A/N: Alright!
I'm pleased to deliver good news! My sister is home safely and she seems to be doing alright. Her Catscan (not familiar with the terminology) came back clean, and she's up and talking. Rather loudly at that, thank goodness, haha! She's also starving, which is a good sign considering how small she is. Can't say how much of a relief it is to have her back safe. There doesn't appear to be any lasting damage aside from her being tired. Furthermore, she's speaking properly, and eating normally as well. What's scary is that we don't know what caused it in the first place. There's no sign of whatever caused it so I think I can tentatively say she's alright for now.
Thank you for all the wonderful support!
Now, ladies and gentlemen!
I!
AM!
BACK!
HUZZAH!
LONG LIVE THE REQUEST YEARS!
Also, Wormrepo, not cool bro, coming me like that and then blocking me, but you're entitled to your opinion.
As ever, I live to write stories for you guys and gals, so by popular request, hear we are, one last time! My penultimate new story for the year! After that, its time to crack down and finish all my other works. To make certain, I've actually brought in some help! That's right, I'm working with several co-writers now to finally get this done! And we're making rather good progress at that, I'm pleased to say!
If you or anyone you know wants to help contribute, feel free to ask!
On another note, this story tends more to the humorous side of Game of Thrones. In other words it involves trolling, certain characters getting their just deserts, and all manner of silliness and chaos in general. If you favor something more serious, I'd recommend Son of the Stag. If you want to have a good laugh and watch assholes get what's coming to them, then by please, by all means, stick around! I don't promise a happy ending, but I do promise an entertaining one! You can quote me on that!
You're in for a silly, romping good time.
Wish me luck!
Also, people are telling me I should get a or pat reon or somesuch. Thoughts?
PREPARE TO LAUGH.
Now then, off we go!
On another note, this one's going to be shorter than most, only a few chapters.
Still, if you enjoy chaos and humor as well as a bit of madness besides, this story is for you!
Furthermore, Son of the Stag is next on the update list and the chapter's shaping up rather nicely!
"Really? Did you HONESTLY think I was going to play fair?"
"Braggart! How dare you! Y-You have no honor!"
"No. I don't. Honor gets you killed. Now...
"You wouldn't bloody dare!"
"Wouldn't I?"
~?
A Hopeless Prayer
So!
Westeros!
To quote an old friend of mine, you'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride. Seven Deadly Sins, much? The land embodies all this and then some. I could use more colorful words but I believe you get my meaning. A land of swords and magic, once teeming with dragons, but no longer. If there are gods left here, they've either forsaken their subjects or they simply no longer exist. I don't care much for their subjects, frankly. Most of them are arrogant and cruel, good souls few and far between. Doesn't matter. I'm not here to battle deities. Not in this universe. My purpose here is simple, mundane, even. To quote a certain man...
...I want to play a game.
That's right; I want to fuck Westeros.
Not the land.
Not the people.
I'm talking about the WORLD.
I don't want to rule over them; anymore than a man wants to rule a city filled with roaches. I want to get inside their heads and mess with their minds until they can't tell up from down, nor North from South. I want the the cruel to cower. The vicious bastards to jump at every shadow. The master manipulators to fear every thought as if where no longer their own. I want chaos. I want laughter. I want disaster. Believe me, I've read and seen enough to know what I'm getting myself into here. I know the fiends from the everyday folk, but when this is over, they're like to fear me as well. And ya know what?
That's alright.
Now I know what you're thinking.
Naruto, how is this a fair game? How can mortal possibly best a deity? Do you intend to just run roughshod over this world? The answers are in that order; of course its fair, rather easily at that, and ABSOLUTELY NOT. Its no fun without a challenge. Unlike a certain elf I knew, I'm not interested in domination. Aye, I'm looking at you, Celebrimbor! What I AM interested in however, is the mind. Life's so much more FUN when you let go of the reins, wouldn't you agree? How much can a man endure? For how long? Its downright simple, really.
Like a house of cards.
All you have to do is poke and proud.
Give 'er a stab...and gravity does the rest.
For the sake of amusement, I'll even throw in a few restrictions on my part.
Limited powers and minions, no respawns, only a handful of miracles to my name. I die once, and they win. One and done. That's right, I'll leave and let fate play out as she sees fit, never to return. I on the other hand, am forbidden from taking a life unless deliberately asked to do so. Wait, no, that's entirely too much of a loophole. Aha, I've got it! A wish! No! Wishes! Plural! Three! Per person! No refunds or substitutes! Like that one Disney movie...oh, what was it? Blast it, damn thing's on the tip of my tongue! Ah, well. Guess I'm not allowed to say it.
See, the perks about being a bona fide DEITY means your favorite celebrities get to live forever in song and story.
Honoring the fallen aside, I think I've given them a sufficient handicap, don't you?
So? Ready to get this show on the road?
And I know just where to start.
After all...
...its Not My Throne.
(...Moments Before the Execution of Eddard Stark...)
Arya prayed.
She'd never been one for prayer but she did so now. The notion of deities-plural or otherwise-had always been a foreign one to her; unlike Father who was devoted to the Old Gods, she simply didn't give the matter much in the way of thought. She'd much rather practice her swordsmanship and archery than give any thought to the idea of a higher power. Much less knitting. She loathed her needlework.
Not so now.
Crouched beneath the statue of Baelor, knees bent, hands clasped together, she prayed harder than she ever had before in her young life. Knuckles white and clenched around one another, the young wolf prayed. Prayed to all the old gods and the new, to those below the sea and in the air, in the earth and beyond. She prayed to those both with faces and without. She swore be theirs forever and ever and ever if they just did her this one favor. Her father was about to die, she knew it; she'd heard that twat Joffrey call for his head, saw Ser Ilyn Payne raise their ancestral sword Ice high in the air.
Now it was about to come crashing down on his head.
Gods, she didn't want this to happen!
She prayed even harder.
No, she wished.
Please!
Remarkably the heavens answered.
Ice never reached her father's throat; valyrian stell never tasted blood. Instead its descent halted mere inches away, frozen just before impact. No, Arya realized, turning her gaze to behold the once-swollen crowd around her. Not just the sword. The whole world had abruptly ceased to move. To exist. To be. All the color drained away as though stolen away from a painting. At first she didn't understand. Couldn't bring herself to realize what she was looking at, nor the notion that something-rather, someone-had heard her heartfelt plea and chosen to answer.
As if offended by that very notion, a bolt of lightning burst from the clear day with a deafening peal of laughter.
"So." a voice rumbled behind her. "You must be Arya Stark."
With that, the invisible strings binding her fell away and she found herself able to move once more.
He...really didn't look that terrifying, really.
Downright normal, if one were to ignore the red horns poking out of his straw-blond hair. The poor sod had wrapped himself in what appeared to be a black-and-orange tunic of all things, and a shoddily made one at that. His sole outstanding feature proved to be his whiskered cheeks-no, it was most certainly the eyes; a pair of bright blue orbs that seemed to burn in tandem as though lit from within. Beyond that, he seemed just as human as she. Utterly ordinary in every way. Barring his sudden and inexplicably arrival and the fact that he'd literally stopped time, there was nothing about him to suggest that he might be more than he appeared...
...oh, bugger.
This wasn't happening.
Not here, not now. Not at all!
"What...?"
"You made a wish." the young man tilted his head, regarding her unblinkingly. "I answered. You get three."
"Three what?"
"Wishes, obviously." he replied.
"...Who in the Seven Hells are you?" she balked.
"Naruto. Guess you could call me god." he shrugged. "Of a sort."
Arya managed a slow blink.
"As in "the" gods?"
At this, the interloper finally displayed a spark of interest.
"Not who. What. And not "the" gods." he corrected her with a wagging finger. "A god. Now, what'll it be? I can't exactly do this indefinitely...
"I...you...that's not even...
Now, to be fair, Arya was in no mood for jests or quips; nor did it occur to her that this stranger might be telling the truth. Clearly the stress must've driven her mad. Yes, that must be it. She was dreaming. Seeing things. Her father was likely even now, losing his head. Sansa might well be next. And with that ghastly thought, something hardened in the young Stark. That tiny coal of anger hardened into a pearl of defiance. The world might well have stopped for her, but it didn't matter. Cersei and Joffrey. It was all their fault. Damn them. Damn them to every hell. And damn this man for mocking her...!
Ironically, it was this very anger that saved her life.
"If you're really a god then save my family." she challenged waspishly. "Don't let my father die."
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Is that it?"
The little Stark bristled. "You can't, can you? You can't save him. No one can."
The blond arched an eyebrow.
"Is that a wish?"
"What? Yes!" She blurted, irritated. "Happy now?"
"Quite. Challenge accepted."
"Wait, what does that-
As she looked on the horned man clapped his hands and vanished before her very eyes. One moment he was there, standing upon thin air. The next, he vanished in a flicker of pale light. A heartbeat later she saw him reappear upon the execution stand. Darting nimbly around Ser Ilyn's still frozen sword, he plucked her father out of harm's way and forced him to his feet. His frozen expression never changed. Never wavered. As she looked on, he did a little spin with his cloak and her lord father vanished, seemingly swallowed whole by the garment. After another moment's thought, he approached her sister, Sansa and did the same unto her. Arya couldn't make sense of it. He just swept the cloak over her sister and she ceased to be, as though she'd never been.
Gone.
Vanished.
In an instant.
Arya's heart lurched.
"Where did you take them?!" she cried.
"Somewhere safe." the horned man reassured her, his voice echoing eerily in the silence. "I'll return them to you once this is done, free of charge. But first...
"First?"
"I want to play a game."
With that, Naruto waltzed toward Joffrey, blue eyes blazing. Frozen where he stood, like all the rest, the boy-king found himself powerless to resist what came next, much less react. His smug visage never reflected an ounce of terror as the blond took hold of his body and maneuvered him forward. Marching the frozen boy-who-would-be-king-if-Arya-didn't-kill-him-first forward like a drunken sailor, the whiskered entity frog-walked him to the very place her father had occupied mere moments before. His booted foot shot out once, twice, three times, forcing the incestuous spawn to his knees with a final kick. Judging by the audible sounds each joint made as it gave way, Arya suspected he'd shattered them outright.
It didn't stop there.
With an effort Naruto made the youth bend his head, forcing his head down onto the block.
"A twist here, a pinch there, aaaaaaaaaand done!"
Only then did Arya realize what the self-professed deity intended. She looked on, silently stupefied at the sight, yet secretly satisfied as the blond completed his task and finished maneuvering the little fool into place. All the while Ice hung in the air like an angry Wolf, waiting to bite into flesh. Suspended in time, Ser Illyn's arms were still in the process of delivering a devastating downward stroke. Unable to correct. But now rather than hang over the neck of its master, it loomed over the head of a Lion. A surreal change of scene, Eddard Stark's head traded for that of a King.
Taking a step back, the blond-Naruto!-paused to admire his handiwork.
"Hmm, not my best trick," he mused, "But I suppose it'll do. Ah, well. Ding-dong, off with his head~!"
In a blink he vanished again, reappearing beside her on the statue with a plume of dark smoke. Arya coughed, groping for words that refused to come. Sanity eluded her. What she'd just witnessed defied all she had been taught, all the learning in her befuddled by this singular event. Naruto glanced down at her, and a disbelieving giggle fled from her lips. This was mad. Absolutely, utterly mad. More so she, for witnessing it! Some distant part of her wondered if Joffrey was truly about to meed his end under the very blade what would've taken Father's. Could it be a trick of some sort? A ploy to make her lower her guard? She mind was entirely too frazzled to properly think things through but in this moment?
"You know," Naruto sighed. "I never get tired of that."
"Tired of what?" she managed.
"Of this."
Grinning, he snapped his fingers in a harsh click.
With a jarring lurch, time marched onward.
Ice descended like a falling star.
And all hell broke loose.
A/N: And the plots doth THICKEN! there you have it! We're back in business! Also, *sniff* I'm afraid I have some bad news. Game of Thrones is ENDING! That's right, they've confirmed that there are only two seasons left and they're going to shorten the amount of episodes in each. AND WE HAVE TO WAIT TILL 2019?!
WHY?!
Why you do this?!
So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...
Hope you enjoy it and be sure to vote!
(Preview(s))
"Tywin, my boy! Pleasure to meet you! I've heard great things!"
R&R! =D