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TWL Chapter - 67
🕑 Added 2025-01-28 00:06:18 +0000 UTCNed slumped in his chair, the weight of recent news pressing down on him like a physical burden. Just when he thought he had enough on his plate managing the growing influence of Winterfell, a raven's message had shattered any hope of peace.
Jon Arryn was dead. The man who had been his foster father, was gone. And now Robert, in what passed for wisdom these days, had decided to drag half the kingdom north.
He knew exactly why. The position of Hand of the King would be offered, and Robert wouldn't take no for an answer. But with everything happening in the North - the growing tensions, El's warnings about the Others, the constant flow of nobles and merchants - Ned couldn't afford to get entangled in southern politics.
He rubbed his temples, trying to ward off an approaching headache. The king's entire family would be coming too, which meant the nobles currently in Winterfell would likely extend their stays. More complications, more schemes, more-
A soft knock interrupted his brooding.
"Psst, it's me, El." The familiar voice made Ned's shoulders relax slightly.
"Come in," he sighed, wondering what new chaos the mage would bring.
“Why are you sneaking around?”
El slipped in like a shadow, his usual pristine white coat looking surprisingly weathered. "Nobody knows I'm back yet," he said without preamble. "And I'd like to keep it that way for a few days. Got something important to handle first."
"You're back early," Ned observed, studying El's unusually serious expression.
"Yeah, about that..." El's usual light tone faltered. "I don't really come with good news."
"The Others?"
"Very real. And far worse than I imagined." El ran a hand through his hair, a rare display of genuine agitation. "I nearly died out there. If not for a series of incredibly lucky circumstances..." He trailed off, leaving the implications hanging in the air.
Ned felt ice settle in his stomach. He'd never seen El rattled like this before.
"I couldn't get any physical proof, but Benjen was there. He saw everything."
"Benjen?" Ned's eyebrows shot up. "You took him beyond the Wall?"
"Needed a guide," El shrugged, but the gesture lacked its usual nonchalance. "He's fine - shaken, but alive. Left him at Castle Black to report what we witnessed. His word should carry more weight than mine alone."
El began pacing, "We need to fortify the Wall, Ned. And not just with criminals. The abandoned castles need to be restored, properly manned." He paused, fixing Ned with an intense stare. "And then there's the wildlings."
"The wildlings?"
"Thousands of them, all perfectly good recruits for the Night King's army if we leave them out there. We need to get them south of the Wall."
Ned felt a headache building behind his eyes. The political nightmare of such a suggestion alone...
"I know it's a lot," El said softly, reading his expression. "I bought us some time, but..." He trailed off, something dark flickering across his face. "I'm not sure how much."
"Now, what's been happening here? You look like you've aged a decade since I left."
"Jon Arryn is dead," Ned said heavily. "And the king rides for Winterfell."
El went very still. "How did he die?"
"A fever, they say. At his age..."
"Wonderful timing," El muttered darkly. "Let me guess - Robert's coming to offer you the Hand's position?"
"Aye."
"You can't accept," El said flatly. "Not with what's coming."
"I know." Ned leaned forward, fixing El with a steady gaze. "There's something else, isn't there?"
El seemed to wage an internal battle before speaking. "Ned... have you ever felt like I know certain things I shouldn't?"
"... The thought has crossed my mind."
"It's because I do. I've seen... a possible future, one where I don't exist. And in them..." El took a deep breath. "Your children play crucial roles in what's coming. But they need to be prepared. Trained."
"What exactly are you saying?"
"I know about Jon," El said quietly. "About his parents."
Ned's blood ran cold. Before he could respond, El raised a hand.
"Not that I really care," he said, a sardonic edge lacing his words. "I'm only telling you this so you believe me. There is some sort of prophecy at play, and I'm not arrogant enough to dismiss it anymore."
His eyes took on a distant cast as he continued, "What I'm trying to say is that I have seen a version of the future, and it does not end well for you or most of your children. But they do play an integral part in the defeat of the Night King."
A shadow of something ancient and terrible crossed his face. "Most of them die, and the ones that live go through horrible things that I wouldn't wish on my enemies. And it all starts with you going to King's Landing."
"Now, all of this was based on what I had seen in my vision. A vision where I didn't exist.”
His voice dropped to a whisper, each word carrying the weight of impending doom. "But what I saw out there was a lot more terrifying than anything I have seen in my visions."
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I left the castle after explaining certain parts of what I had remembered to Ned enough to make him believe I wasn't spouting nonsense, though I was slightly distracted. Something didn't make sense. Jon Arryn was killed by Baelish, but Baelish was no longer in the capital due to my interference.
Did Cersei kill him because he discovered her infidelity?
Oh... oh fuck no. It was never Petyr directly killing him—it was Lysa. Shit. I had thought that with Baelish on the run, Jon Arryn would survive.
When I left for the Wall, the news hadn't reached me. I believed I had interfered enough in King's Landing to prevent his death, but it seems I had merely delayed the inevitable.
I should have expected this, but there was no time to dwell on it. I could trust Ned to handle things; for now, I had something more pressing to work on. A rough idea had formed in my head—one that could help me tremendously if I could figure it out.
Runes were rapidly becoming my favorite branch of magic for their sheer versatility. My fingers traced the intricate patterns with practiced precision as I constructed the first half of what I needed—a spell to generate an accurate map of the world. The existing cartography couldn't be trusted, not for what I had planned.
The first part was elegantly simple: a pulse of magic with a singular purpose. Wherever significant bodies of water met land, it would draw a scaled-down version of the coastline.
I was quite happy watching the lines appear on my version of the painted table.
Sadly though, the spell's reach was limited. It dissipated somewhere halfway across Essos, and in certain locations—particularly at the Wall and Valyria—it fizzled out much earlier, as if encountering heavy interference, but that was to be expected, I guess.
With my magically accurate map of half of this world's terrain complete, I compared it to the hand-drawn version I had and roughly estimated the location of all major coastal cities.
Then came the real challenge: the teleportation spell. My initial construct was crude and unstable—if it had worked, it would have transported objects in pieces, which was less than ideal. However, it had helped Vaylara finally understand what I was trying to do, and with her help, we developed a rudimentary working version. Still, it remained highly inefficient with an impractically long channeling time for combat use.
It was also loud and flashy. I could teleport anywhere on the map from my underground base; however, I could only teleport back to my base. It was highly inefficient, but it worked. I could now teleport, which meant no more long, boring flights from one place to another.
Okay, why did I want portals again? Oh right, I needed to go get Daenerys and convince her that—
Wait, where exactly was she again?
"Shit, Braavos or Pentos? I always get them confused."
After racking my brain for a good five minutes, I was 95% sure she was in Pentos. I hoped I was right.
I looked around the room that I had set up for this purpose. The entire floor was covered in runes, and at the center of the room was a stone table containing the most accurate map of Westeros—well, part of it anyway.
I glanced at the other hand-drawn map that I had bought from someone in King’s Landing and took one of the target pins, stabbing it at the location closest to where I guessed Pentos would be.
“Wish me luck," I said to Vaylara, knowing she couldn't accompany me as someone needed to be here to facilitate my return jump.
Her spectral form flickered with concern. "Are you sure we don't have time to test this properly?"
"This is the test run," I replied with a grin, earning an exasperated eye roll.
"You still haven't told me why you need to reach Pentos in such a rush," she pressed, arms crossed in that particular way that suggested she already knew she wouldn't like the answer.
"Let's just call it insurance," I said, checking the rune alignments one final time. "And helping a girl avoid a tragic fate."
"I should be back by tomorrow," I added, "day after at the latest, in case I get slightly... distracted."
Vaylara sighed, the sound carrying centuries of resigned experience. "Please don't do anything stupid."
"Relax," I assured her, already channeling power into the array. "I've learned my lesson. Bye!"
It took a full minute before it was stable enough to activate, and with the sound of thunder, I was somewhere else.
It took me a moment to orient myself before I realized I was falling, and that wasn't really a surprise as I had been expecting it. I let my wings unfurl and checked to see if all of me had arrived in one piece before scanning my surroundings.
I was flying above a coastline, but it was quite barren below me. However, I could see a city in the distance; it wouldn't take more than a few minutes of flying to get there.
So, I set off towards Pentoss. As I contemplated how exactly I was going to find the cheesemonger's house, I noticed that the city appeared to be under attack.
No wait, upon closer look there was definitely an army at the gates, but it was not attacking. As I flew closer, I realized that it was an army, just not the kind I was used to.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I muttered, adjusting my trajectory for a better view.
There, in the center of the gathering, was unmistakably a wedding ceremony in progress. My timing wasn't just good - it was almost suspiciously perfect. I had to stifle a laugh at the irony of it all.
"Well, there goes my plan of a quiet midnight extraction," I mused, circling high above the proceedings like a vulture.
"Right then," I whispered to myself, analyzing the crowd. "How does one kidnap a princess from her own wedding without starting an international incident?"
