ASOIAF Fanfic Orphanage (One Shots, Time-Lines & Fic Ideas up for adoption!)

[Numen]

BEHOLD, I, the Great Numen, Presents

ASOIAF Fanfic Orphanage
​

What is this thread?
This thread is an anthology of A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE (by G.R.R. Martin) or GAME OF THRONES fanfics written by me, nominally as one-shots (alot of which first appeared in my fic anthology thread). Everything is up for adoption— take as much or as little of these one-shot's concepts as you want and write a great and hopefully lengthy fanfic that does justice to the setting.

Why Adoption?
This is a cry for help. A cry for quality fanfics from the community! I have a lot of ideas about ASOIAF, about the world-building, and it's crossover potential. Unfortunately, a vast majority of ASOIAF fics seems focused on rehashing the same premises and that get's very boring very quickly. To mitigate these problems, I've tried writing some of my own— unfortunately, I don't know enough about the setting to do the work justice. I study real history, who has time to study the history and genealogy of a fictional nation? Gods. I also don't really watch the TV show, and I haven't read anything other than the first book in the series. Whoops.

Can I contribute One-Shots/Ideas to this Thread, so people can discuss & adopt my ideas?
By all means! I'll threadmark them if notice them (if I don't notice them, tag me, or sent me a message so I will notice it!).

Can I contribute only ideas and not one-shots?
I'd prefer if you take the effort to freshen out your ideas and write at least a one shot, however not all of us can write, and not all of us have a good enough understanding of ASOIAF to do so. In which case, you can simply write out a fanfic prompt or plot bunny. If so, please include as much details as possible— heck, please do TIMELINES if possible (I am going to do some timelines myself, in lieu of the ability to write an actual fic).

Can I do multiple snippets?
Please try to do a full one-shot. I'd prefer not to threadmark multiple parts of the same fic concept a dozen times (unless they're lengthy— but then, if they have so much substance, why aren't you just writing that fic yourself?).

Can we discuss stuff?
Sure. Try to keep it on topic.

Will this be on Space Battles?
Yes, I will be crossposting to Spacebattles, for my fanfics, but if any of you contribute stuff, it won't be cross-posted unless you also post over on the SB thread.

Someone Adopted my fic concept, but now I want to write my fic as well
Do it. There can be multiple versions of the same idea!

Someone adopted my fic concept...but they're not following my idea at all!
Well, it's not your fic anymore, is it?

 

[Numen]

Across the Grey Waste
[Title Pending]
(A Song of Ice and Fire SI)
​

Port City of Yin, Azure Dynasty Year 513

Bu Gai I

Grey-haired Bu Gai, the aging seventeenth Azure Emperor tapped his hands impatiently upon the armrest of the Jade Throne. An unseeingly behaviour, and he was sure the Imperial Historian was writing this down without mercy. He could well imagine the passage in the Annals of the Azure Dynasty in the future.

...And Emperor Bu Gai impatiently tapped the armrest of his throne and fidgeted uncomfortably as his ministers tried and explain matters of state, perhaps that explains his inadequacy when it came to the latter half of his rule.

What adequacy? What rule?

He was little more than a figurehead at this point. All the pomposity of court were nothing more than a shadow puppet play. The real power laid in the hands of the various Lords and Generals who ruled vast tracks of land and commanded their own armies.

He'd always had little control. Even by the time of his Grandfather, the centralized power of the Azure Emperors were crumbling. By the time he had assumed the throne, it was too late to reverse the course of destiny.

He raked his sharp eyes over the legion of imperial scribes and ministers that stood before him in the Hall of Celestial Might.

Each of them were waiting patiently for Minister Go-hai to finish his report.

"And....finally, we have further reports of strange movements in the Grey Waste-"

Bu Gai stood and immediately Go-hai fell silent.

"Barbarians?"

"The Marshall of the Five Forts hesitate to label them as such, but yes, I do believe some hereto unheard of barbarian group is attempting to invade Yi-Ti from the wastes."
​

Perhaps the only armies that still listen to him were the Five Divisions stationed at the Five Forts which borders the grey wastes, but only because no single Lord commanded them, instead they were made up of troops drawn from all across the Golden Empire.

Their Marshall, thankfully, was extremely loyal to the Throne, even if the "Throne" was little more than name at this point. Still, such virtuous men were rare.

Emperor Bu-gai stroke his chin.

"Surely, this new barbarian group cannot be as dangerous as the Jogos Nhai."

His Prime Minister, honoured Lord Chin spoke up then, "Your Imperial Majesty, just because an enemy is unknown does not mean that they are not dangerous."

"By the Maiden-Made-Of-Light, you are correct, Lord Chin."

He gestured imperiously to Minister Go-hai.

"Minister Go-hai, please keep an eye out on any incoming reports from the Five Forts. We can ill afford a new barbarian invasion. The gods help us if someone like Zhea the Cruel were to ride once more upon our people."

Never mind that Zhea only rose to power because of the punitive expeditions sent by the last Scarlet Emperor, Lo-Bu.

Minister Zhao-yun spoke up them.

"If Minister Go-hai is quite finished, there is an urgent matter I feel must be brought to his Majesty's attention."

Go-hai scowled. Bu gai recalled that there was a fierce rivalry of sorts between the two of them.

Zhao-yun stepped forth and bowed to the Emperor.

"General Pol Qo has been noted ferrying supplies and troops towards Trader Town. Missives demanding an explanation were ignored. There are rumours of strange import as well, his financial records stated that he was buying blackstones in bulk from Asshai and from lands further West. I do not know why, but this is clearly suspicious. Everyone knows that only sorcerers and dragon lords deal in blackstones."

Zhao-yun paused for a bit, and then continued, "Pol Qo also commands the Twelfth Division. A division that predominantly uses fire lances in their military tactics. They are a great terror tool against the barbarians, but their effectiveness against our own legions cannot be understated. A threat."

There were murmurs amongst the ministers. Whispers of treason was on everyone's lips. But of course, anyway to badmouth their political rivals were seized without hesitation. Pol Qo was a rising star in the Imperial Military, any number of lords and ministers would be jealous. Almost all of them served as spies and mouthpieces for the various great families that was actually in control of Yi-Ti. They were just here to make their opinions known to court.

And a false move would mean that Bu gai's life was forfeit. A viper's nest was the Imperial Court.

What treason? Anyone can up and declare themselves Emperor at this point and it'd be pointless for me to do anything about it because I am not actually in charge.

Still, Bu Gai knew that would set a dangerous precedent. It would most certainly mean war one way or another, it might even encourage the other Lords and Nobles to finally declare themselves Emperor, throwing away the pretence of deference towards the Azure Dynasty.

And that would mean that his life was forfeit. And not only his life, but the life of his wives and concubines and all of his children and heirs.
Useless the lot of them, especially his sons.

He sighed and declared to the court.

"Keep demanding an explanation, but for now, we shall give General Pol Qo the benefit of the doubt. Someone try and approach him diplomatically and see if we can sate some of his demands."

Except of course, Bu Gai had no doubt at all that everyone was a traitor and would only be after their own agendas for whichever regional lord they served.

A viper's nest.
​

+++
​

Bu Ning I

The raven haired Bu Ning was settled gently upon her silken mat, brewing a pot of tea. A maiden of only seventeen, she was nonetheless a great beauty and highly popular with the heirs of low nobility. Maids dressed in elaborately decorated silken robes attended her as they stood nearby. It was of course, expensive by the standards of peasants, but for the Azure court it was a pittance. Even a lowly princess- the daughter of a mere concubine- was given a budget of personal spending that would have bankrupted a decently wealthy Lord of Westeros.

She sighed.

Life at court was quite frankly, very boring.

She longed for adventure. Adventure and excitement.

Alas, there was rarely anything exciting about the Capital City.

Yin was a great metropolis, by no means the oldest of the few cities that had served as capitals of different dynasties, but one of the greatest nonetheless. Built upon a craggy mountain slope that bordered the coast of the Jade Sea, the city was layered by pagodas and temples, rising up in the sky and settled against the Gateway to Heaven, which was a grand stone gateway carved into the mountain and visible to travellers approaching the city for miles around (when the clouds did not obscure their vision of the capital).

Spoiler: The City of Yin

But it was her entire world and it was all that there was.

The Imperial Family did not leave the city. Imperial family members rarely even set foot outside the city sized palace. It was simply not done.

They were divine and holy, descendants of the God-on-Earth and therefore unfit to mingle with the commoners of the streets. And they were such clean streets too, with proper plumbing and everything, but still not good enough for divinity.

Bu Ning privately though that was a weird thing to be proud of- everyone was a descendent of the God-on-Earth given how many generations it had been since he had sowed his seed into his hundred Queens. Well before the Long Night, that was a mind boggling eight thousand years ago- and that was a conservative estimate according to the Imperial Historians through the ages.

The earliest written records date from seven and a half thousand years ago, written in the prehistoric Pearl Scripts which was a direct precursor to modern Yitish. In those records, the Long Night was already fading into legends and few facts were reliable.

Nonetheless, it was foolish to believe that the descendants of the God-on-Earth would be limited only to the nobility. The Azure Dynasties were only the latest to rise to power. It boggled the mind of Bu Ning how often new Dynasties sprang from the line of peasants.

This is why Emperors always had common last names. We're all commoners and we're all nobility. This is a truth- as the great sages would teach.

She missed her teacher.

The great sage Lu-hai had traveled to the distant city of Asshai in order to confer with other sages and sorcerers regarding "grave tidings in the stars."

She had checked the astrological calculations herself and even consulted the Book of Numbers and could make no head nor tail of the portents that had worried her teacher so.

The omens were bad, that was without doubt. But whatever it was that her teacher saw, he was clearly terrified of it.

"Princess! Princess!"
An eunuch rushed into the courtyard, panting and huffing- no doubt without a manhood, his vital energy was constantly low.

"His Majesty approaches!"

Bu Ning sat upright. She quickly barked to her maids.

"Quick, clean up this mess and prepare a new silk mat for my divine father!"

They were quick to comply, rolling up the mat and removing the tea equipment. Bu Ning sent the Eunuch to fetch a fresh sat of tea.

Sometimes Bu Ning wished she had more servants, then she would be able to get more things done faster, but alas, the allotted servants of a lowly princess was not much.

When her father strode into the yard, accompanied by the Prime Minister and....her brother.

She gasped. She had not seen him in years, when he accepted military training at the tender age of thirteen, he was sent away from the court.

Bu Duan was a handsome young man in his twenties and he smiled when he saw his sister. He was dressed in an elaborate Azure robe, signifying his position as a high prince.

He was third in line for the throne.

She bowed lowly.

"Imperial Father, Prime Minister Chin, Imperial Brother. This lowly daughter of the Bu House greets you. How may I serve the living lords of the Azure Jewel?"

Her father chuckled, "Please do not stand on such formality my daughter. We have come bearing wondrous news."

Her gut clenched.

Wondrous news, that cannot be good.

The Azure Emperor's mood turned somber then.

"Bu Ning, you knew that this day would come. You're one of my eldest daughters- and you may be our only hope to save the realm."

No....too soon.

Her brother looked sad.

"General Pol Qo may be planning a rebellion, but he has agreed to take you for wife. If you follow through with it, you may save the realm from civil war."

Bu Ning gulped and dared questioned her elders.

"But why me? I am but a lowly daughter of a concubine, there are princesses of better breeding for him to choose."

Bu Gai sighed, "The other Lords would never stand for Pol Qo poaching a high princess for wife. That stands too close to attaining legitimacy for setting up his own dynasty. Pol Qo, thankfully, has stated he does not care about the station of his wife, only that the wife in question was of the Imperial Line."

Bu Ning bit her lips.

She knew of course, that she had no choice.

She glanced at her brother, but he only looked at her pleadingly.

For the good of the realm.

"Very well, I accept."

Bu Ning regretted wishing for adventure now, because an adventure was surely coming.

_____
A/N: The idea is that eventually the SI (the Orange Emperor) takes legions of soldiers and march across the Grey Wastes....to attack the Others from the other side. His Army will eventually make it to the Land of Always Winter and save Jon Snow's life. ​

 

[Numen]

Harry Potter and the Long Night ​

September 1st, 1992

Thunder and lighting danced across the dark horizons. The Scottish landscape was wet from the heavy downpour of rain and the howls of animals and other strange beasts could be heard in the night as if they were portents of doom to come.

A cloaked figure marched towards the castle, fearless and relentless in her stride.

For she marched with purpose.

She marched as her Lord commands.

She was a bulwark against the night and the cold and the terrors hiding within such terrible things.

Far and away, from distant lands she had traveled to this ancient Scottish school of the magical arts, heeding the prophecies and visions granted by her Lord.

She would not be deterred in her glorious mission, nor would she fall prey to the ceaseless machinations of the enemy.

She was alone in a land of heathens. But she would bring them the light. For that was her duty.

+++​

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley sheepishly entered the great hall, heads bowed low. They had just gotten chewed out by Snape of all people when they arrived in Hogwarts in Mr. Weasley's flying Ford Anglia and nearby got murdered by the ridiculously violent whomping willow.

Of course, Snape wasn't at all concerned about their lives, but at the near breach of the statute of secrecy. Harry winced at the memory.
That was a terrible idea and let's never do that again.

"Can't believe the bloody car just left us and drove away into the Forbidden Forest."
Ron was still muttering about that.

Harry couldn't blame the car really, they had nearly gotten it killed too.

Thunder boomed outside, indicating the heavy rain that had started shortly after they had arrived on Hogwart's ground. Harry glanced up at the staff table and avoided Dumbledore's gaze- and McGonagall's, for surely they would only reflect disappointment.

He noticed a vacant chair however. No doubt left by Professor Quirrel- aka, Lord Voldemort.

Who is teaching defence this year I wonder?

Hopefully not another dark wizard. Surely Dumbledore would not be repeating that mistake.

They sat down, Harry between Ron and Hermione who was already sitting next to Neville. Their brunette friend raised an eyebrow at their late entrance.

"Where in Merlin's name were you two? Sorting was done ten minutes ago!"

Her voice became slightly pitched near the end and Harry winced again. Ron gulped. Nevermind Snape, the chewing out Hermione would deliver-

Well, they never found out, because the doors to the Great Hall was slammed open, silencing the chattering students and commanding the attention of the entire staff table.

Snape, who was just sitting down after arriving by some unknown means from the Dungeons (where Ron and Harry was hollered at) froze at the sight.

Harry squinted through the candlelight haze and gazed upon a copper haired woman who was also as pale as snow. She was beautiful and ensconced in a robe of red- that is, if robes hung off curves and draped across hips instead of providing decent covering.

She strut, barefoot across the stone floor towards the staff table, head held high with purpose. Light glinted off of a gold choker around her neck.

Students began to murmur and speculate wildly.
​

+++​

August 5th, 1992​

​

Professor Dumbledore waited patiently for a prospective employee to arrive. He checked his timepiece- nearly midnight, the precise time that Gilderoy Lockhart had indicated he would arrive at.

Neither late nor early, hopefully, as a all true wizards and witches thrive to be.

With Fawks the phoenix perched nearby and underneath the light of the single candle on his desk, he hummed in thought.

Hiring Lockhart was a risk of course. The man was a charlatan, no doubt about it- unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, there was the matter of the Curse placed upon the Defence Against the Dark Arts position by Tom Riddle.

Such a curse meant of course, that Dumbledore must be careful which pieces he choose to sacrifice by placing in that position- in fact, that was why he had always refused Severus' request to take up the class. The man was too useful and too good (for a given definition of good anyway) to be wasted away so frivolously, whatever he may think.

Gilderoy on the otherhand was an obvious fraud to the observations of any wizard or witch of even marginal competence. Dumbledore couldn't really bring himself to care overtly much over the disastrous fate awaiting the man should he take the position.

A necessary sacrifice.

The interview was hardly necessary as the man's "credentials" says it all- however, Dumbledore had to make sure that he was not, say, a pedophile or something more dangerous. Just in case.

There was a sudden spike of magical energy and Dumbledore immediately whipped out his wand, eyes darting to and fro. He immediately checked his fireplace, but it did not seem that an incoming floo was the cause of the spike.

It shouldn't be apparition, but one can never be too careful.

Fawks screamed painfully and exploded into fire, turning into ash.

Dumbledore yelled in alarm and rushed to his companion's side. It was months too soon for Fawk's burning day just yet, so he should not be bursting into flames at all!

Out of the ashes, next to a squawking phoenix chick was a rolled up parchment tuck into the pile of carbon.

Dumbledore felt a chill go down his spine.

This was no phoenix magic. No. This was dark. Very dark magic. The kind of magic that costed something, that tore at Fawks' own lifeforce in order to enact.

What could have done this. Dumbledore was more than familiar with dark magic, but this was...well, it was odd and unheard of in phoenix lore for firebird magic to be used in this way.

After checking the parchment for any dark curses or the like, he quickly unrolled the paper and checked the content. He blinked disbelievingly.

Dear Albus Dumbldore, Servant of the Light, Phoenix Keeper

Our mutual friend Gilderoy Lockhart has suffered an unfortunate accident. In embarrassment at possibly reneging on his promised duties, he has recommended me to the position he was to take this upcoming term in September.

This was no coincidence. For many months I have heard and seen through visions that you are in need of an instructor since the righteous demise of your previous one- traitor and heathen that he was.

I offer my services. This is the will of the Lord of Light.

Sincerely,

Melisandre of Asshai

Below that, in a different handwriting, was a recommendation from Mr. Lockhart.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Melisandre is an old friend of mine and she is more than qualified to teach Defence, having numerous experiences with the dark arts in the far eastern city of Asshai.

I have utmost confidence in her ability to substitute me.

Sincerely,

Gilderoy Lockhart.

The script was hastily written, but certainly matched Lockhart's handwriting from what Dumbledore remembered from their previous correspondence. It was alot less flowery though. Usually he included a list of awards he had won or some such nonsense.

He sighed.

Very well. If she's no good, at least she'll be gone by the end of the year.

He drew forth a fresh parchment in order to write a reply message.

Dear Melisandre of Asshai,

I provisionally accept your application for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.
I would however be more at ease if I could interview you at some point before classes start.

Sincerely,
Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin (first class), Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

He looked at Fawks, who was still a squawking chick and sighed. I guess I'll have to use one of the school owls.

Idly he wondered back to a particular passage in the letter.

Who in Merlin's name is the Lord of Light? ​

 

[Numen]

The High Septon​

298 AC, Sept of Baelor, King's Landing

Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Lord Paramount of the Vale, Warden of the East, and the head of House Arryn waited patiently as the elderly Septon in front of him lead him into the private chamber of the High Septon. He bowed his head to the boy sitting upon the golden throne surrounded by the colossal sculptures of the Seven.

"Your Holiness." Jon bowed and kissed the ruby ring of the High Septon, noting his pale fingers and glancing up to take in his Northern features.

"Lord Hand, the Seven's blessings upon you." The Voice of the Seven spoke, his voice familiar even as his religious garbs strike an odd contrast. There had never been a Northern High Septon before. It was unheard of. And never one so young...

"Your Holiness, I come to you of a most urgent matter."

"Speak of this matter, and perhaps the Seven will aid in it's resolution."

"Your Holiness, I-" Truly Jon was uncertain who he could trust, but he knew the High Septon, if only because of his family would not be likely to side with the Lannisters. Perhaps. The current High Septon was something of a mystery, his rise through the ranks of the faithful, his election by the Most Devout- all of it taking the Seven Kingdoms by the storm. He was the youngest High Septon since the Boy High Septon elected by Baelor the Blessed. And unlike that boy, many readily acknowledge this one's divinity and his influence was vast, much to the chagrin of many Southron Houses with ambitions.

"Speak." That was a command, not a request Jon knew.

"Hypothetically, the King's children may not be of his seed."

The High Septon's grey eyes gleamed with calculating intelligence as he pondered the matter.

"This is a serious accusation, my Lord."

"Yes. And that's why I need your support, your Holiness. The Lannisters will not take this lying down, the realm is indebted to them, their agents are everywhere. I am uncertain as to what to do."

"Will you inform Lord Stark, Lord Arryn?"

A pause. Then…

"I am hesitant to drag him into this, but it may be prudent to warn him ahead of time. Could you send a message up North? The Grand Maester is the Lannister's creature and I don't trust him."

The High Septon nodded his head. "It shall be done."

"Thank you."

"Usurpation and Cuckholds, especially within the royal family, are not something the Gods will tolerate. Rest assure that the Seven stands with you in this most just cause."

The Hand of the King bowed his head before he was dismissed. Only a decade ago perhaps, the High Septon did not command as much respect nor obeisance from the high of King's Landing. But this one was different than the others.

There were rumours….rumours upon rumours, all unsubstantiated and yet the small folks seemed to believe in it. Many of the smaller Houses, those who interacted with the then mere Septon was also fanatically devoted to the man. The Most Devout were all his to command, almost to a man and woman.

Jon Arryn did not know the whys or the hows- or perhaps the Seven truly did bless the boy- but the boy was the Voice of the Seven and he would have to accept that. And right now he was thankful for that, for he was otherwise without support in King's landing against the Lannisters.

A week later, Jon Arryn, Hand of the King died, seemingly from old age, his strength fleeing him in the night. His wife fled King's Landing the same night with their young son, hollering hysterically about assassins. Robert Baratheon was besides himself with grief.

When the High Septon heard the news of the Hand's death from a Septa, he smiled and ordered a letter be delivered to Lord Stark.

"My father will want to hear of this."

Jon Snow, barely four and ten, High Septon and Voice of the Seven closed his eyes and unleashed his mind. He had holy work to do.

_______
A/N: Yes. Greenseer/Warg Jon Snow.

 

[Numen]

Age of Monsters (ASOIAF/Godzilla)​

A one-shot plot bunny muse tumour that I had years ago, but never got around to writing, but the new film has brought some of that energy back. ​

​

114 B.C.

A volcano shattered and from it's depths fiery wings spread and a shadow roared.

No one knew which of the Fourteen Flames housed the Red Demon.

R'hllor as the fools of the East referred to this ancient deity.

But Aerolyn the Wanderer, Red Priest of the Lord of Light, knew better. He watched from the sea on a boat already sailing away from the doomed Freehold.

R'hllor spread his wings and took flight.

"Rodan." Aerolyn muttered, the ancient true name of the Red God, forgotten by even the Red Priests. He only knew because he uncovered the ancient temple complexes in the Grey Wastes that told the truth. Of how the Gods once ruled the world and battled each other for dominance.

A terrible screeching roar filled the air and and embers of fire sailed across the heavens as the Red God took flight.

A terrible shadow was casted over Valyria...and then a gale strong enough to smash mountains, temples, palaces and swat aside men like bugs before a storm.

Hurricanes of sheer unrelenting heat blasted across the coast and Aerolyn stumbled back in shock as his skin dried and blistered.

Every hill for five hundred miles exploded, filling the air with ash and smoke and fire. Dragons in the sky screamed as they burned and suffocated.

The magma chambers beneath the Fourteen Flames raged out of control, breaking free of the ancient spells that controlled their flow.

Earthquakes destroyed palaces, temples, and towns, while lakes boiled or turned to acid.

The Fourteen Flames, the fiery mountains of Valyria, sent molten rock a thousand feet into the air, and red clouds rained down dragonglass.

The cataclysm fragmented the Valyrian peninsula surrounding Valyria into numerous smaller islands and creating the Smoking Sea between them.

Rodan took flight and disappeared up into the smoky skies. A force of wind send the sea roiling and tremendous waves rampaged away to other shores.

East of Valyria, Velos and Ghozai on the Isle of Cedars were destroyed by a tsunami.

Aerolyn's ship was capsized and he fell into the burning waters.

I had to. I had to release Rodan. To stop the Long Night come again. Those foolish Dragonlords know not what they have done— but I have delayed the end of the world.

And then he knew no more.

+++​

281 A.C.

"The Dragon has Three Heads."

Rhaegar Targaryen ordered the miners to continue to excavate the three-headed dragon they found buried beneath the ice in the North, just beneath the Wall, right under Winterfell's nose, so to speak.

He had journeyed here in secret, with some of his most trusted companions.

No one, especially his father, knew his whereabouts. His work could not be interrupted for any reason.

The Dragon spoke to him, inside his head.

Release me.

Rhaegar nodded, his eyes glowing golden. "Yes, Master. I hear and I obey."

Suddenly Lyanna Stark, his beloved— and one whose blood he desperately needed in order to release his God— came tumbling into the tent that oversaw the ancient mine shaft.

"Rhaegar! Oh it's terrible, my father and brother— they're both dead! Killed by the King."

Rhaegar's blood ran cold even as he held Lyana in his arms as she sobbed, her belly swollen with their child. "Brandon thought you kidnapped me! And the King thought that my Father kidnapped you!"

Rhaegar knew then that keeping his whereabouts a secret whilst he was last seen near the North was a mistake.

+++​

300 A.C.

Mance Rayder blew the Horn of Joramun and watched with apprehension as something rumbled beneath the ice.

Giant fins broke the ice, glowing blue with sorcerous and godly power.

The Old God rose from the depths, as the ice sheet splintered, sending un-careful Free Folks tumbling into the freezing sea to die.

"Godzilla." Mance muttered and prostrated. The hundred-thousand wildings behind him did the same. They kneel to no men...but for a God they will all prostrate themselves.

The blue eyes of the God shone brilliantly and the millions of corpses that made up his scales screamed. The Wight Dragon opened his mouth and sent a bolt of blue fire that slashed across the Wall, sloughing off great chunks of ancient ice.

Crows tumbled and died as the ancient defence of Man collapsed.

In the distance, the screech of a fire god could be heard as it lifted off from Asshai, shattering the ancient city in its flight.

Jon Snow shook his head. "Mance, that is a wight dragon god. That is the Great Other himself! We cannot possibly let this thing past the wall. Please stop this."

"The wights and the others are our allies in this, Jon."

"They are the enemies of life." Jon insisted, drawing his sword. The other free folk immediately levelled their spears at Jon.

"Jon, what are you doing!" Ygritte roared.

Castor snorted, the incestuous bastard and Other worshipper sneered at Jon. "Always knew you were a traitor to our cause."

Mance looked at Jon in disappointment. "Boy, the Others are the guardians of the world, as we all are. We must stop the Three-Headed Dragon, Ghidorah before he destroys the world. The Long Night wasn't a war between the Others and the Living. It was a pact against Ghidorah. The Wall was erected by Brandon with the help of the Others in order to keep out Ghidorah's influence; the Others act as insurance in case Ghidorah ever breaks free."

Mance gestured at Godzilla. "And now, we need the Great Other to go fight Ghidorah."

+++​

The Summer Islanders held hands as they sang, beseeching to the ancient Eastern God known in Yi-Ti as the Maiden-Made-of-Light.

"Mothra oh Mothra. If we were to call for help. Over time, over sea, like a wave. You'd come. Our guardian angel. Mothra oh Mothra. Of forgotten kindness and ruined spirits. We pray for the people's spirit as we sing. This song of love."

From the East a brilliant new sun broke the darkness of night and wings of light shone as god rays chased away the shadows of terror and uncertainty.

+++​

Melisandre looked into the fires and smiled grimly. She had learned much uncomfortable truths in these past years— Stannis was not Azor Ahai.

And the Great Other was not the enemy they were looking for.

Even now, R'hllor— no, Rodan was on his way, to battle against the newly arisen Ghidorah, awoken by that fool of a girl, Daenerys Targaryen.

Ghidorah was already laying siege to Winterfell and will soon venture South towards the major concentration of the living. It must be stopped.

Rodan had lain in Assshai for centuries after the Doom of Valyria, now his flight has destroyed the City of Shadows.

A price worth paying.

Melisandre hoped that Godzilla, the Great Other, would make it in time to aid her God in fighting the Three-Headed Devil.

She knew that the Maiden-Made-of-Light was on her way, from distant Yi-Ti.

"Let them fight."

 

[LightsaberDalek]

Well I have one very big set of notes on a fic I've been calling the "BloodRaven Actually does Something" AU. I'm just going to copy&paste over my notes and see what you think?

BloodRaven Actually Does Something AU

What if the resurgence of magic was more drastic?
(By which I mean I re-read The Great Northern Alliance on a03 and it's hilarious and brilliant and I couldn't stop imagining stuff about it)
Like, imagine that the children born after a certain point (perhaps BloodRaven saw all his remaining relatives go nuts/start getting kicked out and decided to tip the scales a bit) start manifesting magic traits and potential. The highborn have been selectively breeding themselves and accidentally keeping the magic blood strong, but there's also a lot of small folk, either descended from bastards/demoted families or just genetic luck, who get "tricks". Like a pair of twins who can share their senses with each other. Or a toddler who's dolls move. Or a little boy is attacked by his drunken father and his bottle shatters against his glass-glimmer skin.

But the focus the instigator has is on the people he actually wants to have strong abilities-everyone else is just from a ripple effect- aka his relatives (Targaryens) and the Houses who will actually prepare for winter (Major Northern Houses). Starks actually fall into both categories, and so basically all the children from Robert's Rebellion onwards in Winterfell-shire can do something weird. (And in the free cities there are rumours of unnatural children being born, and a Dornish girl hisses to snakes in the shadow of the Tower of Joy).

Stark children "talents". I'm thinking they can all warg, at least a little. It's the baseline manifestation of magic. Not a lot, but as the talent ripples out it becomes a boon to sending messages.

Robb picked up his "template" from the far ancient intermarriage the First Men had with the Children of the Forest. Roots climb up his boots if he stands still too long, plants flourish under his gaze. The weirwood trees whisper to him, and let him give them new faces and children. It's not particularly useful in a fight, but an army under Robb Stark will never go hungry. And if he has a slight green tinge to his skin, and eats a little less than he should, who will know?

Jon Snow may look like his mother, but his many times grand uncle made sure that it was his father's blood that shaped the awakening magic. The Valerians had children with their siblings do you really think they wouldn't try and weave the dragons in there somehow as well? Jon doesn't burn, has never been hurt by heat, and when his rage builds so does the fire in his lungs. Scales sleep under his skin, ready to protect him. No blade seems to do more than well up a tiny amount of blood when Jon Snow wades into battle.

Theon Greyjoy was an accident. An accident that turned out for the best, but still an accident. He came into his abilities late, it taking a year or so exposed to Brynden Rivers' best efforts before there were results, and even then it wasn't noticed till Theon dived into a river to save a Bran that was too young to know how to swim. The first Greyjoy took a mermaid to wife, and her blood resurged in her descendent. Water is like air to Theon, and no matter the depth to which he dives, pressure will never be a problem. Less useful is understanding the creatures of the water. That doesn't mean obey, and they cannot understand any human other than Theon. It does help his claim to heirship when he returns to the Iron Islands with a pod of kraken.

Sansa Stark is a ... difficult case. The White Walkers are tied to the Starks, in ways that only they know. But Sansa can walk barefoot through the snow, and hoarfrost forms on her fingertips when a presumptive Southron sees a pretty Northern maid travelling to meet her mother's kin. When the Northern armies cannot win, they fall back into the deep forest, and Sansa Stark steps onto the field, ice woven like lace through her blood red hair, and her Tully eyes burn bright. The Heiress to the Night King smiles like her wolf as every dead man on the field stands up.

Arya Stark actually pulls from her mother's line. The Tully's are Andals, and have been devout every since their first crossed the sea with a seven pointed star on their sails. Now a way has been opened for the seven-who-are-one and this child has the potential for any of their faces. Arya Stark can pull on one of the faces of her patron(s), and gains almost impossible skill in that concept. If one did not know how old she was, it could be attributed to a lifetime of study and practice. Arya Stark dislikes stepping into her mother's sept. The light and statues that turn to face her draw too much attention. The travelling Septon bows to her on the road, and he doesn't know why he listens to her arguments.

Bran Stark has two Uncle Bryndens. One of them isn't actually related to him, and he's never met the other, but they are still his Uncles. Bran has been drifting from mind to mind since he was four, and has been the apprentice to the Three eyed Raven for almost as long. Every creature could have him hiding behind its eyes, listening. Everything ever spoken near a weirwood tree is ready for his perusal. When the North goes goes to war, Bran makes sure his Brothers know everything. And their enemies never think about the rat crouched under their chair. Listening.

Rickon Stark is still young, but his talent for learning languages is already catching attention. Things he writes in the surviving words of the Old Tongue seem strange somehow. Things become much clearer when he recreates a miniature of the Wall from snow, paper, and bloodied ink. His first project is a war table for his elder brother, with the ever frozen ice taking pride of place.

(I have more for other Northern Houses, "wild" talents for the small folk, and what's happening with and around Viserys and Daenerys. Also does anyone know where all the Sand Snakes were prior to Oberon picking them up and training them to kill?)


The first idea with much crazier powers could be a ton of fun, but at a glance I worry that it's too skewed in the North's favor. I get that it's Brynden influencing the people he thinks will play the greatest role in the War for the Dawn, but it feels off to have so much of the powers concentrated among characters who already get so much in the fanfiction community. I really dig the Seven being at play with Arya, and I'd probably just take that further to other gods and faiths. Have some of the Rhoynish stuff in Dorne, maybe have Shireen with R'hllor powers. If the Lannisters have any sort of magic blood, then naturally it would be strong as hell in Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen, since they're inbred beyond the norm.

Maybe have him focus on the Ruling families, the Strong families (plus his)? or have it as a ripple effect down from whatever cave he's huddling in, spreading South? Admittedly I do like giving the North a little help, and in universe Brynden would Want the vanguard against the Others to be strong. And I'm focusing at the characters theatre common in stories because they are the ones I know well.
But you're right that other post rebellion children should have "talents". What if Shireen and all Robert's Bastards all have variations on weather magic, while Cersei's children all take after the Lannister mind manipulation or stone singing?

Anyway. I'm thinking there are baseline abilities before the quirk that ancestry or environment gave them. These were set up last time magic spread across the world. Those of First Men blood can warg a little, to a single close animal at minimum. Those of Andal blood may use boundaries to slow or even stop those who are against them. Valerians are fireproof, or at least resistant. And the Rhoynar ( nowadays Dornish) heal faster, to a varying degree, when in water.

Magic in a person is another tool of survival, and though it may be shaped by ancestry, in manifestation and power, what the wielder needs to survive, to live, is what shapes it. A starving child becomes capable of eating rot without ever sickening, an abused one skin hardens to steel. A child who is fed to the point of vomiting learns to burn fat into bursts of incredible speed and strength and thought .
————


I doubt a North that is aware of the approach of the long night would bother with the South at all.

By the time the start of canon roles around, everyone north of the neck ( and maybe others with weirwoods like the clans of the Vale) know the long night is at the most a generation away.

Perhaps Dany and Viserys are part of the way to their nephew when Robert rocks up at Winterfell? Like, they've been in contact thanks to Warged birds (not Ravens, something bigger and wit more endurance, like a gull or something) carrying letters for a while, and I'm not sure why they are travelling now in particular, perhaps Illyrio proposed the Dany Drogo marriage and she noped out, but they're taking it slow and careful so nobody recognises them. Viserys is probably a lot more mentally health since he has had family to balance him and magic to try and treat the bipolar-like problems. Or just a Winterfell maester sending watertight pouches of pills.

Speaking of Maester .... let me look up his name. Luwin. He's dealing with the magic and supposedly impossible pretty well. I'd like to think that he's got a young (by which I mean only about 100) and eager Child of the Forest as his assistant, who turned up with her clan when they had to move after their Weirwood froze to death, and the BloodRaven told them that the watch would let them through and there was a welcoming wood and castle at the South.

There's frequent jokes about her being the first Child to go to become a Maester, but everyone thinks they're just jokes, so of course Luwin writes a letter of recommendation and sends her south as soon as all the magic comes out. Not sure how that's going to happen though.
I'm thinking not before because then there is an honest chance of her popping up in Oldtown and the Maesters trying to dissect her or something.

I actually think Ned would still take the Handship, but for different reasons this time. The North has been prepping for an indefinite Winter for about 15 years now, and the South has been spending everything on summer fripperies, they need prepared. Even if the north is pretty much independent in all but name at this point (because Robert doesn't care and neither him or Jon Arryn can really say No to Ned on anything) , the South will be able to provide soldiers and supplies to the next battle for the Dawn.
Oh and The northern houses are definitely trading a lot with dragonstone/Stannis for Dragonglass. He doesn't know what it's for, when he asks they just say it's for a important event coming soon in the religion of the Old Gods and the entire north needs some, but they are paying well so he can go back to being obsessive over whatever he picks (I mean I get autistic vibes)

I'm not sure whether the North/Winterfell would be actually hiding all the developments from down south-fear of religious interference and claims that they are going to secede (I mean they are but the Ned insisted to wait for after the Long night so there's not any infighting when they should be fighting the Others)- or they just wouldn't be trying to tell the South - you do you and I'll do me sort of mentality- and there's just weird rumours. I think a combination of both might be better. Like, they North doesn't like people from the South so they don't give them straight answers but they also don't bother to hide that they're of the North so there are some weird rumours that get started.

I've seen this in exactly two other fics and I love it- Catelyn definitely has a spy network. It started as trading letters with Northern ladies during the Greyjoy rebellions to keep up to date and weaving together what all the husbands have said to figure out the big picture and sending that back out to worrying mother's/wives/husbands/brothers etc (because with magic on their sides and Mormont teaching Arya, there are a lot more women fighters than five years ago). Then some of the rumours about the North/Winterfell that the warriors hear in the South are disturbingly accurate/confidential information spilling. So she goes on a spy hunt while her husbands on the way home with the Greyjoy heir. With magic in her side, including more minor seer talents she's picked up (I figure the older they are the harder to active and lesser the magic is, but Tully's have a history of "River Dreams" ), there are a lot of little birds she finds. And Petyr Baelish gets a lot of letters from the worst brothel in Wintertown. And the Septa keeps trying to bribe amused farmers into taking hysterical letters to Kings Landing about heresy. The problem with taking people from the worst places, removing their tongues, and giving them an ever so slightly better life, is that when someone else regenerates their tongue, tells them their magic, proves that the world is going to nearly end within twenty years, they will switch sides. BloodRaven was his half brother's/cousin's/I can't remember master of whispers for a while, he teaches Catelyn how to deal with what she accidentally suborned. Also a spy network with wargs and greenseers confuses Varys and similar people on how things are getting found out.

I think they "tone it down" for the king's visit (for being well behaved and calm, and " Jon Jaehaerys Targaryen Stark, if you blow up another courtyard I swear to all the Gods!"), or at least just go around as normal and they're too snobby(Cercei) , self-obsessed (Cercei) and drunk (Cercei) to realise the full scope of what's going on.

The Northern Court not giving a single fuck while the people from the South consistently mistake their magic for mummery or drunken hallucinations is hilarious.
Sees an adult Child of the Forest. "Urgh that smallfolk brat needs to be cleaned". Sees a Stark warging. "How disrespectful to fall asleep in front of the king".

Then again I'm assuming all the people who come with Robert are like Cersei. Admittedly she probably chose most of them but still, there may be some more Perceptive ones.
But for that they'd have to believe in magic first, and Southern politics mean that people who believe in magic are seen as insane.
Maybe the younger children of Cersei? Like, Joffrey, no way, he's too busy poncing about in the courtyard with a funcy sword while Robb does his best not to accidentally kill or maim him because he's used to fight Mr "I am a tank" Snow, and Jon's hiding a bit because he knows his father's facial features are emerging as he gets older and he doesn't want to risk it (Jamie is annoyed that the bastard is fleeing from him. He wouldn't have even noticed that Bastard if he didn't leave every room Jaime walked into. Jon's just scared he looks too much like his grandad) and because if he tried to fight Joffrey, well Jon fights in a way that basically let's swords clang off armour so he can focus on offence, and that would very quickly point out that something was weird and possibly dragony.
But Myrcella and Tommen might notice something.

Those two and Tyrion are the most likely to notice something is up. But conversely, those three are the least likely to be believed when they try to tell someone.
I do have a fun idea of Robert trying to betroth a Stark and one of "his" children, and Ned keeping on going, "no, they're already betrothed to someone else". Like, Robb has to marry a Northern lady, because he's already half Andal, and they have to be ok with being at the back during the second battle for the dawn, and also a good enough fighter to protect her children from any Southron assassination attempts afterwards. Sansa I'm actually thinking Domeric Bolton- to pull them together against any feuds, and he's basically all of both naive Sansas fantasies and ready-for-war Sansas wishes. A knight, following the Old Gods, strong, can be kind to her and children but also ruthless in that very bolton way against those that threaten his... also he thinks her ice zombies thing is neat. And would be a nice match for his tricks.
Arya I don't know yet. Maybe she gets to choose but has to be aware that it will have to be at least somewhat useful. Definitely no one devout to the new gods because being kneeled to in the middle of a Sept by a an entire congregation out of control of their bodies is embarrassing. She might visit her sort-of-cousins at one point and pick up an Essos boy toy?
Bran is getting Moat Cailin when he's older, and the fun thing about greenseeing on both sides of the equation is that you both know that you will be happily in love later, and so are very awkward and sweet around each other, and everyone goes "Awww" and Bran and Meera Reed. Rickon is way too young to be matched up (Bran only gets a bye because foresight) but there's some Skagoi putting forth some interesting ideas about getting him to stabilise the region and do some underground stuff/mushroom farms so they don't keep starving to the point of cannibalism.
Jon knows that if his heritage ever comes out he's probably going to have to marry a Martell. So they don't murder him. It's that or the old targ loyalists try and get him to marry Dany, which, ew, and even if he dies assumed to be a Snow, the Dornish don't really care about Bastards the same way as the rest of the South, and it's too far away for anyone to try and use him as a claim for Winterfell, so as long as he stays away from the Daynes and public worries over incest, Dorne doesn't seem half bad for him.

I mean Tyrion stays after the rest leaves. Maybe he goes "this is obvious why has nobody noticed!" Goes to the Maester because he's used to that being the source of knowledge, gets a very long presentation/demonstration and stays to learn more/serious up this is the end of the world. I'm actually tempted to have him be fascinated with Ludwin's so far unnamed CotF assistant that slowly turns into a Romance except she doesn't believe him because he tried (and miserably failed) to impress her with tales of his life, including the whole drunken debauchery and prostitutes bit. Why. I can't not want them together now. Tywin is horrified at the idea of an entire branch of Dwarf Lannister.

Asters mean Wisdom and devotion. I already know like three characters named iris, and I'd get confused, but Aster the Child of the Forest who wants to learn everything and doesn't know why this Andal her size follows her around and listens to her rambles/rants and keeps on offering to buy stuff from humans stuff she can easily get herself.
Like, it's nice that he got a saddle that she could ride a horse on, but it's so much easier to just hitch a ride on a doe going in the right direction, why are you making that face Tyrion? I can show you how if you'd like?
Tyrion is trying so hard, the poor boy. he should maybe look up Northern Courting practices to avoid any more blunders.

Oh Tyrion definitely takes Aster South pre everything coming out and convinces her it would be easier, instead of all the Andals freaking out over a Child of the Forest, it would be easier if she passed for a human dwarf. Then of course he wants to show off casterly rock to her, and when a Lannisport Lannister comes to check on their way through , he introduces her as "Lady Aster, of the Wolf Weir." And the Lannister rumour mill spins up and soon the entire westerlands knows that the heir presumptive to casterly Rock came back with a Northern Lady that was the same height as him and he was bringing her to the Rock!

I bet you that Northern courting practices, especially written down formalised ones, have some notable differences from CotF ones. And Aster isn't exactly looking for romance at the moment. She wants KNOWLEDGE. And possibly recognition, but her loyal best mate Tyrion manages that social need very well.
The maid in the corner is listening very intently when Kevan tells Tywin that his youngest son has returned. With a ... guest.
Tyrion accidentally romancing Aster by being her friend and then when she takes him back to the North she's like "yes this is my husband Tyrion he is very knowledgeable and clever" and Tyrion is just like "... husband wut? when? huh?"
Accidental Marriage is the BEST kind of marriage.

They swing past the vale to try and talk to the hill tribes and end up camped under a weirwood tree while the clan heads are panicking over actual CotF and whether their telling the truth and Aster is cold so they share Tyrion's cloak and huddle together and he asks her to promise to flee if they are attacked and to come back with overwhelming force/revenge, and she says yes., and you would do the same for me, he replies of course, but that won't happen because I will always protect you, and the Old Gods take that as good enough. (The hill clans are fine and are sending support)
They figure it out when they cross back into the north on their way back and Howland Reed congratulates them and offers a couples room.

Asters clan gets a small half ruined keep in the deep wolf wood that they can fill in the ruins with living trees and it's amazing so she retroactively a lady because Tyrion confesses what happened to Tysha, the local greenseers figure out what happened (Aster isn't very good at it, all she can basically do is hide out of range of a potential explosion and watch safely), and Tywin can't "get rid" of nobility the same way.

Which is sad but the Aster can comfort him. And she probably lost a load of family fleeing south so they can share trauma and bond. bonding is good! and open communication is important in a relationship.
If Tywin still refuses to admit that it's either Tyrion or a Baratheon holding casterly Rock, there's loads of space in the north, Tyrion is a Lannister and so knows how to mine, the mountains in the north probably have loads of stuff just waiting that haven't been explored/exploited, and Aster can take any people off CotF clans that are getting too big and tada, the Mountain Lion has a has a banner of a golden lion rearing in front of a smiling weirwood tree, and the new mines either get iron and coal for making weapons and stocking for heat, or fancy frivolities to be sold south or east to buy non perishables from the Reach.
And Tywin is seething, and still trying to get Jaime off the Kingsguard but Tywin can sit on it and spin
So. I realised I hadn't actually said what the Bolton talent/magic trait is. I was thinking it would be a sort of true sight second sight thing. Like, the flaying people thing started as trying to reveal wargs- "a flayed man holds no secrets"- and if they could see the monster trapped under translucent skin bulging horrifically? Plus it pull nicely on the medieval French belief that werewolves turned their skin inside out to change and if you pierced their skin you would find fur. But once a Bolton (with their creepy pale eyes) knows how to control their sight, there's all sorts of interesting applications. Like telling if someone is lying, Getting a glimpse into someone's character, or seeing through a wall. CotF are actually quite calming for Dom, because their magic looks like them, it's not hiding in a human shape. (Sansa is beautiful. It's a cold, terrifying beauty, the sort of beauty you only get when the world is honestly doing its best to murder you, but that is very Bolton, isn't it).
This also means that Domeric see Ramsey, flinches (this is a bloodied Knight), turns around, and gets reinforcements to have a look at his house.

Oh and Theon isn't betrothed, but he knows that if he wants to not be deposed, hell have to marry and ironborn lady. His father may refuse his letters, and he's seen the letters (via warging) being taken to his father and destroyed unopened, but his sister will listen. He's not telling her 3/4s of what's going on because their father would try and steal magic to use in another rebellion, but they are planning to rule basically together, and so Asha doesn't mind when her brother asks for a devout but open minded wife (she thinks that he's fallen back on religion when he's got nothing else familiar. Which is sort of true but any Drowned Priest would scream about heresy if Theon told them even half of what he was planning/found out about their faith)

Actually I think Arya might get betrothed to Tommen when Robert can't get any other combo. She is more than a little bit pissed off, but Robert steamrolls over almost Neds and Cersei's protests ( he's still got the more magical arguments against it but those will make him sound like a nutter so he keeps his mouth shut- how crazy would, "Robert if you try and get Arya married against her will in a sept I think the statue of the Maiden would actually start moving to punch you in the face", sound ? It would sound insane). Arya is annoyed at getting her choice taken away- all her siblings got to choose, even if politics meant that they had to weigh up more than just attraction. She then grabs an unconventional weapon from the armoury- let's say something that compensates for her shorter reach and isn't a sword because those are boring and Arya can beat everyone with a sword one on one so she found a new weapon (I'm thinking her boost are like a +100 to this skill she is focusing on, and she gets one boost in each Gods bulwark at a time, and so the more she knows about sword fighting the better her boosted version is) and vents in the training yards. Or somewhere that's usually private but has a Southron watching in a corner, and that only gets Robert happier for the betrothal because he gets a mini Lyanna and his kid together.
I don't think Tommen completely understands what's happening- just because he and Myrcella are quieter than Joffrey doesn't mean that the inbreeding didn't have problems for them as well. Not sure what that would be though. I am half tempted for Arya to have something like her canon first meeting with faceless men, her saving them and being offered a life in return, and her reaction being "Seriously?! There are way bigger problems coming up! The whole of the planet has way bigger problems happening! Maybe you should be prepping for that- wait no of course not, the entire could change their banners to "The Long Night is Soon" and you lot would keep pretending this Summer would end".
This isn't for a romance, but instead having Arya with an accidental cult/following of novice faceless men would be funny.

I think the entire fandom is united under the denial that Jon's birth name is Aegon, but what are everybody's preferences?

I like Jaehaerys (even if it's difficult to spell) because it easy to imagine someone asking for the baby's name, and Ned panicking going "Uh, Uh, J, Jon?"

Ned is so bad at lying and everyone knew it. And that's why he was so good at hiding Jon's parentage. Until he started growing scales during fights and sticking his hands in fires for fun. Then he just sort of gave up. Like the northern Lords care. A dragon-Child starting a branch line is better a half-Dornish with a claim almost as good as the half-fish.

———————

I was thinking that the north tried to warn the South, but with little proof (wights being very difficult to get a hold of and/or assumed to be mummers tricks, the magical talents not yet blooming and what has just looks like a guy passing out for a bit) after spending a year or so trying to spread the word and getting ridiculed for it, those that do believe decide to prepare what they can, and let the others join in when they finally believe what's going on.

Additionally, since Aerys II, the seven kingdoms have been more divided than in centuries. He expanded the court because of the paranoia, and the "game" expanded in turn. Robert Baratheon knew nothing else, and if anything, his excess increased it all. Add to this his... let's say lax, approach to ruling, each of the kingdoms practically rule themselves unless Jon Arryn hears something that makes him decide they've crossed a line, and can talk Robert into agreeing.

As for Ned's behaviour, why he hasn't personally gone South or anything? Every other Stark who has gone below the Neck has died. His people are changing rapidly with new abilities. Their children born with alien traits. He's having to calm vassals with all their status quo messed up by power changes. There are negotiations with Wildlings he can't mess up. Last time he tried to talk about any of it, at the GreyJoy rebellion, he practically got laughed out of the hall. He's trying to prepare for a potentially indefinite winter. Not to mention, Caitlyn's few long-range wargs/greenseers, doing skims over all the Southron capitals, picked up some pretty nasty things that Prince Joffrey was doing.
He doesn't have the time or inclination running himself ragged turned into even more of a laughingstock down South.

I fact, I think Eddard's a bit of a Cassandra figure here. Most of the highborn/far Southrons probably think Ned Stark's gone a bit funny in the head, maybe got knocked around a bit too hard during a battle, Robert probably trusts his advice a bit less if it's relating to thing Ned has a "thing" about. Might butterfly the Hand appointment, might put it off for a bit while Robert goes through a few people who can't manage him like Jon could/piss of Robert by trying to make him actually work before resorting to the loyal friend who's fine as long as you don't mind over preparation for winter and some superstition/Devoutness for the Old Gods. Most Southrons read Neds frequent ravens, and go "Lord Eddard is an honoured veteran of the war, and his lands seem competently enough cared for, and there hasn't been and complaints from his vessels, and well, every lord has one eccentricity. Believing all sorts of superstition is a lot better than it could be". I think he would try and start with the less crazy stuff, things that have precedent, like a really long winter coming, and adding in a few mentions of the Green Men showing up again, then trying to bring up Wargs- and that's where things grind to a halt. It's the Greyjoy rebellions where Ned realised what's thought of him, and it shamed him immensely- like he asks at a feast how prepared people are for the long winter/night, and Robert just starts laughing. And laughing. And laughing. And the rest of the hall full of lords joins in. Robert thinks Neds making jokes, but the rest are laughing at Ned, not with him.
Regarding Aster, the CotF I put with Tyrion , would it be ok to keep her even if she's not going to be going to be the Maester CotF. Just I read over and she's seems a little Mary Sue ish, so I'm changing a her a bit.


This is up for adoption, though if you are willing to let me help you write it if you decide to, I would be delighted.

 

[dottvvlad]

Usual disclaimer - English as a second language, proceed with caution =)
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NO ONE

The ship stank. It was not the worst smell that the man experienced, but it was too all encompassing, too penetrating. Seems that they've used this ship transport livestock.

A man paid a silver coin for the place in a hammock. Additional ten copper to use it during night time with the rest of the trip spent on the deck. He came aboard a few moments before the cog departed, sailors angry for the delay pulling the plank up right after he put his feet on deck.

Should the gods be graceful, he will be in King's landing in a few days. Otherwise… Every man is graced by the Many Faced One in the end.

The man leaned on the railing looking at Titan shining in the rising sun. He let his thoughts wander if for a bit. Braavos was never his home those he spent most of his life here.

"What's yer name, friend?"

The man turned his head distracted from his thoughts. A fellow traveller hungry for idle chit-chat. Lean muscled body, long brown hair with some white strands, short stubble covering his chееks and upper lip. The man guessed that where he might hail from somewhere south of Braavos. Lorath most likely.

"Brandon." The man replied with truth so long forgotten that it almost became a lie.

"Jaqen H'gar." Lorathi flashed a toothy grin. "So why are you going across the ditch?"

"A business appointment."

"How boring. Must be one of those Iron Bank pen-pushers."

"You could say that."

"And I am a free man." Lorathi smiled again. "Heard that there are opportunities a-plenty in King's Landing, bought a ticket and here I am!"

The man shrugged. He knew about opportunities. His father had an opportunity to meet his mother. His grandfather had an opportunity to ship unwanted bastard across Narrow Sea so that he never comes back. His mother had an opportunity to take a long plunge into the sea.

Anyone else would not remember a thing, childhood amnesia. The man never knew the reason. Was it a hereditary condition, was it the result of training intended to break him and erase the sense of self? He just never forgot anything. He could remember every single moment of his life with a perfect clarity.

His long dead grandfather. His long dead mother - her soft hands, her violet Valyrian eyes. Every second of what happened since he was shipped from Starfall to Essos in a creaky hold of a merchant ship.

For a second the man pondered if he could stay a bit longer in the King's Landing beyond his mission, scale the Hand's tower and meet his father. It was a known fact that he was raising a bastard and this was bringing bile up the man's throat. Why him? Not me?

If he is to infiltrate the Red Keep, he needs a new identity. This one would not do - "Brandon" lived a nice clean tidy life that he did not want to sully it by a whim, put a good mask in jeopardy.

"So you say your name is Jaqen?" the man asked smiling. "Why don't we have a drink and discuss opportunities you talked about?"

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Jaqen H'gar is a bastard of Eddard Stark. Faceless man takes interest in Stark family well before Arya meets him in canon.