FicWad

JON

I have a feeling I am going to hate this courtly life. After that gathering where I met Shireen, I was expected to go change into a different set of clothes for tonight’s feast. Fortunately, we had a few free hours, time enough for Bran and I to put in some archery practice before returning to our rooms for some meditation and then preparing for tonight. And I couldn’t get used to having servants who wanted to help me dress. Bran was a little more used to it. But I had been a bastard until recently and expected to fend for myself.

When we entered the dinning hall, I was surprised to find myself seated on the King’s left, a place that would normally be reserved for the Queen. I would have thought that the Heir, Prince Stanis, or at least his daughter Shireen would be seated here. But no, she was seated on my left, with her father to her left. Beyond them were Prince Stanis’ wife and a young woman all dressed in Red.
On the King’s Right sat my father, Lord Stark, then Prince Renly, then Some Reacher Knight and Lady wearing clothes all decorated with pictures of golden roses. Lord Tyrion was seated at the far end. As far from the King as you could be while still sitting at the High Table. Bran was seated at a table in the far corner, one set aside for Pages. We sat at the table and the servants would bring the food to us, no helping ourselves from the communal platter like we did at Winterfell. While we ate, a trio of tenoroon, recorder and viola de gamba provided music. It was unlike anything I had ever heard before.

“That music . . . what is it?” I asked.

“Oh that? That’s Joffrey’s old band,” replied Robert, before emptying his chalice. “You should have heard him play with them, it was amazing! I guess with him gone, we’ll have to bring in someone else to lead them . . . perhaps someone from the Riverlands who knows how to play that Riverlands Jass music. It’s too bad we didn’t have time to stop by Riverun on our way back. That Lord Edmure is amazing! We stopped there on the way up. Him and Joffrey playing together is like nothing you have ever heard!”

“This is like nothing I have ever heard,” I replied. “If you don’t mind me asking, I was a bit curious about why I am seated here in the Queen’s spot, not that I mind being this close to you, I just wondered why me, and not someone else?”

“It’s just one more way to twist Stanis’ nose,” replied Robert, before chugging his his drink, which his cupbearer had already refilled. “If I am going to leave my kingdom to his daughter, doesn’t mean I’m not going to stop provoking him to grind his teeth.”

“Is that why you picked me to betroth her to?” I asked. “Because you knew forcing him to marry his daughter to a bastard would vex him?”

Robert responded with a loud belch before draining his cup again. The cupbearer dutifully refilled it as Robert said: “You’re not a bastard any more. I raised you up. Besides, anyone that saw you fight the Kingslayer to a standstill while killing all those red cloaks, all while protecting your little brother would be proud to have you as a Goodson! More Wine!”

“Why hand the Kingdom down to her at all?” I asked. “You’re still young enough to take a new wife and make heirs of your own.”

“Bah! Piss on that!” exclaimed Robert, before downing another cup. “There is only one woman I ever wanted to marry, and that was your aunt Lyanna. After she died, Jon Arryn, who was like a father to me, talked me into marrying that cunt: Cersei, for the “Good of the Realm”, and I was stupid enough to take his advice! Worse mistake I ever made! It would have been better to have named one of my bastards heir than marry that bitch!”

“You have bastard children already?” I asked.

“Sure! Lots of them!” replied Robert, before wetting his whistle yet again. “I think that’s one of mine sitting over there at the page’s table with your brother, Bran. If things had gone different, I might have recommended you to Ned for my daughter, Mya. She’s just a few year older than you. But you had to turn out to be such an awesome warrior, I had to tie you to the crown! But no. I’ll never marry again! If I need to wet my dick there are plenty of whores and servant girls around,” he said as he pulled the serving girl into his lap. She squeaked with surprise, then giggled before the king continued. “You should try it yourself. It’s going to be a few years before before Shireen is old enough for the marriage bed.”

“No thank you, Your Grace,” I rebuffed. “If Shireen can wait until her wedding night, then so can I.”

I glanced at her and saw her smile at my response.

Robert downed another Cup before saying: “You mean you’ve never bedded a girl before?”

“I know what it is like to grow up a bastard and I would never inflict that life on anyone,” I said, before changing the subject. “So what are your plans for the war?”

“Piss on plans! I don’t need to make plans, that’s what I have Ned for! For now, I have fine wine and fine women and when the time comes I’ll just smash old Tywin with my war hammer just like I did Raegar at the Green Fork!” proclaimed Robert before downing another drink, then pulling the servant girl who was sitting on his lap into a kiss.

I resolved to discuss strategy later, with my father and Prince Stanis.


MARGAERY

I was seated between my brother, Loras and the a handsome man with a goatee. To his right was a fat man with a shaved head that smelled heavily of Lilac. I could understand why he would want to go heavy on the perfume. In order to dine at the feast, Edric had to remove the spell he had place that kept out the stench of King’s Landing. Now I was experiencing the full force of it! It was making my stomach turn. How could anyone even think of eating with that smell in their nose?

“You must be Lady Margaery Tyrell,” said the goatee man with the bird sigil on his tunic, as he held out his hand. “I’m Lord Petre Baelish, Master of Coin, at your service.”

I let him kiss my hand and nodded in greeting. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

“You doubtless are here, because the King is suddenly bereft of a Queen,” said Baelish. “Tying the Reach to the Crown would certainly be a wise move for the King. If there is anything I can do to help you make that happen you only need ask.”

“Thank you for your king offer, Lord Baelish,” I replied, glancing at the King. “That would be an advantageous move for the Reach. I shall give it due consideration. But I must say . . . the King is not at all what I expected.”

“His Grace is a Great Man, a Great Warrior, with Great Appetites,” observed Baelish. “When called upon, I do what I can to help him fill those appetites.”

“I can see that he is quite the Pac Man,” I replied.

“I’m sorry, the what?” asked Baelish.

“Never mind,” I deflected. “It is an obscure reference. So, I hear the Godswood here is quite impressive.”

“It is indeed,” agreed Baelish. “They say it is older than King’s Landing Itself, that when the Red Keep was built, a small bit of the forest that used to cover this hill was preserved.”

“Then I have to make a point of visiting it,” I replied. “We Tyrells are known for our love of plants.”

EDRIC

In order to eat, I had needed to take the Bubblehead charm off both Margaery and myself. I was wishing I hadn’t. The stench of this city was nauseating! I had been seated at a table full of Pages, some of them high-born, others were bastards, like me. After we had introduced our selves to each other, we tucked into the meal. The music was an odd of mix of the sort I used to hear in the both the muggle and wizarding world, only better, somehow. Of my fellow Pages, the oddest one was Bran Stark. There was something about him that seemed familiar to me somehow. I glanced at him periodically and suddenly saw his eye go white for an instant!

“What was that?” I asked Bran.

“I was checking on Summer and Ghost,” replied Bran. “We aren’t allowed to bring our direwolves to the Feast.”

“Checking on them how?” I asked.

“Oh! Right. You didn’t know,” said Bran. “I’m a Warg. So I just looked through Summer’s eyes to make sure they are still behaving and not ripping up our bedding.”

“What is a Warg?” I inquired.

“You know a Warg, and skinchanger, someone who can put their mind inside an animal,” explained Bran.

“So, it’s like Magic? You have magic?” I gasped.

“I guess you could call it magic,” agreed Bran. “That sounds like a better name than “The opposite of the Force”, which is what my brother Jon calls it. All my brothers and sister have it, though I seem to be the best at it.”

“The Force?” I asked. “What’s that?”

“It’s a different kind of power than Warging,” explained Bran. “Jon claims that the whole world is filled with it, but he seems to be the only one who can use this power. That doesn’t stop him from trying to teach me how to fight or meditate.”

“I would like to talk to you and you brother about magic sometime,” I invited. “Do you know a place we could meet?”

“I heard that there is a godswood somewhere in this castle,” said Bran. “Jon says this magic power is tied to the Weirwood trees, so that would make it a good place to show you warging.”


TRYSTANE

Safely hidden in the wereworld, I examined my quarry. There’s no way I could take him in a fair fight. He’d probably crush my head like a melon. So I would have to cheat. There was a large boulder next to him. In the real world, that was his armor, which he had taken off and piled up so he could violate his current victim. I drew my dagger, then, fast as a rattlesnake, I shifted into his world cut the tendon on the back of his knee then danced back into the wereworld! He growled, in pain, as he rolled off her. Before I could get him again, he had already rolled to he good leg and was standing. Great Spirit! How can someone so big, move so fast? He had grabbed his great sword and was swinging it around blindly, searching for his assailant. From my perspective, it looked like a rattlesnake in his hand striking out, searching for me. I dropped to the desert floor rolling towards him and shifted back into his world just before I severed the achilles tendon of his other leg. I shifted back and rolled away, just before the sword/snake struck me. I rolled to my feet as he fell to the ground.

“I’ll KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU. WHOEVER YOU ARE, I’LL KILL YOU!” he yelled as he flailed around with his sword while trying to push himself up on his good knee.

Watching him swing his sword wildly, made me realize that it would too dangerous to close with a wounded animal like him. The girl had already crab-walked out of his reach and was trying to get to her feet while leaning on the wall of the house. I danced over to a barrel cactus, which I broke it off and threw it at him. It turned into a log in his world before it hit him, but he was able to raise his sword up enough to barely deflect it. I realized if I wanted him, I would have to take a chance. Grabbing a football-sized rock, and climbed up a Saguaro that was on the other side of him. It was a tree in his world. I leapt from on high with the stone in both hands and brought it down on his bare head. This wouldn’t even stand a chance of working if he had not taken his helmet off. As it was, he had enough time before he passed out to grab me by the arm and pull me under him.

“Uhgh! He weighs as much as a buffalo and smells twice as bad!” I groused.

I could feel he was still breathing. He might not be out for long. As gently as I could, I rolled him off of me, then climbed to my feet. When I saw the fear in the girl’s eyes, I realized that I was in my natural form. I hadn’t even bothered to disguise myself as Trystane Martel.

“Do you have any rope?” I asked her. “He’s going to wake up soon.”

She ran into the house and came out with a rope, having hastily thrown on a dress. He started to wake while I was finishing the process of tying his arms behind his back. I rolled him over and shoved a root in his mouth. He was so strong I had to use both hands to hold his mouth shut, even with him only being semi-conscious.

“What are you?” asked the girl. “Did you Old Gods send you?”

“Maybe, I admitted,” after all, from a certain point of view, my gods may be some of the Old Gods.

“Thank you for saving me from that monster!” she said.

The screams from the village reminded me that everyone she had ever know was still suffering. I danced back into the wereworld and ran into the fray. The others were a lot easier to take down. I used the same hit-and-run tactics to take them all down. After I was done, I shifted back into the real world, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.

“He saved us! The Agent of the Old Gods saved us!” announced the girl. “I prayed to the Seven and they did nothing! But when I prayed to the Old Gods he appeared like magic and saved me!”

“Sofi, you should say things like that,” said an old man. “This village has lived in the light of the seven for centuries. Don’t let yourself fall into heresy after this tragedy.”

“What have the Seven ever done for us, Septon?” screeched Sofi, as she threw a rock at him.

“Get him!” yelled a man, as he threw a rock at the Septon.

Other villagers, joined in as they drove the old man out of the village.

As he ran into distance, Sofi turned to me.

“What else can we do you, my Lord?” she asked me.

“Help me carry him into the Sept,” I said, pointing at the Mountain.

After the villagers helped me carry him into the Sept and gave me some privacy, I began my interrogation.


The Gregor Clegane sat in the dark, tired to a chair. From out of the distance, came him brother, Sandor, holding a blazing torch. The light of it made Sandor’s scars, the ones that Gregor had given to you brother as a child by holding his face in the fire, more prominent.

“We always knew this moment would come,” said Sandor. “Now you’re going to tell me. The Martel bitch you raped, the one whose children you killed. Who gave you the order to do it?”

“Fuck you!” growled Gregor.

“Tell me, or I’ll make our faces match,” threatened Sandor, as he held the torch closer.

Gregor just spat it the torch.



Suddenly, Gregor found himself sitting on a horse, dressed in strange clothes, with a noose around his neck. The rope was tied to a tree branch overhead. Next to him, also on a horse, was a similarly dressed man with the head of a dog. Gregor didn’t have the background to understand that they were both dressed as cowboys.

“Alright ya mangy varmint, you’re gonna’ tell me who told you to rape and murder that Martell girl and her children, or I’m ‘a gonna’ hang you high from this here tree!” said the dog-man.

“Fuck you!” replied Gregor, defiantly.

The dog-man slapped his horse and his mount ran out from under him, leaving Gregor to slowly strangle. Gregor tensed the muscle of his neck, trying to keep from strangling. His heart beat became a rumble. The rumble grew louder until a herd of cow-like animals knocked down the tree holding him up and trampled him.


Suddenly, Gregor found himself naked kneeling on the floor of a lavishly decorated room. There was an enormous Dornish woman standing over him, a woman with an enormous hard cock standing at attention. The woman was as much larger than him as he was from most women.

“Ellia Martell,” announced the woman. “You raped her! You murdered her! You killed her children! Who gave you the order! Tell me or you are going to experience what she did.”

“NO! NO! I’LL TELL!” begged Gregor. “Tywin Lannister. He said things would better if someone took care of the King’s heirs!”

“He didn’t say: “Kill the Children?”” asked the woman.

“He didn’t have to!” said Gregor. “I knew what he meant!”

“And what about their mother?” asked the woman.

“She was there. She was good looking. And she wouldn’t stop squalling about the dead children!” admitted Gregor.

I had heard enough, I stopped my dance, and things returned to normal. Then a grabbed an axe and removed the Mountain’s head.



JOFFREY

Ever since I came up here, my supply of boiled water and been drastically curtailed. As a result, I spent a lot of time in the privy with the shits. Because of this, when some new recruits from the North went North of The Wall to take their oaths at a tree, I barely got a chance to hear about the dead rangers that had been found before I needed to rush back to the privy. That night, I had interrupted my sleep for yet another trip to the privy, when a commotion started. The sounds soon turned into a battle. By the time I made it into the practice yard, the battle had spilled out into there. Several men, including my father and Thorne were fighting the two dead rangers, whose eyes glowed with an unearthly blue glow. I had left my sword in the barracks, but I did have me dagger. It drew it and rushed up to join the battle. Before I could get close, dolorous Ed rushed up and struck the dead ranger with a blazing torch. The dead ranger collapsed as it was set a blaze. Seeing his success, Thorne grabbed a torch and lit the other one.

The next morning, Thorne gathered us all as we broke our fast to make an announcement.

“Some of you might have wondered what the excitement was last night,” began Thorne. “Apparently a couple of rangers went mad. They pretended to be asleep and we mistakenly thought they were dead. Once they gained excess to the castle, they killed the Lord Commander and ten of our Brothers before we took them down. With the Lord Commander Dead and Head Ranger missing, I, as the senior Ranger here and temporarily taking over as Lord Commander until we can hold elections.”

“What about the Blue Eyes,” asked Maester Aemon. “Several of our Brothers have told me stories of what they saw that match the descriptions of the Wights. we need to tell the rest of the 7 Kingdoms that the Others are back.”

“There is not such thing as the Wight Walkers,” “replied Thorne. “And you will not send any messages telling such fairy stories to the rest of the seven kingdoms. It is already hard enough to get supplies from the South.”


SAMWISE

In my attempts to bring the Fraternity to this new life had been hampered by my youthful age. And even the few men of good character I could persuade of the necessity of this endeavor had difficulty with the concepts of the equality of all men. I had endeavored to lead them by example during that first year of my reign as Worshipful Master, then stepped outside to take on the role of Tyler of the Lodge. Still, it some persuading to convince the Junior Warden, Toho Mott, that his young apprentice, Gendry Waters, was a worthy candidate for initiation into our Lodge. But now, the Stewarts had escorted him to the door, neither naked nor clothed, barefoot nor shod, hoodwinked, with a cable-tow tied around his arm. I gave the proper knock at the door to alert the Junior Deacon that a candidate was at the door.