King and Crown Prince await you. The tournament is about to begin."
A grin split my face, one that felt a little too wide for a seven-year-old. "The Giants?"
"The Giants, my Prince. The main event."
I didn't need to be told twice. I grabbed my velvet doublet—black, embroidered with the Golden Tree sigil in actual gold thread—and hurried out.
***
The Royal Box at the Grand Arena offered the best view in the house, which was saying something, considering the stadium could hold a hundred thousand screaming fans. It was modeled after the Roman Colosseum but scaled up for... well, larger participants.
I sat between my father, the Crown Prince, and my grandfather, King Alaric Jordson. Both of them had the look. The blood-red hair, the green eyes. It was the Jordson trademark.
"Stop fidgeting, William," my mother whispered from behind me.
I glanced back at her. My mother, Lady Valena of Volantis. She was stunning, with the silver-gold hair and violet eyes of Old Valyria, hailing from the second most powerful city in Essos. But here? She was just the Crown Prince's wife.
Jordland was an Absolute Monarchy in the truest sense. My grandfather was the law. He was the Pope and the Emperor rolled into one. When my father ascended, he would be the same. And my mother... well, she would be Queen, but that was a title of courtesy, not authority. She was the first outsider to marry into the main line, a diplomatic coup for Volantis, but she had quickly learned that in Jordland, the Queen Consort does not rule. She breeds.
It sounded harsh, but that was the reality Alucard had built. And looking at the genetics, I could see why the rules were so strict.
I looked at my hands, pale and slender. I had the magic. The "Wood Release." I could feel the hum of the timber in the seats, the life in the moss growing in the decorative planters. I was the only one in three generations to manifest Alucard's power. But even without the magic, I had the *Trade*.
The Jordson look—the red hair, the green eyes—only passed through the male line.
My Great-Aunt Lyanna was a prime example. She sat a few rows back, surrounded by her harem. And yes, *her* harem.
That was another thing I loved about this place. Alucard, being a modern man (or perhaps just a man of culture), had leveled the playing field. Fighting, ruling, fucking—it was all equal opportunity. Jordson women were renowned for their appetites. Aunt Lyanna had five husbands, all handsome, muscular men from the Summer Isles and Yi Ti. She loved them, bedded them, and had children with them.
But her children? Brown hair. Black hair. Brown eyes.
The Jordson blood was dominant in men, recessive in women. A daughter of the King was a princess, respected and wealthy, but her line ended with her. Her children would receive no royal titles, no lands, just a fast-track ticket through the Civil Service Exams if they were smart enough.
"The royal line must be preserved," Grandfather had once told Aunt Lyanna when she complained. "Dilution is the death of dynasties."
So, my mother, despite her Volantene nobility, was essentially a vessel to ensure the next King looked like the First King. I didn't resent it. In a world of blood magic and prophecy, distinct genetics were a brand. And our brand was strong.
"Ladies and Gentlemen! Citizens of the Golden City!"
The announcer's voice boomed through the arena, amplified by some acoustic engineering that I suspected involved wind runes. The roar of the crowd was deafening.
"Tonight! We witness the clash of titans! The earth will shake! The heavens will tremble!"
The gates at opposite ends of the sandy pit groaned open.
"In the red corner," the announcer screamed, "Standing at fifteen feet tall! The Mountain-Eater! The Breaker of Ice! MAGAAAAARRRR!"
Out walked a creature that made the Mountain that Rides look like a toddler. Magar was a Giant, but not the shaggy, mammoth-pelt-wearing savages of the books. He was clean-shaven, his skin oiled, wearing massive leather shorts and padded gloves. He was a professional athlete. His muscles rippled like boulders shifting under the earth. He raised both arms, and the crowd went feral.
"And in the blue corner! He is speed! He is thunder! Standing at thirteen feet! The Northern Gale! WUUUUN WUUUUN THE YOUNGER!"
The second giant sprinted—actually *sprinted*—into the arena. He was leaner, more agile, doing a forward roll that shook the royal box before springing to his feet.
"MMA," I whispered, grinning like a loon. "Giant MMA."
Alucard had looked at the Wildlings' love for violence and said, *'Let's monetize that.'* Wrestling, blunt weapons, mixed martial arts. It was the national pastime. It kept the populace entertained and the warriors sharp.
"Five gold dragons on Magar," my father murmured to Grandfather.
"Done," the King replied, his eyes twinkling. "Wun Wun has the reach advantage, but Magar has the grapple game."
The gong sounded.
It wasn't a clumsy brawl. It was terrifyingly technical. Magar lunged, the sand exploding under his massive feet. Wun Wun pivoted, using his lower center of gravity to slip the grab, and delivered a leg kick that sounded like a tree snapping in a storm. *CRACK.*
The crowd gasped. I leaned forward, gripping the velvet railing.
This was it. This was the life.
I thought about Westeros, thousands of miles to the West. Right now, Jaehaerys the Conciliator was probably sitting on the Iron Throne, worrying about drains or incest or his rebellious daughters. He was ruling a continent of mud and shit and superstitious lords who would burn you for doing math.
Here, I was watching two fifteen-foot behemoths execute Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu moves under the light of a magical tree that made me immortal, in a city with plumbing, surrounded by a family that treated reproductive biology like a corporate strategy.
Magar managed to get a hold of Wun Wun, lifting the thirteen-foot giant into the air. The muscles in his back bunched up like cords of steel. He slammed him down—a suplex that registered on the Richter scale. Dust billowed up, coating the front row.
"YES!" I screamed, forgetting my princely decorum. "FINISH HIM!"
My mother put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "Composure, William."
I sat back down, smoothing my doublet, but my heart was racing.
I looked up at the sigil hanging above the Royal Box. The Great Golden Tree on a field of black.
I was seven years old. I had the memories of a modern world, the powers of the founder, and the blood of a dynasty that had tamed the impossible.
"Good luck, Mother," I thought, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye as she politely clapped for the violence. She was trying so hard to fit in, to navigate the shark tank of the Jordson court. But she didn't understand. She thought this was a game of thrones.
It wasn't.
It was a game of management. Resource allocation. Genetic curation.
And I was going to be the best damn player this world had ever seen.
Magar roared, pinning Wun Wun to the ground, the referee—a brave man hovering on a suspended platform—slamming his hand down three times. The bell rang.
"Winner!"
I clapped until my hands stung. The vibration of the victory washed over me. Yes. This was where I belonged.
Let the Starks have their snow. Let the Targaryens have their dragons.
We have the Gold. We have the Trees. And we have the Giants.
I smiled, my reflection in the glass partition showing that Messmer-red hair burning like an ember.
*Welcome to Jordland.*