AN: This will be an extremely AU story based on Game of Thrones. It will be set in a universe much like our own, but with hidden undercurrents of the supernatural, and in the modern day - or, at least, one that looks a tad bit like Verona Beach (from the 1996 Romeo and Juliet movie). It will be the first in a trilogy, with Part 2 being a Mentalist/Supernatural crossover alongside it, but it will also be set in the same massive universe(s) in which I've set all my other fics. I hope you, the reader, will appreciate the directions I will take with this story. If not, I will telepathically bear-hug you until you do!
Science? I don't need no stinking science! Sanity-free storytelling, that's the order of the day from me!
R&R and enjoy!
P.S. I really don't own anything here, other than a couple of OC's. All credit to George R.R. Martin and all the other great creators whose works I will reference and/or bastardize here.
Solar Power
Chapter 1
"Down in the ground where the dead men go, the goofy-foot demon's at rest," the guard sang under his breath as he descended the steps into the basement. "Shove a spade through my foot, then dump me in a Laguna Ice Chest, Ice Chest, Ice Chest, Ice Chest..." It was one of his favorite drinking songs, imported direct from America. All it took over there was to take the beat of a popular hit song, change the words to make reference to their security service's worst nightmare, and add an infernal twist to it all. It certainly helped that it was adapted from what had to be the most addictive song made in the world's history. The bard known as Brendon Urie was truly a master, and a most unforgettable one at that. In fact, he was to be the first in almost half a hundred years to make his way to Westeros to perform in King's Landing.
But as the guard reached the end of the basement corridor, all thoughts of the ridiculously infectious drinking song vanished from his mind as he spotted something very wrong indeed. The door to the sub-basement, the room that was not supposed to be entered except by order of the King, was ajar, and the keypad that locked the door at all times was half-melted and charred, still smoking. This was a titanium keypad, too, so clearly someone had gone to extreme lengths to get into the sub-basement illicitly.
On the other side of the door was a tightly curved, steep spiral staircase leading down to the sub-basement itself. It took the guard a full minute to descend all the way, and once he reached the bottom, he saw that the sub-basement door was no longer sealed. The once-shimmering barrier that used to surround the edges of the door had been torn open and now lay in tatters on the floor. There were only two kinds of weapon capable of penetrating this seal, and the guard had a shrewd idea which one was responsible.
Sure enough, as he entered the subterranean chamber, his worst fears were confirmed. On his first day on this detail, he'd been taken down here just so he could see what he was to be guarding each and every night on his rounds. It was a room full of complicated clockwork machinery, all illuminated by glowing spheres of diamond particles, charged up so much they had dissolved into shining plasma.
Tonight, however, all but one of the diamond lights had been extinguished, and there were much less whirrs and clicks coming from the gears of the clockworks. A shadowy figure moved around in front of the one still-working diamond light, muttering to himself as he did whatever he was doing.
The guard unsheathed his sword, allowing the gleaming diamond blade to flood the room with white light. The intruder stopped short and spoke without turning around. "Oh, come on. You knew this was coming."
"You know what has to be done now," said the guard.
"Yes," said the intruder. "But that matters not. It's too late for this regime now. That rat-faced shithead swine must be brought down."
The guard readied his blade. "That would destroy the kingdom."
"No," said the intruder, drawing his own blade. The guard was not surprised to see that it was not the sharpened crystal stake he himself wielded, but rather a slender, lethal black spike. Fragile and useless when it came to stabbing, but more than able to kill a man with a single well-placed slash.
The intruder held his black blade high, allowing the guard to see the small pinprick of light reflected on it, in a shifting rainbow of darkness from purple to red and back through purple to blue again, over and over. "No summer can last forever," said the intruder. "And this summer has lasted more than long enough already."
"You can't win," said the guard. "There's not enough of you left. You're vastly outnumbered."
"Are we?" the intruder asked. "We've got more of us just waiting to strike. More than in your wildest nightmares, ser," he said, putting enough emphasis on the title to know he meant no respect. Then he took his mini-tab out of his pocket one-handed and examined it. "Just about time now."
"What can you hope to send from down here?" asked the guard. "You can't possibly have reception down here."
The intruder smiled. "Exactly. I've programmed a message to be sent if I don't connect to the server back home once every 24 hours. And the 24-hour limit is going to expire in seconds." He carefully ran the edge of his blade across the screen, causing the mini-tab to spark and fizzle out. "There. You can't stop us now. Nobody here can. Winter is coming, and you can't do jack shit to stop it."
The guard and the intruder struck each other simultaneously, the crystal spire piercing the intruder's chest and perforating his heart and lungs as the obsidian spike tore a massive gash in the guard's throat. Blood spurted everywhere and soaked the stone floor, and the last thing the guard heard before the darkness claimed him was the clockwork machinery coming to a stop at last.
Far to the north, Robb Stark's mini-tab beeped in his pocket and he consulted it. The raven symbol, symbolizing an e-mail, was fluttering its wings to get his attention. He opened the one e-mail he'd received and read it.
"Winter is coming," it read. "Soon the sun will set."
Robb nodded to himself as he wiped the e-mail from his inbox. "About time," he muttered. "They need to pay already." He dialed Theon's number and waited for him to answer. "It's time," he said. "Execute Phase Two."
"Done," said Theon. Robb hung up and walked up to the room in the abandoned motel where he and his team were holing up. Once there, he turned on the ancient TV and waited for the Breaking News banner to appear. He didn't have long. It took only ten minutes before the newscasters started announcing the sudden explosion in the middle of Lannisport, complete with live coverage of the fires breaking out all over the harbor.
Not long now, Father, Robb thought. We're gonna take back the kingdom for you. Count on it. He turned the TV off and crossed the room to look at his reflection in the mirror. As he looked, his face stretched into a strange lupine form, with a heavy coat of dark silver beard, yellow eyes, and a long snout for a nose. Robb nodded at this figure in the mirror, as if to say, Excellent.