Scraped from
here.
AN// First, if you have not read
The Multiverse is a Big Place, stop now and go read that first. This is the sequel to that fic and you will make very little sense out of it otherwise. Now, on with the story.
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The winds of unreality clawed at the bubble of existence that was formed by the ranging inferno in my soul that was my Spark.
A fully awakened Spark. That thing that separates the Planeswalker from any other being in any reality. The thing that give us immortality and the ability to walk between Planes, between worlds, at will.
I pressed forward, pushing back into reality and found myself falling towards the ground. My magic responded to my mind and I pulled on my Red and Blue mana, forming wings of fire on my back, letting me glide the thirty or so meters down to the ground to land safely.
Immortal does not mean unkillable.
The wings of fire fade away as I collapsed onto my knees, looking around the landing zone as I try to catch my breath.
Travelling between Planes is not easy, even for my kind. Kind of takes it out of you.
Things had changed here from last time. It was dark outside, the place only lit up from exterior lights.
But then again, I had changed as well. Ten years and two wars tend to do that to you.
Instead of a construction site, there is now some kind of mall by the landing site. By my calculations, it has been at least two years here with the difference in time ratio between this reality and the one where I had spent the last ten years.
Sighing, I looked around before glancing down at myself, running my hand through my now long hair. Somehow I did not think that Westerosi fashion will fit in very well.
Should have thought of that before I left. Still, godlike powers or not, sometimes you simply could not think of everything.
Well, nothing to do about it. My last set of jeans disintegrated four years ago.
Shrugging, I checked that I had not dropped anything from my backpack before I threw the strap over my shoulder and started to walk towards the first place I came to think off.
Ten years spent in a medival world. Ten years in the world that used to be A Song of Ice and Fire...or a really close AU.
Used to be were the key words there. The world I left was not the world I arrived in.
Rob Stark was installed as King. He did not want to be king...he just wanted to avenge his father and save his sisters. He was young when I arrived and I joined him in the war effort, guiding his armies against the real threat, a Planeswalker named Mary.
She was even newer at this entire thing than I was but was also a complete nuthouse zealot.
The war ended when I shot her in the head.
Stark became a good King. He was a man of honour and duty that didn't want to be king.
In theory, those become the best kings.
Stepping onto the sidewalk I take a slow breath, taking in the scent and sounds of modern civilization. Music in the distance. Cars.
I missed that.
But I couldn't leave the plane of Westeros until now. Not without killing The Slayers.
I created them. Summoned them from nothing with my magic. Girls with super powers. If I left that reality before they metabolized enough food to become composed of real matter instead of my magic they would have died.
It was estimated five years would be enough. It was closer to seven...and six years ago I had to summon another batch of ten to help bolster the defences against The Others.
It turn out that Slayers flying on wings of fire, wielding weapons made from the strongest material I know of was more than so called 'unkillable' ice wrights could handle. They put up good resistance with their raised zombies and their own skill in combat and weather magic...but the war was over in a year.
It was the reason I had Rob Stark installed as a king in the first place. If he didn't become king, the entire region would have erupted into infighting...well, more than normal I mean.
Powerful or not, Slayers or not. To effectively beat The Others, I needed a army.
Stark made sure I had one.
Checking so that I didn't get run over, I hurried across the street and turned towards my destination.
After taking out The Others...without wrecking the local geography...I still had about six more years before I could leave without killing the people I summoned.
I brought them into that crappy world. I created them. They fought for me.
I owed them that much.
So I had a choice to make. I could use my knowledge and advance the world or I could find a corner of the castle in Kings Landing and practice my magic.
I did mostly the first one.
By the time I left, construction of the first steam powered ship had started. Agriculture had entirely new ways of sowing, harvesting and tilling the earth. All workable with a horse pulling the machine.
The learned of Westeros had entirely new knowledge of math, biology, chemistry and physics to learn. Medical knowledge had advanced by leaps and bounds.
Most of the knowledge was being spread by the Church of Winter. The religion focused on worshiping me.
While I still found it outright odd to have the second largest (and fastest growing) religion in a entire world focus on worshiping me as a god I can't argue that it wasn't useful when it came to spreading my knowledge.
Besides, there are only so many beings you can create and people you can heal from mortal wounds before you just have to accept that people will deify you no matter what you say, and that you might as well go along with it to make sure they don't start burning people at the stake.
Although, I can't imagine having beautiful girls with wings of fire following me around helped to convince the local peasants that I wasn't a god.
I shook my head and glanced at the overcast skies. Hopefully I will get there before it start to rain. This cloak is made from wool. It take ages to get dry.
Speaking of my Slayers...they did not go without losses, in either war. Three died in the war against Mary. Another five went down against The Others.
A total of 12 survived...and then the rest started to arrive. That I had not counted on.
The slayer spirit survived the death of their hosts. They found a new one in a new young girl. But it was not the original slayer spirit.
It was one that was as loyal to me as the original summoned slayer....and as the slayer died with the fire wing enchantment active, it had integrated into the slayer spirit.
They could deploy and control them by will, no need to drain mana from me or have me cast the spell on them.
As the rest of the slayers became completely real...the enchantment integrated in them to. I did keep it on them since their creation after all. No real need to ever remove it as it was under their control.
So now there was twenty slayer spirits in total in Westeros. All of them loyal to me. All of them able to sprout wings of fire at will.
That was not expected. I honestly did not think the spirit would be able to find a new host without there bring potentials. It might be that potentials are simply people able to house it.
Either way, each time a slayer died, the spirit look up another young girl... and there was not a thing I could do about it. I simply did not have the know how to affect the slayer spirit. If I tried, it might have killed the rest of the slayers.
Sometimes learning magic basically from scratch on your own have complications.
I stopped outside the house and put my hand on the white fence. It looked like I remember...almost. Somebody had repainted. There was a new bush or two.
I closed my eyes for a moment, charging some blue mana, getting a feel of the house. Somebody had warded the place to hell and back. Those are nice and strong. Somebody had been keeping up with their practice.
Good.
Taking a last look around I then pushed the gate open and walked up to knock on the door.
There were a couple of minutes before I heard sounds inside and the door opened.
I couldn't help but smile at the sight of a short cute blond, wearing a white pyjamas with pink hearts on it and carrying a big battleaxe
"Hello, Paladin." I said, grinning at her stunned look.
AN// Many thanks to Mr Zoat for betaing this part.
