Beta reading done by Joe Lawyer.

XXXXX

15th day of the 6th moon, 296 AC. Dorne, Sunspear.

"Why?" Adrastia asked plaintively. "Why would you do something this stupid? What kind of immortal willingly sacrifices their sight? Couldn't you have sacrificed something or someone else?"

"I suppose I could have given three lifetimes worth of vitality, but that seemed a bit too risky." Harry's reply was very, very dry.

"What if you overdosed on Elixir of Life before doing it, or simply prepared a new body beforehand?"

"It would take from my maximum vitality, not what I currently had. Skirting the cost would be impossible."

A sacrificial ritual was powered in part by the depth of the caster's loss. Trying to cheat the cost will get you cheated out of the prize. The loss had to be real, and it had to cut deep. Harry had chosen to sacrifice his sight because it was the cheapest price he could pay while still getting what he needed.

"You have plenty of children and grandchildren that would have been willing to give their lives to help you." Adrastia still did not give up.

"That would have been their sacrifice more than mine." Harry pointed out, not even surprised by the callous suggestion. "I would have needed at least seven of them to commit ritual suicide for it to work, and if even one hesitated, wasn't fully committed or was simply doing it out of obligation, then it would have failed. To say nothing of the difficulty inherent in balancing a ritual with so many participants."

"And I wouldn't allow it." Luna chimed in.

For all that her tone was bright, it was also uncompromising. Harry knew that she would indeed never allow such a ritual to take place. It was part of the unspoken agreement she, Fleur and Dora had made long ago to keep his amoral tendencies under control.

Not that he was interested in sacrificing his own descendants in such a manner. That was the kind of ghoulish thing he would only do to his enemies, not his family. Unfortunately, sacrificing enemies wasn't a viable option for this sort of thing. The connections were all wrong.

"Hmph." The Black Widow sniffed disdainfully. "You should have just taken Luna and myself and fled, then you wouldn't be blind."

At least his eyes were still good for rolling. Adrastia was as allergic to the notion of 'personal responsibility' as ever, a textbook example on the dangers of unshackled power that he frequently lectured Aegon about. Restricting her freedom was probably one of the most 'good' things he'd ever done.

And it really was his responsibility, he knew that for certain now. Oh, the mess they were in had roots going back to the very beginning of this world, but his actions had escalated things drastically.

"Did you get what you needed out of it?" The hitherto silent Luna asked.

"I did." Harry nodded with a sigh. "And hoo boy does it explain a lot about this world."

"Do tell." Adrastia prompted sardonically and he could hear the smirk in her tone.

"Well, to start with, humanity almost certainly didn't evolve naturally here. It was either transplanted here with inter-dimensional shenanigans or simply poofed into existence. Either way, godly bullshit happened."

Luna tilted her head sideways consideringly. "Okay."

"While that is certainly interesting, I fail to see how it is relevant." Adrastia offered a more nuanced response.

"It's mostly for context." Harry admitted. "The key point to take away from this is that the gods of this world used to have a much more direct influence on things."

"Okay." Luna nodded.

"You know how I thought that the God-on-Earth was just an out of control legend or maybe even a wizard that learned how to extend his life? Turns out that he really was the spawn of the gods sent to live as a mortal. The Bloodstone Emperor was only a half dozen generations removed from him and the family lore on the matter was well-preserved."

"The Lion of Night and the Maiden-Made-of-Light." Adrastia said, familiar with the legend.

"No." Harry pursed his lips. "That must have been added to the narrative later, because there was no mention of any of the current gods in the vision. These gods were much more…active, and less influenced by their worshipers. In comparison, the current crop of gods are more like powerful spirits given a limited sapience through worship. Replacements, basically."

"That would explain why none of them could tell you anything." Luna chimed in.

"Quite. Now the crux of our current problem is that these original gods had an idea. They didn't really understand mortals, so they created the God-on-Earth to act as a bridge linking the mortal and the divine, even after he died and/or returned to…wherever. As long as his bloodline endured and remained true to its purpose, humanity would have the favor of the gods."

"Damn it all, this world is operating on Tolkien logic, isn't it?" Adrastia groaned.

"Tolkien logic?" Harry asked, not sure what she meant.

"You know, where everything starts off magnificent and perfect, but then one person does something horribly unforgivable and from then on everything keeps getting worse, more mundane and dreary and less magical with every generation? The Fall From Grace trope, if you will." She explained.

Harry considered it for a moment and then snorted when he realized that this world really was operating on that kind of principle. Humanity had barely advanced an inch technologically, but all its old strength and mystique had as good as faded.

"Well, the Bloodstone Emperor certainly makes a good Morgoth analogue. See, everyone in that bloodline had a certain measure of divinity to them, but his was twisted. It left him psychotic in ways that is literally impossible and incomprehensible for regular humans to be. He didn't kill his sister because he was jealous over the throne, he cannibalized her in body and soul in order to consume her own divine spark, keeping her alive and conscious the entire time to enjoy her pain. This guy made Riddle look well-adjusted."

"Are you alright?" Luna asked in concern, grabbing hold of his hand.

"I'm fine." He gave her a weak smile. Truth be told, some of the stuff he'd seen had turned even his stomach. It was one of the few times in his life where his belief that knowledge was always better than ignorance was shaken.

"What is the black stone then?" Adrastia asked.

"It's a divine curse." Harry harrumphed. "The gods were not amused at what the Bloodstone Emperor was doing, so they 'rained terrible vengeance upon his blood', which, considering that the God-on-Earth supposedly had a hundred wives and that nearly twenty thousand years had passed since his debut, was more of a carpet bombing than a surgical strike."

"Trust the gods to arbitrarily screw over everyone just because their pet project backfired." Adrastia rubbed her forehead in consternation.

"Their punishment backfired, too." Harry snorted. "The Bloodstone Emperor was in all probability the least affected thing on the planet. The divine curse was supposed to reflect the wickedness of man back unto the world to make mankind repent for its sins, but he reveled in it. He even created a religion around the black stone, so enraptured was he by the insanity sweeping across his lands."

"The Church of Starry Wisdom." Adrastia murmured. "I had always wondered how that bunch of madmen persisted."

Said church had always been a very peculiar thing. Small, scattered, with no central leadership and generally disliked, yet in spite of all this, they were never in any danger of fading away. Somehow, new sects would always pop up in the seedier areas of any major city.

"This miserable state of affairs went on for close to a century, with the Bloodstone Emperor cannibalizing any relative he could get his hands on and taking particular enjoyment from eating his own newborn children." Harry continued, giving Luna's hand a squeeze when he felt her stiffening next to him.

"A truly evil man." She murmured in a subdued fashion.

"Yeah, he was." Harry agreed. Even with his own views on good and evil, there really was no other way to describe the Bloodstone Emperor.

"So, how did it end?" Adrastia asked, less affected by the gruesome tale.

"Ironically, the Bloodstone Emperor got himself killed." He snorted. "See, the gods back then had invested quite a lot of themselves into their scheme with the God-on-Earth, so they really had no choice but to give his line their blessing."

"They invested more than they could afford." Adrastia realized, smirking. "And never imagined that their descendants would defy them."

"Quite. Gods can't die, but they can lose themselves. The Bloodstone Emperor eventually cannibalized enough of their divine spark to cast them down in an attempt to take their place, an attempt that failed and ended the Age of Gods."

"And the divine protection he enjoyed."

"Yep, he was dead the very next day, torn apart by one of the monsters he kept as pets. Turns out that feeling invincible your entire life doesn't promote caution."

"How does this help you deal with the black stone?" Luna asked.

"It's mostly guesswork after this point, but I think that without the gods around, their curse was left…unattended, you could say. Meaning that when Azor Ahai showed up, there was no higher power to stop him."

"What did he do?" Luna asked. "You said you knew what you had to do now, so are you going to repeat what he did?"

"Like I said, I'm mostly guessing, but I think Azor Ahai did the whole 'Jesus died for our sins' bit, effectively satisfying the end condition of the curse via his sacrifice and ascension." Harry admitted. "Unfortunately, without the gods there to rescind the curse, it stuck around, just inert. The black stone was still unhealthy to be around and any leftover monsters had to be dealt with, but new crap wasn't getting endlessly spawned from the darkest depths of humanity's soul."

"And then you re-activated the curse by burying R'hllor." Adrastia sighed.

"I don't think it was that, exactly." He frowned. "Or not just that at any rate. I still had a connection to the divine when I came back, so that was the first part and subsuming R'hllor into the weirwood soul collective probably had enough similarity to the Bloodstone Emperor's cannibalism rituals to trigger the curse again. Plus, there is a very good chance that Azor Ahai was descended from the God-on-Earth as well. Regardless, our problem is much the same as what he had to deal with."

"If you even consider martyring yourself to fix this, I will lose all respect for you." Adrastia stated.

"I don't have the proper heroic mindset for it even if I was so inclined." Harry assured. "That being said, I will need to retrace some of the steps."

"What steps would those be?"

"It begins, as it often does, with propaganda…"

XXXXX

17th day of the 6th moon, 296 AC. The Reach, the Hightower.

Adrastia quietly slipped into the bedchamber of Leyton Hightower, the Lord Hightower, using spells to muffle any sound that might wake him.

Another spell made sure that the man would not wake up until she was ready.

Harry had told her what he needed and left the rest to her. That was something she'd always liked about him, he didn't micromanage.

Leyton was very religious, so that opened up an easy set of options. Unfortunately, his faith was with the Seven, which made things a little more difficult, but far from impossible.

Adrastia unstoppered a small vial and quickly chugged it, grimacing at the taste. There was a mirror in the room and she availed herself of it to observe the effects of the potion.

There was nothing for a few seconds, then her hair, which she usually kept at around shoulder blade length, began rapidly growing. It stopped when it reached the middle of her back and she nodded in satisfaction. That would do.

Next, she used the ability that Harry had built into her body to change its coloration. The dark black hair turned into the greyish-white of an old woman, followed by the eyes becoming an almost glowing blue and skin turned to the exact shade of pale most common to the Reach.

Adrastia frowned at her reflection critically.

Despite having quite a bit of European ancestry in her bloodline, a European coloring did not suit her at all. From the shape of her lips and nose, the slant of her eyes, the position of her cheek bones, the cast of her jaw, the slope of her forehead and a thousand other tiny details, everything simply screamed wrong.

Granted, it could simply be a mental issue on her end because she 'knew' that her features were meant to be darker, but she doubted it. It never happened when she picked colors outside the natural spectrum, after all.

Well, no matter. The slight uncanny valley effect it caused might actually be useful in this case. Now for the most distasteful part of the ruse.

A wave of her wand caused her skin to crawl and wrinkle, giving her the appearance of an old woman. Harry had better appreciate the things she did for him.

Another spell gave her skin a very faint luminescence. Useless, but it would impress the gullible.

The next wave of the wand was over her throat.

"Testing, one, two, three." She tried, nodding to herself in satisfaction at the faint reverberating quality to her voice.

That done, it was time for the final bit of spellwork and by far the most difficult.

"Crown of Glory." Adrastia intoned carefully, immediately feeling the powerful spell take hold.

It was something that had taken her forever to master, but it was one of those bits of magic that was simply too useful to lose out on just because she was too lazy to bother learning.

The backlash was immediate and she could almost physically feel her ego swell out of control. Had things been different she would have definitely done something foolish and gotten herself in a lot of trouble because of it.

However, as soon as the nigh uncontrollable arrogance the spell caused turned her thoughts to treachery against her master, the chains of the geas binding her constricted, a warning to know her place. No matter how colossal her ego grew, it could not spill past that limit.

Adrastia took a deep breath and forced herself to relax as the pride-fueled rage simmered impotently. She may be a slave, but that was by choice and bargain. Being angry at her master for her own choices was beneath her.

Once she felt in control enough to continue, she pulled a plain brown cloak and elaborate gold lamp out of her expanded bag, stooped forward as if her body actually felt the centuries of life she had behind her and gave her hidden wand a wave to wake up the sleeping man.

The old lord woke with a start, blinking a few times in confusion and then noticing that it was not as dark as it should be. Sitting up in bed, he gasped at the sight of her.

"Leyton Hightower." Adrasta said, pitching her voice to sound like a croaky old woman beneath the reverb.

"Who are you?" Hightower demanded, almost falling off the bed in shock. The sight of it pleased her." How did you get into my quarters?"

Adrastia stared him in the eye, the Crown of Glory giving her words and presence supernatural weight. "We are Seven and I am One, this aspect is the Crone."

The old man gawked, his eyes wide. Without the spellwork and theatrics, he might have doubted, but the Crown of Glory gave the caster an air of terrible perfection and righteousness. He could not doubt.

"You honor me with your presence, Divine One." He said, already on his knees. "What would you have of me?"

The display of subservience appealed to her ego and for a moment she considered abandoning the plan for something more self-serving, but the geas was quick to remind her why she shouldn't.

"I come to offer guidance in troubled times." She croaked, bringing the lamp closer. "The faithful are in great danger. Darkness rises from all corners of the earth. A champion has been chosen by the Seven to bear the light of hope."

Hightower raised his head and looked at her with eyes full of reverence. "Who is this champion?"

"You know him as the Sorcerer of Dol Guldur."

"It cannot be." Hightower whispered after gawking in shock for several seconds.

"It is." She replied firmly. "All gods now place our hope on him, from the Sunset Sea to the Grey Waste. He raised the realm of Angmar to be a bulwark against the terror from the Lands of Always Winter. He returned dragons to the world to keep at bay the darkness in the east. His invisible hand broke the back of the slavemasters in Essos so that evil could find no purchase among them. He raises your future king so that honor and justice will be restored to the realm. Follow the God-on-Earth, he will not lead you astray."

Her piece said, Adrastia discreetly waved her wand, ensnaring the old lord in a sleeping spell. Before he could slump over, she levitated him back into his bed and tucked him in. It was important to foster a sense of mystery for these things after all.

As a finishing touch, she left a very ostentatious amulet of the Seven Pointed Star around his neck.

With a huff, Adrastia straightened up, put aside the gaudy golden lamp and cloak, and gratefully dispelled the transfigured wrinkles. She left the coloring alone, though. Leyton Hightower wasn't the only one she would be visiting this night.

XXXXX

The Riverlands, Riverrun.

Her work wasn't even close to finished, but she needed time to recover from the Crown of Glory and the best way to do that was with either sex or violence. Seeing as Adrastia was not one for physical violence, that left sex.

But not just any kind of sex. No, it had to be that kind of sex that left the other party a mental wreck. As it happened, there was an excellent target for such a thing available, one that was largely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

Before her, Cersei slept like a log, the deep sleep of one who never had to be concerned about safety.

Adrastia was not an intellectually smart woman. Her skill at any kind of hard science was basic at best, her combat ability was poor and most advanced magics eluded her understanding. Socially, however, she was a genius almost beyond compare. Give her a party and a few hours to mingle and she would have worked out everyone's personalities, who they hated, who they feared, who they admired, who they were fucking and much more besides.

It had been the work of minutes to deconstruct Cersei as a person the first time they met, she had done it without even thinking about it. That knowledge was now going to be used for some amusement and stress relief.

Adrastia was still pale, but her hair was now golden, her eyes green and her skin smooth. A quick transfiguration and she was wearing a flattering dress that would be considered the height of Westerosi fashion. Incidentally, it was also very easy to take off.

The guise of the Maiden, but looking much like the sleeping woman, because Cersei was incredibly narcissistic and would be more likely to believe the ruse of divinity if her gods looked like her.

Adrastia cast several more spells, ones designed to obfuscate. Her face would blur in Cersei's memory, preventing her from recognizing her even though her features were still the same. Another would do the same for her voice.

"Cersei." She said gently, using the same reverb as she did on Leyton Hightower, but this time it was the voice of a young girl. "Cersei Lannister."

The woman in the bed stirred slowly. It took several seconds for her to register that there was an intruder in her room.

"Wha…who are you?!" Cersei demanded, because this time there was no Crown of Glory to smother the instinctive reaction to having someone appear in your bedchambers uninvited. "Guards!"

"They will not hear, this is a dream." Adrastia lied. "We are the Seven, I am the Maiden."

Cersei briefly looked like she wanted to scoff, but constant low level Legilimency scrambled her resistance. The more she thought about it, the more true it seemed.

"W-What would you have of me?" She stammered awkwardly.

"You have sinned." Adrastia stated plainly, fighting down a grin at the other woman's flinch.

Cersei had a very…utilitarian relationship with religion. She was faithful, yes, but it was the kind of faithful where she expected to be forgiven for everything in return for said faith. A common attitude among entitled, materialistic sociopaths that had no idea what spirituality was.

"I have." Cersei swallowed, lowering her eyes.

"Are you ready to make penance?" Adrastia asked, still in that same gentle tone.

Cersei swallowed again and shifted onto her knees on the bed. "I am."

"Good." Adrastia pulled off her dress in a single smooth motion and joined the other woman on the bed. "Then let us begin."

Cersei gawked in shock for a moment at the unexpected turn of events, but she was a sexual creature and easily had a high enough opinion of her own beauty to believe that even gods would want her. Plus, she had the natural instincts of a whore and would default to trading her body in exchange for what she wanted, so this was really playing to her strengths.

She leaned in for a kiss, but Adrastia stopped her, giving her a stern look. "This is for penance, not pleasure."

Upon saying that, she spread her legs, giving Cersei a clear view of her glistening snatch. "Lick."

The much younger woman's eyes briefly widened before she leaned forward to obey.

Adrastia made a noise of approval at the first lap of tongue, no longer bothering to hide her grin since Cersei couldn't see it. She could already imagine how confused the spoiled little bitch was going to be after waking up from this 'dream' with the taste of honey on her lips. Literal honey, even, given the fact that Harry had taken liberties with the flavoring when he was making these bodies.

Cersei's technique was actually not bad, clearly showing that she had some experience with other women. Not uncommon among medieval nobility, but Adrastia hadn't honestly expected someone like her to actually give anything back in such trysts. The sweet taste was probably only adding to her enthusiasm.

The witch grabbed a fistful of blonde hair and pressed her down more firmly, more to obscure her sight than to encourage her efforts.

With Cersei distracted, Adrastia enacted the final part of her game. Peach skin shifted into bone white, as pale as the bark of a weirwood tree. Golden hair became red as blood, as did the green eyes. In a matter of minutes she looked like one of Harry and Luna's weirwood dryads, although shorter and fleshier.

Orgasm approached soon after and Adrastia didn't let Cersei up go until she had licked up all of the discharge. When she was finally allowed to raise her head, the self-satisfied smirk quickly turned to shock at her changed appearance.

"You have served well." Adrastia praised with a subtly sinister overtone, just the kind of thing a believer would expect from the god of a rival religion. Then she used the wand in her other wand to put the blonde back to sleep.

It was the work of a minute to put everything back the way it was and vanish. Cersei would wake up in a few minutes, still horny and her mouth still wet. The subsequent religious crisis would be hilarious.

Adrastia decided that she would be coming back to mess with the spoiled woman again. There were, after all, a great many people that needed to be convinced that Harry was their messiah and she was going to need a lot of stress relief to deal with the after-effects of the Crown of Glory.

She wondered how much she could screw Cersei up this way. It was a new form of mental torture that she had never had the option to try before.

XXXXX

Not being able to see was a serious inconvenience. Harry had known it would be, but there was really no substituting for experience.

However, he had no plans to be crippled for very long. Just because the ability to process visual sensory information had been removed from his very soul did not mean that he was unable to perceive the world around him. It would just take some work to get used to it.

Harry took a careful step, casting a spell as he did so. Knowledge of the surroundings poured into his mind, every brick, sconce, painting, curtain and the baffled servant passing by. He learned things about position, temperature, motion and more with that one step.

It was a lot of information to process all at once. Too much, even. Having that kind of deluge assault his mind with every step? Madness. His brain would leak out of his ears within a matter of minutes.

But the mind could adapt. His brain was still holding back vast amounts of processing power in anticipation of visual data that would never come. Brute force repetition would make it adjust, new neural connections would form to handle the load while old ones decayed.

Spells were interesting things. Cast one frequently enough and the mental gymnastics required for it became so ingrained that it could be done almost without thought. Accordingly, the mental strain decreased until the spell almost stopped being a spell and became a bodily process. Like breathing, or bowel movement...well, maybe more like moving a limb.

A long time ago, he would practice casting the same spell a thousand times until it could be used in combat with barely a thought. This was the same principle. Even if he couldn't see anymore, he wouldn't remain blind for long.

Harry took another step and cast the spell again, ignoring the slight throb inside his metal skull. Adrastia and Luna were both hard at work and he needed to be ready to take advantage of it.

XXXXX

20th day of the 6th moon, 296 AC. Summer Isles, Walano, the Temple of Love.

While Harry was busy creating a workaround for his newly acquired disability and Adrastia was impersonating the divine and giving influential people across all of Essos and Westeros revelations of the biblical kind, Luna handled the parts of the plan that would require persuasion rather than coercion or deception.

"So, you wish for me to preach that Father is the chosen of the gods, the one foretold to save this world from the darkness, the light of love and life?" Zaza, High Priestess of the Temple of Love, asked skeptically, holding a tea cup to her lips.

"Yes." Luna nodded, sipping on her own tea.

"You wish for me to lie."

"It's more of a reverse truth than a lie." Luna assured. "Instead of people believing it because it's the truth, it will be the truth because people believe in it."

Zaza was quiet for several minutes while she considered this. On the one hand, it would be a horrible abuse of her position, the trust of her faithful and a betrayal of the tenets of her faith. On the other, Father was no liar, meaning that the threat was very real.

"I cannot decide." She finally admitted. The cause seemed just, but what Luna was asking was simply a step too far for her to feel comfortable. Even 'honor thy father' had limits.

"Then you leave me no choice." Luna said solemnly, putting down her tea cup. "I challenge you to a Trial of Love!"

Zaza froze for a second before a small smirk grew on her face. "Oh, I see."

Much like the Seven Kingdoms had a Trial by Combat to settle disputes where the parties involved could not reach consensus, the Summer Isles had the Trial of Love. Although, in the case of the Summer Isles tradition, it was used to settle a different set of disagreements entirely.

"Very well, I accept your challenge, Auntie. We begin ten days hence in the main hall, before the eyes of the gods and the people, and we do not stop until one concedes to the other." The High Priestess declared.

"I will break you." Luna stated calmly, engaging in a little traditional trash talk.

There was no room for half-measures or fooling around. The ancient witch was fully prepared to bring six centuries of sexual experience, uncountable magical tricks, transfigured genitalia and even the Joining to bear against Harry's daughter to achieve victory.

"If you can manage to do so in my own temple, under the eyes of my gods, then I will acknowledge your resolve and do as you ask." Zaza nodded with a smile.

Truthfully she was excited. She had always wanted to participate in a Trial of Love, but a challenge happened perhaps once a decade and certainly never against the High Priestess.

XXXXX

3rd day of the 7th moon, 296 AC. Dorne, Sunspear.

"Father, this does not seem wise." Aegon said, holding his blunted training sword.

"Eh? Why not?" His stepfather asked quizzically. The wizard was stripped down to his waist and holding a training sword of his own.

"Because you are blind." It went against his mother's etiquette lessons to be so blunt, but she was not here and Harry had no patience for unnecessary politeness.

"I'll be fine." The wizard waved off.

"You are not the one I am worried about."

Without sight, how would Harry know when to pull his blows? Looking at the muscle moving beneath skin on a body close to two feet taller than him made his not-quite-fifteen-year-old frame feel incredibly puny.

"That's pretty self-serving. I thought I was the one that can't see other people anymore."

Aegon sighed in exasperation. Most people would react to a loss of their sight with sadness and become morose. Harry reacted to it with wordplay, bad jokes and puns.

"Why do you even want to practice with swords?" He asked evenly. "You frequently call them 'shit-tier' weapons."

"They are shit-tier weapons." Harry nodded sagely. "Unfortunately, they are also very symbolic and not just because it's like sticking a big metal cock into your enemies."

Aegon sighed again.

"It's because swords are considered symbols of status across all the world, which is now forcing me to practice with one so I can put an end to all this supernatural nonsense and you can get on with ruling a kingdom with more mundane problems, like tax reform and trade relations."

"Did you at least enchant them so that they cannot do harm?"

Harry exhaled in exasperation and ran his hand across the blade. "There, now mine won't do any harm no matter how strong the hit."

"What of mine?"

"Pain is a good teacher, now come at me, boy!"

Despite his misgivings, Aegon obeyed.

His stepfather was...not quite as bad at fighting blind as expected. There was a persistent scowl of concentration on his face that had nothing to do with swordsmanship and he was stepping with more deliberation than the movement merited, but he also seemed to have at least a vague idea of where the next blow would come from.

Aegon would be lying if he said he didn't take any pleasure out of toying with him. After years of being the one getting toyed with during their spars, it was rather cathartic.

"Alright, enough." Harry eventually groaned rubbing at his temples. His body was covered in bruises, but his head seemed to be bothering him more.

"Are you alright?" Aegon asked in concern.

"Just my brain threatening to seize up if I keep abusing it, nothing important." The wizard waved off. "Ten minute break and then we continue."

"Only ten minutes?" Aegon questioned dubiously, not believing that a threat of brain seizure could be unimportant.

"I guess we can rest for twenty minutes if you're that tired." Harry sighed.

"This rest is for your benefit, not mine!" Aegon sputtered indignantly.

"Sure it is." Was the snide reply, complete with condescending sneer.

"Is that any way to speak to a king?" He demanded sternly, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"It's definitely a way to speak to a king." Harry countered sagely. "And someone has to keep needling you to keep your ego from inflating too much."

That was actually something that Aegon was very concerned about. He only had a little over a year left before he would be crowned and he didn't really know anyone that he would like to have on his Small Council.

The lords who currently held those offices were not his men. Competent as they may be, but they were not his and Harry had always emphasized the importance of digging your roots deeply into the power structure.

When he was crowned, he would be a new sapling in an old forest. The men who currently ruled the Seven Kingdoms were only loyal to the idea of him, not to him personally. It was a good start, but he could not be content with it, lest he end up being a figurehead or a guest in his own kingdom. Furthermore, such men would be far too likely to tell him what he wanted to hear instead of what he needed to hear.

He needed to make…friends, or at least allies of his own, men who would not shy away from disagreeing with him or even teasing him the way Harry did.

"Father, could you take me on a tour of the Seven Kingdoms?" He spoke up, a little hesitantly but firmly. "I will need to know my people if I am to rule them, and they must know me."

Harry turned sightless white eyes towards him and his eyebrows climbed up his forehead in surprise.

Then he grinned. "Well look at you, racing ahead of the curve. A tour was already planned for your final year before coronation. Unfortunately, with everything that's going on I might be too busy to take you myself and the same goes for Luna, in which case you'll have to put up with Adrastia."

Aegon was a little disappointed about that, as he genuinely liked spending time with his stepfather, but he understood.

"Will we be travelling by horse?" He asked curiously.

"No, that would take too long." Harry shook his head. "As much as you'll need to get a feel for how slowly things move without magic, we don't have time for it, so the Nimbus Cloud will have to do."

Aegon smiled. He liked travelling by Nimbus Cloud.

As if summoned by his thoughts, said magical construct descended from the sky a few minutes later, carrying a visibly exhausted Luna.

"Hello, boys." She greeted with a tired smile, jumping off the cloud and approaching them.

"Luna." He and Harry chorused, the witch wasting no time plopping herself into her husband's lap and nuzzling his neck.

Aegon's nose twitched as the wind carried her scent to him. Was that…?

"Dear, you reek of sex." Harry observed blandly.

"I know." Luna agreed, yawning hugely. "I badly underestimated Zaza. Once the orgy got started around us that girl of yours really powered up on all the free-floating sexual energy. We were at it for three whole days and I almost lost!"

Harry whistled. "Sounds like she turned an excuse to have orgies into a ritual. That's really impressive for someone with no magical training. Fucking clerics, please nerf."

"What?" Aegon asked, confusion replacing embarrassment.

"It's nothing, Harry is just being silly." Luna waved off, getting off her husband's lap and approaching him.

Aegon did not resist as he was pulled into a hug and smothered in cleavage. He had learned long ago that resistance was futile.

A kiss was placed on his brow and then he was released. "I'm going to go wash up and take a nap. You boys have fun now."

"One of the worst things about being blind is that I can't watch her arse as she walks away anymore." Harry sighed despondently.

Aegon's eyes reflexively went to Luna's backside at the words. It was glorious, full and firm and….

The young prince looked away and cleared his throat uncomfortably, realizing what he was doing.

"Aegon." Harry said in a tone of utter serenity. "I am going to hit you with my sword now. Please understand that I don't blame you for gawking at my wife's arse, but this jealousy I'm currently feeling needs an outlet."

Feeling mischievous, Aegon jumped off the bench they were on and held his sword at the ready. "Come and try it, old man."

"You've gone and done it now, you cheeky little shit." Harry growled, obviously straining to hold back a grin.

XXXXX

20th day of the 9th moon, 296 AC. Dorne, Sunspear.

Adrastia was exhausted. The past three months had been spent jumping all around the world, convincing people that Harry was the messiah. The lack of modern communications infrastructure made that both easy and hard.

Easy, because nobody could fact-check the discrepancies.

Hard, because disseminating information had to be done manually.

Even with all the gullible stooges she recruited into the effort, she still had to make personal appearances somewhere almost every day. It was enough to make a woman used to a life of leisure very cranky. She hadn't worked this hard in…ever!

And Harry was still being mysterious about why she was doing this. She had some guesses, but her mediocre knowledge of deeper magical theory made those unreliable. He was definitely keeping her in the dark because he knew it frustrated her, and probably because he enjoyed putting on airs for no reason.

Which was why she was going to pester him about it, now that she had some free time.

When Harry had initially moved into Sunspear, he had taken up a relatively small amount of space. Over time, that changed until he had usurped almost an entire section of the castle. Doran was not terribly pleased by that, but knew better than to bother complaining.

Currently, he was in the room he had repurposed for smelting various metals. Having such a thing indoors was another thing that Doran was not terribly pleased by.

Adrastia reeled back from the blast of heat that hit her face as soon as she opened the door, pushing through it with a grimace.

As expected, he was there, naked from the waist up despite the searing heat of the molten metal. There was also a stack of silver ingots and several beakers full of liquids whose purpose she couldn't even begin to guess at on a nearby table.

Normally, having a blind man blundering about in such a room would be suicidal at best, but Harry had made great progress over the past three months and mostly regained functionality. His greatest handicap was range, as his sensory spell could never hope to compete with a pair of eyes for distance, but it was good enough that anyone who didn't know better would never pick up on the difference.

"Harry?" She called out carefully, not wanting to startle him.

"Adrastia, why are you bothering me while I'm working?" There was a hint of reproach in his tone.

"You are always working these days." She retorted. Certainly, it would have been more comfortable to have this conversation in a room with a vastly lower temperature, but he could very well be in here for the rest of the day.

"Alright, fair enough." Harry conceded. "What did you want?"

"Oh, you know, it has been a while since we've spent any time together. I wanted to catch up." She lied. "What are you making?"

"The gaudiest, flashiest, most absurdly over-the-top suit of armor this world has ever seen. Not only is it going to be unnecessarily intricate, but it's also going to fucking glow. And it'll have giant pauldrons. And wings of light that look a lot like tentacles. If anyone from 21st century Earth saw me wearing it, they would say 'that's the best Archangel Tyrael cosplay I've ever seen'."

"And if these medieval primitives see you, they will immediately assume that you are something divine." Adrastia finished with a smirk, pretending that she knew who Archangel Tyrael was. "Wait, is that why you grew a beard?"

Harry scratched at said beard, thick and black and looking so perfectly groomed one would be forgiven for assuming that a microscope had been used to keep it even. "Luna insisted that it looked more distinguished. Personally, I think she just wanted an excuse to play with it."

"It does add a little something to your face, although your jawline is strong enough that the difference is minimal." Adrastia judged. "But why are you doing this in the first place? How does being considered a god by the entire world help with fixing this mess we are in?"

"Now that would be telling." He teased.

Adrastia huffed irritably. "Must you do this?"

"Hey, you have your little amusements, I have mine."

"I could do better if I knew why you have me proselytizing in every major human civilization."

Harry paused for a moment and then shrugged. "I suppose we're about ready to move on to Phase Two anyway."

"I presume that Phase Two is you making appearances to capitalize on mine and Luna's efforts?" Adrastia guessed.

"Yep, I'll be going around as the Edgelord of Light, pretending that I'm the messiah everyone is waiting for."

"But to what end? What will this achieve?" She pressed.

"Because belief has power. A belief gains more weight the more people subscribe to it, and as a belief gains weight it gains truth."

Adrastia raised an eyebrow at him in an arch expression, then felt a little bit sad when she remembered that he couldn't see it. She had put in a lot of effort to master the art of facial expressions. "An odd thing for a scientist to say."

And a scientist he was. It was a peculiar middle ground that alchemists occupied.

"Some truths are more rigid than others." He smirked. "Some are persistent and some are temporary. Some are inconvenient and some are useful."

"So…what? Because the world will believe that you are their messiah, you will become one?" She asked, trying to make sense of his vague reply.

"When the Age of Gods ended, mankind became the dominant spiritual force in this world. That's why there are so many pseudo-gods crowding it now, and why those without worshipers disappear. By focusing all their faith on me, I become the dominant spiritual force in this world by proxy. Belief becomes truth." Harry explained.

"I see." Adrastia realized what he was going for. "You are funneling mankind's scattered focus in order to usurp divine authority. How…ambitious." She finished with a purr.

Ambitious men always got her horny. Destroying their hopes and dreams was an old addiction of hers, not that she would act on it this time. Aside from the geas, her life also depended on Harry's success after all.

"That's the theory." He nodded. "We are shaped by fate just as we shape it. Without any true gods around to make a mess of things with their spite and pettiness, I should be able to comprehend and then 'delete' the curse from the world-soul. I just need mankind to surrender control of its fate to me."

"That will involve quite a bit of fighting." She noted, knowing that humanity was more impressed by violence than anything else. "Are you even still combat capable?"

"I'll do fine." He waved off. "Now shoo, I have to finish making this embarrassing crime against practicality."

XXXXX

3rd day of the 10th moon, 296 AC. Riverlands, Seagard.

Like any self-respecting Riverlander, Jason Mallister loathed the Ironborn. When the Sorcerer's ravens brought word that Rodrik Greyjoy was preparing to raid the western shore of Westeros in blatant defiance of the crown, he hadn't been even slightly surprised. Thanks to that advance warning, his men had been ready when the scum came to reave his city.

The fighting was brutal and no quarter had been offered on either side. In the end, it had been the Ironborn limping away from the fight. Jason had even taken the head of Maron Greyjoy in the fighting, much to his satisfaction.

Then, a few moons later, the bloody Ironborn apparently came back from the dead, transformation into horrendous fish monsters.

Jason really hated the Ironborn.

The fighting after that had gotten uglier. No longer did they have to repel Ironborn longships, because the bastards now simply crawled out of the sea itself right at the port. Establishing defences to guard against that had been a nightmare. His son, Patrek, had lost an arm to the monsters in the fighting and his men were starting to lose heart because no matter how many they killed, there always seemed to be more.

As if that wasn't enough, crazy preachers had been popping up over the past few moons, foretelling the coming of a divine champion, the avatar of all the gods.

Jason was brought up in the light of the Seven, but had nothing against the followers of the Old Gods. Still, not once had he expected to see a septon and a Green Man stand side by side and proclaim that the Sorcerer of Dol Guldur was, in fact, a living god and that everything he had done since his first appearance more than sixty years ago was to prepare Westeros to stand against the evil currently besieging it.

What the fuck was even going on? When did the world stop making sense?!

Jason had just been taking inventory of their supplies and the rather worrisome state of their food stores when he heard a tremendous roar from his men. It was a bewildering sound of pure exultation that one might expect after a resounding victory, a sound that Jason had definitely not been expecting to hear given what a demoralizing slog the fight against the transformed Ironborn was.

Quickly making his way to the walls, the Lord of Seagard could only gape in shock at what he was seeing.

His men were pushing the monstrous Ironborn back into the sea with an almost berserk zeal, falling upon them with such fury that even those unnatural things could not withstand.

The reason for this sudden vigor was no doubt the figure at the front of their charge.

Standing head and shoulders above all the other men was an armored warrior in a suit of beautiful silver plate gilded in shining gold. The metal glowed with inner light and trailed luminescent tendrils that lit up the dark night.

The figure wielded a pale longsword with a wide blade that was alight with silver flame, it's every blow cleaving through the monsters with ease.

Jason was not a stupid man. While he didn't know what the Sorcerer's magic was capable of, he did know when someone was playing games. He was suddenly wondering if all those troublesome septons, Green Men and preachers that had been popping up in his city recently were actually religious men or spies.

XXXXX

As soon as he and Lord Mallister were alone, Harry loosened his posture and sprawled across the offered chair.

"That was significantly more tiring than I expected." He sighed. "It's going to be a long few years."

"What?" Jason Mallister asked, confused. He had invited the Sorcerer to his solar for a discussion and had not expected this sudden turn for the casual.

"It's very simple." Harry shrugged, his armor clinking at the motion. "It's going to take me a few years to solve this supernatural mess with the Others and the Ironborn and all the other shit going on in the world, but in order to do that I can't have the soldier's fighting to buy me time losing hope. That's why I concocted this plan to make myself seem like a living god, so that they would believe that victory was assured."

"So it is all a lie?" Jason asked, incredulous and a bit outraged.

"It's a bit of a trick, but does it really matter as long as it works?" Harry asked back, knowing that one person not believing him won't make a difference in the long run. The smarter lords would get a version of the truth to placate them, while the more gullible ones would get the full treatment. "Now, do you have any barrels of food I can multiply in order to show off my 'divine benevolence'?"

Jason paused. While he was not happy about having his people tricked into believing that the Sorcerer was a god, he had to admit that the morale boost was very welcome. Plus, having more food stored up was always good.

"Come with me, a caravan arrived just a short while ago."

XXXXX

This chapter ended up being a bit on the short side, but that's just the way the cookie crumbles.

It should also be the second last chapter, barring any unforeseen circumstances.