There was at least one follow, so I felt honor bound to make at least one update. Might not be many more, if any. Who knows where my hummingbird mind will settle on for my next project? Anyway, enjoy.
Sansa sat stiffly in her seat. She could not remember a time when the Great Hall had been so quiet. All of Winterfell seemed to be seated, and yet the most that broke the silence was whispers and hisses. She knew, without a doubt, that this was the most somber feast she had ever attended. The tension filled the air like the charge before a Summer storm. And the reasons why were seated at the table with her.
The high table could seat sixteen. She, her siblings, her parents, and the ghostly Prophet occupied one side, the 'captain' of these 'Visitors' (as they referred to themselves) in a place of honor at her lord father's right hand. The diverse, colorful, and alien members of his crew sat facing them, backs to the rest of the hall. Still, Sansa could not shake the intuition that they were aware of everything in the room.
The Orb, that strange egg-like thing from earlier, had departed once the Visitors had all stepped off their flying platform. It had disappeared into the sky, vanishing from view. The vehicle, according to Prophet, was capable of piloting itself, and was returning to their ship that could sail the stars, supposedly hidden on the other side of the moon.
The Visitors had gone with Father to his solar, where more precise terms and rules for their 'visit' had been discussed. While they were sequestered, the whole castle had become rife with speculation and rumors, the simple exchange in the yard twisted and magnified a hundred times over. Sansa could forgive the smallfolk for their lack of propriety. She had witnessed it from only a few yards away and could scarcely believe what she had seen and heard.
The Sun was a star. The Sun was just a star, and the Known World was not the only world. They were not alone. There were others out there. And the others had come. Not to trade or wage war, merely to 'visit'.
It was the stuff of myths, of legend, of tales so fantastic that Sansa had long since stopped believing in them.
And yet, there they were. Close enough for her to touch. Not that she would, she wouldn't dare be so presumptuous.
The feast had been declared late in the evening, and yet all had come to attend. Those unfortunate enough to be duty-bound to miss it would no doubt have every detail regaled to them by a dozen others. Not that there were many details to report. It had been a solid ten minutes, and Sansa noticed that few had even touched their food.
Prophet spoke. "Apologies to all, for our presence souring your meal. We would not have attended had we known we would disturb you so."
His voice wasn't particularly loud, yet it seemed to carry to every corner of the room. As always, despite not exchanging a word with them, he seemed to speak for all his crew.
The crowd stirred, more hisses and exchanges prompted at the Visitor's words. Sansa felt herself color. She couldn't help but be embarrassed. However strange these people were, they were guests. This was not the best impression.
Father spoke up. "Your apology is welcome, Prophet, but unnecessary. It is hardly your fault that the smallfolk are… superstitious."
Prophet turned to face her father. "We are the ones that made such a spectacle with our entrance. We could have been much subtler in our approach. We chose a course that would inspire awe and must accept the consequences."
He turned to face the crowd. "Please, do not worry for our sensibilities. We desire only your honest opinions. You fear us. It is understandable. We are strange and foreign, and you know almost nothing about us. Fear is often born from lack of understanding."
The hall was silenced, all hanging on his words.
"The best solution to ignorance is knowledge. You have questions. Please, ask them. We will answer. In turn, we hope you will answer our own. Pay no heed to worry of offending us. You have our oath to be patient and nonviolent."
Sansa gulped. Who would be the first to brave the challenge?
She should not have been surprised it was her rude, brash, reckless little sister.
"How does the big circle thing fly?!" burst out the young girl. She was perhaps the only person in all the North that was mostly excited by the Visitors' arrival.
Prophet turned to her. "There is a force that draws smaller objects to larger objects. It is the same force that pulls you to the ground when you jump. We call this force gravity. Our people learned how to manipulate it. The transport you saw earlier did not really fly, as you would think of it. It is more that it stopped falling, and then fell upwards."
The explanation was simple, meant for a child. It was given freely and heard by all.
As Sansa was wrapping her mind around the concept, one of the knights spoke up from the tables. "Why did your men bring their wives?"
That garnered the first response from the eight crewmembers since they landed. The woman in red, Brunhild, broke out in raucous laughter.
Prophet answered, paying no attention to his crew member's humor. "You misunderstand. None of us are married. The uniforms mark the duties and training of specific crew positions. That my crew has one man and one woman for the four groups you see is pure coincidence."
"You let women serve on your ship?" the man asked, incredulous.
"Our society is built on an idea which, roughly translated, means 'rule by blind merit'. Where we come from, on our world, all are considered equal. Race, wealth, sex, gender, all are disregarded. One is judged only on their capabilities and actions. We all start with the same opportunities. Which ones we pursue and achieve is the matter of the individual."
"In other words, we're here because we're good at our jobs!" Brunhild spoke up, turning to face the man. "I'm didn't get to where I am because I'm a woman, nor despite it. I got here because I'm Brunhild and I worked hard. Simple as that."
The man colored, unused to being addressed by a woman in such a way, even a woman so strange and different.
Set spoke up. "Perhaps a show of our capabilities is in order." His voice was so low and deep it practically grumbled.
Prophet blinked. Sansa had noticed that none of them seemed to do so often, but when they did it was almost an acknowledgment. "Very well."
Brunhild and Set stood up and turned to face each other, standing on the step between the high table and the rest of the hall. Both held out their hands. Blades appeared in their hands, coalescing from some strange black dust that leaked out of their hands. Brunhild wielded a longsword even bigger than Ice, while Set had one in each hand, with a curving crescent-moon shape.
Sansa was not the only one to gasp. Others cried out.
Prophet spoke up. "The weapons you see are composed of something we call 'utility fog'. Imagine thousands upon thousands of bricks, each smaller than a fly, that can move and rearrange themselves on command. We can construct all manner of objects from this fog, from simple things like these swords to entire buildings." Prophet turned to Father. "With your permission, Set and Brunhild will demonstrate their fighting prowess for your entertainment and their exercise. Is this acceptable to you, Lord Eddard of House Stark?"
Sansa watched her father eye Brunhild with some hesitance, looking from her to the towering Set. Sansa scanned the other Visitors' faces. Most of them seemed to pay no attention to what was going on behind them, though the strangely colored girl named Harriet had an amused grin on her face. "If the two wish to duel, that is their right. You have my leave."
Prophet nodded, turning to the two combatants. "A brief showcase, please. Nothing… excessive."
The two gave no outward acknowledgment. They simply moved.
Sansa would never watch the men drill in the yard the same way ever again.
Brunhild and Set moved like lightning, arms and legs blurring as they moved. The sound of metal clashing against metal rang out so many times so fast it was like the echo of thunder. It wasn't combat, it was a dance. A dance of fury and sword and grace. They both wielded their blades as if they weighed no more than feathers, swinging and chopping and deflecting faster than Sansa could see.
Perhaps Barristan Selmy in his prime or the notorious Kingslayer Jaime Lannister could fight at this level. But Sansa had never seen such skill in person before. It terrified her. And the fact that one of the fighters was a woman and was holding up against a man bigger than any Sansa had ever seen disturbed her. Women weren't meant to fight like that.
It simply drove home a simple point: these Visitors, these people, were not like them.
Prophet spoke up after the fight went on for five minutes with no clear victor. "Enough."
Both stopped mid-swing, going from blazing motion to calm stillness in the space of a blink. The blades they wielded crumbled as if they were made of sand, the dust dissolving into the air. Sansa noted that neither Brunhild or Set were sweating. Did they not share this simple trait in common with the people of this world, or was the display they'd given simply that trivial compared to their true might? Sansa couldn't decide which answer she'd prefer.
There was pure silence in the hall, until Arya whooped. "That was fucking awesome!"
"ARYA!" Mother screamed, but it was lost as the hall filled with applause. The men stomped and hollered and hooted, declaring their appreciation for the once-in-a-lifetime show. Brunhild and Set both gave small bows to the crowd, before returning to their seats as if nothing had happened.
"Well, that was… something to see," Father said when the clamor had died down.
"I hope this makes clear to all that Brunhild is a very competent fighter. Recognizing that there are differences between our cultures regarding women, I hope all here would acknowledge her hard-earned skill and her position as Security Officer on our crew," Prophet spoke again, his voice again carrying to everyone in the room despite not seeming to raise volume. "Are there any more questions?"
The ice, as they say, was broken. "What do the rest of you do?" Robb asked. "If Ser Set and Lady Brunhild are knights, what about the others of your crew?"
"As you know, red uniforms symbolize Security. Grey demarks Interpersonal Relations. Solomon and Athena are something like courtiers or politicians, trained in navigating social and legal situations as well as pacifying and sorting out conflicts. Green is for Medical. Vivaan and Harriett are healers, equipped to treat any injury or illness, either for the crew or the people of the worlds we visit. Blue indicates Science and Technology. Lao Zi and Inari are akin to maesters or engineers, tasked with maintaining our tools and our ship and learning of the local knowledge and workings." Prophet nodded to each member of his crew as he explained their role.
"Why do none of you talk?" Bran asked innocently.
Solomon, who was seated opposite Sansa's little brother, spoke up for the first time, with a pleasant smile on his lips. "We can hear each other's thoughts, so we don't have to talk to each other. We let Prophet do most of the talking with other people because he likes the sound of his own voice."
This little tidbit sent the smallfolk rearing.
"You hear thoughts?"
"Witchcraft!"
"SILENCE!" Father roared, in his 'Lord Stark' voice. "How dare you insult our guests?"
The people were mostly cowed, though Sansa still heard angry and fearful mutterings near the back.
Prophet spoke up. "To clarify, we cannot read your thoughts, only each other's. Telepathy, or communication by thought, is one of the abilities granted to us by our tools. We each have a small device implanted in our brains that interprets thought and passes it on to others with similar devices."
"So, the brain is the source of thought," Maester Luwin muttered to himself.
"Why would you do a thing like that?" one of the men asked.
Harriet turned and smiled at the man. "Why not, silly? It's easier and faster to talk with our heads than with our mouths. Most of the people on our world have some form of 'mind link'."
The man blushed, taken with the girl's beauty and cute attitude. Sansa had the alarming notion that she and Arya would get along.
"If you think about it, language is just another tool. A way to form, shape, and communicate one's thoughts. Our people found a better tool in direct linking of minds through technology. It is our preference, but we recognize that it can be discomforting to other people used to verbal communication. Perhaps an example would be best." Prophet turned to Solomon. The man's smile faded and his shoulders hunched. "I just told Solomon that I do not appreciate his little joke at my expense, and that his 'chores', for lack of a better word, have been doubled."
"How do you know the Common Tongue?" Mother asked next. "I find it doubtful that your native language and ours are one and the same?"
Prophet nodded to her. "A good question, Lady Stark. The answer might give you some discomfort. Do you still wish to hear it?"
Sansa watched as her mother hesitated before nodding.
"Our ship arrived to this star system 29 of your days ago. As is standard procedure, we sent sensing machines to each world surrounding the star. When we detected life on this world, we sent more in. Imagine eyes and ears smaller than the you can see, drifting in the air and on laying on the ground like dust. Through these instruments, we gathered images, audio, and a great deal of other data from every corner of this world. Quite simply, we've been watching and listening to everything that has happened in this world for 29 days. On our ship, there is a thinking machine. It is both faster and smarter than everyone in this room combined in terms of raw thinking power. It learned the Common Tongue and the other languages of this world the same way a babe learns. Over time, it attached sound to meaning, based on the context of the word used."
Maester Luwin leaned over his plate. "This… thinking machine accomplished in a month what takes a child years to do? Learning a language with no basis of reference? And you learned it from it teaching you in the even less time?"
Prophet turned to Maester Luwin, a small smile on those pale lips. "Actually, the machine got a basic grasp of the Common Tongue within 17 of your hours. It spent a few more of your days refining it before being satisfied it had it correct. And then the machine sent the knowledge directly into our minds. We learned in a matter of seconds."
Maester Luwin seemed blown away by this concept, much as Sansa was. "It just… sent the knowledge into your minds? You didn't have to take lessons or anything?" she finally spoke up. "Lord Prophet?" she tacked on, remembering her manners.
"Please relax, Sansa. I am no lord. If you feel the need to give me a title, 'Captain' will do," the albino smiled at her. "And yes. It's one of the advantages of a mind link and telepathy. Years of learning can be copied and sent directly into the mind, where it is assimilated and grasped as if the person had gone through the learning themselves. It revolutionized education on our world when it was perfected. Children, and indeed most adults, learn as much and as fast as they can physically handle the load. A child your age on our world could be wiser and more knowledgeable than Maester Luwin if they so desired." Prophet gave a little laugh. "Though most have a phase where they think they've learned all they ever need to and refuse lessons in favor of doing other, more pleasurable activities."
"Well, that's one thing we have in common," Father joked, casting an eye at Arya and some of his other children. Not Sansa, she was as studious as they come.
"Speaking of things we have in common," Theon Greyjoy spoke up, from where he was seated at the end of a lower table, the highest honor he could have without being at the high table as usual. "Do you lot have cocks and cunts like the rest of us?"
Sansa could have slapped him. Well, once she recovered from hearing such coarse words. How dare he ask such a vulgar question? He'd clearly had more than just one cup of wine.
Undaunted, Prophet answered. "As far as we can tell, the men and women of our world share similar genitalia to the men and women of your world. Unusually similar, actually. It's quite rare we find a people so close in form to ours. The people of other worlds come in a variety of different shapes and sizes."
"Can you show us?" Rickon asked, voice alight with all the excitement and curiosity of a boy of three.
Prophet nodded. He held out his palm, and that same black dust (Fog, Sansa reminded herself) formed a shape. It was strange, Sansa would almost say unnatural, looking like some kind of strange creature that had washed up on the beach. "This is a Heptapod, which translates roughly as 'seven feet'. They were actually the first people of another world we came into contact with."
"It does indeed look… different than we do." Mother had an odd hitch to her voice, and her eyes were very wide.
The Fog dissipated, the figurine dissolving once Rickon got bored with it.
"Sing us a song from your world!" one of the knights called out. "This is a feast, there should be song!"
Prophet paused, as did all of the crew. Sansa realized now that they were talking with their thoughts together. Those long pauses could be conversations longer and richer than any she'd heard for all she knew.
The crew all stood and turned, as Prophet came to his feet. "This is a song from a region of our world very similar to the North. We hope you enjoy it. The translation may not be perfect, but hopefully the tune and meaning stay clear."
There was a pause. And then the Visitors sang, their voices taking the parts of instruments in places, to make a hollow but beautiful music.
"Of all the money that ever I had, I spent it in good company
And all the harm that ever I've done, alas it falls to none but me.
And all I've done for want of wit, to memory now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass, good night and joy be with you all.
So fill to me the parting glass, and drink a toast whatever befall
Then gently rise and softly call, good night and joy be with you all.
Of all the comrades that ever I had, they're sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that ever I had, they'd wish me one more day to stay.
But since if fell unto my lot, that I should rise and you should not
Come fill to me the parting glass, good night and joy be with you all.
So fill to me the parting glass, and drink a toast whatever befall
Then gently rise and softly call, good night and joy be with you all.
A man may drink and not be drunk, a man may fight and not be slain
A man may court a pretty girl, and perhaps be welcomed back again.
But since it has so sought to be, a time to rise and a time to fall
Come fill to me the parting glass, good night and joy be with you all
Good night and joy be with you all!"
Sansa realized she was crying. Sobbing really. She'd never heard a song so lovely.
Whatever else might come from these Visitors, Sansa decided she wouldn't fear them. Nothing that could produce something so beautiful could be scary, right?
The rendition I'm thinking of is by Celtic Woman for "The Parting Glass". Check them out on YouTube, I actually do cry when I listen sometimes.
