Chapter - 49

I flopped down on the chair across from Freya. "So, how was your first day teaching?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Freya rolled her eyes, but I caught the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Oh, you know, I just had to crush everyone's dreams of learning magic from the famous White Mage. But after that? Not bad, actually."

"Shit, I'm sorry about that," I winced, feeling a pang of guilt. "But hey, at least you enjoyed it, right?"

"Surprisingly, yes," she admitted. "Though don't expect any of them to be helping out around here anytime soon. We're looking at a year, minimum."

I couldn't help but groan at the thought. "A whole year? Damn."

"Hey, you're the one who dumped all this in my lap, remember?" Freya shot back, but there was no real heat in her words. 

Before I could apologize again, she added, "But I did ask for it, so it's not really your fault, and you did warn me how much work it was going to be."

"Fair enough," I conceded. 

"Enough about that, tell me what you've been up to?" she asked 

Before I could answer, a knock interrupted us. Robb and Jon poked their heads in, their faces lighting up when they saw me.

"El, you're back!" Robb grinned. 

"Hello boys, just got back today. Nice to see you. What brings you here today?"

"Heard you were back from our new guests, and Father wants you to know there's a feast tonight. You and Freya are invited."

"Ah shit, really? Guess I can't skip this one?" I groaned, already dreading the thought of a formal event. "Is he mad at me?"

Jon snorted, a rare display of amusement. "Not mad. Just... stretched thin. Between Tyrion, Oberyn, and now the Tyrells, he's got his hands full."

"Ah, have there been any... incidents?" I asked morbidly, hoping I had missed any major drama.

"Not really, mostly due to them not running into each other," Jon explained.

"Wait, they haven't?" I asked, confusion evident in my voice.

"They definitely know about the others being here but surprisingly haven't met each other yet," he clarified.

Robb shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Tyrion's holed up in that library of yours most of the time."

"When he's not teaching Frog," Freya added, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "And seriously, can you talk to that kid about his name?"

I winced, remembering that slight lapse in judgment. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Not my brightest moment, that. But to be fair, when I asked him what his name was he told me he never had one before so I told him that he can name himself whatever he wants."

"Speaking of not-so-bright moments," Robb piped up, a mischievous glint in his eye, "how exactly did you run into the Tyrells?"

"Uh..." I scrambled for an explanation, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "Let's just say I made an... unexpected entrance."

Robb and Jon exchanged a curious look. "Must've been something," Robb smirked. "Lady Margaery couldn't stop talking about you."

I felt Freya's eyes boring into me, and I suddenly felt we were quite close to a landmine I needed to sidestep. "It wasn't... I mean, I didn't..." I stammered, trying to find the right words.

"I did something stupid while I was flying back to Winterfell and I crashed, unfortunately close to the Tyrell contingent," I admitted.

"Wait, you can fly?!" the three of them shouted in unison.

Oh, right. I hadn't even told Freya that bit of information.

"Yes, I figured it out a couple of moons back. That's how I've been able to travel so fast between places," I explained. "Anyway, after I crashed in front of them, I kind of eased the tension as they were quite tense, as you'd imagine. Introduced myself, healed Willas's knee, and walked with them until they reached Winterfell."

"Wow… How exactly do you fly?" Freya asked, her curiosity piqued. Yes! I had successfully managed to distract her.

"Ah, that's pretty easy," I smiled and unfurled my wings, not completely as we were still indoors and my wings were quite big. "Like this."

I enjoyed the looks on their faces.

They spent some time poking and prodding at my wings

"Wait, if you've been flying for so long, how did you crash?" Jon asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

I felt a little embarrassed at that and tried to distract them. "Well, let me tell you a story about a man named Icarus who tried to fly too close to the sun..."

"So you tried to fly to the sun and burned your wings?" Freya asked skeptically, her eyebrow raised.

"What? No, that's just a story," I backpedaled, realizing my attempt at distraction wasn't working as intended.

"It just... made me want to see how high I could fly."

Seeing their confused looks, I sighed and decided to come clean. "Okay, look. The story of Icarus is all wrong anyway. Flying close to the sun wouldn't melt your wings. The problem is actually the opposite - it gets colder the higher you go."

Their expressions shifted from confusion to curiosity as I continued, "I tried flying too high, and my wings basically froze due to the extreme cold. Next thing I knew, I was falling."

"That's... actually kind of impressive," Robb said, a hint of admiration in his voice. "Terrifying, but impressive."

"Yeah, well, let's just say I won't be attempting that again anytime soon," I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck.

Freya shook her head, a mix of exasperation and fondness in her eyes. "Only you, El. Only you would think, 'Hey, let's see how high I can fly' and end up nearly killing yourself."

"In my defense," I protested weakly, "it seemed like a good idea at the time."

The room filled with laughter, and I felt a warmth in my chest. Despite the embarrassment, moments like these - sharing my adventures, even the foolish ones, with friends - made everything worth it.

"So," Jon said, once the laughter died down, "any other magical abilities you've been hiding from us?"

I grinned mischievously. "Now that would be telling, wouldn't it? Guess you'll just have to wait and see."

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Tyrion knew he was smart. He hadn't really had much choice in the matter. 

In a world where strength was everything, his mind had been his only weapon. But now, life had changed.

He wasn't a pious man. Faith and hope had been stamped out of him a long time ago. There might have been a time when he believed in miracles, but he had outgrown that childish notion.

Yet, as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he didn't ever think there would be a day where he would feel vain and slightly narcissistic over his appearance. The face staring back at him was unfamiliar - youthful, unblemished, and decidedly un-dwarflike. 

But the letter on his desk from his father brought him crashing back down to earth. His father didn't seem to care much for his wellbeing; he wanted to know more about El. 

Tyrion didn't know why he was expecting anything else, actually.

His father wanted to know El's strengths, motivations, and weaknesses. 

It was quite funny to him; the world was expecting a scheming, malevolent sorcerer with grand plans of conquest.

But Tyrion knew better. Even from his somewhat brief encounters with the White Mage of Winterfell, he knew what El was: just a boy with so much power in his hands that he didn't know what to do with it.

That was only taking into account what he had seen El do. He also knew that El was lazy. 

Tyrion didn't believe that the boy had any grand plans of conquest or for the Iron Throne, for the sole reason that if he had such aspirations, he would have conquered the world already.

He had actually already had this discussion with El, and his answer had told him everything he needed to know:

"Why would I waste my time doing all that nonsense? I value my time and sanity above all else, Tyrion. I won't do anything that will put that in jeopardy."

Tyrion had laughed quite hard on hearing that. It told him that as powerful and wise as El was, he was also naive if he thought that the world would let him live in peace.

But Tyrion had made a decision that day, one that would have consequences for him. Consequences he would be happy to deal with.

For there was no other way for him to repay the debt he owed. 

And a Lannister always paid his debts.

In this world where men only talked with their fists and swords, Tyrion had always prided himself on being one of the few who trained his mind. So when El had told him to help himself to the library, he had been ecstatic.

He also thought El was stupid to let others, especially him, have access to such knowledge that the maesters of the Citadel would incite wars over. Hungrily, he had devoured the knowledge now at his disposal.

But oh, what knowledge it was.

He had read the Grade 1 books and was fascinated by the workings of the human body. It also had information on how to treat basic issues under a section called "first aid." 

He wasn't going to lie; he had gotten a bit cocky at the speed at which he had learned everything. 

But one look at the Grade 2 books had put him back in his place. It was quite a few levels above what he could comprehend, and the sheer amount of knowledge one would need to master Grade 2 made him dizzy.

The final nail in the coffin had been when he found out Freya was studying a Grade 3 book. When he had asked her what part she was on, he understood nothing of the words that came out of her mouth. 

It was enough to let him know that being a healer was not his calling.

It made sense why they were starting to teach young kids; it would undoubtedly take a lifetime to understand the knowledge that was in that one small bookshelf in El's lab.

The things he learned were going to keep him up at night, especially when he found out what caused most diseases. The knowledge that creatures so small they could not be seen existed in the millions in the air they breathed, the water they drank, and the food they ate was terrifying. 

Knowing that these creatures were just lying in wait for the first opportunity to enter a person's body and start eating away and breeding did not help.

Even more disturbing was learning that the body tried to fight back by heating itself - causing a fever - it only worked half the time. 

The other half, the fever would kill the person instead.

No, he'd stick to his numbers for now. At least those made sense.

With a final glance in the mirror, Tyrion straightened his shirt. The face might still be strange, but the new height... Well, that was something he could definitely get used to.

As he prepared for the feast, Tyrion couldn't help but smile and wonder how the world would react to his transformation. 

It promised to be an interesting evening, to say the least.

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A/N: If you wish to read ahead you can find 8 more chapters on my Pa treon