A thousand year voyage (ER × GOT) - Fics I Read 2.0

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A Thousand Year Voyage (Elden Ring-ASOIAF) by pemmil

A Song of Ice and Fire & Elden Ring Xover Rated: T, English, Humor & Adventure, Words: 203k+, Favs: 754, Follows: 951, Published: Jul 15, 2024 Updated: Sep 5

365Chapter 1: Prologue

It was a peaceful night in the Oldtown harbor.

Watchman Erik, dressed in leather armor and a dark woolen cloak bearing the mark of the Hightower family that ruled the city, strolled along the stone cobblestones, listening to the gentle sound of waves hitting the wooden piers. Despite his young age, Erik was an experienced guard who already knew every corner of the harbor. His eyes, long since accustomed to the darkness, were able to see the slightest movement.

That particular talent was not needed that night, however, due to the remarkably bright glow of the full moon quietly illuminating the harbor. It certainly made his task easier than usual, but it also added an unsettling ambience to the quiet streets and moored ships.

As he passed by one of the taverns located in the port, named "Under the Golden Sail," Erik heard the distant sounds of laughter and singing coming from inside. Sailors, both returning from and undertaking distant voyages, were undoubtedly sharing stories and enjoying strong liquor, enjoying the hospitality of Westeros' richest city. Erik knew that brawls could easily occur in such places, so he paused for a moment, looking through the window into the building's interior. Everything seemed to be in order, however, so after a few seconds Erik resumed his walk.

Continuing his patrol, he decided to go toward the port warehouses, where valuable goods were waiting to be unloaded. As he walked, Erik was idly watching the shadows dancing on the walls, changing shape every time a stray cloud obscured the moon. It almost looked as if the shadows and the moonlight were alive, giving the place a mystical air.

Erik was about halfway through to his destination when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something that shook him to the core.

In the distance, against the dark waters of the sea, an unfamiliar silhouette suddenly appeared, seemingly emerging from the moon shining brightly in the distance. Erik squinted his eyes, attempting to discern the nature of the mysterious object, too enthralled to do anything else. Whatever it was, it was approaching slowly but with relentless certainty. Erik didn't know how much time he spent looking silently at the approaching object, ignoring the biting cold of the chilly night and the pounding of his heart. Perhaps it was only minutes, perhaps an eternity.

Regardless, when the mysterious entity finally emerged from the darkness of the endless sea and sailed into the harbor waters illuminated by the soft moonlight, Erik finally discovered the true nature of the mysterious intruder.

It was a ship.

At the same time, the word ship seemed almost inadequate to describe the colossal giant that appeared before Erik's eyes. The vessel was larger than any ship he had ever seen in his life, completely dwarfing even the most magnificent ships that had come to Oldtown in the past. Even the Honor of Oldtown, the flagship and pride of the Hightower family, was nothing more than a fishing boat used by smallfolk compared to the approaching craft. The massive sails of the looming vessel, clearly visible in the silver moonlight, seemed to engulf the entire space above the horizon.

The ship's main body was somehow even more impressive. It would be a gross understatement to call it massive. The hull of the naval monster seemed to almost reach the sky, the stacked tiers gradually rising from the massive deck seemingly scratching against the stray clouds in the sky. As impossible as it sounded, the ship seemed to reach almost 150 feet in height, making it taller than almost every building in Oldtown, with the High tower and the Citadel as the only exceptions.

The length of the ship was extraordinary as well, stretching nearly 800 feet, giving the impression that the ship's deck was endless, the farthest part of the ship gently blurring into the night fog.

The most astonishing feature of the vessel, however, was the sheer opulence that emanated from it. The ship seemed like a true palace on the water, a fairytale castle floating on the waves. Although it was still a considerable distance from the harbor, the bright moonlight allowed Erik to see the rich decorations and various patterns carved on the ship's surface, more intricate than any work of art. The moonlight reflected off the precious stones adorning the sides of the ship, creating a mesmerizing light show.

However, what left Erik truly stunned was not the precious stones or rich ornamentation-it was the glass. Countless glass windows adorned the sides of the craft, the warm light emanating from within creating the illusion of errant flames moving in the air.

Erik's bewilderment was understandable. After all, glass was a rare, precious commodity, available only to the richest, even when it came to a city as wealthy as Oldtown. Here, on this inconceivable ship, glass adorned every corner. The wealth and power required to obtain such an amount of glass was downright impossible, making the sight seem as if plucked from the wildest tales of the bards and trabadurs visiting Oldtown.

Erik didn't know how much time he spent staring silently at the approaching ship, enthralled by the otherworldly sight. Perhaps he would never have managed to snap out of the trance, so magnificent was the sight, had it not been for a panicked scream coming from the side by one of the sailors in the harbor, a proof that Erik was not the only witness to the mystical séance. Spurred awake by the resounding sound, Erik finally realized the gravity of the situation he found himself in.

How was it possible that a ship this size was not spotted by the sea patrols beforehand? Why didn't they receive any warning? The possible answers to these questions filled Erik with dread. Could it be that Oldtown was about to be attacked? The possibility of sea attacks was nothing new to the city's population, especially given the Reach's relative proximity to the savages of the Iron Islands, but the threat from ironborn raiders was almost inconsequential compared to the threat an approaching ship could pose.

Once again looking at the approaching ship, Erik felt as if he was staring into the mouth of a dragon, ready to burn the city with its ruinous breath.

Without thinking too much, Erik reached for the brass bell hanging at his waist and began running as fast as he could toward the watchtower, the sound of the bell echoing across the harbor with his every move.

Moryn Tyrell was not a happy man. In fact, it wouldn't even be an exaggeration to call him unhappy.

After all, it was hard to be happy when he was woken up in the middle of the night by the servants shitting themselves with fear, babbling about the ship of the Stranger himself approaching the city?

Hearing these mad ramblings, Moryn half-considered throwing these idiots off the High Tower, if only to dissuade others from engaging in similar stupidity. Unfortunately for him, however, it turned out that these " mad ramblings" were in fact true.

There was a fucking HUGE ship of unknown origin in Oldtown Harbor. Even worse, everyone expected him to do something about it.

Moryn inwardly cursed his fate. He knew he shouldn't have accepted the position of Oldtown's watch commander. Join Leyton's council, she said. We need eyes in Oldtown after Luthor's idiotic death, she said. Young Mace needs allies, she said.

Well, fuck you Olenna. This is all your fault.

He shook his head slightly, divesting himself of unnecessary thoughts. The reasons for his predicament didn't matter for now. He had to focus on more pressing matters, like his job...no matter how unpleasant that job was.

"Were you able to convince Lord Layton to move to a secure location?" Moryn asked one of his subordinates, his tone of voice not revealing the aversion he felt for the current Lord of the High Tower. While he did not share the almost institutional hatred for the Tyrells' most powerful vassal that many of his relatives seemed to exhibit, Layton Hightower was not Moryn's favorite person, to put it mildly. To be honest, Moryn wouldn't be all that offended if the sorcerous fuck turned out to be the only casualty of today's event. Everyone in Oldtown would certainly benefit from it.

"Yes, sir. Lord Hightower insisted on greeting the newcomers in person, but was eventually persuaded to abandon that idea. The Hightowers have agreed to remain safely in the, erm, High Tower until we are sure what we are dealing with." One of the guard captains, Jon, replied uncertainly, his gaze glued to the slowly approaching ship. "...Speaking of which, what are your orders, sir? What should we do?"

"Ain't that a good question?" Moryn muttered slowly, himself unsure how to proceed in this absurd situation. Seeing, however, that Jon was waiting for a more serious answer, he said, "For now, let us not take any hostile action unless the other side takes it first. We have to be careful until we know the situation better. However, tell your people to be prepared for anything."

Despite saying these words, Moryn didn't quite know what they would even be able to do if the aforementioned ship turned out to have ill intentions. Fire at it from the walls? That mighty behemoth was fucking enormous. He wasn't sure if even the biggest ballistas Oldtown possessed would in any way slow down the approaching colossus. Maybe if they had some of the wildfire that was being produced in King's Landing...Moryn shook his head violently. Such thoughts were dangerous. Layton might pick up the idea and burn down the whole city, the mystical cunt he was.

Regardless, there wasn't much he could do in this situation other than bring in as many guards and soldiers as possible and establish defensive positions in anticipation for the ship's arrival.

It wouldn't take long, as the ship was almost at the port already, finally allowing the observers to discern the exact details of the intruder.

While most of his subordinates seemed to focus on the rich ornaments and materials decorating the ship, struck by the absurd wealth displayed by the ship and the level of skill required to create the giant, Moryn focused on the element seemingly ignored by the others.

On the huge main sail growing out of the giant there was a mysterious symbol, embroidered with golden thread on the dark material. The location of the insignia and its sheer size suggested that it belonged to the family that commanded the ship, yet Moryn had never in his life encountered a similar insignia before.

The sigil depicted two objects- a long sword and a staff of some kind-crossing each other, with flames, or possibly waves, curling in the background. The image was enclosed in a circle covered with subtle, ornamental patterns in floral motifs and signs of unknown significance.

It certainly looked impressive and most likely had some deep meaning closely related to the history of the family it represented, but Moryn would be damned if he knew what all these symbols meant beyond a potential threat to the city.

Moryn could feel the tension growing within him, intensifying with each passing second. The closer the mysterious vessel got to the harbour the more questions arose in his mind.

What would happen when the ship finally reached the dock?

Would a second conquest await them, this time not involving dragon fire, but a ship larger than the mountains?

Was this the dawn of a new era, an event unseen since the destruction of old Valyria?

...Why did the ship not slow down despite entering the harbour bay?

"...well, that's certainly not good" Moryn barely managed to say before the gargantuan vessel rammed into the wooden piers located in the harbour, completely obliterating the wooden structures and sending shockwaves throughout the harbour. The watch commander didn't even have time to react to the carnage, as the ship, not slowed in the slightest by the collision, crashed into the stone core of the harbour, shaking the area and sending up clouds of dust and debris. The force of the impact knocked everyone around it off their feet, with people falling either to the ground or into the water depending on their luck and position. Moryn was not spared either, dropping to the stone surface with a painful groan, the metal armour painfully digging into his body and taking his breath away.

When Moryn finally lifted himself from the ground, sore and dazed, an absurd scene appeared before his eyes. Almost all of the guards, the pride of Oldtown, were either lying on the ground groaning or desperately swimming to shore. Everything and everyone was covered in stone dust and debris, making the whole scene look less like a harbour and more like some sort of forgotten battlefield. Surprisingly, despite the scale of destruction, it seemed that by some miracle no one had died from the impact, though judging by the sounds of curses directed at gods known and unknown that filled the harbour, many of his men were not happy about the situation.

Shifting his gaze to the object responsible for all that destruction, Moryn noted with considerable disbelief that the collision had not caused any damage to the ship's exterior. Though it had clearly slammed into the harbour's stone base, gouging a nearly 50-foot deep gash, not even the slightest scratch could be seen on the ship's hull. Even more stunningly, the hovering dust seemed to avoid the ship, leaving it gleaming and pristine despite the clouds of dust that surrounded it. By the gods, what was this ship made of to withstand such an impact unscathed? It was obvious that some kind of magic was involved, a very powerful one at that.

The realization of what he was facing only deepened Morin's disbelief in victory, but he did not plan to give up. Gathering his strength, he picked up the helmet he had lost in the fall, grim determination evident in his eyes. It was clear that whoever was in charge of the ship, their intentions were hostile. Although Moryn was aware of how hopeless the situation was, his duty as commander of the city watch was to mobilize the scattered guards and prepare for a defence, however feeble it might be.

However, just as he was gathering the strength to let out a rallying cry, something happened. A voice, perfectly audible across the harbor, came from the deck of the ship, until now completely silent.

"...Hello? Can everyone hear me? I'm very sorry about the bump. My dumb helmsman..." The voice echoing from the ship said, their words clearly heard by anyone in the area despite the vast distance and the hard to identify accent of the speaker. Mid-sentence, the voice trailed off for a moment, as if its owner had taken a moment to speak back to someone on board, but after a moment it continued. "...He miscalculated the distance from the ship to the port and how long it would take to stop it. I hope no one was hurt. Of course, we are ready to bear all the costs of repairing the damage we caused. Can we disembark and clear up this whole mess?"

Moryn blinked owlishly upon hearing these words.

...what?

There was no way he heard that correctly, right?

Seconds passed, however, and the newcomer's words did not change. Realizing this, Moryn went into shock, not knowing how he should react to such a bizzare development. Whoever commanded this ship, regardless of their intentions, had almost completely devastated the port of Oldtown, the largest and richest city in Westeros, and dared to treat this event like a random collision between two carts on the road!

The sheer nerve!

Unfortunately, as he looked at the sorry image of the forces he commanded, if they could still be called that at all, and the desperate looks thrown his way by his subordinates, Moryn knew that it didn't matter. The newcomer could burn down the citadel and then shit on the city from the top of the High Tower and Moryn would still have to forgive him. Because what else could he possibly do? Refuse?

He liked his life, thank you very much.

"...Sure, feel free to disembark. Oldtown welcomes you." Moryn exclaimed lamely, completely done with his life. His only consolation was that none of his subordinates commented on his sorry state, if only because they didn't look any better themselves.

"...Twenty yards to the harbor, you say?" Hadwyn echoed slowly, his eyes fixed on the helmsman, who, to his credit, at least looked a little sheepish about his mistake.

"...I said 'around' twenty yards," Boggart corrected quietly, clearly embarrassed by the whole situation. His eyes, barely visible from under the iron mask he tended to wear, desperately searched hopelessly for help among the others on board, but no one seemed eager to give it to him. Seeing that Hadwyn's eyes were not moving away from him despite the passing time, Boggart replied defensively. "Hey, it's not like it's entirely my fault, right?! I'm a trader, not a sailor!"

"You said you knew how to steer a ship." Hadwyn reminded the man reproachfully, clearly annoyed.

"I said I can steer a shrimp boat, not a bloody warship!" Boggart exclaimed, ready to defend his position against the accusations leveled at him.

Silence fell on the deck.

"...Just...just go." Hadwyn muttered eventually, putting a hand to his face and trying to hold back an impending headache. Boggart eagerly took the offer, quickly disappearing from the deck into the ship.

Though Hadwyn still had a few pointed words to say about the whole mess, in the end he decided that it wasn't worth the effort. Unfortunately he had to admit that part of the blame also lay with him, as he was the person who chose Boggart as helmsman in the first place. Though, in his defense, he didn't really have a lot of choices when it came to the crew. As it turned out, over a thousand years of war and a devastating apocalypse were not conducive to the development of seafaring skills among the population of the Lands Between.

And they said everything would be simpler after becoming an elden lord, damned liars.

When Marika the Eternal shattered the Elden Ring and called upon the tarnished warriors, Hadwyn answered the call. Though there were many stronger as well as wiser than him, the fires of ambition pushed him to achieve the impossible- to slay the demigods and sit on the elden throne.

The journey he underwent to achieve that goal was not easy. Time and again Hadwyn perished in battle with terrible monsters born of the Shattering, with the awakened nightmares of the old world, and with rivals for the throne, whether they were mortals or gods.

He was pierced with spears, burned alive and devoured by hungry beasts. He killed and was killed in thousands of ways. Despite the horrors he endured, which would have broken most other mortals, Hadwyn endured. He overcame challenge after challenge, step by step moving closer to his desired goal.

Although the world he traversed had fallen into ruin and most of its inhabitants had turned into mindless beasts, Hadwyn met many allies along the way who helped him on his journey. Tarnished warriors, jars, outcasts and many others, all of them chose to support and follow him, lost souls who viewed him as a hope for a better tomorrow.

Some of them he failed and buried in nameless graves, some managed to survive until the end.

In the course of his journey, he also found something he never expected to find in this fallen world devoid of grace. Through an unexpected turn of events, he pernamentally linked his fate to the royal Carian family through marriage to Ranni the Witch, princess of the Carian throne, who cherished freedom above all else.

And it was through the trials he overcame, through the support of allies he gained along the way, through his love for Ranni and the ambition burning in his chest, that Hadwyn accomplished the impossible. He, a mere tarnished of no renown, killed a god. He drove a blade into the heart of a Great Will vassal and brought the world into the age of stars by giving the elden ring to Ranni.

Hadwyn became the elden lord of the broken world.

Even though he had achieved everything he wanted, Hadwyn knew he couldn't stay. Ranni was right-mortals did not need new gods, just as flawed as the previous ones. If they were to rise above what they had been before, they had to abandon faith in a higher power and forge a future with their own hands.

Therefore, Hadwyn and Ranni decided to make the journey. A thousand year voyage under the wisdom of the moon, through the chill night and into the great beyond. It was to be a lonely journey, solitary gods traveling through the boundlessness of the stars, forgotten by all.

However, as it turned out, it was not that simple. The bonds formed and loyalties gained were not so easily cut.

'Take us with you, my lord,' begged Hadwyn's followers. 'If you leave, who will sew your clothes? Who will defend you, who will provide for you?'

'Take us with you, princess,' begged the Carians with tears in their eyes, 'if you leave, who will we serve? If you leave, who will take care of your poor mother?'

'Take us with you, oh noble ones,' begged the rejects, misfits and abandoned 'If you leave, who will protect us? Who will give us a life worth living?'

And so, before long, what was supposed to be a solitary exile became a mass exodus, an excursion of exhausted souls seeking peace and rest after thousands of years of hardship.

For the journey to be possible, however, it was necessary to provide a vessel to take all those willing to make the journey. The process of building the ship was a painstaking affair, as it had been thousands of years since anyone had attempted such an undertaking, but the scale of the project did not matter to the builders. Through the sweat of their brow and blood of their hands, an endless number of carians, albinaurics, trolls and many others built the enormous vessel, the first of its kind since the shattering.

When it was finally finished, the result of thousands of souls and years of effort, the ship finally set sail. It was named "Wisdom of the Moon" as it was the moon that was to guide it into the beyond.

This ship, filled with thousands of weary souls, left the Lands Between, never to return. It would travel endlessly across the seas and stars, without any purpose beyond the journey itself.

Breaking through the mystical fog and magical shrouds wrapping the lands between, The Wisdom of the Moon pierced into the beyond and eventually reached a small coastal town, apparently called Oldtown, the first destination on its eternal path...

...only to immediately cause a local incident by damaging the town's infrastructure and causing havoc among the population.

Chapter 909 - A thousand year voyage (ER × GOT)