Chapter 4

Winterfell, Brandon's POV

I have successfully managed to enhance my growth using magic, an amazing achievement I know. At the age of 2 years old I was already the size of a 4 year old child with total control over my movement. I was elated! While I would miss the wide variety of tits that I used to drink from –seriously, uncle Benjen brought me 20 different wet nurses, all inspected personally. My adventures around Winterfell have proved fruitful. The castle seemed to have its own magic, which eased the process of implementing wards. I had intent-based wards, lighting wards – to strike any sieging army, Foe-or-friend, a ridiculous amount of spying wards, anti-theft and loyalty enforcing wards. I wasn't taking any chances with trust and loyalty of the residents of Winterfell and Wintertown. Personal freedom is great and everything but trust and loyalty are a fickle thing, and these wolves were no badgers.

The vault that was located under the crypts was unfortunately blocked by the floor of the crypt, So naturally I demolished the floor with a flick of my hand and re-assembled it with a mixture of transfiguration and charms so It would open theatrically and the floor would split and re-arrange itself into stairs when a stark spills blood on the statue of Bran the Builder Crypt.

Inside, I found a veritable wealth of knowledge and gold. My initial count of the gold inside is almost 4 million dragons, not counting the gems, weapons and artifacts. The vault entrance started beneath the crypts and was expanded until it covered the entirety of Winterfell's underground. Almost 2/5 of the vault was full of books, mostly were worthless, but some had the blueprints of Winterfell and the Wall which greatly assisted me in uncovering other magic protected rooms and passages in the castle. I also found a ridiculous amount of Valyrian steel weapons, which greatly reminded me of Damascus steel back on Earth, the method was lost even back on Earth but I was a fucking wizard for fuck's sake and I had a pretty good relationship with Death, thus no knowledge was lost to me. All hail Lord Stark.

I managed to relocate around 50 thousand dragons into a hidden room in Winterfell, claimed to have discovered it, and quickly influenced my uncle to start expanding Winterfell, fix the first keep and the broken tower and lay stones the ground instead of the filthy mud in the courtyard and expand the surrounding farms fivefold. While I could've just revolutionized farming, ship-making and military of the North, I knew nobody would take a 4 year old who, to their knowledge, never read a book before or started his formal education with the Maester. And I sure as hell wasn't going to let my uncle Benjen get all the praise for his improvements of the North. No, the North survived the past 8,000 years on its own it could wait a few years more while I assert my genius status in this world.

So when the maester found me reading in the library at a ridiculous rate and with a little push from me, he convinced my uncle that being able to learn my letters and numbers alone was an incredible achievement and shouldn't be wasted, that's why I just copied his entire knowledge and began flaunting my knowledge hiding it behind an eidetic memory. The maester was thrilled, it seemed that previous Starks weren't particularly intelligent and he recalled some mentions of scholars of the past being able to memorize a page by simply reading it once. I hit him with yet another compulsion, to convince my uncles that I should consider going to the Citadel for a few years just to forge some chains, not unheard of for sons of Nobles.

Making sure the expansion and improvements to my new base was being taken care of, I packed my bags and decided to accept the Maester's 'advice'. And that's why I was at the age four on the way to the so-called Hub of knowledge in Westeros.

284 AC, Winterfell

"Are you sure about this," Said Ned watching the party of Brandon leaving Winterfell.

Maester Luwin replied, "Lord Stark, I wouldn't dare send Lord Brandon to the Citadel – to my colleagues, without making sure that he is indeed as good as I mentioned to them in the letters, he could rise to become an Archmaester in no time."

"I know Luwin, I know. He's just a bit too young that's all."

"Lord Benjen has sent 30 Stark men to accompany him to the Citadel and no man was ever harmed inside the Citadel," He said frowning.

"Don't worry Ned, I made sure to tell Brandon that he shouldn't take any vows as it's his duty to rule Winterfell," Benjen interrupted playfully.

"It's not like I'm afraid of ruling the North Ben," Ned said sighing, "I wasn't even raised in Winterfell. Most of my life was spent at the Eyrie, I'm not a true Northman."

"It was father's decision to foster you at the Eyrie Ned not yours."

"Aye, it was," Ned said sadly.

"Enough of the depressing talk, how's little Robb and Jon?"

"They already started sparring with wooden sticks and are growing up like brothers instead of trueborn son and a bastard."

"And Lady Catelyn," Ben prodded.

"She's well."

"You know what I'm talking about Ned."

"She… tolerates him, but he's beginning to notice and started being a little bit distant."

"You can leave him here in Wintefell, you know."

"No! He's my flesh and blood."

"And I'm his uncle Ned," Ben said with a raised eyebrow.

"No, just- just drop it Ben. Jon is my responsibility."

"Very well," Ben said walking away.

284 AC, Oldtown, The Reach.

We've been riding hard for almost a month with no problems; a portable notice-me-not ward may have assisted in that. From what I could see in my journey, the northern army was made of levies. That was completely unacceptable. A trained elite force of a thousand could probably run circles around ten thousand levies. The only force with a semblance of training and discipline were Knights, which were not available in the North as followers of the Old Gods. But that was for another day.

It was hard not to appreciate the beauty of Highgarden, even though we never really entered the castle it looked straight out of a Disney movie. Majestic, but not really what I was aiming for with Winterfell. The seat of house Tyrell, the second richest house in monetary value and richest in terms of food had fields of golden roses that stretched as far as the eye can see. The castle itself had almost a glowing look to it, Situated on a broad, symmetrically shaped hill, the castle includes three concentric tiers of white stone walls, which increase in height and thickness as one travels upwards. Between the outermost and middle walls is Highgarden's famous "briar maze", a labyrinth of beautifully maintained hedges. I reigned in the part of me that wanted to unleash carefully controlled fiendfyre into the maze and just burn the surrounding grounds for the fun of it and we passed peacefully.

The Citadel was as a university-like complex of buildings extending along both banks of the River Honeywine in Oldtown, linked by graceful bridges. While it wasn't as beautiful as fancy as universities back in Earth it still retained a Ravenclaw-like presence. The Order of Maesters exhibited a huge deal of influence in all of the seven kingdoms. Every castle, keep or land in Westeros had a maester in it whom acted as 'advisors' and most likely spied on the lords they served. Whether they served their own self-interests or that of Hightower was a mystery that would most definitely be known the moment I make eye-contact with the archmaesters. The ruling council of the citadel was called the Conclave, composed of the aforementioned archmaesters, which elects the new Grand Maester after the passing of the old, decides on policies, and attends to the administration of the Citadel as well as the training of new recruits. The Conclave also appoints the Seneschal, the maester who has to run the bureaucracy of the Citadel on a day-to-day basis, which is considered drudgery.

Much like the professors in a university faculty, each of the archmaesters is the foremost expert in a specific field, such as the archmaester of medicine or the archmaester of economics, etc. The maesters crafted individual links composed of various metals to signify their fields of expertise. There was 16 recognized fields in the Citadel each with a different metal. From what I could ascertain from Maester Luwin's knowledge, the citadel focused on scientific magic and greatly disdained magic. An unfortunate setback but I was determined to pilfer every bit of knowledge inside the walls of the citadel and gain a reputation of extreme intelligence, only then could I answer the unknowingly given slight of the archmaesters.

Upon my entry in the Citadel I was greeted by 16 figures which looked more like a group of beggars with their silly grey robes than Knights of Knowledge. I had a feeling that the entirety of the Conclave didn't usually welcome a recruit individually. Perhaps it was because it was the Warden of the North himself that was attending, or the glowing letter Maester Luwin delivered.

"Lord Stark, truly a pleasure to have you here at Oldtown," Said the old bastard no.3

I nodded politely and we stood in an uncomfortable silence for a moment before he began introducing the other Archmaesters, I didn't actually care about any of them but I was a little creeped out by one Archmaester Marwyn who was probably the re-incarnation of Garrick Ollivander with his creepy stare.

"We will let you rest for now and perhaps we could meet tomorrow to test you and decide which subjects you would study," the man said.

"Little shit probably can't even read," grumbled one of the old men – The archmaester of Mathematics grumbled softly.

I turned my gaze towards him and softly said with a dark tone, "I assure you I can perfectly read, you old fossil."

As the man sputtered in indignation, one of the Archmaesters who has been silent so far interjected, "You have to understand, Lord Stark that this is incredibly irregular. The claims made by Maester Luwin were incredibly outrageous, a 4 years old and could memorize a page from simply reading it once. You have to understand our skepticism."

"Of course, We will simply have to see tomorrow," I said, turning my back on them and walking off towards where my quarters were.

The next day started off with basic questions that were relevant to my basic education back with my personal Maester, the Archmaesters were greatly impressed so I decided to break them even more.

As I finished the test they provided, I was questioned by each of the Archmaesters for almost 30 minutes each. My answers were perfect and contained references to books including the page and line number of each answer. By the time I was showing them some Greek and medieval Mathematics and Geometry knowledge, namely Brandon's theory (formerly Pythagoras),the medieval abacus, showed them invention of my personal clock which divided the day into 24 hours, an hour into 60 minutes and a minute into 60 seconds they were almost drooling and gazing hungrily at me.

They promised to send a letter to the Grandmaester and invite him personally back to the Citadel to witness my inventions and theories. They were elated by my graphs and were about a second from kicking the former Arithmetic Archmaester and instating me in his stead. Of course they were disappointed to learn that as soon as I finish forging my chains, which I would most likely do in a couple of months, I would leave back to the North. I managed to placate them and began negotiating on establishing another base to the order in the North funded by me as soon as possible to 'spread the light of the order further in the seven kingdoms'.

The really interesting part of my questioning by the Archmaester however was Archmaester Marwyn, commonly called Marwyn the mage.

"Come in, Lord Stark," intoned the archmaester from behind the door.

As soon as I entered I was blinded by the light of 16 bright blue flames of obsidian glass.

Marwyn snapped from his seat and exclaimed,"For 30 Years, I have been the Archmaester of Magic in the citadel and no one could even make one of them light."

As I stood uncomfortably and started contemplating whether to obliviate him or not, he continued, "You just enter my room and every one of them burst to light."

"Indeed," I murmured softly, while inwardly panicking I couldn't use any magic inside the goddamned room for some reason, I could see a vase 3 feet away from me. It would take me 5, maybe 7 seconds to take it and crash it over his head. He was an old man he would probably die from the impact.

As I was just about to reach for the vase, he said, "Come, come Brandon –May I call you Brandon? We have much to discuss. Oh this is extremely exciting," And proceeded to drag me behind a hidden door towards some sort of a library with old books.

"The archmaesters must not know!" He said and I was taken aback by the seriousness in the man's statement and contemplated whether to use the usual Malfoy approach proven to work throughout countless generation of Malfoys which was their unofficial motto as well, 'Deny,Deny,Deny.' In the end I decided to indulge my curious side and asked, "Why shouldn't they exactly..?

"You may have heard of the Citadel's disdain for magic and the Higher Mysteries. However, it is way bigger than that. Every archmaester and most Maesters distrust Magic strongly ever since our rivalry with the Alchemist's Guild. It has turned however to an irrational fear to destroy anything that is magical and turn the world into what fits their vision of right," He said, each world dripping with venom.

"I suspect the dance of the dragons and even the death of the Targeryan Dragons was the machinations of the citadel," he continued, "So you must understand the severity of the situation and the need for secrecy."

"Situation?" I asked amused.

"Why, your knowledge boy! I suspect you're going to teach me a great deal than I'll ever can," He exclaimed.

"You and I both know you're not just a 4 year old. So who are you really?" He said

So in a fit of recklessness, I told him everything. Well almost everything. I, of course, excluded the parts of stealing knowledge and just painted myself as an extremely powerful and talented wizard, a not inaccurate image, who managed to beat death and retain his knowledge and memories while being rebirthed. I also showed him some basic charms and transfiguration which had the man salivating.

"Incredible," He said, eyes wide. "I wish I had the same gift as you," He said wistfully.

"Who says you can't?" I murmured to myself.

His head snapped towards me and he almost looked like Bellatrix on a raid. Ahh, regardless of my second life and peaceful reign, I still missed my noble Death Eaters sometimes. "Perhaps Marwyn can become my new Bella." I thought to myself.

"There is a potion and a spell," I said "Combined you might be able to possess some semblance of magic and could cast some spells successfully."

"There's a catch though," I interrupted him.

"Anything, to be able to use magic is my greatest dream."

"You have to understand that I have to give you a part of my magic, I can't just give you a piece of my magic just like that."

"I will swear a loyalty oath!" He exclaimed.

"I have an even better idea," I said smiling genially, "I'll mark as one of my followers"

His face suddenly closed up and he said,"will I still retain my free will?"

"Of course," I lied smoothly, waving my hand dismissively, "My real reason however was for you to act as an emissary of sorts and the mark is only to allow you to mark and find other recruits with an affinity of magic."

He sat for a long time before nodding and bowing. I interrupted, "Just roll your sleeve and give me your arm."

"Morsmorde." I murmured my finger against his arm.

I watched as a Cobra encircled around a ferocious Direwolf burned on his arm. That was… curious, but not unwelcome.

"Incredible," He said bouncing in his seat. "So when do you start me teaching me the magic you did?"

"No need," I said, establishing eye connection and implanting knowledge of apparating, using the dark mark to communicate and brand other followers, basic charms and necessary wards and some charms with a tiny bit of transfiguration.

His head reared back in shock from the flood of knowledge that invaded his mind and he blinked repeatedly to regain his bearings and whispered, "Magnificent."

As I left him to his playing, mainly appertain around the room and transifiguring quills and parchments and laughing loudly, I hit the room with a silencing ward and proceeded to check the Glass Candles. From what I could find out they were basic scrying instruments. There was some myths of the use of Obsidian Candles back in my world to scry and communicate but they were utterly unreliable and better methods were developed. I quickly went back to my room, leaving my first follower and filled with melancholy over my Death Eaters.

The forging of chains.

I wasted almost another year at the Citadel before deciding that I was most likely going to destroy the blasted building. The archmaesters brought shadowbinders from Asshai, Warlocks from Qarth and used poison slowly over the years at the Dragonpit to make sure the dragons slowly died out. I couldn't however destroy it before the other Northern Citadel, which was definitely going to be renamed, was finished and the books copied. I copied every book the Citadel had periodically and portkeyed them back to the vault at Winterfell.

A meeting of the Conclave occurred during my stay in the Citadel and I got to meet the Grandmaester Pycelle. Suffice to say I wasn't impressed. The man praised my intelligence and wholeheartedly supported the Northern Citadel and it was agreed that we would split the cost 40/60 to be finished as soon as possible. By the time I was done, I had every chain that could possibly be forged in the Citadel. The Conclave of course, begged me repeatedly to stay at the Citadel and assured me that I would most definitely become an Archmaester not a simple maester who served different Lords. Yet, it was futile. I was born to rule, and I wasn't going to be chained by ridiculous vows. I was hounded by young maesters all the time, even gave a few lectures and introduced my theories. Brandon's theory in particular was being documented in books of Geometry and slowly introduced to masons and mathematicians all over the world.

Archmaester Bell- err.. Marwyn however, managed to find 2 acolytes who were suitable candidates and were quickly branded and a part of my followers and would scout Westeros and hopefully Essos in search for other followers.

So with my chains forged, my reputation as a genius whispered in the corridors of the citadel and between Lords, I packed and rode back for the North.