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Seconds before the Spark: Universe 21,164,152,314

Underneath Hawkins National Laboratory, the young girl who for most of her life had the utilitarian name of Eleven battled the Mind Flayer to close the gate between the Upside Down and the real world. Nothing less than the fate of herself, her friends, the people of Hawkins, and possibly the world was at stake. She couldn't fail.

Motes of decay whirled around the rift chamber, a product of the battle they fought.

Slowly, dredging up every ounce of anger, energy, willpower, psionic abilities, and emotion, she beat back the Mind Flayer. As the last tendril of inter-dimensional energy was sucked back from whence it came, Eleven collapsed. Just as Sheriff Hopper reached down to cradle the collapsed Eleven in his arms, the spot where the last vestige of the gate had disappeared flared to life in a blinding explosion. There was no outward pressure. Instead, it felt like something had hooked Hopper's belly button and jerked them both into the light.

It lasted a second and an eternity. Hopper was vaguely aware others were being pulled next to him because he was fairly certain all the screams didn't belong to himself. No, not screams. Shouts. Manly shouts. He was shouting all manly-like. The others were screaming.

In all, eleven people dog-piled onto each other over a stone floor after finishing whatever journey they were sucked into. Everyone who'd come in direct contact with the Upside Down, at least everyone who'd done so and was still alive, climbed over each other to get to their feet, an exercise in comedy if it weren't for the terrifying circumstances they'd been involved in.

Looking out the window in the stone cobbled room, a classroom by all appearances, it was Dustin who summarized what everyone was thinking.

"Looks like we're not in Kansas anymore."

Universe 93,569,185

"My King, I bring news from the Lord of Dragonstone."

It wasn't unusual for the King's brother to send messages once in a while, but Stannis Baratheon had left for Dragonstone three weeks prior to settle certain Lordly affairs. To have a message so soon from his brother meant that something was amiss. There was no love lost between the two, so it was certainly not a frivolous note. For it to happen days after the death of Jon Arryn, his Hand of the King, did not bode well either.

With a sigh, King Robert of the House Baratheon, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, motioned for the lad holding the missive to hand it to his Master of Whisperers, Varys. He accepted it with the care he took in all of his actions. Varys shook his head subtly to indicate to the rest of the Small Council that he was unaware of the contents of the message, or at least he was unwilling to admit that he knew the contents of the message.

"Interesting that the first time your Majesty has chosen to attend the Small Council in five years, unusual news should arrive from your brother," Lord Petyr Baelish, known as Littlefinger and the Master of Coin, insinuated, infuriating the king even more.

Robert knew he was a mediocre king, not interested in the day to day worries of keeping his people fed and his soldiers paid. He knew his only purpose was to be a figurehead for the others at the table. If they were at war, that would be different. He was ill-suited to rule a peaceful kingdom. The death of Jon Arryn, though, had put him in a pensive mood. Without uttering a word, he commanded Varys to open and read the letter.

"My King, it appears that a castle has appeared on Driftmark, the island closest to Dragonstone and the seat of House Velaryon. Lord Monford Velaryon claims he has nothing to do with it, saying it just appeared during a sudden lightning storm, and sent word to Dragonmark as soon as the storm passed. There are people inside, but none of your brother's attempts to talk with the newcomers have produced any results. Lord Stannis is requesting aid in the form of soldiers before making another attempt to enter the castle."

Letting out a string of curses, Robert drained his wine cup and slammed it on the table, leaving a dent.

"A castle, just appears in the middle of an island, and Stannis wants me to send men to hold his hand?" Robert shouted. The rest of the council seemed unphased by his outburst, and he was tempted to behead one of them just to vent his frustration. Instead, he took a calming breath like his wife had told him to do, and wished he had Jon back and alive to take care of this mess. "Very well. We'll send the Kingslayer with a troop of fifty Kingsguard to assess the situation. In the meantime, we continue planning the trip to Winterfell. We leave in one week. If Jaime's skills are not needed on Driftmark, he'll join us on the King's Road, if he wants. I daresay he may even beat us there if he sails instead of rides."

It appeared as if some of his council wanted to discuss the issue further, to which Robert simply stood up and left the hall. Not the most diplomatic approach, he knew, but he didn't want to deal with politics anymore today. The only reason he attended today was a feeling of obligation to his old Hand. He wished he didn't have to deal with these things, which is one reason he was traveling to Winterfell, to ask Eddard Stark to be his new Hand. Robert could trust Ned to not to be like his king, to not be a fool and a waste. With luck, he'll return to King's Landing and Stark can deal with the case of the mysteriously appearing castle while he resumes his drinking, whoring, and eating his way into an early grave.