Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos

"O my Angel of Blood, command my red legion and bring peace to our enemies." Aenar I Targaryen, after seeing his most powerful Primarch.

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Feeding the baby his own blood, Aenar only stopped when he felt the amount offered was enough. However, just as he was about to continue, he spotted an icy figure approaching, wielding a sword of ice.

"Leda!" Aenar shouted, and a white figure shot past him, advancing towards the White Walker.

Performing a Blood Ritual on a newborn baby, Aenar couldn't move, he needed to help him control the Immaterium's energy, or the child would explode like a bomb.

Leda, aware that Aenar could not be distracted, positioned herself in front of the immortal aberration her king had once told her about.

A White Walker.

A creature that until then had only existed in the pages of books appeared before her. And in that instant, Leda had to admit: the tales about the White Walkers were weak.

No written description captured the true presence of those beings. The cold around her was ten times more intense than the texts suggested, and the terror the creature exuded was as palpable as a nightmare come true.

But Leda didn't flinch. Never in her life had she known fear, and it certainly wouldn't be now, not after receiving the Gift of Strength from her king.

Drawing Dawn from its sheath, the blade seemed more sacred than ever. Leda began to move around the White Walker, circling him like a wolf circling cornered prey. Her cold gray eyes looked more deadly than ever.

The White Walker stared at the woman in front of him with blue eyes that resembled blue flames, and for the first time his expression turned serious. It wasn't the sword that was warning him of danger, but her.

In his thousand years of existence, he had never met a human who made him feel so threatened. Not even the giant he had faced before had aroused in him a sense of danger as intense as that woman in white armor.

The White Walker advanced. Her body left residual images in the air as her sword cut through the void at breakneck speed.

Clang!

Leda blocked the blow with Dawn, but felt her arms tremble slightly under the overwhelming impact of the enemy force. The energy transmitted by the clash of the blades was overwhelming.

Clang!!! Clang!!! Clang!!! Clang!!! Clang!!!

A relatively calm exchange of blows unfolded on the battlefield. Both were testing each other's strength and technique without any hesitation. Each blow was swift and deadly, always aimed at the opponent's head. Any mistake would result in definitive death.

Leda repeatedly brandished Dawn against the Ice Blade, she was surprised by the strength of the enemy's sword. It was definitely not made of ice, but of a material that only looked like ice.

No ordinary steel sword could withstand so many blows from Dawn, a blade forged from meteorite steel. At the same time, each impact of the ice sword froze Dawn's surface, annoying Leda in a way she had never imagined.

The White Walker was taking the fight very seriously. His opponent's strength and technique were truly sublime, especially the woman's strength, which matched his own.

After five minutes of exchanging blows, they both retreated. Leda, in particular, decided to go all out, including the use of lightning manipulation.

Lightning crackling!!!

Gray rays danced across Dawn's blade, making the sword even more sacred.

"I am Leda, the Blade of Aenar." Leda introduced herself as she advanced with calm, slow steps, the white cloak of the Royal Guard accompanying her movements.

"Imukar, Slayer of a Thousand Men." Surprisingly, the White Walker replied in the Common Tongue.

As soon as they had introduced themselves, they both disappeared from their respective places and found themselves in the middle of the battlefield in an instant. Leda was even more brutal than before. Dawn cut through the air at such an absurd speed that the very atmosphere distorted around the blade, and a sonic boom echoed throughout the camp.

BOOOOMMMM!!!!

The blades clashed and, shockingly, the White Walker was thrown backwards, his expression filled with disbelief. He couldn't believe that he had lost a duel of strength against a mere human woman.

However, Leda didn't wait for Imukar to recover from the shock. She appeared in front of him in the blink of an eye and swung her sword in a vertical blow. Fortunately for the White Walker, he followed his instincts and conjured an ice barrier to block the enemy attack.

Even so, the sword cut through the ice shield with shocking ease, but there was a slight delay in the attack, which allowed the White Walker to dodge by a few centimeters.

"You dodged that." Leda commented with a dissatisfied tone. She wasn't dissatisfied that her enemy had escaped, but that she hadn't managed to kill him. All because she hadn't yet completed the Blood Ritual transformation and wasn't at the peak that Aenar had predicted for her.

Lightning crackling!!!

Perhaps sensing her dissatisfaction, the gray rays seemed to feed on her anger, becoming even more powerful. They now covered her entire sword and a large part of her arm.

Leda unexpectedly felt her reflexes were even better than before. Her reaction speed and strength had also increased. It was then that she understood: only through battle and the flames of war could she become stronger.

Only a perfectly forged sword could be a good sword.

And she was determined to be the best sword in Aenar!

"Die." Leda whispered as she advanced towards the White Walker.

Imukar only saw a flash of gray lightning cross his vision like a fleeting image, almost imperceptible even to his eyes. Then, under his wide-eyed gaze, Leda's blade sliced through his body from shoulder to abdomen. In an instant, the White Walker crumbled into small stones of ice that fell to the ground.

At the sight of her enemy's death, Leda felt an infinite pleasure run through her body. However, controlling her emotions, she let out a warm sigh, charged with a fiery aura.

Without wasting any time, she turned back to the king, where she found him holding a cocoon of blood - a sight that reminded her of her own Blood Ritual. According to Aenar's description, his blood had transformed into a cocoon around her, allowing her, like a butterfly, to emerge as something other than a mere human. She now possessed superhuman strength and abilities.

Aenar looked at the cocoon in his hands and let out a sigh of relief. The most dangerous part had passed and the child had survived. Even so, he felt that the transformation the baby was going through was not something ordinary. Because of his blood, the baby had a unique connection to the Immaterium Dimension.

The God-Emperor knew that the child resting in his arms, undergoing a complete metamorphosis, was destined to be one of his future Primarchs. Which Primarch exactly? That, he didn't know yet. But he would find out as soon as he had finished annihilating the horde of White Walkers and Wights.

Passing the Blood Cocoon to Mance, who held it as if it were the most precious thing in the world, Aenar turned his gaze to Leda and nodded, pleased with his Lady Commander of the Royal Guard for having managed to kill a White Walker.

"Leda, take care of Mance and his son. I will burn this horde of Wights and White Walkers." Aenar said as he approached Caraxes.

"Yes, my king." Although she wanted to be by Aenar's side, protecting him at all times, Leda was someone who followed Aenar's orders with an absolute attitude.

However, Aenar stopped and turning to Leda, he spoke. "By the way, capture a Wights, we need a sample to show to the Lords of the North, I want to see which idiot will refuse to bend the knee at the sight of an undead."

Having said that, he climbed onto Caraxes and the dragon took to the sky with a few quick steps.

Leda watched the dragon fly into the sky and looked at Mance, who was holding the blood cocoon containing his son, the King Beyond the Wall was covering his wife's body with one of the cloths from the surrounding tents while caressing her face with such affection that it surprised her.

At the same time, she regretted that the child would grow up without a mother; she knew the pain of growing up without a father and imagined that growing up without a mother was just as painful.

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