FicWad

JON

King Robert was sitting on a log next to my father in front of a campfire.

“I tell you Ned, this siege is going to drive me crazy! Why can’t we just storm the Golden Tooth? I just want to hit something!” growled the King.

“You know we can’t do that your Grace,” sighed my father. “It’s just what Tywin wants. At least wait until my son Rob gets here with the Northern Army.”

“I suppose you’re right,” grumbled the King, before he spotted a bard. “Hey! You! Bring your banjar over here and play me a song!”

“Yes, your Grace!” said the bard as he ran over with an instrument that looked like a lute and drum had a baby. I had seen these around Fleabottom. They are used to play a rhythmic sound. To my surprise he played it more like a lute, picking individual strings with his fingers as he sang: “There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed . . .”

What followed was one of the most moving songs I had ever heard. I could tell that my father, and even the King were just as moved as me.

“That sounds like something Joffrey might sing,” mused the King.

“Actually, your Grace, it did come from the former prince,” replied the Bard. He sang it in Moles Town, and a bard who heard it taught it to someone who taught it to someone who taught it to me.”

“So Joff’s still playing music?” asked the King. “That’s good to hear. I hated sending him and Tommen to The Wall. But at least Myrcella is safe at Winterfell. And where did you learn to play banjar like that?”

“I used to play harp,” replied the Bard. “But I wanted to play in Lord Edmure’s band, so I switched to banjo.”

“You were in Lord Edmure’s Riverland Jass band?” asked the King. “Tell you what, come the morning, I’ll send you to King’s Landing with a letter. I want you to gather up Joffrey’s band and turn them into a Jass band. I’ll spare no expense!”

“Your Grace, are you certain the realm can afford the expense?” chided my father.

“Nonsense, the realm needs some happy music to cheer us up from all this shit,” replied the King. “Look! even those Dire Wolves of yours were enjoying the music!”


I woke up with a pounding headache. I’m grateful for the first hand view that warging gives me. But Sith does it hurt to do magic. I don’t know how Bran and Edric can stand it! As I roused myself out of bed, I was glad I had servants to help me bathe and dress. I stumbled down to the King’s private dinning hall and sat down across from Shireen.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I had a dream last night that I was seeing through Ghost’s eyes,” I grumbled as I tried to sip my hot water. Former Prince Joffrey had gotten the servants in the habit of preparing it every day. I was grateful that I didn’t have to drink wine like everyone else. Unboiled water is dangerous here!

“Oh! You were doing magic!” exclaimed Shireen. “That’s fantastic! But why does magic make you feel bad?”

“Magic and the Force are not compatible,” I replied. “I am so strong in the Force that Magic causes me pain.”

“Do you think you could teach me magic or the Force?” asked Shireen.

“You have to be born with magic or you can’t do it,” I explained. “Because I and all my siblings have it, there is a good chance that our children will have it. But they will probably have as much trouble with it as I do because I am certain our children will be strong in the Force, like me. If you really want to learn magic, we can ask your cousin, Edric Storm to test you. He seems to the best at magic I have met. And his magic seems less dark than Red Missy’s magic. But If you want to learn the ways of the Force, I can teach you to meditate and a little of bit of fighting.”

“Can I ask you a question?” asked Shireen “Why don’t my scars scare you?”

“Do you remember before you were born?” I asked her.

“No, the earliest things I can remember are from when I was two,” replied Shireen.

“Well, I remember another life before this one,” I told her. “I lived in a world very different than this one. At one point in my life I was burned very badly. I had scars much worse than yours. I spent the rest of my life hiding behind a mask. But in the end I took off the mask so my son could see my face before I died. He was powerful in the Force, like me. This is why I am sure our children will be. Your scars are not so bad. Compared to me in that other life, you are pretty. Shireen the Beautiful!”

She closed her eyes and leaned into my hand as I cupped her scarred cheek. Glancing at her father, I could see Prince Stanis was have trouble deciding whether to smile or frown at me.


TRISTANE

I had been hanging around King’s Landing for weeks now, playing superhero, stopping the occasional rape or murder. But I didn’t lift a finger to stop thieves. I’m a trickster myself and often raise a little cash by using my powers to cheat at gambling. People were starting to call me the Animal Man. And I kept finding myself drawn to Fleabottom, because that was where the crime was. I had seen the green woman a few times. But I avoided her because I didn’t really have a reason to fight her. I didn’t have a problem with her taking over all the gambling and brothels in Kings landing. And she didn’t pursue when I used my powers to cheat her gambling dens, because I used most of my winnings to rent her whores. But although there was a certain amount of fun to be hand in all this, I really wanted a conspiracy to dig my teeth into. Finally, I found one in the disowned son of a Reacher Lord. He kept using aliases that were familiar to me from american history. He was an inventor, newspaperman, industrialist, there seemed no end to the things we was involved in. But as I followed him around wearing various faces, I noticed he had gathered certain people together. At first, it was ordinary people from Fleabottom, like a swordsmith and his apprentice. After them, Ser Davos was not too unusual. He was originally from Fleabottom before he became a nobleman. But then, he brought in the Crown Prince. And from what I overheard at the cafe, they were planning to invite the King’s brother to join their conspiracy. Could this Sam Tarley be a Shadow Cabinet operative from my own world who is trying to recreate their cabal in this world? It would explain all the advanced tech he keeps coming up with. My Summer Islander guise sticks out too much so now I am walking the streets in a Northern looking face. Suddenly, I saw a large group of armored men wearing yellow cloaks come charging around the corner. I could tell at a glance that they were here to crack heads.


EDRIC

Margeary and I were in the Godswood, teaching Bran about plants. Her from a scientific point of view, and I from a magical herbology point of view. Bran was not paying attention very well. He regarded the subject as a small-folk thing. He kept warging into animals somewhere in Kings landing whenever he thought we were’t looking. I could tell because, when I would turn away to point something out, when I turned back to him I would a glimpse of the whites of his eyes. But it was too brief to be sure I had really seen it. But then, his eyes turned white and stayed that way, as a shocked expression appeared on his face.

“Pay attention Bran!” I scolded.

“The Gold Cloaks . . . .” said Bran, as his white eyes starting flickering rapidly. “ . . . They are attacking the people!”

“Which people? Which Gold Cloaks?” asked Margaery.

“All of them . . .” replied Bran. “All the Gold Cloaks in the city are attacking them!”

“Where is this happening?” I asked.

“Fleabottom . . .” replied Bran.

“We need to save them!” proclaimed Margeary. “We need to get there immediately!”

“Leave that to me!” I replied before apparating to my room to fetch my broom. When I returned, Margeary was stripping out of her dress. Bran was covering his face in embarrassment, so he wouldn’t see her. I didn’t make any effort to avert my gaze. And she must have caught me peeping, because she winked at me before turning green and sticking leaves to her body in a makeshift costume. I straddled my broom and told her: “Hop on!”

“Not you Bran,” I said as Margeary climbed on behind me pressing her nearly naked body close to mine. “I’m not sure I can control this thing with two of us. I’m certain I can’t control the broom with three of us.”

Bran frowned before nodding and sitting on the ground, learning back against the weirwood tree. His eyes remained wargy white.

Margeary screamed and pulled me against her tightly as we rocketed into the air. With two of us, I was flying even more erratically that usual. Once she was over the initial shock, Margeary went silent. As we got closer to Fleabottom, I saw that the trees, all of which had grown in recent months, were moving, flailing about to help the small folk fight their assailants. As we passed over a tree, Margeary let go and fell off the broom. I looked behind me as I desperately tried to turn my broom around and save her from the fall. (I miss having a professionally made broom) But I saw that she had caught a branch, spun around it like a gymnast, then landed with her feet on the ground and her arms in the air, just like an olympic gymnast would.

Now that she was on the ground, she began dancing and gesturing like a conductor with a symphony and the plants around her responded by growing and moving to entangle the Gold Cloaks that were in the area. I landed on a rooftop and began guarding her back, casting stunners at the few that she had managed to miss. Down the street, I could see a man dressed in furs with face and body paint fighting a group of Gold Cloaks. For some reason, he kept turning invisible repeatedly. He was a wizard! Once Margeary and I had immobilized or stunned all of the Gold Cloaks that were near her, she grabbed one of the entangled, but still conscious ones that was near her and pulled him into a kiss. She then, held his face close to hers as they spoke for a moment, before turning to me.

“We need to get to the Street of Silk,” yelled Margaery.

I flew down to her so she could re-mount my broom. As we flew away, I could hear the unmistakable sound of gunfire, as multiple guns were fired all at once.


MARGEARY

I held onto Edric tightly, as we flew erratically through the air. The experience of riding a flying broom as it bucked and twisted, felt similar to riding a mechanical bull in a western bar. Pulled myself close against Edric and held on for dear life. His powers were fascinating. Our destination was a certain brothel, the only one that had no houseplants inside it. Even the trees and bushes I had grown near it had all been cut down. But there was no need to indicate our destination to Edric. The place was surrounded by a cloud of pigeons and songbirds of various sorts. It must be Bran’s doing. The look of shock on Lord Baelish’s face as we crashed through the glass of his window was priceless. Edric waved his wand, and ropes shot out of it to immobilize Lord Baelish. The birds had followed us in to attack Baelish’s two bodyguards until they fled the room. I hopped off the broom and pulled Baelish into a kiss. his eyes dialated as my plant-based lipstick took affect on him.

“And I think this brings our little gang-war to a close,” I said. “I will have to de-brief you later. For now, call off your Gold Cloaks.”

“Yes, my Lady,” replied the entranced Master of Coin.

“Until his orders have taken affect, we need to get back to Fleabottom and protect the people,” I told Edric, who put away his wand and straddled his broom. I climbed behind him and held on tight so I might survive the return trip. But before we took off I turned to one of the birds and said: “Bran, see if you can distract some of the Gold Cloaks in Fleabottom.”

As we flew back towards Fleabottom I heard the sound of gunshots being fired for a second time. Whoever it was, they were in Fleabottom. I closed my eyes and concentrated on making the plants of Fleabottom entangle anyone who came near them. When I got closer, I could sort out who to release and who to keep in restraints. When we arrived, I once again leaped from the broom and used the branches of one of my trees to turn a fall into a controlled landing. We had landed near King’s Landing’s first superhero. I had seen him from a distance a few times, but only once before this close. But he is a master of disguise. So there is no telling how many times I have unknowingly come across him. He does some sort of martial art, but he has an odd fighting style. It looks sort of like dancing as he punches and kicks and sometimes rips the throat out of an opponent. And he keeps turning invisible and back again. No, scratch that, even if he were invisible, that sword would have cut him. He must be passing in and out of another dimension. But apparently he can still see into this one while he is gone. His costume is a mixture of furs, body and face paint and the style of it looks sort of Native American Indian to me. Between, the three of us, we quickly subdue all of the Gold Cloaks in the area. But then another group of them come around the corner towards us. They appear to be fleeing something. Their pursuers soon follow, a group of men armed with old fashioned muskets, complete with bayonets are chasing them!


SAM

I had barely begun arranging the letters for the next edition of the King’s Gazette, when a young dyer’s apprentice came bursting in. The young man was well know to me as not only was he a brother mason, he as also a member of both the fire brigade and the minutemen.

“The Gold Cloaks!” exclaimed Lomy Greenhands. “The Gold Cloaks are attacking Fleabottom!”

“Then we must make haste to the armory,” I replied as I led him out the door. We ran with great haste to the armory. After I had unlocked the door, Lomy and I retrieved our long riffles and the bell, which I rang with alacrity. This is what the minutemen had been training for and when they heard the sound of the alarm bell, they streamed out of their homes and businesses so that we may all fight to our mutual aid. Gendry and Hot Pie were the first to arrive. Once we had all retrieved our weapons, we assembled in a line. There were not yet enough of us to form multiple lines to assure a continuous rate of fire. We let fleeing people stream past us as we prepared to fire. Presently, the source of the peoples’ fear arrived, a group of armed men wearing yellow cloaks. Their weapons were draw and they were striding purposely towards.

“Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes, men. Ready? Aim? FIRE!”

The survivors of our initial volley fled the other way. But I could hear the sounds of the sacking of Fleabottom going on in the nearby avenues. I directed my militia to reload, hoping we could complete the task before the next squad arrived. Provenience seemed to smile on us as we had just completed our re-load when an even larger group of the City Guard arrived to assail us. After we fired another volley, the survivors seemed uncertain about what to do.

“FIX BAYONETS!” I shouted, as my men pulled out their melee’ weapons and affixed them to the barrels of their long riffles. “CHARGE!”

That seemed enough to persuade the rascals. They fled before us as we pursued them through the City streets. Turning the corner, we came across another group of the enemy that had all been defeated. Some of them were entangled in vines. Standing over them were a young boy with a stick in one hand and a broom in the other and two people I had heard of, but never met.

“You must be Animal Man and Plant Woman!” I exclaimed. “I am a reporter for King’s Gazette, can you shed any light on what occurred here?”

“No comment,” replied Animal Man, as Plant Woman turned away. I surmise that she must be someone known to me as she is going to considerable effort to conceal her face from me. She pulled Animal Man into a hug and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, before pulling away from her, dancing a little jig and then vanishing.

“Can you teleport us out of here?” Plant Woman asked the boy.

“You would find it more uncomfortable than flying,” replied the boy with the stick and broom. “Side-along apparition is really uncomfortable, especially the first time.”

“Fine, just get us out of here,” commanded Plant Woman to her sidekick.

The stick disappeared from the boy’s hand as he straddled the broom. Plant Woman climbed behind them and they soared into the air! Judging from their tragetery, I surmise their destination is in the vicinity of the Red Keep.


TORMUND

We had sailed several days before coming to a larger settlement that we had ever seen before. The city was dominated by a castle.

“There it is, Kings Landing,” reported Captain Saan.

“What did he say?” asked Ygette, who did not have my Power translating languages for her.

“He says this is where the King of the Kneelers live,” I replied.

“Huh! I somehow though it would be bigger,” mused Ygrette.

“Me too,” I agree. But what more could I expect from such a primitive world?

Captain Saan sailed his ship up to the docks but didn’t tie it off.

“Alright, Wilding, I got you to King’s Landing,” said Captain Sann. “Now get your dead people off of my ship!”

We hopped to the dock, myself, Toreg, Ygrette and Wun-Wun with the Wights strapped to his back. As soon as we were off the ship, it started sailing away. People screamed and pointed at the sight of us. Some men in armor came running up. On their shields was a picture of a mermaid.

“It’s a Giant!” exclaimed one of the soldiers. “A REAL GIANT”

“What do you want Wilding?” demanded a more level headed soldier.

“We came to see the King of the kneelers,” I explained.

“Well you came to the wrong place,” replied the soldier. “This is White Harbor, not King’s Landing. Besides, the King isn’t there either. He’s off fighting the war in the Westlands. What would a wilding like you want with our King anyway?”

I motioned for Wun-Wun to turn around so they could see the Wights.

“We wanted to show these to him,” I explained.

The knight went pale and stammered: “I-, I-, I th-think you need to show this to Lord Manderly.


JOFFREY

“Tommen! What brings you up here?” I asked as I turned away from the darkness that was beyond the wall. After Lord Commander Thorne heard about the Ironborn attack, he had put me on Nightwatch on top of the wall for a week.

“I just got a raven,” explained Tommen. “I haven’t even read it to Maester Aemon yet. The Ironborn attacked Winterfell too. And they have taken Mycella!”

“And we’re stuck up here, unable to go rescue her . . .” I groused.

“And it’s all the Kingslayer’s fault!” yelled Tomen. “If he hadn’t betrayed the King-”

“We wouldn’t exist,” I finished for him. “How long are you going to hold this grudge against our father?”

“FOREVER!” screamed Tommen. “He made our life hell! Because of him we are stuck up here with nothing to live for! You know I should just jump off this wall right now and end my misery!”

I grabbed him as he stepped near the edge and he started wrestling me.

“Let me go! Let me go! I want to die!” screamed Tommen as I wrestled him over to the elevator and pulled the lever to signal we need to go down. He stopped fighting me about halfway down. I would have to speak to the Lord Commander and make certain Tommen wasn’t allowed on top of The Wall for a while.






NOTE

Tommen is Maester Aemon's steward. He helps wrangle the Ravens for him. So he was not in the fighting against the wights. Joffrey was Mormont's Steward, but was on the privy when the Wights attacked. So now he's Thorne's steward. Tommen is still holding a grudge and thus, would not go see Joffrey play on the same night Jamie does.

All of these SIs are overpowered. But in the cases of Edmure and Joffrey, they are culturally over powered. Edmure was around long enough to change Westeros forever. But no matter how much he trained, he could never be a match for the Mountain. It is only luck that has allowed Joffrey to survive Westeros this long.