Tinkering With Life (GoT SI)

"What in the seven hells happened?" 

The question pierced the oppressive silence of the chamber. The acolyte before her trembled, his eyes darting around like a cornered animal.

Fear was etched on his face, and he jumped at every shadow and breeze. 

His stuttering was beginning to grate on her nerves, but she knew it wasn't his fault.

She had heard numerous tales of the nightmare that befell the citadel—accounts she might have doubted had she not witnessed the remnants of the swarm dispersing with her own eyes from Highgarden.

She didn't dare to imagine what it must have been like in the midst of it.

But dwelling on that was not an option right now; she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Before she could glean any coherent information from the terrified acolyte, the heavy wooden door creaked open. One of her men-at-arms stepped in, his expression grim.

"Please tell me you have something," she demanded, without bothering to hide the urgency in her voice.

"The swarm that descended on the citadel had a specific purpose. Other than the seven archmaesters, whose bodies have been mutilated beyond recognition, nobody was harmed."

Her heart sank. It confirmed her worst fears. Those fools had meddled where they shouldn't have and paid the ultimate price for it.

She had a pretty good idea of who they had pissed off. For who else could it be.

Olenna wanted to curse the stupidity of men if it wasn't equally useful half the time.

It could not have come at a worse time.

Her grandchildren were about to reach Winterfell any day now.

His retaliation to whatever they had done had been swift and brutal, surpassing her expectations. Rumors had placed him at Dragonstone or Winterfell, but clearly, he had moved faster than anticipated.

Wait. No, she was thinking about this all wrong. Maybe he hadn't moved at all; perhaps he had simply sent his swarm to carry out his bidding. 

That was even worse. The idea that someone could orchestrate such brutality from the other side of the world sent a shiver down her spine.

"We're dealing with someone extremely dangerous," she muttered, half to herself. "We need to act fast."

Thankfully, the smallfolk were attributing the incident at the Citadel to angering the gods and facing divine retribution.

She turned to the guard that brought her the news. "I need to write a letter to William. I don't care how, but ensure he receives it as soon as possible. He needs to know exactly what's happened here before this situation spirals further out of control. And pray that whatever grudge the mage held ended with the archmaesters."

As the man-at-arms hurried out, she added, "Wait, also let me know if my son starts doing anything foolish to escalate the situation." 

Then she cast a glance at the acolyte.

His fear was palpable, and she doubted he knew anything substantial. But she needed answers, and there was nowhere else to turn for them anytime soon.

"Listen to me," she said, her tone softer yet firm. "I know you don't want to be here, and I don't want you here either. The sooner you tell me what I need to know, the sooner we can both get what we want, alright? So, now you're going to tell me everything you know. Every detail, no matter how small, about what those idiots were involved in."

The acolyte gulped and nodded. He began to speak, his words halting at first but gradually gaining confidence as he recounted the events leading up to the massacre. She listened intently, piecing together the fragments of information.

Hoping that she could find the reason.

She needed to know why. 

What the fuck had they done to warrant such a reaction?

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Oberyn and his family broke their fast with the Starks early in the morning before preparing to leave for the clinic.

"So, are we the first ones here?" Oberyn asked as they exited the castle. His eyes wandered over the imposing architecture, the banners bearing the direwolf sigil, and the somber atmosphere of Winterfell.

"I'm afraid I don't follow, Prince Oberyn?"

"I mean, are we the first southerners to arrive to meet the infamous mage?" he asked, teasingly.

Eddard Stark shook his head. "I'm sorry to say you're the second. Tyrion Lannister has been here for a while, and the Tyrells should be arriving shortly."

Oberyn's expression darkened at the mention of the Lannisters, but he quickly composed himself. If Tyrion was already healed by the White Mage, it could disrupt many of his brother's plans. He exchanged a meaningful glance with Ellaria; they would need to send a raven to Dorne sooner than anticipated.

"I'll be frank with you, Lord Stark," Oberyn said as they walked. "Winterfell is different from what I imagined"

"I hope your journey across Westeros wasn't solely driven by curiosity, Prince Oberyn," Eddard replied, his voice as stoic as ever.

Oberyn grinned. "When the rumors are as intriguing as they are, how could a man like me resist?" Then, more seriously, he added, "I also hope the White Mage might help with my brother's gout."

"I see. How is he faring currently?"

"Doran is managing," Oberyn continued, his tone subdued. "But the gout has been getting worse. We've tried remedies from everywhere, but nothing has worked. When I heard of the White Mage's skills and what he had done in King's Landing, I hoped he might provide a solution."

"Well, here we are." Stark gestured towards a modest building ahead, with a few people lined up outside.

It appeared completely ordinary except for one striking feature: a massive direwolf, larger than any horse Oberyn had ever seen, sprawled in front of the clinic, peacefully napping while everyone seemed to ignore its presence.

Oberyn froze, a shiver running down his spine as he took in the enormous wolf, its jaws large enough to sever a man in half with one bite.

Turning to Ellaria, he saw the same unnerved expression mirrored on her face. At least he wasn't the only one seeing this, he thought.

He recalled tales of the Mage's wolf from King's Landing, but the reality was even more daunting.

"Come along, Prince Oberyn. You and your family need not worry about Fenrir," Stark reassured.

Oberyn didn't want to appear cowardly, so he put on a brave face and began to move forward when—

"Can I pet him?" Nymeria asked in a sweet voice. Normally, he could not refuse her, but in that moment, it felt as though his blood had frozen.

He tightened his grip on his daughters' shoulders and gently ushered them towards the clinic, doing his best to ignore the imposing presence of the massive beast.

Stark knocked on the door, and a soft voice from within called, "Come in."

They entered, greeted by the comforting warmth of the clinic that sharply contrasted with the chill outside. The walls were lined with shelves bearing jars of herbs and potions, filling the air with a pleasant aroma.

A beautiful young woman with fair, clear skin and bright, intelligent eyes looked up from her work as they stepped inside.

"Lord Stark, how may I help you today?" she inquired politely.

"Freya, Is El back yet?" Stark asked.

"No, not yet. You know how he gets when he's working on a new project. He should be back today," she replied.

"Freya, this is Prince Oberyn, his paramour Ellaria, and their daughters."

"Prince Oberyn, this is Lady Freya," Stark introduced. "She is El's apprentice and the finest healer we have in Winterfell at the moment."

He put on his most charming smile. "I see. Well, I'm sad to hear that I cannot meet the infamous Mage today, but all that disappointment has been washed away because I get to bask in your presence, my fair lady."

Freya looked puzzled, uncertain of how to respond. 

"What..."

Thankfully, Ellaria intervened to break the awkward silence. "Dear, please refrain from flirting with the healer's apprentice, especially with that enormous wolf right outside. Though I must admit, Lady Freya, you are truly stunning."

Freya blushed, the color spreading across her cheeks, but she quickly composed herself. "Thank you for your kind words, Prince Oberyn, Lady Ellaria. But I'm sure you haven't come here just to flatter me. Please, let me know how I can assist you. I have a long line of patients waiting."

Oberyn chuckled softly. "My apologies for any inconvenience. I am in good health, but my brother suffers from gout, which has recently worsened. The maester in Sunspear fears he may soon lose his ability to walk unaided soon."

Freya nodded, her demeanor serious as she listened intently. "Since he couldn't travel here himself, could you describe his symptoms? It will help me understand his condition better."

Oberyn proceeded to detail his brother's symptoms as accurately as he could.

Listening attentively, Freya nodded thoughtfully. "I understand. Since it's early stages, he won't need a high dosage. I'll provide you with pills he can take daily after dinner for the next month. This should alleviate his symptoms over time. Also, advise him to reduce his meat intake."

She stepped into another room briefly and returned with a glass vial filled with small white pills.

"Here you go. This should suffice. If you notice any new symptoms, discontinue use immediately and send word."

Oberyn eyed the vial skeptically. "Is that all?"

Freya smiled. "If you were hoping to see some magic, I'm sorry to disappoint you. El makes sure to stock up the back with enough medicine for most common illnesses. While gout isn't that common, we have had a few patients come in with the disease, so you're in luck."

Oberyn nodded, accepting the vial. "Thank you, Lady Freya. We'll follow your instructions carefully."

Freya's expression softened. "I hope it helps. Was there anything else you needed?"

As much as he wanted to ask a million more questions, Oberyn decided he didn't need to rush everything today; he simply needed to be patient.

"That will be all, Lady Freya," he replied graciously.

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As much as the oppressive heat was annoying me, I couldn't keep the smirk off my face. It would have been painful if I could still feel pain, but it had been a while since I experienced any—at least the physical kind.

We had to spend another day ensuring the magic flowing into the egg had stabilized before we could drop it. On the bright side, this gave me a day to figure out how to actually get the egg to the planet's core. This was not going to be as easy as I initially thought, but I felt like I had a solution. Whether it would work or not was another question, but we were long past the point of hesitation.

I needed to design a transport capable of enduring both the intense heat and immense pressure at the core. Heat wasn't a major concern, thanks to having the best heat sink in the galaxy. However, the true challenge lay in ensuring the transport could quite literally withstand the weight of the world—at least until it reached its destination.

"The flow of magic has finally stabilized. I can't sense any inconsistencies. You should check once more," Vaylara said from beside me.

I nodded and placed my hand on the egg and came to the same conclusion.

"Have you figured out how to get it where it needs to go?" she asked.

"Sort of. I have no clue if it will actually reach the center, but it should get close enough. No way to verify until the egg hatches."

I used up all the leftover biomass I had to create a sandworm—not a large one, just big enough to house the egg and move comfortably. I reinforced its skin as best as I could, knowing it was a one-way trip for the worm. The pressure would eventually make it give in. I couldn't make it as sturdy as the egg shell because it needed to stretch and contract to move.

The worm wiggled slowly, and I carefully made sure the egg was connected in a way that allowed all the heat from the worm's outer skin to be absorbed directly into it, ensuring it wouldn't burn up.

It barely took any time before it was ready.

"Go forth, my child, and fulfill your divine purpose," I declared theatrically.

Vaylara rolled her eyes at my dramatics, though a smile betrayed her amusement.

Together, we watched as the worm slowly burrowed deeper until it reached a depth where the tunnel began to collapse behind it, eventually disappearing from sight.

With a final glance at the hole, I grabbed Vaylara's book and swiftly ascended towards the surface. I had lingered underground for too long, and the discomfort was becoming unbearable. I needed some fresh air.

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