Tinkering With Life (GoT SI)

Eddard Stark sat in his solar, using his hand to massage his forehead. Ever since a few years ago, the pile of paperwork he had to deal with had been increasing with no end in sight. Luwin was a great help, but there was only so much that the Maester could do.

He could curse El for being indirectly responsible, but he knew that the increase in his paperwork was a result of the prosperity of the people under his care.

However, the reason for his current headache was not the paperwork. It was the letter he had received from the Hand of the King, which painted a complicated picture of the events that had transpired in the capital.

Straight away the letter stated how El had dealt with the epidemic in just two days after he had arrived, which, while a little surprising, had been expected. But what shocked him was the fact that he had also dealt with the smell of shit that had been plaguing the city for centuries, mostly as an afterthought because he didn't want to deal with the smell for his stay in the capital.

Normally, he would have been skeptical about the claims made by his foster father, but he had been dealing with El's bullshit for a few years, so it was not outside the realm of possibility.

If the two feats of magic were not enough, El had decided to reveal that it was not just healing that he was capable of by unleashing a terrifying display that left the entire city in shock.

No one knew for sure what he had done, but those who had been near him when he used his power felt as though the Stranger was standing in front of them, ready to end their existence at the slightest twitch.

While the effect was not as pronounced in those who were further away, everyone in the city had felt the wrongness of the situation and knew that he was the cause of it.

Ned had always known that El was capable of much more than he had shown, but he didn't worry too much because observing him had given him a good read of his character. Even though El enjoyed messing with people who annoyed him, he never acted without reason. Jon's letter had clearly stated that El had been acting in self-defense against the septons who had threatened to burn him on the pyre that he had built to cure the city.

While Ned was sure that El had never been in any danger in the first place, as he would have never let him go to King's Landing alone, he believed that El was completely within his rights to deal with the situation as he saw fit.

But this also meant that he was going to be swamped with even more letters asking for information or requesting him to deal with the situation, as well as surprise visits from lords and heirs from different realms who normally didn't care about anything that happened above the Neck.

In his interactions with El over the past few years, Ned's instincts told him that while El had initially stayed in Winterfell for safety and to gain power, he had now reached a point where if Ned gave him orders he didn't agree with, he would lose any goodwill towards him. However, Ned was certain that El genuinely enjoyed living in Winterfell and would defend it with all his powers if the situation called for it, even if he wasn't sure El would follow his orders and fight for him in a war. This was enough for Ned to realize that he should not jeopardize their good relationship.

Jon had also informed him about the reward that El had asked for, and although it was slightly confusing, it was consistent with what he knew about him. It wouldn't be difficult to fulfill the request as he was already considering granting him lands in exchange for the glass recipe. However, El's request for an uninhabited forest was oddly fitting.

He was also fairly certain which particular forest El had his eyes on - a dense forest located in the heart of the northern mountains that he had visited before. It was situated north of the wolfswood, and for some reason, El seemed to enjoy visiting it. The reason for his fascination with the forest was unclear to him.

His thoughts are cut off as he hears frantic knocking, followed by Cat barging into his solar with a worried look on her face.

"Ned, have you heard what the sorcerer has done in the capital?" Before Ned got a chance to respond, she continued.

"He attacked the Sept of Baelor and would have killed the High Septon and all the faithful within the sept if the king had not stopped him!."

Ned just looks at her in confusion, and she just continues. "I had warned you about him, Ned. I knew that anyone capable of doing such unnatural things would be up to no good, and now the King is going to demand answers from you, and we will be dragged into this mess." She just keeps muttering nonsense about how everyone was going to go to war with the North now for the mage's actions.

He finally has enough. "Stop."

He doesn't yell at her but says it in a firm enough voice that it makes her shut up.

"Now, who told you about what happened in the capital?"

She looks confused but answers, "A childhood friend of mine who is currently the Master of Coin in King's Landing named Petyr Baelish."

"And what exactly has he told you?" he asks, extremely suspicious of this Petyr Baelish already.

"He told me that the mage threatened to destroy the Sept and kill everyone after the High Septon protested about his use of magic on the city."

"That sounds like an interesting tale, if not for one slight problem."

"What?"

"I'm currently reading a letter written by the Hand of the King, who tells me quite a different story about what happened." He said in a firm tone.

"Yes, according to Jon Arryn, while El was in the middle of curing the city from the epidemic, the High Septon and the mob he had gathered tried to burn him on the pyre El had set up to heal the city. Then he defended himself without physically harming anyone."

She looked more confused and a bit worried, but he continued.

"I don't know about you, Cat, but I am more inclined to believe the words of the Hand of the King and my foster father than your friend."

"So either your friend is not as well-informed as you would like to believe, or he's trying to manipulate you for whatever reason."

Cat looked shocked and did not seem to believe what he was saying, but he had to put his foot down. He had assumed that after Bran got healed, Cat's behavior towards El would have improved. And even though it had for some time, it took the smallest push in the wrong direction for her to forget all rationality and go back to how she used to act the first time he had explained the situation to her.

And now, more than ever, it was important that she didn't do anything rash to destroy the goodwill El had for Winterfell, especially after the entire realm was now aware that he was barely showing what he was capable of. He had to make sure that Cat understood what was at stake.

"Listen to me, Cat. I'm not going to say this again. El has been a blessing from the Old Gods to the North ever since he came here. The people have more food and are not afraid of disease or injuries, so if every time you hear something negative about him that you believe, which sets you off to say or do something you regret, it will cost us a lot of goodwill that has taken years to build up. I can't let that happen."

He pauses for a moment to let his words sink in before continuing. "I understand that you're worried about the mage's power and what he could do, but we have seen firsthand the good that he can bring. He is not an enemy, but an ally, and we need to treat him as such. I need you to trust me on this, Cat."

She looks at him, still unsure, but he can see that his words are reaching her. "I'll try, Ned," she finally says. "But it's hard to ignore what he's capable of."

"I know," he says, "but we need to look at the bigger picture. The North needs all the help it can get, and El has proven that he can provide that help. We can't afford to lose him."

She nods, seeming to understand. "I'll do my best, Ned. I won't let my personal feelings get in the way of what's best for the North."

"Good," he says, relieved. "Now, What else has Baelish been telling you?"

----------

After spending a day riding into the Riverlands, I had become lost in the treeline. Though I had sent my faithful companion, Fenrir, off to hunt, I had ventured out to gather some firewood and was unable to find my way back to the clearing I had first chosen. With a resigned sigh, I dropped the firewood and started a fire. While I didn't really need the fire for warmth or light, I found comfort in watching the dancing flames and cooking whatever Fenrir could catch for dinner.

As I sat there, missing the forms of entertainment I had in my past life, I heard a sound approaching me from the trees. To my surprise, it was a massive bear charging towards me. However, I didn't feel any fear and didn't bother to get up. Instead, I stopped the bear's charge with just an outstretched arm, which barely even twitched.

After the bear had been stopped in its tracks, I decided to put it to sleep rather than kill it since I wasn't particularly hungry at the moment. However, I had been curious about whether I could create a magic heart in a live animal, so I used this opportunity to test my abilities.

After spending an hour working on the bear, I finally managed to begin creating the magic heart. I made good progress for the next hour until I suddenly felt something go terribly wrong. Before I could even begin to understand the problem or figure out how to fix it, the entire bear exploded in a horrific shower of gore and blood.

Looking down at the gore on my skin and the blood on my clothes, I let out a sigh of frustration. While I could easily clean myself, the blood on my clothes was going to be a pain to get out. The worst part was that I had no idea what had gone wrong to elicit such an explosive reaction.

Just as I was about to go look for a place to clean my clothes, I saw Fenrir approaching me with another bear in tow. He looked up at me with a tilted head, seemingly curious about my new look.

"I didn't do it on purpose. It was an accident," I tried to justify myself to my direwolf.

Fenrir continued to look at me with a judgmental expression, and I sighed in defeat.