Mothers, Maesters, and Magic

AN; TW for traumatic birth, but let's be honest, If you read or watched canon, this is practically censored lol

Yo! I am coming at you guys with a double update that you will be getting within a day or two! I know it's kind of been a while, but considering how long my chapters are and how many different fits I update, I'd say I'm still pretty timely. If you're ever concerned I've stopped writing, go to my profile and check my latest updated sick, and check the notes. If anything is going on, or if I'm taking a break, the information will be there.

Anyway, you guys know the drill by now. Each fanfiction in the series can be read separately but are all the different phases of the MC's journey through reincarnation.

Please let me know how it was, because I thrive off the comments, especially if you want me to write faster 😉

Thx so much for the utterly massive support on this fic, it's kinda nuts, and see you soon!

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I run, fistfulls of my skirts in hand, through Winterfell, searching for my mother's magic, her own personal aura unique from anyone else. My most trusted assistant appears from around the corner, Nahsa's longer legs easily keeping up with me even as Luwin scrambles along behind us. "Milady!"

"Report," I puff shortly, skidding around a corner as I finally sense my mother in the family wing, already in the birthing chambers.

"Lady Lyarra suddenly went into labor a few hours ago, but something seems to be wrong. I sent a gaurd to find you, but you were no longer in the workshop!"

"My fault," I grunt. "We had to visit the godswood. Nahsa, if I ask you what might be considered a "blessed object", what would you think of?"

She hesitates for only a second. "Garth's crown?"

I nod. An object given by a god, a fertility god, no less. "Aye. Go bring it. I think my mother may be in need. Bring weirwood sap as well. Hurry!" Nahsa turns on her heel, red hair flying behind her as she bolts for my chambers without hesitation.

I find my father anxiously hovering outside a door, Mother's cries echoing through the hall. Without hesitation, Luwin slips inside, and I go to follow when I'm promptly grabbed by the collar and drawn into my father's side. I squeak in confused annoyance. "Father?"

"You can't go in there now, Little Wolf," he says tightly.

I narrow my eyes. "Father, I understand your concerns, but there isn't anyone in the North who knows magic like I do. I need to be in there."

"My child, you are too young-"

"Father," I interrupt sternly, trying to wiggle free. "There is no time. I swear, I can handle this. Please trust in me."

After a moment of examining my eyes, he reluctantly sets me down, and I slip into the birthing room, dodging a maid with bloody towels in her hands. That is not a good sign, I think inwardly. Due to my tradition, I know Father will stay outside for now, and taking in the scene before me, I'm grateful. My mother is sweaty and panting, crying out in agony as she clutches at the sheets. Mother's most trusted maid, Lora, is dabbing at her face and soothing her as best as she can, but I can hear the ghost of anxiety in her voice. Maester Luwin is talking with the midwives, but I go straight to my mother's side.

"Lunarya! Darling-"

"I'm here to help, Mama," I cut her off gently, setting an annoyingly small hand on her belly as she let out a sharp scream, the sound grating. With a pulse of magic, I "take a look" at the situation inside. The baby's coming out feet down and the umbilical cord is wrapped around its neck. On top of that, Mother is starting to tear and, at this rate, she'll bleed out.

Luwin starts to guide the baby out, positioning it by its feet, but it's slow going, and Mother is exhausted. I hurry to a corner, washing my hands and arms vigorously in a basin. Soon enough, I settle near Luwin, trying to figure out how to help. Not long after, Nahsa is bursting in, panting heavily with winter roses in hand. I order her to set it on my mother's head and sigh in relief at the immediate reaction it causes.

My mother slumps and her pain level seems to drop drastically. Even the bleeding slows and the baby starts slipping out more easily. There's a rucas as and the door bursts open again, this time a huge, stocky man strolling in. He's not tall, but rather wide, and I can hear the jingle of numerous chains as he walks.

"Archmaester Marwyn!" Luwin yelps, hands still gripping my semi born sibling.

"I know my name, boy. I'm not old enough to need a reminder yet." The Maester hrurumphs. I narrow my eyes, but sense nothing off about him, (besides a frankly astonishing amount of inherent magic), so I decide to let it go, more focused on feeling the magic of Garth's crown work. It winds through my mother, concentrating on her womb and my sibling. 

Now, I know healing magic. I'd spent decades studying it. But, not in this world. I'd glimpsed it through the weirwood trees, flashes of rituals in the old tongue and runes used in Old Valyria, but I'd never tried it in this body. However, right here and now, I don't have much of a choice.

Garth's Crown is working, but I can feel its focus is not the mother, but on safely delivering the baby. Mother's already lost a lot of blood at this point, and while it feels like she might survive the birth, at this rate, she might be crippled. Silently, I curse myself for the late arrival and for not seeing this coming, but the truth was, I'm simply not omniscient.

Deciding now is not really the time to fuck around and find out, I try something I have at least a bit of experience in. Swiping my hand through some blood and a bowl of weirwood sap, I grab my mother's palm, quickly writing a particular rune on it. I do the same on her other palm, and then on the skin over her heart. Maybe it's the runes. Maybe it's my intent. It may even be the magic of Stark blood, but the effect is instantaneous. 

My mother's bleeding slows and her flesh begins to knit back together.

"Valyrian runes for healing and blood and health, eh? Where did you learn that, girl?" A gruff voice asks, and I glance at the burly man peering at me with utter intensity.

"I'm a greenseer. I learned in the Freehold," I intone blandly.

The Maester, Marwyn, stares before erupting in a sudden bark of laughter, mouth stretched in an absurdly wide grin. He mutters something before starting to bark orders around the room, particularly at Luwin, reminding the younger maester to keep the baby downwards facing, as he pulls out a drum from …somewhere and he begins to beat on it, the deep thumps vibrating in my bones despite its relative quietness, and I start at the feeling of magic from the sound, something gentle and healing.

Then Marwyn begins to sing, a harsh, rolling, rumbling sound in a language I couldn't name. It's not exactly beautiful, not really. The Maester is no bard, but there is something compelling in it all the same. The magic behind it has my little sibling's hips slipping free.

"You need to reach in and detangle the cord, boy, or magic or not, the babe and lady will die." Marwyn grunts between choruses.

"I can't! My hand won't fit! She'll tear more!" Luwin hisses quietly, but my mother's distressed whimper makes it clear she's heard.

"I'll do it," I offer, ducking under one of Luwin's arms. "My hands will fit just fine."

"My lady!-"

"I know what I'm doing and frankly," I gesture at my mother's nether region. "It's no where I've not been."

My mother snorts a bit hysterically before shaking her head. "Let her, Maester. I trust my daughter."

From there, things went relatively smoothly. I'd assisted in plenty of births, so this part wasn't exactly new to me. Within the hour, and with Marwyn reapplying the runes a few times, the baby, a little girl, was born safe and sound, albeit a bit blue in the face.

Such was the tale of the birth of Lyzanna Stark, the little wolf born of magic from Garth the Greenhand's flower crown, the runes of Old Valyria, and the birthing song of Jogos Nhai's Moonsingers.

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"Magic is a natural part of the world. It's in the earth, the air, every drop of water or bit of flame. Remember the feeling of the godswood. That hum in the air, the sensation of heaviness in your lungs, it's magic. Just focus, and reach for it."

I hover my hand out, and the temperature starts to drop as ice begins to form, a small wolf settling on my skin. My mother gasps, eyes alight with wonder as Benjen sways in excitement. Lya squeals softly, and I hand over the ice sculpture so that she and Father can get a better look.

All of House Stark had congregated in Mother's room around her bed. Mother was healing fine, but the birth had still fatigued her body to the extreme and even with magic, she had been disturbingly close to death, so we were keeping her and our new sister company. I was taking the time to give magic lessons on elemental control. Naturally, as descendents of the ancient Kings of Winter, we Starks generally had a connection to ice, but it didn't mean we couldn't do anything else.

Bran, for example, is additionally rather inclined to fire, Benjin to air, Ned to earth, Lya to water, and I, of course, lightning, a remnant of my past lives. It wasn't a matter of us being unable to do the other elements, but rather predisposition. The great shadowbinders of Asshai could use fire magic so long as they were taught properly and I'm sure the Rhoynar water mages could have used ice if they wanted to, although it would have been insanely difficult to manipulate in the scorching desert. In the end, it came down to a matter of will power, knowledge, and affinity.

From what I've gathered, there are essentially two distinct forms of magic; Magic like greenseeing, warging, and skin changing were all things I'd consider internal magic as opposed to external magic, like elemental manipulation and enchantment with runes. Greenseeing and warging came easily to me, but I'd never skinchanged, but then again, I'd never tried. All three were supposedly gifts that the blood of the Winter Kings were said to have, and while I could tell that all the Starks were Wargs, the only one I'd yet Seen skinchange in the future was Benjen. If I didn't have a natural inclination, was it still possible to learn? Theoretically, yes, because Magic is magic, and it all came from the same energy, but I'm not actually sure if that applied to internal magics. It would warrant a talk with a certain treeman and perhaps a mental visit to Old Valyria through the weirwood.

"Wait, wait, waitwaitwait- Luna!" I laugh as Bran sparks a small flame to life resting above his hand.

"Nicely done, Bran. You too, Ned," I note, looking at the small flower sprouting on the quiet wolf's palm. The youngest and oldest of the family seemed to struggle the most, Lya and Beni too impatient and our parents too skeptical, but they would learn. One day soon, House Stark would be feared for its magic, able to shake mountains and raise cities.

I'd Seen it after all.

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"I'll be direct, Archmaester Marwyn. You will share your knowledge with my people and help the North to the best of your capabilities, and I'll fund all your magical exploits as long as you accompany me. Additionally, the magic users of the North will be at your service to satiate your every curiosity. We do expect you to act as a citizen of the North during this time, meaning the sharing of our secrets will be considered treasonous."

The unspoken threat of execution was clear.

"What say you?" I ask casually, head propped up in one hand and a goblet of berry juice being swirled in the other lazily. I hadn't known shit about Marwyn the Mage before Luwin took me aside after Lyzanna's birth, but I had no intention of letting such a treasure trove of knowledge slip through my fingers. Thankfully, manipulating him to my side would be a breeze because his weakness wasn't hidden in the slightest.

The man before me would do anything in the pursuit and study of magic, something I could both empathize with and respect. He wouldn't want to leave the North where magic had very obviously returned, clear from the dragons resting on my shoulders, (officially too big to sit on my head). Marwyn was already my minion whether he knew it or not.

"You are a very strange child," he grumbles through squinted eyes.

I smirk. "Magic."

He doesn't even twitch, but I can feel the burning excitement and curiosity beneath his skin. "You have a deal, Stark. Now tell me what the fucking hells been going on around here?"

Hook. Line. Sinker.

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Marwyn was a talented man. Within a week he had my educational program up and running and I happily dumped the responsibility onto him. It was a coincidence he had arrived during little Lyza's birth, and having heard the news, had come in to offer help. In fact, he'd been bringing the people Luwin and I had requested personally to the North, all educated but jobless individuals who had studied at the Citadel, but had not wanted to take Maester vows. As a result, we had 20 educated henchmen to add to my forces, all of which had learned the Higher Mysteries under the persnickety Marwyn himself. And, because all of them had forged more than a single link, they were competent in many things beyond writing, reading, and numbers such as medicine, metalworking, craftsmen, ravenry, and more. And, as requested, they'd brought many books with them. We officially had teachers for my people, mages, workers, and traders alike.

When I'd told Marwyn my plan to break the Citadel's hold on the monopoly of information and education, the stout man had howled with laughter for ages. In fact, by the time he'd finished laughing, I'd written three different documents and he probably would have continued chuckling if he hadn't thrown at him my drawing of some runes for a future project.

"You do know, brat, that those gray sheep won't just let you subvert them. And those flaming lizards of yours are a threat to them as well," Marwyn notes seriously from his place flat on his back, lying on my rugs having only just recovered from his hysterical fit.

"Not much they can do about the first, and by the time they kick up a fuss, we'll have people to replace them. As for the second, I can't see them being able to harm fully grown dragons."

"Something killed the last fully grown dragons," Marwyn barks sharply, and I pause before conceding the point. Vaguely, I'd assumed it was the Siphons that killed the dragons, but that isn't necessarily true. The Siphon I'd found looks very old and the dragons only dispersed in the last few centuries.

"You suspect the Conclave destroyed the dragons," I state, watching the man curiously.

"Could have been. Could have been the bloody Faith of Seven. Hell, it could have been both or neither, but regardless, many benefited from the dragons' demise," he growls, plopping heavily onto his chair, grabbing a wine flask to drink from and snatching up more of my sketches to examine them.

"All of Westeros has been losing magic for a long time," I point out, wanting to hear his thoughts.

"So has Essos." My eyes widen and I sit up in interest. I hadn't known that. "It's less obvious, but what's left is but a shadow of the things magic users used to be able to do. Bah!" The grizzly old man waves his meaty fist about in dismissal.

"Talk to Luwin. He still has the remains of the Siphon and sketches of the runes. Let me know if you figure anything out," I order. Marwyn freezes, and I mirror in response.

"Why has no one fucking told me this earlier?!" The man abruptly bellows, bolting from the room to my shock. For such a huge man, he was surprisingly spry.

XXXXXRICKARDXXXXX

I narrow my eyes at my eldest daughter, taking in the calm eyes, Stark eyes, as the girl sips tea across from me, Lyzanna comfortably wrapped to her chest. Perhaps I shouldn't entertain this line of thinking, but considering Luna's penchant for walking the thin line between madness and genius… "Explain your reasoning, daughter."

The girl shrugs, setting her tea cup down, etiquette immaculate. It was easy to forget she was just a lass of 8. "In truth, Father, the future ahead of us is not a smoothe one. With every bit of prosperity we gain, animosity will accompany it. Winter is coming."

I frown, her meaning clear. Already, I can see the signs of change coming, having received a raven from the Lords of the mountain clans just yesterday about the miners. They had found abandoned tunnels that could have been built millennia ago, and were able to rapidly descend into the earth and find a few veins of gemstones using Luna's coordinates. I know very well that wealth like that comes with enemies.

My young wolf continues. "Try as you might, we won't always have another there to protect us. We need to be able to do so on our own. Or we will fall."

"It is not I that has an issue with you girls learning to wield a sword, child, but I fear your reputation and honor will be damaged." I huff in exasperation, fingers pressing into my temples. Lyanna had been raging about this very topic since she could talk, and due to Lunarya's silence on the matter, I had not anticipated an attack from this she-wolf as well.

"We are children of the North. There have been plenty of warrior women before us, and even now, there are ladies who are talented fighters like Lady Umber and Lady Mormont, although it is not common. And truly, who would dare speak ill of the ladies of our Great House."

I consider that. While many might disdain it, it is true that there will likely be no one brazen enough to disrespect my daughters. Even now, we Starks rule like Kings in the North. There is also the rising magical talents of our blood.

Oh, and the fucking dragons. Those were not to be dismissed, 

"Alright, Clever Cub. What did you have in mind?"

The girl grins, and it reminds me of a predator preparing to pounce. "Have you heard of Waterdancing?"

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Lya receiving the news that she could train with a sword was perhaps the single most chaotic day I'd seen in a while. My daughter had cried tears of joy clinging to my legs for a solid hour before the news seemed to set in and she charged off, screaming at the tops of her lungs, into the godswood about how she was going to be the greatest swordsman the North had ever seen and how she was going to kick the Morningstar's arse. It took the guards a solid five hours of chasing to finally recover her, and even then, I think they only managed because her energy eventually ran out.

I sigh heavily, shooting Luna a stern look, and my eldest daughter hid her snickers behind her hand, eyes glittering. "Well, it is good to see her so happy, Father."

I couldn't argue that.

"Come. We have plans to discuss. This Autumn Equinox is coming and we must use the opportunity to create a turning point for our economy," Luna states seriously, turning on her heel and marching towards her section of Wintertown.

Technically, it wasn't really Luna's property, but rather the location I'd set apart for all the insane but rather brilliant ideas that spawned from her. In what was once an abandoned slum, her "orphans and whores" were housed and educated for her trade company, as were her mages and, less known, her bloody spy network. I'm not entirely sure why we needed a spy network, but I'm not sure I really want to. I can recognize that big change is coming to Westeros and that the pack needs to be prepared, and that Luna, blessed by the gods, is our best hope, but every day it seems as though the shadow looming above our kingdom grows bigger. I have resigned myself to simply heeding her commands.

I follow her determined stride to one of the warehouses, amused by her tiny, ferocious steps that I was lazily out pacing, sharing a glance with Ser Cregan and Luwin over her head. There was something terribly adorable about a child acting so adult, even if it could also be incredibly unsettling at times. 

Luna, huffing from mild exertion, throws open a door, voice calling out."Hugo!"

"Here, Milady! What- oh! Lord Stark!" The boy, hair a bit wild and clothes covered in wood dust and paint, bows unsteadily, clearly off guard.

I nod. "Aye, lad, don't mind me. I'm just here to observe," I tell him, gesturing towards my daughter who is already grabbing the boy by the sleeve and dragging him farther in.

"Today, we are showing my Lord Father our first few plans," Luna informs the boy, still dragging him along. "The Preserver first. And do it like how we discussed."

"L-like that, but-"

Luna bats his arm, turning fierce eyes to Hugo, all of half his height, and I hear Cregan wheezing with silent laughter behind me as my daughter chastises her subordinate. "This is business, Hugo! There is no place for shyness. Head up, shoulders back. Aye, that's it! Wipe that nervous look on your face- good! Now, sell it!"

We arrive at an area full of boxes and paint cans, and Hugo, now with a calm look on his face and his head held high, gestures to a lone box painted black. "This is our newest product. It's called a Preserver! Made using the magic of Old Valyria, any food placed inside will remain fresh and unspoiled for several times longer than normal!"

My eyebrows raise in shock, and I send a sharp look at my daughter. Luna just gives me a smug smile and points at her eyes, and I suck in a breath of understanding. Greenseeing is a truly terrifying ability.

"This bit of fish has been inside the preserver for 3 weeks now," Hugo states cheerfully, and alarmed, I brace myself for a rotten smell as the door is opened, revealing shelves and plates of various foods, but there is no rancid smell. I blink, astonished, inspecting the fresh looking fish the boy turned trader holds out, passing it to Cregan to inspect as he reaches for a second plate. "This bread is 2 moons old."

I scrutinize the bread, reaching out to touch the perfectly fresh looking bread and finding it still soft and easily susceptible to pressure, as though baked just this morning. I turn my head to Lunarya, unable to keep the stutter out of my voice. "Truly, daughter?"

She nods, grabbing it and taking a bite out of it before placing it back inside the wood. "You can check if it's the same bread another time using my teeth marks."

I shake my head, feeling simultaneously exasperated and fond of the hard headed child. "That is unnecessary. Your word is enough, pup."

I shoot her a pointed, disappointed look and the girl freezes, eyes going wide like a hunted deer before something remorseful twists her expression. She shuffles closer, tentatively reaching for my hand, and I offer it easily, softening.

"Apologies, Pa- Father." I huff, amused by her attempts at maintaining proper etiquette. It was a bittersweet change as a father to realize your children are growing. I pat her head in silent acceptance, and turn back to Hugo who leads us to a second box, this one contains… ice.

I frown. "What use is ice?"

"Milady plans to sell it to the south," Hugo states. I blink, considering this. In the summers, particularly in Dorne, the heat could become overwhelming. If there was one thing the North had in excess, snow and ice were it and such a thing would hardly cost us anything, although there were better places to farm it than Winterfell.

"Would the southerners even buy that?" Cregan asks hesitantly. Luna glances at Hugo who immediately takes the cue to grab a container from the ice box, setting it on a nearby wooden table before calling out to a nearby lass who retrieves three bowls and spoons.

The lad struggles a bit to pry out a few chunks for Luwin, Martyn, and I, serving each of us. I glance at the… food, but one look at an eager young faces and I decide to try it with a sigh. Surprisingly, the ice is sweet, a creamy flavor with… berries? "It's delicious."

The two children beam and I have to hide the twitching of my lips as Hugo continues on. "We have many flavors. This one is winter berries, but we can make practically anything. We already have rum, apple, rose, cookie, mint-"

The recipe is both simple, inexpensive, and versatile, and I can imagine how in demand such a thing would be, even in the already cold North, let alone the scorching south. And even if the recipe was exposed eventually, not particularly difficult considering the simplicity of the desert, you would still need the ice and preserver from the North for consistent supply.

I reach out a hand to pat my genius child, thoroughly satisfied. "Are the ice boxes and normal preservers the same?"

"No, a preserver is different from these, which we call freezers. Anything inside a preserver that is nonliving will simply take an extended period of time to decay. If you put warm soup inside a preserver, it will come out at room temperature but still edible even a month later, as the aging process of the food is severely delayed. In a freezer, the runes keep the inside at a certain temperature no matter the outside conditions, be it Dorne or the North. There is no real preservation going on since ice doesn't go bad."

"It's incredible!" Luwin remarks excitedly examining the runes on the wood.

"We will be painting over the runes to disguise them, but either way, someone would need both magic and understanding of the runes, to replicate the process," Hugo states.

"You have to understand them to know where to apply magic," Luna explains to my silent question. "Runes are complicated like that. Oh, you also need weirwood sap or wood since normal wood can't handle the magic well."

I accept that and we are led to a new warehouse, this one filled with women running about and the smell of wool and dye. "This is our clothing factory. Please take a look. Maya! The lord has come to see the wares!"

A young woman appears happily. "Milord! Milady! We are honored by your visit!"

Maya, likely a former whore if I'm correct, guides us to a table with vibrant swaths of fabric, dresses and designs the likes of which I've never seen before, but some vaguely reminiscent of essosi fashion. The cloth is smooth and has a subtle shine to it beneath my hands, and I note that the quality is extremely high. "These are remarkable."

"They are made using the wool of the Skagosi unicorns we got which creates a rather silky fabric that absorbs dye beautifully, and Milady designed them all herself! Even the patterns are unlike anything any of us have ever seen," Maya informs, but I just huff, not even surprised anymore. I tap my eye in silent question to my daughter, but she just gives an ambiguous head gesture, meaning that such things were only partially a result of her greenseeing.

Such a blessed child had been born to us, I think affectionately.

"These are so detailed, they are fit for royalty. We could sell them to nobles for a fortune, even without adding gold, silver, or jewels…" My knight murmurs in awe.

"We have those as well. This one is a gift for mother to wear during the Autumn Equinox," Luna adds, tugging on a rich purple dress that actually did have gold and silver thread embroidered in, and the thought of my Lady Wife dressed in it makes me smile.

"Aye, she will love it. When will your traders set out on their first journey?" I ask,examining some lacework curiously. Luna and her workers exchange a look before she smirks, something wicked in her eyes.

"After the harvest festival on the equinox, when all the bannerman will be visiting so that the lords can all get a good look. That way, when the caravan visits them, they will be most eager to hand over their gold," she informs us, glee unhidden at the thought.

"Do I want to know what madness you are up to?" I ask, amused.

"Oh, nothing much. Just a bit of revolution." I groan, deciding not to even question lest her insanity rubs off on me. I'll make Luwin deal with it instead. If it's something disastrous, I'm sure he will let me know. Until then, I would consider it not my problem.

"Fine. Are there any other products?" I ask tiredly.

Luna glances at Hugo and the lad immediately steps forward to continue discussing the products much to my amusement. My daughter was a creator, and despite her mind for business and coin, she apparently disliked the process of making the sale. Likely, this is a result of her tacitum nature, Lunarya not being one for speech unless necessary, choosing to use her heavy presence to communicate instead. This wasn't a bad thing, however. Peddling and haggling are beneath nobles and even if our etiquette is not nearly as frivolous and convoluted as the Southrons', a certain dignity is still necessary. Leave such things to the traders and merchants.

"Milady has designed some incredible jewelry, but we are waiting for the precious minerals to arrive from the mountains before we really start, and though some rather skilled jewelry craftsmen did arrive with Archmaester Marwyn, there are not many. For now, they are practicing and improving their skills with the craftsmen of Wintertown," Hugo reports formally. "We've also started to create what Milady calls a beauty line. They are products created to beautify the skin and hair, things like cosmetics and oils and paints. But, again, while we have some created, we don't have a proper way to produce the ingredients…"

"I am working on it," Luna says dismissively. "I just need a bit of land and magic, with your permission, Father."

I narrow my eyes to examine her where she stands, leaning casually against a table, her gaze steady. So far, she had delivered on her every word, and though her traders had not left to earn money, I could tell easily that they would. However, there were things I needed to hear her thoughts on.

"Answer me something first, daughter?" She tilts her head, eyes focused off to the side. It would perhaps look disinterested, even impudent, if one weren't aware of her weak eyes. I'd begun to suspect that rather than her gaze, the tilt of her head and stillness of her limbs is a far better way to gauge her attention. "Are you not concerned about the reaction both the lords of Westeros and the smallfolk will have to such blatant magic?"

She blinks. "That's exactly why I'm doing this." She pauses, seemingly taking a moment to articulate. "Things that are seen as helpful and benevolent… These are the types of magic that need to be introduced to Westeros first. That's why magic that grows food for our people and magic that preserves it,… it's the best way to start. One day, if people see Starks using magic to take on an army, to slaughter and cut down our enemies, they will also remember that it was also our magic that kept food in the bellies of their families in the dead of winter."

I stare, catching the awed glance of one of my oldest friends, a look clearly replicated in the gaze of Luwin. Even young Hugo and Maya seem stunned by Lunarya's words and here and now, I see very well why she would be chosen as a messenger of the gods, despite the aghast look in her eyes when anyone refers to her as such.

I huff, reaching to rub at my temples once more. "Alright, child. I'll give you a small field to grow the things you need. During the harvest festival, with all our bannermen at Winterfell, I will see how well your traders do, how much your company sells, and that will determine what happens next."

She beams. "Thank you, Father. A few moons is all I need. We'll be ready by then, and the Blizzard Trading Company will be ready for its maiden journey."

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AN; Yo! How was it? Marwyn deadass wrote himself into becoming a main side character and I love it 😂

What did you guys think about all of the inventions? And the magic? A lot of it is actually really ambiguous in the series and show, so I'm really just making shit up as a go, but I don't think any of my assumptions are unreasonable considering what we know. For example, Valyria was a super advanced society, one that was known for its advanced magic and shit like Valyrian steel ! I can't see them being as badass as they were without steady food that they sure as hell didn't grow themselves. That leaves import, but how much of that food would have stayed edible going across the sea? It's my head cannon that they used magic feed the population.

Anyway, if you have any more ideas for inventions, magical an otherwise, let me know! I'm really excited for this and the next chapter since everything is really coming together now as the MC dives into her role as magic bringer! 💙 thx for the support and see you guys soon!