'Tis Magic That Hath Ravaged Me - Chapter 6 - Deathstorm50 - A Song of Ice and Fire (2024)

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul,

-Invictus,

William Ernest Henley

Chapter 5: Invictus

"How- Wha- Why-What the-"

To say the pair of them were surprised by my presence would be an understatement. They were positivelybaffledby my sudden appearance, and it took a minute for them to regain their composure. Their first questions differed slightly, however.

"How on earth are youdoingthat!?" Was Maester Luwin's concern, gesturing to the green orb my chair was innocently hovering over. Robb, however…

"What in the world are youwearing?" Ah, my clothes were still ragged from my transformation. Seems the Mist clouds their eyes just enough to-

"I know for a fact none of us have clothes so…" Robb seemed at a loss for words, which I found odd. Shabby dress is odd for lordlings, but not so much they could not be spoken of, Confused I look down to my ragged tunic and-

What in the world am Iwearing?

My taloned feet were clad in the most normal-looking garment I'd been unwittingly dressed in, they were a simple pair of sandals, though rather brightly colored in a blinding green and lacking most of the securing straps, leaving the sole to flop about my claws by the two loops about them. Memories of psychic training brought up a name for these, but I refused to acknowledge it.

Going from the bottom up, my legs were clad in strange pants that only traveled down to my knees. It was startlingly bland among the riot of colors the rest of my outfit presented, being only slightly darker than skin, but containing enough pockets to make a rogue out of me. 'Cargo shorts' my memories said, and I admit the name is apropos.

My tunic was especially strange, short for a tunic but not quite a shirt, covering half the length of the shirts. It was not nearly as well fitted as tailored clothes, but it fit well enough, and was the dark green of forest undergrowth. The true strangeness of it was the fact that someone had mistaken my garments for canvases and had painted a scene across the breath of my chest. The moon centered prominently, looking down upon a misty forest vale. A weirwood stands below the moon, nearly a caricature of reality, surrounded by a wolf, hound, and a very large crow.

These 'T-shirts' come from a very strange land indeed, for people to wear paintings as clothes. Absentmindedly adjusting the collar, my hands brushed upon a very plush fabric. Feeling around, I grabbed the thing which had been around my neck and brought it around to look at.

It was a wolf, or a child's stuffed wolf toy. The paws had been wrapped about me in the manner of a wolf-skin mantle. The sight of it brought a comfort from the newest part of myself. I considered throwing it away for that alone, but something in meachedso at the thought, I simply placed it back on my lap. The 'plushie' could stay, but I will not disgrace myself with such a childish display.

Robb was looking even more bewildered seeing me examine myself. I doubt he would believe they simply appeared without warning, save that they absolutely did..

"I'm not quite sure myself, frankly." I told him, honestly. To the maester, I was a bit more flippant. "And I'm floating by the power of my mind, I learned how to do so half a bell ago."

These answers did not satisfy them, but before they could demand more, I raised my hand to stop them.

"I know, I know, things are quite strange, but as I said, I heard everything. And it's cleared a few things upsignificantly, I think." The Trauma glanced off my mind this time, eliciting a twinge of easily ignored discomfort.

I leveled my gaze at Luwin, as serious as I could be in this mummer's garb. "I should like to see this grimoire for myself, maester."

"Your mother won't be happy." he said.

"She seemed plenty unhappy already, what's one more thing?" I replied. "Besides, I am awitchnow; I'm fairly certain her faith conflicts with my general existence now, I'm fairly certain that will take precedence." Robb frowned, but said nothing. Her earlier display was still ringing clearly in both our ears.

"Speaking of," The maester said, a boundless curiosity dancing in his eyes. "Howareyou doing that, truly?"

"Take me to this mysterious tome," I smiled, "And I believe these twisted mysteries shall begin to untangle themselves." His eyes grew wide, understanding dawning.

"Well, let's be off then, shall we!?" He scurried along at his fastest pace westward, towards his turret study. Robb, Summer, and I followed behind.

"Bran, I…" Robb started, then sighed. "I'm not sure what all this is, or why it's happening. You are mybrother, and I will always stand by you, no matter how strangely you move about. But… Iamworried for you. This is too much for a lad your age to deal with, and-" I snorted. There's not much point anymore to keeping up the illusion of youth.

"I am hardly as young as I appear, brother. And," I said, noticing his worried face, "I am most certainlynotpossessed , if that's what you were thinking." Probably.

He just looked more confused. "What could you possibly mean, then? I've known you all seven years you've lived!"

"The first seven, aye," I nodded, "But you're missing some several-odd decades of context, unfortunately." He boggled at me.

"What?"

"I mean what I say, Robb: That I have lived a great deal longer than what my body shows, and know a fair bit of what is to come. Or, whatwasto come, at any rate." I glared up at the throbbing Trauma grimacing across the sky. "That's certainlynew."

"You mean to say, you'vecomefrom thefuture!?" I nodded, and Robb leveled an incredulous gaze at me. "How is thatpossible!? Is the future not unwritten!?"

"Becalm yourself, Robb. The future is ever undetermined, as I discovered at great personal cost. Yet I am glad for it all the same, for the cost of treading the path laid for me was… too high to bear." His eyes softened, hearing the bleakness in my tone.

"What happened, or what will happen?" He shook his head, "Rather, what was… going to happen?" He sighed and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Are you alright?"

I smiled weakly at him. "It's been a rough time and no mistake, but I'm as sound as I've ever been. Do not worry overmuch on my behalf, Robb. Just…" My eyes hardened at the memory of a tragic wedding. "Donottrust the Freys."

"Come, come, we've arrived!" The maester called before Robb could respond. He was gesturing us to follow through the door leading to his turret study; without significantly exerting myself I hadn't even realized we'd reached the western wall.

An idea crossed my mind, and the eyes of a kind woman from another life, and I thought of a way to try and alleviate the dreariness of that conversation, if only slightly. I looked up at where his window, some hundred and fifty feet off the ground, was secured only by shutters, and grinned. A child had the right to act slightly childish, no?

"No thanks, maester, I'll take the swifter path." I turned to Robb. "Watchthis!"

Using half-recalled instincts, I pressurized the thought bubble beneath me, launched myself and my chair through the air. I soared up the tower, but the height of my arc could only reach 25 feet on a good day. Before I could start to fall, I created a solid mental platform beneath me, as vibrant green as the ball was.

"BRAN! WHAT IN THE HELLS ARE YOU DOING!?" Robb shouted from the ground, looking much smaller than before from this height. Summer simply padded his way into the maester's turret, unconcerned. He was used to my love of heights. I gave a jaunty wave and grin in return, and leaped from the platform I had made, dissolving it in the process. I hadmissedthe feeling of being so high up! By the way Robb raced into the maester's tower, I assume he figured my plan out.

In this manner I leaped my way up the side of the tower, racing against the maester and my brother. Upon reaching the maester's window, I found his shutters latched tight. I took a moment to simply observe Winterfell from this perch, the sight near bringing me to tears. Gods, how long had it been since I could do this?

"No matter," I said to myself, there was business to attend to, and called forth a little shadow. "Unlatch the window for me, if you please."

Yessir, burbled unsettlingly from my own shadow, before stretching beneath the window lattice and unlatching it for me. Entering into the study, careful not to muss up the maester's desk as I rolled over it, I dismissed the shadow once more. His room was exactly as messy as I remembered it, there was no need to add to it.

I settled myself down, dismissing my levitation as well. It wasn't another half-minute or so before Robb came bursting in through the door, red-faced and breathing heavy. He stomped over to me, terrified fury written on his face.

"Do not. Do that. Again." He panted at me, pointing directly at my face. I grinned back.

"I promise to only do it while you're not looking."

He clutched my shoulders in his hands, hard enough to twinge my still aching ribs. Robb brought our foreheads together, and stared me right in the eyes, before breaking into laughter, as boisterously as his young frame could. I would've followed, had the Trauma not glanced off my mind again. It was a nice change of pace from the repeated migraines and strange powers that characterized this day so far, but it had been unusually active today, and I had no clear idea why.

"Gods, Bran. I don't know whether tostrangleyou or hug you until both arms fall off."

"Yours, or mine?" His laughter started anew, and I did follow this time, and we stood there until Summer decided he wanted a hug and broke us up. The maester followed not far behind, not breathing nearly as hard; it seems he had more faith in my ability than Robb did. Summer satisfied himself resting his large head on my unfeeling knees.

"I saw the platforms," he said, "but I should like to know how you came in through a latched window."

"I had a friend help me." He walked over to his desk, where a truly massive tome rested. It was surrounded, mostly on the floor, by reference works detailing various recorded Higher Mysteries that had been studied by the maesters.

"Hmm. A shady friend, I assume."

"You always were sharp-witted, maester."

"It would be interesting to see one of them, I feel like it may provide great insight into the workings of the Asshain Shadow-Binders."

"Perhaps, but first…" I reignite my thought bubble, and turn towards the grimoire.

No, the Grimoire. It has a presence about it I can feel like a wave crashing against the shoreline, as if all other speelbooks were mere imitations of this prime specimen.

"Incredible." Comes out against my will, a whisper of awe.

"It just seems like a book to me." said Robb, eyes unseeing.

"No," I said, "It's so much more, I can feel it." I reached out towards the Grimoire, and tried to lift it.

"Bran, that book weighs at least two-," whatever measurement Maester Luwin was about to list was cut off, as I lifted the Grimoire with all the ease of picking up a crow's feather. It must have been a strange sight, a boy of seven holding a book built for lecterns in one hand.

The others had run out of confusion for the day, but still allowed me to do what I needed to. I turned the Grimoire to the very first page, where the title ought to be listed. The page was blank, but not for long, as the golden light Luwin spoke of shone out from it. The others turned their heads, apparently blinded by it, but my eyes were fixed on the glowing words that appeared.

The Celestial Grimoire:

A Complete Compendium of Spells,

Magicks, Mentalist Abilities, Items of

Enchanted Nature, Divine Blessings,

Alchemical Workings, Arcane Crafts,

And All Other Such Knowings As Befits

The Respectable Magician

"Amazing, are you seeing this?" I asked my companions. "The Celestial Grimoire, indeed!"

"Can you read this!?" Maester Luwin was unnervingly excited.

"I understand why some entries may be unreadable, but surely the title is writ in common Westerosi, no?"

"Can't make heads or tails of it." Robb shook his head. "Barely looks likelanguage, honestly."

"Indeed, though there is clearly a pattern to it." He pointed to one line of the title. "I can make out some old symbols the Pyromancers used to encode their alchemical knowledge, though I know not their meaning."

"Well, the title here reads…" I repeated the title for the benefit of my companions.

"Incredible!" said the maester. "Could this tome truly hold knowledge ofall magicin the world?"

"I find it quite plausible, from what I've been experiencing, though there is clearly significantly more to this story." I turned the page over, to where an introduction ought to be. The Grimoire complied, writing in golden light the information we sought. I spoke again the words for the sake of those who could not see.

Within this Grimoire Celestial is held All Known Magicks, Though no more than some few Knowings may be Imparted upon the Holder of the Grimoire at any Time, for the Greater the Knowledge the Greater the Cost upon the Bearer.

The Grimoire shall respond to Will and Need, Providing such Powers as Benefit the Holder at the Appropriate Time. The Current Holder of this Edition is one Brandon Stark, Second Son of Eddard Stark Lord of Winterfell, of Westeros, upon the Surface of an Earth beneath the Light of Seven Celestial Spheres, within a Most Ancient Realm in the Wider Celestium.

The Grimoire came into the Possession of Brandon after a Most Foolish Attempt to Rewrite the Scroll of History after Fouling the Wheels of Destiny, Leading to a Great Tear in the Firmament of the Earth. The Grimoire Favors the Foolish, however, for only Those Few with the Will and Drive to Shatter the Laws that Bind Us are Worthy of Its Power.

In Time, when Wisdom may Temper the Folly, This Grimoire shall mold Its Bearer into a Most Powerful Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard, Witch, or other preferred Worker of Wonders. The Grimoire is an Artifact of Great and Terrible Power, and will not Suffer other Magicks before It, as the Bearer may have Noticed Already.

Such Abilities as once were Held may only be Returned at the Whim of the Grimoire.

"Bran…" said Robb. "Whatexactlyhappened in the time you came from?"

I sighed. "That… would be a very long story, brother. In short, war. War that took from me our father, all my brothers, and would have taken Arya too had I not intervened and shattered prophecy in so doing."

"We were, all of us, fated to die?" Rabb was shocked, as I expected.

"Death would be preferable to what happened to some of us." Certain memories threatened to rise once more, but I squashed them with another gruesome memory. "I still remember Maester Luwin begging us to end his life after he took a spear through the guts."

"Me!? How did I get involved in any sort of battle!?"

"'Twas no battle, but treachery. One of the sides in the war was the Ironborn, as always." Robb quickly came to the conclusion I had led him to, and shook his head, horrified.

"No! No, I know Theon, and while he's a prick at the best of times, he's no traitor!"

"How far would you go, to make Father proud?"

Before he could respond, I could feel the Trauma, or perhaps the Grimoire through the Trauma, reaching out to me once more. Rather than try and ignore the feeling as I had done before, this time I tried reaching out directly. Will and Need, the Grimoire said. What I need right now is a way to understand this connection between us, this hard link in my mind's depths to this artifact.

The pain came over me, as it had so often before, as bad as when my psychic powers were unlocked. Whatever indignation Robb felt was replaced by terror as he witnessed several things all at once: first, my pained rictus grip keeping the Grimoire close to hand while I tried not to faint from the agony.

Second, the Grimoire began flipping its pages madly, settling on some place very near the beginning. The pages glowed with familiar golden light, inscribing knowledge into the pages as surely as it was inscribed on my mind. Thirdly, the Trauma hanging over us quaked once more, red light rippling down upon the world. This last thing occupied the maester's attention most of all, having grabbed his Myrish eye to make observations.

My mind was rarefied, clarified, with the knowledge of a strange new brand of mental magic. No memories, thankfully, but the nameOcclumencydrifted through my mind, and some little knowledge of its sister art,Legillimency,that it was primarily designed to guard against.

The fortress my mind had become, however, had one major weakness. In the very deepest recesses, I couldfeelit - the Celestial Grimoire. A gaping chasm in my mind, simultaneously massive beyond reason and the width of a hair, woven over by a crystal lattice-work infinitely thin and stronger than the Earth.

I knew nothing would pass by that the Grimoire would not allow, but equally I knew this was not a normal consequence of what I did: the hole feltolder, just slightly, than the structures built around it to integrate with my mind. I had damaged myself,severely, by traveling through time, and only by this Grimoire's grace did I survive. It must truly favor fools, if I was chosen by this artifact.

"Stranger's piss!" The unusually vulgar invective slipping from the mouth of Maester Luwin brought me right out of my inner thoughts. I had a significantly refined control over them now, but I'll need practice if I was to better comprehend the way the Grimoire had interfaced with my mind and soul.

"What's the issue, maester?" Robb stared at me, incredulous.

"Bran, you can't be serious. What the hell wasthat!?"

"The Grimoire, Robb. Magic always has its cost, and I should be grateful the cost so far has been a momentary agony rather than anything trulysevere."

"It's gettingbigger!"

"Don't youdaretell me that wasnotsevere! You looked like the bloodyStrangerhad come and ripped yourbloody heartout!"

"And then I got better, Robb, it's not an unfamiliar pain."

"This happened more than once!?"

As I thought to respond, it clicked in my head what the maester had said.

"I'm sorry maester, did you say it was gettingbigger?"

"Yes! The phenomenon-,"

"TheTrauma." I clarified.

"Hmm? I'm not familiar with-never mind that!" He shook his head. "What matters is, I've been making observations since that thing, thisTraw-muh, appeared. And it isobservably largersince my earliest recordings!" I sucked in a breath through my teeth.

"That's not good news, maester."

"Oh, is it not? I had thought it bloodymarvelousnews, myself!" He said, darkly. "Why, I'd send a report to the Citadel ifany of my ravens would fly!"

"Maester!" Came from Robb. "There's no need for that, Bran is only-,"

"Well over thirty name-days, by my reckoning." I interrupted. "Honestly, Robb, there's no need to leap tomydefense. Years as King did much to strengthen me against such verbal blows."

"Wha- You-King!? What the hell happened that let you beKing!?"

"Forcedme to be King, thank you. Do you think Iwantedthe job? I'd have been happy enough with my family and the trees in the Godswood." I hadn't thought Robb could get more gobsmacked, yet here we are.

"You're right, Robb. I'm sorry." The maester sighed. "I shouldn't snap like that, it's unproductive at the best of times, and we are far from those. We need… something. A solution, hopefully."

"I wanted to understand the Grimoire more, this last time, and it gave me the tools to defend my own mind from intrusion." I explained. "In so doing, it let me come somewhat to grips with the mechanism by which it connects with me. I cannot say why the Grimoire has been so active today, and it worries me greatly that a trend may be forming."

"When next it connects," the maester said, grimly, "You must try and find an answer to this madness, because even without knowing all the details-" He gestured upwards to the Trauma, "Thatthinggrowing large enough to envelop the sky entirely would certainly spell doom ofsomekind. Am I wrong?"

"No, I think you've summed the situation up nicely." I smiled. "Still, in lieu of anything else to do for the nonce, perhaps we can look through the Grimoire and I can explain some of what I can do, now?"

The maester took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

"I should like that very much, Bran. Come closer, Robb, and let us see what this strange tome has to offer." The maester shuffled closer, before stumbling over some unseen hurdle. Thankfully he caught himself, and turned to look for the offending object.

Sitting innocently on the ground was a case of a make Bran had never before seen, satchel-shaped but oddly solid, yet completely wrapped in fine leather.

"That's odd, I've never seen something the likes of that before." Said Luwin.

"Likely, 'tis my fault once more." I said. "The Grimoire has gifted physical objects to me before, which reminds me I really should collect my notes from my sickbed. Hold on a moment."

I called forth a little shadow and gave it the command to bring my notes and pouch from out my room. It scurried off under the door to fulfill my desire.

"Now then," I turned back to Maester Luwin, who was now holding the not-satchel. "Let's see what mysteries hide in this little thing, yes?"

I took the package from him, and felt it's odd solidity for myself; it was clearly made of some fine leather-wrapped wood, yet I could think of no reason a carrying bag would need such rigidity. Turning it about, I noticed two little clasps holding it together near the handle. Opening the case, my heart nearly leapt with joy at what I saw within.

Quills. Loads andloadsof quills. After two days of trying to write with a paintbrush, I wasveryhappy to see my writing tool problem was forever solved. Tearing my eyes away from the beautiful quills, I saw a much smaller and more colorful box nestled off to the side of it, and a lovingly-crafted… stick of some kind. Clearly it was important, because it was strapped in rather securely and had been tenderly carved by the hand of a master woodworker.

It was carved from a weirwood branch, by its coloration. Unstrapping the stick and picking it up-

Magic! I could feel the magic flowing through me! Like soothing rain and summer breezes, it flowed through me and out of me, through thewand, as I now knew it. On a whim, I flicked the wand- my wand- with a small gesture, and from out the tip came a rainbow of brilliant sparks!

I simply luxuriated in the feeling of the magic. Looking out the window, even the Trauma didn't seem half as bad, considering. The world was hardly goneyet, after all, and while the world still lives, there was hope.

I couldn't help it- I startedlaughing, not as a man my true age should, but fully and completely with the wonder only a child can manage. Even as the sparks dwindled, my giggling continued- all the way until I felt the Trauma reach out to me again.

Despite the absolutely wonderful feeling flooding me, I had not forgotten what was just decided. Focusing my will, and trying to impress the need upon the Grimoire, I asked with all my being for some magic that could alleviate our problem.

It was difficult, and painful- fully several orders of magnitude beyond anything I had ever experienced. My body, mysoul, they felt hollowed out; siphoned through and replaced with knowledge,so much knowledge! My vision swam, and eventually faded, though the pain did not leave me.

In the far distance, I heard cries of 'Bran!' and the howling of a wolf, but I could not focus on that. I was the receptacle of ancient magic, Arts and Techniques making themselves known to me. The movement of stars, of beasts, the cycles of nature all resounded in my head, the whirling of the celestial spheres and their impact on mortal magic carved themselves into the recesses of my mind.

Even deeply agonized, I could feel my Occumentic skills sorting and organizing the information nearly as fast as it came through. As the world began to fade, the flow gradually lessened, until it finally stilled and left me blissfully unconscious. In the depths of my mind,as I drifted into healing slumber, one phrase reverberated throughout:

Robb hardly knew what to do. Bran waved his magic sparking stick, giggled like a madman, seized up into a horrible rictus of agony, and fell unconscious. This was so far beyond what he was expecting today.

And the little information Bran let slip of his future-past life only baffled himmore. How did the Starks nearly die out, why was Bran King? All these questions and more took a far lesser precedence than ensuring Bran's health, however.

He lifted his younger brother, for he was still younger for as long as he held that form, and started to carry him out from the maester's study, with Luwin himself not far behind.

Suddenly, the study door flew open. Behind it, Ser Rodrik, sweaty and in a huff.

"My lord," He panted. "There- There's a stranger, out- out by the Broken Tower." He shook his head. "I swear, I've never seen that building there before. He might be some kind of witch!"

He only then noticed what Robb was carrying. "What's the little lord doing here?"

Naturally, 'twas then that Bran's little shadow came back and dropped a small pouch and a ream of good paper by Robb's feet. Rodrik near screamed his own head off at the sight of the living shadow.

Robb looked towards the ceiling, wondering why the gods had cursed him so.